by Maddie
old me. Please, just hold me for a minute, and then I'll go."
Those were the words Alex Krycek spoke when Walter Skinner opened his door. Skinner had been tempted to slam it in the younger man's face, but something in Krycek's eyes had stopped him. The need in the clear green eyes and the lack of his usual cocky demeanor gave Skinner pause, and against his instincts he stood back to let Krycek enter.
Krycek had fully expected the door to be slammed in his face. After all, Skinner owed him nothing. He couldn't reasonably anticipate any kindness from this man. This just proved he wasn't thinking all that clearly. It took Krycek a few seconds to realize Skinner was going to let him in. He entered, not really knowing what would come of it.
"Now, you want to tell me what this is about, Krycek?"
Krycek shrugged. "I just—I need—" He looked down. "I just need to be with someone for a while."
"And you picked me because...?"
Krycek looked away and mumbled something in a low voice.
"What was that?"
"I don't have anyone else."
"You don't have me. Unless you brought your little toy and you plan to force me."
"I'm not going to make you do anything. I—you know me, I thought—" He broke off as Skinner laughed bitterly.
"Krycek, did you get hit in the head? Are you high? That I DO know you pretty much guarantees I won't do anything for you."
"Skinner, don't you get tired of it?"
"Of what?"
"Of being alone. Not having anyone you're close to."
"Krycek, you don't know anything about me."
"Oh yeah? When's the last time you got laid?"
"My personal life is none of your business. Besides," Skinner said cruelly, "you look a little—worn out already. What makes you think I'd let you fuck me anyway?"
"I didn't say—you could..."
Skinner advanced on Krycek, forcing him against the wall. "Are you saying I can fuck you, then?" Skinner asked, as he got in Krycek's face.
He waited for Krycek to fight back, or try to get to a weapon.
Krycek only turned his head and murmured, "Yes. But not like this, Skinner. Please."
Skinner stood there, still not believing any of it, but starting to feel the beginnings of arousal. Seeing Krycek so submissive, smelling Krycek's own unique scent, was making him hard despite how off the whole thing seemed. He tested Krycek's resolve by leaning over to suck on his exposed neck, biting gently. Krycek moaned and moved his neck closer to Skinner's demanding mouth. Skinner moved his hand down to Krycek's crotch, feeling the evidence of the younger man's arousal.
Skinner backed off. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Krycek? No one's seen you for months, the last time you were here, you were forcing me to betray people who trusted me. And now you come here asking me..."
"Please, Skinner, I know how it sounds— Just pretend you give a shit for a little while, okay?"
Skinner was still trying to figure Krycek's angle, looking around for places a camera could possibly be hidden.
"Why don't you just go find a whore, Krycek? I'm sure he could be a lot more convincing than I ever could."
Krycek slumped against the wall. "Okay, Skinner. Sorry I bothered you." He turned to leave.
"Krycek..wait," Skinner said, going against the warning voice in his head.
Krycek looked up hopefully.
"Sit down. Do you want a drink?"
Krycek only stared a moment, then said softly, "Thank you."
He sat down on the couch as Skinner went to get their drinks.
"Scotch okay?" Skinner asked, holding out a glass.
"Fine."
Skinner sat at the opposite end of the couch and became abruptly aware that he had absolutely no idea of what to say to Krycek.
Seeing his distress, Krycek said, "It's okay, Skinner. You don't have to say anything."
"Well, that's good, because I don't know what to say."
"I know you still probably think this is a trick, that I'm trying to find something to use against you. But it's not. I honestly didn't know where else to go."
"Where have you been, Krycek?"
Krycek grimaced, gripping his glass tightly. "Tunisia," he said tightly, suppressing his anger.
Skinner decided not to ask any more, but took note of the pain in Krycek's eyes. "You really want me to hold you?"
"Yes. But don't make fun of me, Skinner."
"I'm not. You were right, Krycek," Skinner said, deciding if Krycek could bare his feelings, he could, too. "I am tired of being alone." He opened his arms and sat with his back against the arm of the couch.. "Come here."
Krycek looked at Skinner for signs that the man was being honest, that he wasn't trying to ridicule him. Satisfied with what he saw, he took off his jacket and moved into Skinner's arms.
After a while, Krycek sighed, clutching Skinner's arm. "I always wondered what this would feel like," he said, his voice low.
"What do you mean?" Skinner asked, running his hand through Krycek's hair.
"Being held by you, feeling like you really care."
"You wondered about that?"
"Yes. Especially back when I worked for you. I thought once— But I realized later you'd never have anything to do with me. I was too far gone, even then."
"Krycek, did you consider getting out? If you had come to me, I would've done all I could to help you."
"I realized that later." He pulled back, and looked down, embarrassed. "I thought at first—that you were like them, that you were in with them. It was only later that I saw you really did care about the people who work for you."
Skinner sighed and said bitterly, "I guess I can see how you'd get that impression. And it only got worse."
"Skinner, you shouldn't feel bad about that. You did the best you could."
"I did some awful things, Krycek. I can't forget that."
"But you were forced to do those things. By him ," Krycek said angrily. "Because he knew you'd do anything to help the people you care about."
"I still could have refused," Skinner said, pulling Krycek back into his arms.
"And he would have had me, or someone else, kill you. Or the people you care about. And then there'd be no way for you to help them. Like it or not, we're both survivors."
Skinner thought for a minute. "I would've sworn we didn't have anything in common."
Krycek stiffened in Skinner's arms. "I'm sure that's all we have in common, Skinner."
"I didn't mean—"
"I know what you meant. And it's true. Doesn't mean I like it."
"So why do you do it?"
"We all gotta serve somebody, Skinner."
"I'm serious, Krycek."
"I don't have a valid excuse, okay? I could say I was forced to do some of the things I did. That I did some for money. Once you get caught up in it, it's hard to get out. They don't exactly accept your resignation with good grace. I've tried, but— Can we not talk about this?"
"Yeah, okay."
They sat there, Skinner holding Krycek, for a while, until Krycek's hand strayed to the button of Skinner's jeans. Skinner waited until Krycek eased the zipper down before stopping him.
"Krycek, you don't have to do this."
"I know. Maybe I want to."
Krycek resumed his exploration, freeing Skinner's rapidly hardening cock. He shifted his position and began to suck Skinner enthusiastically. Skinner gasped and resisted the temptation to grab Krycek's head, instead letting Krycek control the act. He had to admit, Krycek was talented. On the verge of coming, he pulled away.
"Wait, Krycek. Did you mean it when you said I could fuck you?"
Krycek sat up. "Yes."
"Let's go upstairs."
Krycek followed Skinner to his bedroom, then stopped, unsure of what to do.
"Come here," Skinner told him, as he turned on the bedside lamp.
He went to Skinner, almost shyly, his head down. Skinner put his hand on Krycek's chin and raised it to look him in the eye, then kissed him. Krycek held back at first, but then as Skinner's tongue became more demanding, he gave up and let the older man explore his mouth. His hand slipped under Skinner's t-shirt to stroke his chest. Skinner moaned into Krycek's mouth, as the younger man's questing fingers found a nipple and squeezed.
Skinner broke the kiss to pull off his shirt. "More," he said as Krycek's hand went back to his chest. Krycek smiled and leaned over to latch onto a nipple, sucking and licking.
"Shit, Krycek," he gasped, "harder, bite me."
Krycek obliged, worrying the erect nub with his teeth, as he reached back inside Skinner's still-unzipped jeans to pull out his cock, pumping it.
"Wait, Krycek, you'll make me come." He slid his jeans and underwear down, kicking them off, then reached for Krycek again. "Let me help you get undressed," he said, tugging at Krycek's pants. Krycek let him get them unbuttoned and pushed down, then groaned and thrust into Skinner's hand as it grasped his leaking cock. Skinner helped him off with the pants, then reached up to unbutton Krycek's shirt.
"Wait, Skinner, don't..."
"Shh, I just want to see all of you," Skinner said, rubbing Krycek's back soothingly.
"Please..."
"Krycek, come here," Skinner said, urging him to the bed. They sat down. "We all have scars," he told him, putting Krycek's hand on evidence of shrapnel wounds from long ago, and more recent scars from bullet wounds. "Do you think they're ugly? They just show how strong we are, how we endure."
Krycek touched the scars tentatively. He looked in Skinner's eyes, then took his hand and brought it back to his shirt. "Okay," he said, closing his eyes.
Skinner touched Krycek's cheek, then began to unbutton the shirt, leaning over to suckle each dusky nipple as it was uncovered. "So sexy, Krycek," he murmured, sliding the shirt off his shoulders. Krycek moaned in response, then tensed up as Skinner's hand made contact with the straps of his prosthetic arm.
"It's okay," Skinner said softly. He frowned and turned serious. "Krycek? Did the straps cause this bruising?" He turned, letting the lamp cast its soft light on Krycek's naked body. He gasped. "Krycek, who did this to you?" He saw the heavy bruising on each hip before Krycek pulled away.
Skinner pulled him back. "Who hurt you like this?" he asked.
Krycek refused to look at him. "It happened in Tunisia. That cigarette smoking son of a bitch had me thrown in prison," he told Skinner in a rough whisper.
Skinner moved to take Krycek in his arms. He stretched out on the bed and held the trembling man in his arms. He really didn't know what to say to Krycek this time. Instead, he merely made comforting sounds, and stroked Krycek's hair, which seemed to help calm him.
After a while, Krycek sighed raggedly and asked, "Do you want me to go?"
"No, why would I? Just lie here for a while."
"But you don't want to fuck me now, do you?" Krycek rasped. "You're thinking about how many—about..." he broke off.
Skinner moved back to look Krycek in the eye. "Krycek, I very much want to fuck you. I don't want to hurt you." He caressed Krycek's wet cheek. "You didn't ask to be used like that, and I can't imagine how it was for you, but you shouldn't let this destroy your—self esteem."
"Yeah, because I had so much of that . Is this the same speech you give to women who've been raped?" He asked angrily.
"So what if it is? It comes down to the same thing I said before. It means you're a survivor. You endured. That's nothing to be ashamed of. Although, if your—line of work puts you in this type of situation very often, you might want to consider a new career."
Krycek laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, good point. Listen, you've already done what I asked of you. You held me. And I—I really needed that tonight. I won't ask for more."
"You don't have to ask. I said I wouldn't hurt you, not that I wouldn't make love to you." He gently rolled Krycek onto his back, and crouched over him, licking a trail from his neck to his now soft penis. "Krycek—Alex—you're beautiful. Your arm, the bruises, they're a sacrilege, but they don't take away from that beauty." With one hand Skinner stroked Krycek's thighs, and used his tongue to attend to Krycek's now-attentive cock. "That's it, let me take care of you." Skinner didn't stop until Krycek was writhing, unable to control the moans and shrieks Skinner was producing out of him.
"Please, Skinner, please fuck me," Krycek whined.
"Let me bring you off this way. I don't want to hurt you any more than you have been already."
"I'm okay. I need this, Skinner. I know—I know you won't be deliberately trying to hurt me, that you'll be gentle with me. That's what I need, Skinner, for you to make love to me like you want me. Just pretend a little while longer."
"Alex, I haven't been pretending for a while now. I do want you. And I'll do this, because you want it, and I do, too. But if I hurt you, you have to tell me. Deal?"
"Deal. Just do it."
Skinner reached into the bedside table drawer to retrieve a condom and lube. Krycek turned to get to his knees.
"Not like that, Alex. On your back. Or your side, if you prefer. But I'd like to be able to see you."
Krycek turned back over, and Skinner slowly and gently lubed him, looking for any signs of pain. He saw no pain, only desire, and pleasure when his finger brushed Krycek's prostate. Skinner quickly rolled the condom on, spreading lube on it, and prepared to enter Krycek. He moved in slowly, and gently started to thrust. He kept his rhythm slow, watching Krycek's face, the light that had come into his eyes.
Krycek lay there with a feeling of disbelief that it was really happening. He'd come here not expecting to even make it in the door. Certainly he'd never expected Walter Skinner to actually do as he asked, and hold him. Instead, he'd done so much more than that. And being fucked—no, being made love to— by Skinner went far beyond anything he imagined. He was sure as soon as it was over, Skinner would come back to his senses and remember how much he hated him. Krycek decided to just enjoy the moment, and leave with the memory of this one perfect night.
Skinner was experiencing some disbelief of his own. He certainly never expected the night to end this way. Not a man given to impulsive decisions, he couldn't say what it was that had made him take this chance. But he planned to think about that later. Krycek's moans and the look of awe on his face were affecting him deeply. Not to mention the slow, thorough fucking. He wanted nothing more than to fuck Krycek with abandon, but he held back as long as he could before reaching for Krycek's cock. As he pumped it, he fucked Krycek harder, and Krycek responded, meeting each thrust and yelling in ecstasy.
"Come for me, Alex," Skinner yelled as he felt his own climax start. When their shudders and panting had calmed, Skinner eased out of Krycek and got up for a washcloth. When they were relatively clean, Skinner lay down beside Krycek, pulling him close. They both dozed until Skinner felt Krycek moving away.
"Alex?"
"I have to get going, Skinner."
"You could stay the rest of the night."
"I—"
"Come back to bed."
Krycek slid back in bed, moving once again into Skinner's outstretched arms.
"Alex, I meant what I said. If you want my help to get away from the people you work for, I will do whatever I can."
"Do you know why he let me out of that prison?"
"Why?"
"He's dying. He wants to start the whole project over. He sent me to Oregon to find a crashed UFO."
"He's dying?"
"Yes. Not fast enough for me. And, Skinner? Mulder and Scully were in Oregon, too."
Skinner sighed wearily. "I'd like to say that surprises me. What are you going to do?"
"I want to—I want to stop him."
"Tell Mulder what you've told me."
Krycek snorted. "He'd try to kill me before I got the first word out."
"I'll be there. I'll get him to listen."
"You would do that? You believe me?"
"Yes. I would. And I do."
"Skinner, this has been the most unbelievable night."
"For me, too. Do you think you could call me Walter?"
"I think so. Walter."
"Good. Let's get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."
