The day came when the fear over the deepening winter won out over concern for Skinner’s health. Scully and Krycek would journey west to see what they could scavenge from the abandoned homestead.

Scully spent the evening before they left nagging Skinner about his health, his diet, and his need for rest. He took her instructions meekly, knowing it arose from her fear and concern for him, and the knowledge that he had nearly died.

Krycek spent the time familiarizing Skinner with the outbuildings and chores. The men were coolly polite with one another, although they studied one another intently when they thought the other was not looking.

Krycek’s scrutiny was laced with guilt. His newfound knowledge of Skinner’s effort to keep him safe from the smoking bastard, however futile, filled him with the desire to make amends to the other man -- to acknowledge the man’s deeds and gallantry. And maybe, somehow, ask for forgiveness.

Skinner’s examination of Krycek was more complex. Skinner’s first impression of the naïve young Agent Krycek had been lost forever after the man had betrayed them all. To his mind, Krycek was all things despicable and loathsome, and every encounter with him since had only served to enforce his conviction. Until now.

It vexed him that he could no longer categorize the man into the neat box he had created for him. It bothered him that Scully felt so comfortable with Alex. Her defense of him was almost incomprehensible to him. He wondered what had happened to cause such a change in their relationship while he was recovering from pneumonia. The actions she ascribed to Krycek didn’t jibe with the image he had of the man. Of course, the man who had beaten him in the stairwell or killed him with a sweep of a stylus didn’t jive with the young and earnest agent who had been placed under his command.

The worst however, was his reaction to Krycek’s delight at the thought of eggs being added to their diet. He turned to Scully and slanted that pirate smile of his and Skinner’s breath had caught in his throat. In the years that he’d been so caught up with Krycek’s shortcomings, he’d actually blocked out how appealing the man was. He was stunned by the sudden image of a warm and naked Krycek curled up behind him, his arm wrapped around him, his voice whispering something he couldn’t make out. He tried to shake the picture from his mind and turned to look at Scully, and found himself floating in a vague and fleeting memory of her naked in his arms, her full breast cupped in his hand, his hard and dripping cock poised to enter her.

The image of having sex with Scully was more disturbing to his peace of mind than the thought of fucking Krycek. Scully was - irreproachable. She was everything that was good and honest in his world, and he refused to think of her in mere human terms. She was a goddess on a pedestal he carefully fashioned for her. Some small part of his heart that still believed in Santa Claus and the hereafter was convinced that her pregnancy was of divine origin. The logical part of his brain acknowledged that she was with child, but would not consider how she became pregnant. He certainly would not allow himself to speculate on the identity of the father. It was hard enough to acknowledge her pregnancy.

So instead, he brooded over the inconsistencies of Krycek’s behavior. Skinner was a man who liked things neat and orderly. He didn’t like this new information he had about Krycek. It made him hard to pin down; that, and his undeniable sexual appeal tested Skinner’s self-control.

For his part, Krycek was happy to have a few days out of the other man’s company. Skinner’s dark looks and uneven temper were beginning to wear on him. He needed time and space to sort through his own feelings.

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They left at first light, a tiny caravan made up of three horses, a pregnant woman, and a triple agent.

For Krycek, it was a novel experience. He was used to traveling alone -- traveling light, moving quickly. He was not used to having to watch out for someone else, and his solicitousness towards Scully’s welfare troubled him. He wondered if he was growing soft. Then he grinned to himself. What the hell difference did it make anymore?

They broke often, sometimes when Scully’s bladder called, other times when Krycek estimated their time on horseback had been long enough. Neither was used to riding, and he didn’t want them so crippled by sore muscles when they reached the homestead that they couldn’t retrieve what they were after.

Several times he’d caught Scully lost in her own world. He had hoped by now that she would have emerged from the cocoon she had wrapped around herself. But the further they traveled from the cabin and Skinner, the more reticent she became.

But despite his concerns for his traveling companion, his spirits rose as they journeyed west. He’d been stuck close to the cabin for so long, that this bit of freedom was a thing to be cherished. He loved these ancient mountains, worn down over eons of time. There was a comfort in knowing that they had survived the invaders and the plague. He thought that maybe, just maybe, humankind could also survive sheltered in its ancient embrace.

It was late afternoon when they crested a hill from the top if which they could see the homestead Scully and Skinner had passed on their journey upcountry. Alex determined that they should make camp here, and survey the surrounding landscape for any signs of unfriendly activity. Morning would be soon enough to explore their plunder.

A small gas burner yielded up hot water and both enjoyed a mug of tea while setting up camp. Scully was an automaton that did as she was bid without demure. Krycek frowned over her passiveness and hoped to hell Skinner was around when she finally broke.

He watched the homestead for three hours without spying any sign of activity. He was convinced that they were alone in this valley, not just from his surveillance, but his gut feeling that he and Scully were the only human beings in this lonely valley.

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Scully had prepared their tent, where he had sent her an hour ago. He checked the horses one last time, and then joined Scully. He found an empty sleeping bag, neatly unfolded, and slid his long legs into its shelter. As he settled down into a comfortable position, he realized that Scully had curled up in a small bundle, shaking with cold.

“Damn it, Scully! Are you trying to freeze to death?” With a few deft moves, he had unearthed her from her sleeping bag, despite her protests, and deposited her gently near the entrance of the tent. He then unzipped both bags, and unfolded each, then zipped together into one large bag. He slid down in and lifted one edge so Scully could slide into next to him. She turned her back to him and held herself stiffly away. He sighed, exasperated, then rolled onto his side and pulled her back against him.

“Scully, you know I won’t hurt you, right?”

She relaxed then, and nodded. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Then why?” he asked.

She shrugged, and murmured, “Conditioned response, I guess.”

He chuckled at that, and tugged a strand of her hair.

“I’ll guess I’ll have to recondition you, won’t I?”

She snorted, joining in his mood, and replied. “You can try.”

He laughed outright at her indignant retort. He pulled her closer, curling his legs up beneath hers, happy that she seemed to be emerging from her funk.

For that reason, and that alone, he leaned up over her to plant a companionable kiss on her check, to let her know how pleased he was with her. But in the dark of the tent, instead of kissing the neutral territory of her cheek, his lips fell on the soft white curve of her neck, just below her ear.

From that, he might have recovered and pulled away, if it hadn’t been for her reaction. She sighed, then tipped her head, exposing her neck, as though she were inviting further contact.

So he kissed her again, this time trailing his lips along her neck, and then nibbling the dainty lobe of one white ear. Her response was instantaneous. She arched against him further, and lifted one arm up and behind her to pull his head closer. The sound of her breathless response, the feel of her rounded bottom against his groin, the smell and thought of Dana Scully in his arms was too much for him to resist.

“Scully,” he groaned. “We shouldn’t...”

“Don’t say anything,” she breathed.

“Scully, are you sure...”

But she cut him off. “Don’t talk, please. Just do.”

And he did.

Propping himself on his stump, he let his mouth and lips explore her neck and shoulder and ear, while his hand learned the curve of her breasts and abdomen. He wanted to taste her breasts, knead them and burrow his face between them.

He urged her to turn onto her back, but she resisted, and in a flash he realized this was her way of abdicating responsibility for what was happening between them. As long as they weren’t face to face, she could pretend she wasn’t complicit. A brief arrow of anger rose in him, and he wanted to challenge her, but the hand she had twined in his hair slide down his body to cup his erection, and he surged forward into her palm, forgetting his anger, forgetting everything but his growing need.

He slid his hand under her layers of clothing and found the tip of one swollen breast. He teased the nipple back and forth, feeling it pearl against his fingertips. He worried it over and over till she writhed against him. Her breath came in short pants and she rocked her hips faster and faster till she suddenly arched, holding still for one long moment. The clever fingers at her breast stilled as she rode out the tiny climax he incited.

“God!” she sobbed. “That’s never happened to me before.”

He muttered into her neck, “We’re not finished yet.” He tugged at her sweat pants and long johns and she was helping him till her lower half was naked inside the sleeping bag. Pushing up her sweatshirt, his hand carefully explored the curve of her abdomen. The flesh over her pregnant belly was hard and firm. He’d never touched a pregnant woman before and his curious mind asked a dozen questions that his tongue refused to voice. Instead, he slid his hand lower till he found her curls. He longed to see them, to know their color, but contented himself with testing their spring and teasing the folds they hid. She pushed into his hand, groaning, “God it’s been so long, so long since someone touched me there.”

And in that instant he understood that the baby inside her was not the result of a natural conception. The consortium bastards had been using her, experimenting with her. A wave of rage and compassion rose up in him and he stilled his exploration, burying his face in her silky hair, rocking her gently. “Ah, Scully,” he whispered, blinking back the moisture welling up in his eyes. As he held and comforted her, his erection began to fade. But Scully was unaware of his turmoil. She only knew she wanted to drown in the wave of sensation he stirred. She grew fretful at his inaction and writhed against him, whispering encouragement. She pulled his hand to the warmth between her legs and rocked her hips against him. His desire rose again and he promised himself that he would find a way to make up for all that she had lost.

His lips trailed along her neck and he felt her shudder. He slid one long finger deep inside her and groaned as he felt her heat and her dampness. He pulled back and tugged the rest of her clothing off, while she pulled at his. When they were both naked he moved against her and shuddered as their flesh met. God she felt good. Soft and firm and ripe and sexy. He wanted to eat her up, feast on her bounty. Make her scream. Feel her come around his cock.

He urged her to roll and lay face down, then he reached around to pad the sleeping bag around the swell of her tummy. Scully melted, trembling with anticipation. The skin on her neck and back was exquisitely sensitive, and she wanted to feel his hand touch her there. She folded one arm into a pillow for her head, the other curved into a support for her belly, lifting her slightly towards Krycek.

With his fingers, he trailed a path along the length of her back. She shivered, then rocked her hips. With his lips, he learned the shape of her spine, from the back of her neck, to the curve of her bottom.

He wanted to try something with her, something he would bet money no one had done to her before.

He scrunched down beside her, kissing and licking the curves of her ass, flirting with the cleft between them. With his hand, he teased the lips of her cunt, then pushed one finger as far it would go into her. He fucked her with that finger, feeling her channel dampen and loosen. He added another finger and his own hips jerked as he heard her moan, smelled her arousal, and felt her tighten around him.

He then twisted his hand, curving his fingers so they pressed down toward her pubic bone. He then stroked the front of her vagina, feeling carefully for the hidden treasure of a woman’s body. His fingers stroked her again and again while his lips and mouth teased her bottom. He felt it then, a small knot of muscle. He rubbed harder and felt it swell. She gasped then and tried to pull away. He leaned over her, kissed her spine and reassured her. “Shhhh. It’s ok. I know it feels strange right now, but it’ll feel so good. I promise.”

The whole time he kept stroking the knot of muscle in the front wall of her vagina and kissed and licked the sensitive skin of her spine and bottom. She stayed with him and finally she relaxed, moaning. Then she tightened again and her hips began to rock. He sped up his stroking and used his thumb to circle her clitoris.

“Oh Alex. Please. I want to...Oh God.”

He knew what she wanted and he wanted it for her. He wanted her to come. Hard. “Come for me, Dana. Come for me now.”

And suddenly she was crying out, and the muscles of her vagina clamped down on his fingers and a gush of warm fluid coated his hand.

He rode out the wave with her and then slid up along her body and pulled her back into his arms. She seemed stunned, and he smiled to himself, liking the idea that he had taken Dana Katherine Scully to the stars and left her a speechless, boneless, trembling mess. He kissed her and stroked her and whispered nonsense in her ear.

At length, she took a deep breath, and tipped her head so she could see him. Her look was direct, and he wondered what she was thinking.

“You sure know your way around the female body, Krycek.”

He grinned, relieved at her words. He pulled her closer and tugged on a lock of red hair while he explained. “Something I learned in my misspent youth. The wife of a visiting German gynecologist taught me everything I know. Mrs. Grafenberg. Helga was her first name, if I remember correctly. Said she was bored with her husband. Complained that he spent all his time yapping about vaginas and such, but never paid any attention to hers.”

She giggled then and swatted at his chest. And although he laughed with her, Krycek thought his heart might stop. Dana Scully was giggling. At something he said. She was warm and naked and in his arms and laughing at something he said.

He wondered just when it was that his life started going right. Wondered how in the hell he had broken the curse that had hung over him since he the day he’d thrown his lot in with the smoking bastard and his band of thugs.

His laughter trailed off and when her gaze fell to his lips, he felt the breath catch in his throat. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers, and she opened for him, her tongue seeking his. She pushed back against him until his penis was trapped between her legs. As her hips undulated against him, he felt the tip of his cock pushing into her warmth.

“Dana.” His voice was urgent. “I don’t have anything. I don’t have any protection.”

“Oh, Alex, do you really think it matters anymore?” She grabbed his arm and pulled him so he was flush against her back, and settled his hand against her breast. “All I know is that right now I feel alive.” She lifted one thigh and angled back against him, allowing him full access to her. “I don’t want that feeling to end, Alex. Not just yet.” She reached between them and guided his length to the mouth of her vagina. “I know you want this too.”

He groaned, and pushed into her, feeling her warmth and wetness welcoming him. He held her hips while he pushed, till his entire length was snugly inside her. Carefully, he began to move, pulling back till just the head of his cock remained in her cunt. Then he pushed back, sheathing himself again. His lips fell to her neck and he nibbled and gnawed on the sensitive flesh there while he fell into a rhythm, rolling and snapping his hips, plunging into her and pulling back, fucking her slowing and deeply.

“Yessss...” She hissed the word out, relaxing back against him, loving the feeling of his smooth body against her back. She shuddered as the length of his penis stroked her sensitive vagina; whimpered as his cock rubbed the tiny knot of nerve ending his clever fingers had found earlier. A flush of warmth began there, fluttering pleasurably. It spread slowly out in concentric circles. She felt light and heady and flushed. Every cell in her body turned on its axis, spinning faster and faster, flares of sensation shooting down her legs and up her spine, till her flesh sang with pleasure. It was there, just out of her reach, and she cried out, begging him to fuck her harder, slamming her hips back into his, driving him, making him match her rhythm. And then she was there, hurtling over the edge, every cell in her body reaching its own climax.

Alex had wanted to take his time. He knew that he might never have this chance again. So he wanted to draw it out, make it last. But Scully’s course language was as unexpected as it was salacious. He bit his lip, tying not to come. But she was pounding against him and he was matching her thrust for thrust. He felt his climax building from the base of his spine, then felt her tighten around him, her vagina milking his cock and he came hard, spurting into her again and again, feeling as though the top of his head had blown off. He heard his own voice crying out hoarsely and wondered for one brief second how she had managed to strip his every defense.

Alex Krycek sipped at his morning coffee and contemplated the singular pleasure of waking up with a woman in his arms, a woman he had spent the previous night making love to. In his past life, there were always plenty of bed partners to be had, both male and female. But they were all interchangeable—even that double-crossing bitch Marita.

It was odd enough for Krycek to light for long anywhere, let alone spend an entire night with one person. It was only fitting that the woman in question was Dana Scully. It lent the whole situation a chimerical feeling that began to feel oddly reassuring.

Krycek knew that making love with Scully again was far from a sure thing. He knew the price for last night was his silence on the matter this morning. He could live with that. He had studied Scully for a long time. Had a good idea of how she would feel this morning, what she would be thinking. His only hope was to take her by surprise. He chuckled to himself when he thought of how she had surprised him last night.

Turn about, he thought, was only fair.

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She woke slowly, stretching luxuriously. She felt delicious, her body humming with satiation. She rolled over arching her back. She wondered at this sense of well-being, and then came fully awake with a start.

Memory came back, and she moaned, burying her face in her hands. What had she done? What had she done?

Slept with Krycek.

Alex Krycek.

The man she loathed and despised for years. The man who had taken so much from her. She let him touch her. Let him? Encouraged him. Begged him was more like it. Oh, God. How could she face him? Face Skinner? Thank God Mulder wasn’t here. He would know instantly that she had...what? Gotten lucky?

She buried her face in the sleeping bag, smothering a nervous laugh.

This could never happen again. She would treat Krycek as always, and pretend it never happened. It was the only possible way to deal with it.

She dressed quickly, wincing at the ache between her legs, blushing at the dampness she felt there. The smell of coffee floated to her as she emerged from the tent. She smoothed her face into an expressionless mask, and lifted her gaze to where Krycek stood. To her surprise, he was intently watching the house, and didn’t turn to face her as he shared that there was coffee and granola for her. She stared at him stunned, then filled a cup and joined him.

He turned to her finally and observed, “I think we’ll leave camp as is. I’ll go down first and make sure it’s secure. You cover me from here.” When he looked at her his statement as bland and disinterested. There was no signature smirk, no knowing leer, no snarky comment. With his green eyes and his aloof attitude he reminded her of a great dark cat and found herself both reassured and piqued by his distant behavior.

She agreed with his plan and watched has he gathered up a rifle for her, and his own cache of weapons.

And has she settled into a comfortable position with her rifle cradled in her arms, and watched him pick his way carefully down the embankment, sipped carefully at her mug of coffee, and wondered how it was that she thought she understood the man at all.

End Part 4.

 
To Be Continued