Compromised
   Amazon X

Title: Compromised, Part I
Author: Amazon X
E-mail: yankeestarbuck@yahoo.com
Website: http://yankeestarbuck.tripod.com
Feedback: Yes, please, if you want.
Category: Slash, Sk/K, sorta-non-con, angst
Spoilers: Just about everything except that part of the episode that didn't happen, cuz, duh, then this wouldn't happen. So that part never happened. OK?
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Walter thinks its blackmail, when really it's not what it seems.
Archive: Anywhere, just ask and tell me where it's going.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but you've killed almost all the folks involved at least once, so you can't want them so much!
Notes: You may think that Walter doesn't want to do this, but he told me he did. So Alex isn't that bad. This came to me out of nowhere and I just wanted to do it. Period, nyah!
Author's Notes: This was originally going to get posted as just a story, but I heard that we were doing something special for my crazy Aunt Ursula, and I knew I had to give this to her. She was so sweet to give me "Just the Good Parts" for my birthday. So I knew that she deserved this. I'm actually really proud of this. And I'm happy to dedicate this to Ursula for her birthday. Thank you, especially, to Erynn, for the beta. I know it's a better story for your suggestions. I hope everyone enjoys it!

*****

CABIN IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE
MOUNTAINS OF VIRGINIA

I couldn't get out of that bedroom fast enough. I'd button my shirt and tie my boots outside, I had decided. But he was fast on my heels as I sat on the well-worn couch to tie the laces. He sat in the easy chair opposite me, his pants still unbuttoned and shirt wide open. His nipple ring glinted in the sunlight. He looked at me with a self-satisfied smirk and I wanted to slap it off his skull. But I simply continued dressing. It would be a cold and lonely drive back to Crystal City.

"Don't look so down, Walt," he crooned to me. "You were amazing. I don't think you could have done better if your life depended on it. Oh, wait...it did."

Krycek patted the telltale heavy object in his jacket pocket, mocking me with it. I sneered at him, and then stood to tuck my plaid shirt into my jeans. I couldn't look at him. If I did, I would kill him or try to. And then he'd kill me.

"Walter baby, come on, one kiss just for me," he said. He stood and walked to me, standing in my way. I could smell the sex still on him, still on me. I wanted to vomit.

"You would pick a place to do this where I couldn't shower, wouldn't you? You are a sick fucking bastard."

"Walter! Is that a nice thing to say to your lover?" he asked, mock surprise and hurt on his face. Then he broke into that impish smile that erased the years of hate and hardness from his elfin features.

"You aren't my lover. You're my keeper. Now, you said we had a deal. I do this, and you give me the palm pilot. I kept my end of this. Or is that just the way of a piece of shit like you?"

His grin melted into the hard mask he wore when he needed to act serious. He reached into his pocket and handed me the small, heavy rectangle. I took it from him gently and turned to leave. But I stopped at the door. His next words surprised me. He must be able to read minds like Mulder.

"That's the only one, big boy. And yes, as you can see, it's an ancient model. Your hacker-freak friends should be able to decode it. I can't get the programming for you without seriously compromising myself, so, my good will has to end here."

I left the cabin without another word. I strode to my Blazer, got in and was pleased to hear the gravel of the driveway knocking off the decrepit porch under the crunch of my tires. Too bad, it was a nice cabin. Someone let it go to shit, but it could be fixed up. I would have loved to retire there. Spend my days fishing, wood working in the barn, even restore an old car or two for fun. But as it was, I needed to get away from it, and what I had done in it.

Thinking back to the first message from him, that fucking email.

To: wsskinner1952@aol.com
From: ratbastardsupreme@yahoo.com
Re: A palm pilot

Don't you want to know what I can do with it now?

A

I had the email traced, but the Gunmen found it had been hidden as well as if they had sent it themselves. The next message had instructions to meet him at a Starbucks in Maryland in a suburb. I waited for two hours for him to show, and became so wired on lattes that I thought I could walk back to Virginia. I was so angry, I stood abruptly from my table, spilling my latte and scaring the nice young couple pitching woo in the easy chairs behind me.

I stomped to my car and found the map under my windshield wiper. The bastard snuck it there when I was getting nervous and worrying. I'm positive he watched me, the sick fucker. The map was marked in a trail, with X marking the spot. No note, no message, just the map. I followed the map to the cabin.

Driving back to my condo, thinking about the afternoon, I had to pull over and vomit. I bent over my front right fender, letting the coffee, the damn sandwich he brought for me, the beer and everything spew out onto the grass at the side of the road. I lay across the truck a moment, letting the heat of the engine seep into my body. That heat felt good, same as the heat coming off the man whose scent was still in my skin. I'd shower at home and burn my clothes.

Make love to him, he said. Kiss him, let him suck me, suck him, and then fuck him. Funny, how I can say the words, but not the name of the man I did them to. The first and last man I would ever touch intimately. And I didn't kiss him.

I thought about the rumors about Mulder and me, about Scully and me, about Kim and me...although that one I would like to be true. My assistant was one of the most beautiful, kind, intelligent, funny and caring women I'd ever met. And I let her slip away from me. And I could have had her any time. She all but told me outright. But she was my assistant, and I needed her to be distant from me. Propriety was imperative to me.

On this drive home, I realized, everything was different. If I could get the Gunmen to decode the palm pilot, I could finally live a normal life. I could have a relationship, I could have sex, but with who? I let all the close people in my life go, pushed them away. All because of Alex Fucking Krycek. There, I said his name. He was the reason I had no life, no friends and no future. Fucking bastard.

It was easy for me to blame him, since I wasn't the one who'd ruined my life. I didn't get separated from my wife because I couldn't tell her I was a member of the most evil force on the planet for a little while, until I realized Mulder was right. I wasn't the one who ignored everything to make sure Mulder was safe, and Scully was safer, since I couldn't have children, and had adopted those two as surrogates. I wasn't blame for sterility due to being I was shot in Vietnam as a boy because I enlisted. No, everything was Alex Fucking Krycek's fault. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I found my way back to my condo. I quickly headed up the stairs to the bathroom to shower. I pulled off the boots, the jeans, the plaid shirt, the thermal Henley, the t-shirt, my briefs and socks and left them on the floor. They smelled of him. They'd go in the dumpster. The water was as hot as I could stand it and I washed every part of me that I knew he'd touched. Then I washed again. I got out and stood before the fogged mirror, brushing my teeth to get his taste out of my mouth.

Later that night, I sat on my balcony wearing flannel pajamas and drinking scotch, staring into the distance at those same mountains. Was he still there? I didn't see a car when I'd arrived. There wasn't any hot water as he'd said, and I checked. The electricity worked, so he could still be there. What was he doing up there alone?

I sat there in the cold March night until I had finished most of the bottle of scotch and was shivering. I padded to my bedroom and my lonely bed. But sleep was elusive. I kept thinking about my afternoon with Alex, what I did to him, what he did to me. And I wasn't too shocked that I was getting hard thinking about him. I couldn't get the damn day out of my head!

I pulled up to the cabin and sat for a moment before gathering my courage to walk in that damn door. It took a few tries to open the door. But I did. It didn't surprise me to see him lying on the couch, seemingly asleep. But as soon as I closed the door, his eyes opened. The smile was unmistakable. He rose from the couch and met me in the middle of the cabin's main room, decorated as a living room.

"Well, I see you can follow directions. Nice of you to stop by."

"What do you want now, Krycek?" I ground out. That damn satisfied grin was more than I wanted to deal with. He didn't move from my path, but looked me up and down. I could hear my heart beating strongly and wondered if he could. I could almost feel the little machines in my blood grinding against each other under the direction of his machinery. But he pulled the back box out and just held it.

"You do me a favor and I'll do you a favor. I'll give you this," he shook the palm pilot for effect. "If you give me what I want."

There was that look again, smoldering and searching. He was trying to read my own mask. Well, there was no use hiding my emotions. He had me by the jewels; I may as well act like it.

"What do you want, Krycek?" There was no more beating around the bush. This was bullshit. And if I stepped out of the cabin to my death, so be it.

"I want you."

That was all he said. It was plain, like block letters on a blank page. Just those three words. But when he said them, his face cleared of smugness. His eyes were deep moss green, and focused. And his gaze never wavered. He met me head on, met my challenge. Our height was just about equal, but I had the strength against him, and neither of us was as young as we used to be. Could I fight him? Would I? Did I care to?

"Spell it out, Krycek. Or just use your damn toy on me."

He smirked again, damn him, then nodded. "I want you to come with me into the bedroom and make love to me. I want to kiss you, and I want you to kiss me. I want to exchange oral sex and then I want you to fuck me. Is that plain enough for you?"

He sounded as if he'd just read a grocery list. His eyes remained flat but clear. I felt a shiver flow through me but fought not to show it. He couldn't be serious.

"I didn't think rape was your style, Krycek."

"This isn't rape. You're a willing, compliant participant."

"You've got a fucked up notion of willing. You're threatening my life with the palm pilot. That's rape."

"If you think it will stand up in a court of law, you can prosecute me."

There was silence between us. We just looked at each other for a moment. He was staring me down. Would I move to the door, or would I comply? I didn't even know. I looked him up and down. He wore his uniform: black jeans, black boots, black sweater and that black leather jacket. It was March in the mountains, you'd think he'd have remembered a parka. But there was a hearth that had a nice sized fire built up in it. He must have done that before I got there.

"What happens if I say no and leave?" I had to know. I had to ask. A strong wind blew across the mountain, shaking the cabin.

"Don't force my hand, Skinner. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Why are you doing this to me?" I stood ramrod straight. I wasn't going to relax a muscle or move an inch.

"Because I can. And you'll do it. Do you want to know why?"

"Why? Tell me, Krycek. What insightful knowledge of my inner psyche do you possess that even I don't?"

"Oh, you know as well as I do why you'll do it. You'll do it because you can serve Mulder's purpose better alive than dead. You would take the walk into the wind easy enough, I'm sure of it." He stopped for a moment, licked his lips and smirked. "I know you're not afraid to die, Walter. But you are afraid to leave Mulder on his own. And you're terrified to leave little Scully on her own, with that sweet baby, all by themselves. I know that you watch over them, even if you haven't touched the baby yet. So, are you game?"

Was I? I'd never touched a man like that before, although I wasn't afraid to. Being in the gym never bothered me, and I knew who the gay patrons were. I knew the gay members of my platoon in Vietnam. I knew the gay recruits in Quantico. I knew the gay agents in Washington. None of them were me. At least, that's what I thought.

I thought back to that day almost ten years ago, when Krycek, fresh-faced and gelled hair, walked into my office with the 302 for the Grissom case. I knew he was handsome, engaging, even pretty. But I was still married at the time, even though it was going to hell. Did I feel anything back then? When he was young, sweet and handsome? Not like he is now, damaged, angry and cruel. What had happened to my green agent?

I reluctantly nodded my head. So long as William, Mulder and Scully are safe, and I can keep them safe, I'd do what I had to do. With a raised hand, he led me to the bedroom, where the fireplace radiated heat into the room. There was a large bed there, a 5-drawer bureau and nothing else. The windows opened to the back yard of the cabin, which was near the cliff to look over at another beautiful snow-capped mountain. I focused on this as I pulled my jacket off and looked for a place to put it.

"Just drop it anywhere," came a voice from behind me. "The place is clean."

I did as he said and began unbuttoning my shirt. He stood back from me, not coming near as I removed my outer shirt, my Henley and my t-shirt. The room still had a chill to it and my bare skin rippled with goose bumps. I heard a soft moan from behind me, and that gave me a deeper shiver. I walked to the bed and sat down to remove my boots. It was solid and firm under me. It seemed Alex took his bed seriously.

I looked up at the figure that stood before me. He wore his t-shirt and jeans, but had removed his boots and socks. That smirk was back. "Help me with my t-shirt, big boy?" Then I had noticed he'd taken his arm off. It was atop the dresser. This was beginning to be a worse and worse idea.

I stood and looked in his eyes. Briefly, just fleetingly, desire and hope flitted through that glassy green gaze. Then it was gone, back to the sadistic, sickly arrogant smile that I wanted to remove from his head. I reached for the hem of the t-shirt and he raised his arm for me to follow with the garment off his body. I tossed it onto the floor with the rest of my clothes.

"Now what?" I asked, trying to sound put out, annoyed, and hide my fear. Hide the tingle of desire that crept up on me out of nowhere. I focused on his nipple ring, just looking at it and not in his face, or his eyes. He was pretty, there was no getting around that. I'd have to be not only blind but also stupid to not see that fact. And I had been alone for a very long time.

"Well, how do you usually start this sort of thing?" he asked, sardonically.

"Consensually with a woman, actually. So you'll excuse me if I'm out of my depth here. I guess *you* should start this."

If he knew I was nervous, he didn't show it. He just looked down at me, smiling. His hand came up to stroke my cheek, but I turned slightly away from it. The turmoil raged inside me. How did I rationalize this in my head? This beautiful, broken, brutal, needy creature was forcing me to do things to him, things that once upon a time, when I was younger, more open, and less abused, would have not only considered, but delivered with relish. But after all the years of deceit, pain and fear, desire for this pretty face had dwindled with my libido. I barely woke up with a hard on anymore. And I was supposed to not only respond to him, but also give to him.

He moved to stand between my legs and leaned down to kiss me, but I turned away. "No, Krycek. No kissing. Everything else, but no kissing."

I looked back up at him and saw something I didn't think I would ever see in his face: sorrow. He wanted to kiss me. I had to keep something for myself.

He dropped to his knees before me and his lips met my neck. I let him. I let him kiss and lick and nibble my throat. His hand slowly stroked my shoulder as his mouth traveled over my collarbone, igniting the flesh along the way. He let that soft, hot tongue slide over my Adam's apple. How did he know how to do this to me? My cock began to fill in my jeans. And stupid me wore tight jeans. There was no hiding it from him.

His mouth found my nipple. It was as if it was connected to my dick and I was shot through with electricity. This was new to me, stimulating my nipples. Sharon had never thought of it. His hand was on the other, stroking, pinching and rolling it in his fingers. I wanted to enjoy this. I wanted to feel wanted again, feel anything. I wanted to be desired. And the brief glimpses into his heart, into his soul that he gave me through the green windows, I could believe that, for a little while, he did. It would make it easier.

My hands instinctively rose to his shoulders, to stroke his soft skin. Despite the chill in the air, his flesh was hot, pliant under my fingers, still young and sweet. The mouth on me moved lower, teasing my navel. The hand left my nipple and worked on my fly. He opened my jeans and stopped, looking up at me.

"Would you like to take them off? Get on the bed and be comfortable?" Was that hope in his voice? He moved back and I pulled my jeans down quickly, taking my briefs with them. My hard cock bobbed in front of me, betraying the desire rising in me. A smile tickled his face as he watched me slide back on the bed to lie against the pillows propped against the headboard. He pulled his own jeans down and stood there a moment. He wasn't hung like I was, but it was nice. It was more sculpted, more defined, not just blunt, thick and long like I was. His balls hung low, lower than mine ever did.

I didn't look at the missing arm, didn't need to. It wasn't necessary for what we were about to do. I tried to think that it might be the cause of his downfall, might have been the reason for his turn to evil but he was gone long before Tunguska.

"May I join you?" he asked. I nodded. He knee-walked across the blanket to kneel between my splayed legs. His cool, rough hand traveled the length of my thigh toward my crotch. I looked up at the ceiling. What the hell was I doing? When his hand encircled my erection, I knew I was a goner. His mouth went back to my nipple as he stroked me. I didn't even realize my breath had quickened, short pants, like I was scared or nervous, or passionate.

Feeling those lips make their way down my chest, across my belly, pausing to discover my navel, all while he stroked me gently, I could tell the boy knew what he was doing, and knew how to do it well. I wasn't prepared to feel the hot tongue wipe across the head to gather up the beads of moisture I was producing. He lapped at me like a cat, long, languorous strokes on my tender flesh. He explored the head, my shaft, tickling the underside, down to my balls. Oh, God, it's been too long since my last blow job. He was all mouth and tongue and lips, no teeth. Why is it that women think we like teeth? It takes a real man to know how to give good head.

Each testicle was thoroughly laved and appreciated by the talented mouth in my lap, and was he making those keening noises? No, that was me whining like a dog for more. I let the moan trickle from my lips, groaning deep as the mouth covered the head of my cock again, moving it's way downward. He was slipping further and further toward the root, down further until I felt his nose poke my skin. I couldn't help but writhe under his oral skills. Ah, shit, I was down his throat, and he was swallowing around me, and it felt like heaven and I was going to hell fast and he was juggling my balls and he was hummingandhemovedupsightlyanditwasgreatandIloveditandIwantedmoreandOHSHIT!

The shouting and hollering brought me back to Earth as I floated down from wherever he had taken me.  I tried to catch my breath and disentangled my hands from the fur thing they were lodged in. I looked down, and it was Krycek's head, held firmly in my lap by two huge handfuls of hair. I released him and he released me. I stroked his head, a small apology, and I groaned loudly as I slipped from his mouth. He looked at me pensively, as if expecting me to blow up at him. But I was too delightfully contented to worry at this point. I looked down at him, hoping my expression had paid attention to my thoughts and softened.

"Thanks. That was...something."

He just set his jaw and nodded. He sat up quickly. We looked at each other a few minutes. Then he took himself in his hand, resignedly it seemed, stroking it back up into play. I watched as he stared down at his flaccid member, not responding to his manipulation. I decided if I was going to do this, I should show at least some of the enthusiasm he did. He seemed to truly want me, to care how I felt. I could give him the same courtesy, the same respect.

Knocking his hand away, I reached for Krycek's soft cock and kissed his neck gently. He put his hand behind him to keep his balance. I tried to reciprocate, licking his tender skin, nipping at the sweet flesh. His throat was delicious under my tongue, and found myself beginning to enjoy his reactions to my ministrations. I gave as good as I got, or at least I tried to. His nipples were as tasty and responsive as I thought they would be.  That nipple ring intrigued me deeply. I pulled at it a bit with my teeth and he reacted almost wildly, arching into me. The nipple around the gold ring stood on its own and I just flicked my tongue over it, and got a throaty moan for my actions. With the added bonus of me possessing both of my arms, I was able to stroke his member, fondle his nipple ring and suck the other, bringing out the most wonderful sounds from deep within his chest.

He lost balance, or control, and we both slid down to the bed, he on his back and me above him. I used my teeth on his skin, to make him squirm, to make him writhe and moan. He didn't move to touch me, and I wondered why. But I didn't let it stop me from moving down his chest to his abs and his shallow navel, exploring. I felt him trying to catch his breath as nuzzled my lips through his pubes. He wasn't ready for me to touch him, but I moved on.

With one hand fisting the base, the other cradling his balls, I took my first taste of cock. His salty pre-come trickled out, and I lapped it up. He was delicious. I wasn't as delicate as he was, and I certainly wasn't as knowledgeable as he was, but I know I was appreciated. The moans I heard made me smile around him. I licked at the head, tickling the sensitive underside and he bucked under me, and I knew I was doing well. I took the head into my mouth, sucking hard on it, and he hissed. More praise. I began sliding my mouth down, imitating him, trying, tasting, savoring him, giving to him. He panted, open-mouthed, small grunts and groans accompanying his asphyxia.

The glans touched my throat and I was surprised I didn't choke, but slid it down. His heady smell wafted up to me, musk and sweat and sex and man. The hair tickled my nose, but I kept the giggle down. I moaned, hummed a bit and slurped around him. But I kept moving forward and completely engulfed him. A hand on his balls and the other reached up to pull the nipple ring. "Oh, oh...yessss...YES!!"

I felt the hot spurt flow past my tonsils and swallowed greedily. He moved under me, thrusting up into my mouth, grabbing at the blanket and thrashing his head into the pillow. I sucked him dry and licked him clean, pulling away to wipe my chin. He just lay there, panting and trying to fill his lungs. I sat up, looking away to contemplate what I had just done, what I had just become. I, Walter Skinner, was a cocksucker. Oddly enough, at the moment I didn't see anything wrong with it.

Krycek sat up and shuddered visibly. He looked at me and said, "Oh, God, Walt, you got some talent. It's raw, but talent none the less." He took a deep breath and shook himself, like a dog. Then he turned to look at me thoughtfully.

"You hungry, big guy? I'm famished. I got some sandwiches in the kitchen. You like Canadian beer?" He was already up and pulling his jeans on. I let him pad out of the room without verbal confirmation and heard him fussing in the kitchen. He was feeding me, like lovers. Lovers. I had a lover. I had a...this was ridiculous! I shook my head, but soon enough he was back in the room, two wrapped subs and two bottles of Labatts. He handed me one of each and said, "That's roast beef. I hope you eat red meat."

"I've been known to," I said indifferently. I unwrapped the sandwich and began tearing into it. I felt ravenous. It was very good, from a small delicatessen that cared about their food, not a chain store. The roast beef was medium rare, with thick slices of Swiss cheese. The lettuce was crisp, the tomatoes juicy and he'd thought ahead, no onions. Then again, I wasn't going to kiss him.

We ate in total silence. I drank the beer and sat back against the footboard. I knew he was watching me. He stared in silence at me, while I looked out that gorgeous picture window behind him. I could see the sun making it's way across the sky into early afternoon. How long had I been here? I started at the Starbucks at about 8 AM. It had to be at least 2 or 3 in the afternoon. For once, I hadn't worn my watch. And I could feel it starting to get cooler, by the chill in the air. Krycek took the empty sandwich wrappers and the empty beer bottles out of the room. I continued sitting on the bed, naked. My state of undress barely concerned me.

I heard the refrigerator again. Then there was movement in the living room. Then he appeared again in the bedroom. He had two more bottles of Labatts. "I put more wood on the fire; it's getting chilly in here. You liked the sub?"

I nodded, sipping my beer. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I still looked out the window at the mountains. What it must be like to live in the mountains, in the cold, crisp, clear air. I could fish, hunt, I could have a garden, I could live the way I always should have. Not part of the insanity I was into, certainly.

"Something wrong, Walter?" he asked, disturbing my reverie.

"No, just looking out the window. You have a great view. You must love it here."

"It's good for what I need it for."

"One day I hope to retire in a place like this." And I dropped the subject. I had said too much as it was.

I put the empty bottle of beer down on the floor and continued looking out the window. I barely noticed the hand on my shoulder. He stroked my muscles gently, barely whispering over my skin. His lips were next, sliding over my shoulder taking the same path as his fingers. His hot mouth soothed my tense muscles. Was I tensing from disgust or passion, I wondered to myself? Did it matter anymore? I had swallowed the evidence. Modesty, dignity, whatever, it didn't matter any longer.

I let my head fall to the side as he thoroughly kissed and nibbled the back of my neck. His hand traced around my back to find my nipple again, and that hard, sleek body acquainted itself with my back. On their own, my hands traced up his thighs to grab his ass. It was firm under my fingers, and I felt the muscles flexing under his skin. I felt his hips thrusting gently into the small of my back, revealing his youth, and his burgeoning erection. Nipples, peaked to perfection, pressed into my shoulder blades, the ring as hot as his skin.

There was nothing to do next but move forward. So I did. I took the man into my arms, turning him around, and buried my face in his neck, kissing and licking the tender flesh. He smelled good, not sweet, but heavy with maleness. It was almost shocking to me that this smell, this musk, this spice, this sweat and heat and man turned me on. I could feel my own dick rising again, which well and truly shocked the hell out of me. And it excited me more. At my age, I wasn't sure I could manage it.

Again, I latched my mouth on his nipples, licking and nibbling one as I pinched and pulled at the other. He moaned under me, hissed in pleasure. I felt him moving, slowly, rubbing his hard length on my leg, and trying to get contact with me. I reached down and took it in my hand, sliding up and down, from head to base. He undulated under me. His breath was shallow, panting again. I worked his body, played it like a guitar, picking and strumming, his belly, his thighs, his ass. He was ready.

"Walter, please, now." It was small and quiet. Begging me to take him. I sat up and looked down at him. The flush ran across his face, in his cheeks, down his neck to his chest. His lips were parted, red and juicy trying to suck in more air. His lungs didn't seem to be able to stay filled. I braced myself above him, looking down, and finally moved to take off my glasses. I settled them on the bedside table and opened the drawer. If he were like any other man, he'd keep his condom and lubricant there. I was right.

"Get up, hand and knees," I instructed him.

"No," he breathed.

"No?" I was a bit annoyed.

"I want to see your face," he whispered, reaching up to touch my cheek. I pulled back. He was trying make this more than it was. And I needed to keep something for myself.

"Hand and knees, or you dispose of a corpse," I stated, firmly. He looked away, and nodded in defeat. He turned over and accepted the bottle of lube I gave him. I sat back for the show of him preparing himself for me. I had done this for my wife, on our few occasions of anal amour. But I wasn't touching him. She didn't quite like it, with my size, but she reluctantly gave me what I wanted. Krycek was the one who wanted this. I could easily pretend it was Sharon. It didn't matter she'd passed away many years ago. I could still pretend.

On his knees, Krycek snuck his hand into his ass to lube himself. His shoulders were down on the blanket and he looked so submissive, so beautiful. He used one finger then two, and I just stroked myself, watching. He looked back at me as his eyes followed my hand on my cock. He looked so sexy there in front of me. I quickly rolled the condom on, knowing this wouldn't last long, despite my earlier adventure down his throat. He was presenting me with the sexiest sight I'd ever witnessed, no matter what women had done for me in the past.

I took my place behind him, looking down that long expanse of smooth skin. His spine was a raised line toward his neck. He seemed very thin, as if he didn't keep regular meals despite of the feast he gave me. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes and wrinkles. Imagine that, Alex Krycek with wrinkles. He'd barely seemed old enough to drink to me back when he'd worked with Mulder. But he was getting older, like me, and it was showing on him, as it was showing on me. I had more gray hair in my chest, and it was creeping down my pants. Krycek even had a sprinkle at his temples. I realized then and there that it was time in my life to stop playing bullshit games.

I took hold of his hips and steadied him. His hand slid away from his ass to brace on the bed, on his forearm. He held his head up, always his head up. "Are you ready, Alex?" He looked back at me at the use of his first name. But if I was going to fuck his ass, I may as well use his first name. He nodded quickly, open-mouthed and panting still. I just held still, the head pressing his hole. I looked at him. He was already squeezing and I wasn't there yet. I held fast to his hips and rocked our bodies. I would draw this out a little. Make him sincerely want it.

"Walter, now. Do it, now!" He was insistent. He was needy. Lust was heavy on his tongue in his command. I had waited long enough. I held fast to his body as I pushed in. The clench on me was tight, but he relaxed and I slipped in, remembering the feel of breaching a hole for the first time. He reared up, hissing and clenching on me. I slid home, balls to balls, thighs pressing together and rubbing against me with his sparse, soft hair. I began thrusting into him, so tight, so hot. He hadn't been with someone for a while, I could tell by the way he needed the prep work. A thoroughly fucked man can take you immediately, or so I've heard.

I slowly rocked in and out of him, savoring his tightness. He didn't say anything to me, but I know he wanted to comment on my size. And I wanted to tell him how delicious his ass was. I stroked those round, sweet cheeks as I thrust against them, marveling in the ripple of flesh that was made as his skin met mine. He moved under me like a cat, writhing against me, in the same beat of our hearts together. I could feel his heartbeat all around my cock. He was bucking up back against me, inviting me deeper into him.

I fell forward, bracing my arms beside his shoulders. He turned his head toward me, but I pulled back. He turned back down toward the bed, trying to hold his grunts. I began to move a little faster, moving against his body. His back against my chest felt amazing, strong muscles and taught flesh, thin bones pressing against me.

His head made it back to me and he rasped out, "Harder, faster."

I plowed into him harder, feeling his body around me squeezing. Hitting his ass with my hips, my balls swinging to meet his, it was wonderful. I could be rough, or make it hurt, or try to. He would take it because he wanted it.  My breathing was ragged as I moved over him. I buried my face in the crook of his shoulder, enjoying that soft skin on my cheeks. His skin was like satin. I loved the way he felt under me.

"Your hair...tickles..." he breathed out. I could barely hear him, but I moved more against his back, increasing the contact. His skin rubbed my nipples and they hardened again. There was a center of heat growing in my belly and I knew if he kept squeezing me, kept moving with me and panting and moaning the way he was, I would come soon. I moved my angle and he seized up. Ah, the magic spot on a man. Sharon had used her long, slender fingers a few times to find my prostate. I knew what I was looking for. I hit it hard and the boy went wild, bucking and moving and squirming under me, his high-pitched yelp a verbal confirmation of a bull's-eye. I hit it again, and a third time and he squeezed me tight.

"Yes, Walter, oh, that's it, again, more, harder."

"You like that, boy, don't you? Beg me," I commanded.

"Please, Walter, oh, God, please, please, fuck me...fuck me hard," he pleaded. I answered by hitting the magic spot again, so hard I was sure I hurt him, only to have him gasp and whine and clench tight on me. Oh, so tight, so sweet, I couldn't bear it. I sunk my teeth into his shoulder, riding out the wave of pleasure as I felt him coming. I didn't stop hitting his prostate as he came around me and he shouted so loud it must have echoed through the house. "Oh, Walt, GOD, SHIT!"

His contractions around me were enough for me. My balls were tight up against my body and ready to shoot. With short jerky motions, I came and came and came, teeth still embedded in his skin. Was almost sure I would draw blood if I didn't pull away. He couldn't hold my weight and we fell together to the bed, limbs splayed out across the blanket. Matching ragged breaths fought for oxygen. I was still buried deep in his ass, softening slowly. I looked down at his shoulder and the purpling mark of my teeth in his skin. I ran my tongue over it and kissed it. He rubbed his head against mine. Oh, that hair was so soft, I couldn't help running my fingers through it. He always kept it short. It felt like rabbit fur, soft and ticklish. As a last added bit of pleasure, I snuck my hand under him and pulled on his nipple ring. He reared up a bit and giggled. What a sweet laugh he had.

"I like that, actually," he admitted quietly.

"I thought you would." I gently ran my hand down his flank.

"But I think my shoulder is gonna be bruised for weeks."

It was my turn to chuckle. I kissed the spot again. "Sorry, I lost myself there." This was nice. I tried not to lean too heavily on him, but I couldn't help it. I was completely drained. I even briefly considered a nap.

"Now, I'm as much yours as you are mine."

He said it so quietly I almost didn't hear him. At first, I didn't think I heard him correctly. I sat up a bit and looked down at him. He looked over his shoulder at me with that smirk of satisfaction smeared across his lips. There was a gleam in his eye of pure evil. I jumped off the bed quickly and stood back.

"You don't own shit, boy!" He rolled over and the look of shock on his face changed to hurt, then immediately became his mask of mischief. A look of pure evil elfishness settled in his features and he sat up on the bed. I shook my head in disgust at him and strode from the room, looking for the bathroom. I slammed the door shut behind me and cursed loudly. I removed the condom and tossed it in the wastebasket. I turned on the faucet marked hot in the sink, waiting for the water to warm up. It didn't. The door slid open. He stood in the open crack. "There's no hot water, Walt. So, unless you like icy mountain water, you're not going to get a shower."

I shoved him back out the door and closed it again. I did use that ice water to douse my face and rinse mouth out. I looked at myself for a long time in the mirror. What had I become? I was an old fool. I had thought that young buck in there gave a shit. No, you old, broken-down, near-sighted, cock-sucking fool, he used you again. He humiliated you. And you let him. Get the fucking box and leave.

I stormed out of the bathroom back to the bedroom and began yanking my clothes on. I watched him dress, as well. He was slow about it, and had a sexy gleam in his eye. I remember him bending over to pull his jeans up and his ass was red where I was slamming into him, slamming hard...

I realized I was lying in bed, semen over all over my stomach, and I had lost myself in the memories of earlier that day. I hadn't realized I was masturbating. Oh, God, what an experience. I needed to get past this and get on with my life.

I stood from my bed and walked to the bathroom to wash my belly. I took a washcloth from the linen closet and ran it under the tap. As I wiped my skin, I looked down at the pile of clothes on the floor. They just sat there. I decided to leave them there for the night. I could get rid of them in the morning.

*****

4 WEEKS LATER
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
8:30 AM

The phone ringing was just enough to make me knock my mug of coffee over, spilling over onto the rug. I could call maintenance to take care of it later. I looked at the phone. It was my private line. What bothered me more was there was no number in the caller ID display. But I lifted the receiver anyway.

"Skinner."

"Hey, Walt old buddy, how's it hanging?" I cringed at Frohike's assumed familiarity with me. But if he was calling me, he had news.

"What?" I know I was terse and rude, but I was annoyed. And I was depressed. And I was about done with life if there wasn't anything that could be done for me.

"Well, Langly cracked it. You're free, buddy. This thing is pretty antiquated. But he did your deed. One good shit and you’re free. Your piss is gonna feel a little like snot, too, I imagine, while this crap is all filtered from your blood. But they’re easy to program, and deprogram. And Langly destroyed the evidence."

I know I couldn't stop the tears in my eyes. But I had to maintain my voice steadily. "Thank you, Frohike. You'll find the...donation you mentioned in the appropriate place. And let your colleagues know I am eternally grateful."

I replaced the receiver and walked to my bathroom to wash my face. But I ended up breaking down and weeping, sitting on my closed toilet lid. One of the advantages of being an assistant director was my private en-suite bathroom for personal moments. But I knew I had to get back to my desk directly. I had reports to read, I had to call Scully to see if Mulder had checked in, and I had to speak with Doggett to see a few loose ends tied up with some ideas I had for him. Having the X-Files back under my belt since the arrest and incarceration of AD Follmer was a good feeling.

I walked back out to my desk and looked at the coffee stain on the rug. I'd tell Kim to get maintenance on it later. I sat back in my chair to close the folders on my desk when my private line rang again. I recognized the number this time. What the hell did my lawyer want?

"Skinner."

"Walter, when did you buy this house?"

"House? What the hell are you talking about, Bruce?" OK, someone was playing with my lawyer. Great.

"I just got the paperwork on a house that you bought, a cabin, and the only thing that really bothers me is the damn price. How the hell do I explain this, Walter? This is gonna make your accountant insane!"

I was well and truly confused. I was buying a cabin...

"Bruce, who is the owner of this cabin? Maybe I'm having a senior moment." It couldn't be, I reasoned.

"You, Walter? A senior moment? Not happening. But the owner is listed here as a Sasha Arntzen. He sold it to you for a dollar. His signature is here. I have it waiting for you to sign it. Why didn't you tell me, Walter?"

"I...I've been very busy. I'll be there after I leave here, around 7 or 7:30. Tell Jane and the boys I said hello."

I hung up the phone. Oh shit. The cabin. What was he telling me? It had been weeks since our...encounter. I had stopped thinking about it. Well, outside the apartment. There was a pile of clothes on my bathroom floor that my cleaning lady was getting annoyed about, but I refused to let her move. She cursed me in Spanish for days when I ordered her to clean around them. She just leaves them on the bathroom rug and moves the rug out of the way to clean. But I won't touch them again. If I disturb them, I'll smell them. And if I smell them...I don't want to go there.

So I had bought the cabin. He knew I wanted to retire in a cabin like that. What the hell was he telling me? I had turned 50, made my 20 years easily. Wait, I had my 25 in, shit! Was it that long? I could retire with my full benefits. Without a doubt Doggett would take my place. He would continue the work on the X-Files, protect Scully and William, and keep in contact with the Gunmen. I could retire. I could move up to that cabin. It needed a hot water heater. It needed another room. And I would turn the barn into a woodworking shed.

I picked up my phone and called my assistant into my office. She walked in, straightening her suit jacket, genuine grin on her face. "Kim, sit down, please." She looked down at the coffee stain on the rug.

"Sir, should I call..."

"Kim, please, relax a moment." I stood and closed the door so that she and I could talk freely. My office was currently bug-free, thanks again to the Gunmen. So I knew she and I could discuss this with ease and privacy.

"I wanted to tell you this before anyone else, since you and I work so closely together."

She smiled widely at me, stopping my next words to say, "You're retiring, aren't you?"

I looked at her, letting the astonishment creep over my face. "How did you know?"

"I've known for the last few weeks you were done. I could see in the way you worked. Sir, I think you're right to want to retire. It's time you got some rest."

I sat back, a small smile creeping over my face. She was amazing. And I could have had her. And I let the chance slip away. Her engagement ring sparkled in the light. She was seeing some actor, a tall, well-built fellow with a handsome face. He would make a name for himself in television one day. And strangely enough, he was as bare-skulled as I was. Obviously, Kim's taste went to smooth pates.

"I think that of all the people in this building, I will miss you the most, Kim. I'll write you the most glowing recommendation I possibly can. And none of it will be fabrication."

"Sir, could you make it generic? I'll be moving to Los Angeles after I'm married. You should receive your invitation in the mail very soon, and I expect you to be there."

"Of course I'll be there. And yes, I'll write you anything you want."

"I'll print your request for retirement benefits. Sir..."

"Walter. It's about time you called me Walter." It was so easy to talk to her now. She was an old friend and finally acting like it.

"Walter, I want to thank you for being a respectful and pleasant person to work for."

"And I want to thank you for being the most intuitive and supportive assistant I have ever had in my entire career. And I would like you to make lunch reservations for us at your favorite restaurant today. Cancel my appointments. And make sure it's a nice place, I owe you lunch, my dear."

She smiled at me and nodded. Then she left me there. And she took care of everything.

*****

VIRGINIA MOUNTAINS
4 MONTHS LATER

I sat on the porch watching the sunset, foot up on the railing. I repaired the porch this summer and it came out pretty good, if I do say so myself. The roof was first, then the porch. I would do the interior stuff throughout the autumn and then just make furniture in the winter. Yep, I loved it up here.

Kim had taken my retirement hard, until she married and moved out west. Doggett was promoted as I thought, Reyes becoming a Section Chief. The X-Files got a whole new crew. The basement was outfitted as their command post, with 6 agents, and each had desks. Kersh owed me. And he was making up for everything.

I sipped my beer, thinking about how I had just missed the shit storm that came down on the FBI. All the agents who were involved in the Consortium were yanked, prosecuted and the trials were still going on. Some defendants had mentioned my name, but there was no supporting evidence. Somehow, I think it was destroyed. I regretted that part of my life deeply. But my guardian angel was looking out for me. An angel who seemed to be in the shape of a rat.

I felt a cold, wet nose on my hand and turned. Bosco had come out to sit with me. I had acquired a dog in the last few weeks. He just showed up one night, whimpering outside in the rain. I looked at him as he shivered from the cold. But he crawled to me, big brown eyes sad and soaking wet fur. So I took him into the cabin, dried him with a towel, and brought him some left over steak. He settled on the rug and let the warmth of the summer evening seep into him from a dry setting. When I took him to the vet, she gauged he was about a year old, probably an abandoned puppy. She thought he was a mix of Chocolate Lab and American Mastiff, with long brown, silky fur and a blunt, squared head. But Bosco turned out to be the best thing to happen to me in my retirement.

Yes, I added the hot water heater, and the woodshed in the barn with a potbelly stove for heat when the winter came. And I was doing a good job of getting this place together. But the loneliness was getting to me. And then that brown lump walked into my life. He followed me everywhere, slept on the end of my bed. It made sleeping in that bed easier. Yes, it was the same bed. For all I knew, it was the same blanket and sheets. I had changed nothing in the house that was left for me. Of course, the washer and dryer in the kitchen pantry helped make sure there weren't any critters in the sheets or blankets.

The refrigerator was stocked with Labatts beer, as well. I kept it there, in case he wanted to come back. Maybe it was too a small gesture, but I couldn't do that to Alex. Not after his gift. Not after the warning he gave me. He saved my ass, my pension and my freedom, and ultimately my life. Treason was punishable by death. And that made up for hurting me, more than enough. I wished I knew how to thank him. The Gunmen couldn't find him, Mulder had no idea where he was, and I hadn't heard from him since I had moved up to the cabin. It was as if he'd dropped off the face of the earth. Well, one day, I supposed, he'd come back. At least, I hoped he would.

~End of Part 1~

Continued in Part 2
 
 

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