Slick, by Glacis, rated NC17 for scenes of an explicitly sexual nature.
This is an alternate ending to the two-parter, Piper Maru and Apocrypha. This story is especially for Krycek fans. Contains spoilers for third
season episodes. Characters belong to CC and company and are used with
sincere appreciation but without permission. Contains sexual content so only
read if you're a legal adult -- otherwise the Fibbies
will haul ALL our butts away.
More than four days had passed since he had walked out of a quiet
restroom in the busy airport in
He remembered very little of it.
Alex Krycek looked at the slick, dark oil
coating his skin and began to shake. He was covered with it, almost as if it
had somehow oozed out through his skin, as if he had sweat oil instead of salt
water. A low moan forced its way through clenched teeth, and he stared at the
white knuckles of his fists, wondering just what the hell had happened. Before
he had a chance to do more than barely formulate the thought, the door flew
open. The loud crack it gave on impacting the wall and the sudden burst of
light in the dark apartment made his protective instincts kick in. He
jackknifed into position, ready to launch an attack at whomever had come after
him ... or at least that was the plan. By the time he realized that his muscles
had refused to listen to his instincts, the tall figure was already standing
over him, both hands clenched around the butt of a pistol that, from his
perspective on the floor, looked incredibly large.
"Freeze," the figure growled, and Alex flinched. Mulder. Of course. Fucking bloodhound. "Federal agent.
You're under arrest."
"No shit," he muttered back.
The figure straightened and brought his weapon to bear more closely on
the dark figure huddled on the floor. "Krycek?" Cautious disbelief colored his tone.
Light flooded the room as his partner found the switch.
"Did you get him, Mulder?" she called out.
"Over here, Scully." The fierce hazel eyes never wavered.
"It's Krycek."
Her swift intake of breath betrayed her own satisfaction. Dana Scully
stepped out from behind her much taller partner and narrowed her eyes at the
crumpled body, surprised to see that although his eyes were open he wasn't
making any effort to attack. As she trained her own weapon on him, Mulder moved
forward to search him, careful to remain out of her line of fire in case Krycek tried anything.
Alex watched his approach warily, but made no move to escape. His mind
was struggling with a myriad of visions, none of which were particularly clear,
and none of which would explain where the hell he was and why his body felt
like it had been beaten with baseball bats. As Mulder ran his hands roughly
across his body, slapping at his torso, arms, legs to find hidden weapons, a
similar scene replayed itself in his memory. Busy airport,
bank of phones away from the traffic flow. Caught by surprise, blows to
the body <for my partner> and to the face <for me> ... shoved
violently against the phones, Mulder's body pressed
so tightly to his own he couldn't fight, couldn't grip anything but the edge of
the booth, couldn't bring his legs up to kick at him, only to wrap
ineffectually around his thigh, his own gun to his stomach <for my
father>, Mulder's strong forearm cutting off his
air <kill me then> the smell of the other man's anger and his own fear,
the tenseness of their bodies fighting one another to a standstill, the
firmness of an erection crushed against another <do it to me>
"What the hell?"
He gasped and returned to the present, trying to ignore the ache in his
groin. Mulder was showing something to Scully now, a disconcerted look on his
face. Alex looked at Mulder's hand, offered to his
partner's inspection. Coated with slick, black oil.
Mulder looked from the familiar slickness coating his fingers to the
wide, confused eyes of his enemy. Krycek still made
no move to try to escape, in fact, he hadn't made any move at all since he and
Scully had come bursting into the room. If it hadn't been for those big, dark
eyes and the movement of Krycek's chest under his
hand, he'd think the other man was dead, he lay so still. As he looked further
for evidence of the oily substance he had last seen on a diver named Gauthier,
he noticed another indication that Krycek was alive. Quite an impressive hard-on. He shifted unconsciously, then forced himself to complete his inspection.
"He's clean," he finally announced, then looked at his fingers
again. "Relatively."
"What is that stuff, Mulder?" Scully obviously didn't trust Krycek. She kept her weapon leveled directly at his
stomach.
"I'm not exactly sure, but it looks" he paused to sniff at the
oil, "and smells like the same stuff that was all over Gauthier."
Blue eyes meshed with hazel, and silent communication flew between the
two. They knew one another so well it was almost a form of telepathy. Scully
holstered her weapon, and leaned forward to help him pull Krycek
to his feet.
"You're coming with us." Her voice was stone cold.
"Like I have a choice," Alex returned weakly, then sagged between them heavily. Mulder looked across the
unconscious man's bent head and grinned at his partner.
"Well, at least we don't have to shoot him to get him to
cooperate," he cracked. At the look on her face, his grin slipped. "Yeah, my sentiments exactly." They kept close
watch as they hauled Krycek's unresponsive body to
their car and manhandled him into the back. As they settled into the front
seat, Scully half turned to keep an eye on their captive. In the silence, over
the purr of the engine, Mulder completed his thought.
"Too damned bad."
The tip had come from another thug, the man she knew had killed her
sister. He had given them an address, an anonymous apartment in a quiet
neighborhood, nothing to cause the sudden blanching of her partner's face. She
kept her question until they were alone in the car. As she started the engine
and headed with controlled urgency deeper into the city, he took a deep breath.
"Cancerman." His voice was thready, and shook slightly with
hatred.
"You know the address, then."
"Yeah. And I know
how to get in without anyone seeing us."
They had gone in cleanly, and gotten the man they had come for. But she
had a sinking suspicion that while they may have caught a rat, they hadn't
caught the head rat ... the one truly responsible for Melissa's death.
She had examined their prisoner thoroughly, and could find no
physiological cause for his unconscious state, beyond complete exhaustion. They
agreed to hold him at Mulder's apartment, because
they knew he would be killed if he was turned over to the authorities. Killed
as the triggerman had been killed, in his own cell.
Now, in the quiet darkness of Mulder's
apartment, she knew that getting Krycek wouldn't be
enough. Something that had been niggling at the back of her mind suddenly made
sense.
"He's the fall guy, Mulder." She wasn't sure quite where the
conviction in her voice came from, but she was certain.
"I know," her partner responded soberly. "He's not one of
theirs any longer ... or he wouldn't be running so hard to get away from
them."
Grim blue eyes met hazel, and she felt her lip curl. "They want us
to do their dirty work for them."
"I think so." He looked at the filthy, exhausted man sprawled
on his living room floor. "He's still dangerous, but I don't think he's
actively trying to get to us. More apt to say he's cornered, and dangerous
because of that."
She knelt beside the still figure, noting the dark circles under his
eyes, the pale skin, unkempt growth of beard. "He's been running for a
while." She reached out and tentatively scooped some of the oil from his
cheek. "He's not the one I want, Mulder." She stood up and looked at
him steadily. "I want the one who was running him, the one who gave him
the orders. The one who sent that creep to shoot Skinner. The
one who really killed my sister."
He looked back at her just as steadily. "And you'll get him."
He gestured at Krycek. "And he'll help."
She raised a weary brow at him in disbelief, and he gave her a feral smile in
return. "Trust me."
She couldn't help but return the smile, then caught herself
as a yawn took her by surprise. Squinting at her watch, she looked uncertainly
at Krycek, then back to Mulder.
"Go home, Scully. Try to get some sleep. As soon as he wakes up,
I'll call you." She stood irresolute, and he shooed her toward the door.
"I promise."
With one last glance at their only viable lead, she allowed Mulder to
usher her out the door.
"I hope you're right, Mulder. He'd better help us ... or I may beat
it out of him," she muttered to herself as she drove through the early
morning darkness toward home.
Krycek had roused enough
to at least give Mulder some assistance as the agent led him into the bathroom.
"No way you're going in my bed looking like a refugee from the Exxon
Valdez, Alex," he groused, pulling the oil soaked clothes from the other
man's solidly built body and dropping them into a sodden mass next to the tub. "Into the shower, man."
The steamy water felt wonderful to Krycek, but
had the unfortunate effect of turning his legs to limp noodles. Mulder nearly
lost hold of him twice before he gave up, swearing, and decided to climb into
the tub to hold him upright. Leaning him up against the warm tiles, he quickly
stripped his own clothes off, taking care to toss them
far from the disgusting mess Krycek had been wearing.
At least the black leather jacket appeared to have escaped the worst of it. It
was as if the oil had come from the inside ... Mulder shuddered at the thought,
then came back to the present as Alex began to slide
along the wall again.
"Damnit!" he yelped, hopping into the tub just in time to catch
him with his own body. A splash of oily water caught him in the mouth, and he
spat sideways with disgust. "That really is gross, Krycek."
"Tell me about it," Alex slurred. "Try puking the shit up.
God, Mulder, it was coming from my eyes!" He sounded incredulous and
revolted, but so tired there wasn't much force behind the words. Mulder made a
mental note to ask him more about the alien possession when he was more
coherent, then concentrated on getting him clean so they could both get some
rest.
Mulder found his arms slipping around the slick waist of the shorter man,
somewhat taken aback at his bulk. He hadn't looked this muscular in his suits,
but then, he hadn't really noticed ... or so he told himself. The seal brown
hair was finally starting to look clean, and the water running from his relaxed
legs was becoming clear. Mulder reached out a hand and snagged the bar of soap,
then looked down at the creamy skin of Krycek's
shoulder.
Pursing his lips in thought, he gave up on the idea of letting go of Alex
long enough to lather up, and began to stroke the bar in circles along his
chest, using the friction of skin and chest hair to bring up the lather. Alex's
head lolled back to rest on his shoulder, and he looked down over the long
column of throat, the well defined chest, to the curve of ribcage and stomach,
the incipient erection, the whole of the now glistening body nestled against
his own. His hand gradually slowed, the strokes becoming caresses.
The combination of crisp hair and soft skin, and the soporific effect of
the steam relaxed Mulder, and his mind drifted as his free hand wandered.
Unbidden, his arousal grew as he felt the lather under his fingertips slip
softly down the other man's body, outlining long muscles under satin skin. His
breathing became ragged and his eyes unfocused. Krycek
was too exhausted to really be aware of what Mulder was doing to him, but his
body reacted to his touch, nipples tightening, erection
stirring. Mulder breathed deeply, more aroused than he had been in a long time,
then suddenly realized exactly where he was -- and what he was doing -- and to
whom. His fingers went slack, the soap fell into the tub, and he nearly dropped
Krycek.
"Holy shit," he muttered to himself, eyes wide and fixed firmly
on the back of Alex's neck. Hastily rinsing his charge off, averting his eyes
from the distracting signs of arousal, he wrestled Krycek
out of the tub and propped him on the toilet seat, wrapping a large towel
around him.
"Don't move," he ordered, then shook his head when Alex didn't
even open his eyes.
It was almost like leading a sleepwalker when he came back to take Alex
to his bed. A sleepwalker or a small child. The
unaccustomed sense of helplessness from a man he knew to be a killer and hired
thug disconcerted Mulder, but he shoved the confusion to the back of his mind
to join the arousal still lurking there, and settled Krycek
under the covers. He stood for a moment watching his one-time partner and
erstwhile enemy.
"This war makes strange allies, Krycek,"
he whispered, then wandered out to the livingroom to
take his usual place on the sofa. It was a very long time before he fell
asleep, and when he did, the nightmares were replaced by something perhaps even
more disturbing.
The soft, supple slide of leather over his skin. The musky warmth of another body close, lying over his
own, close enough to touch but a whisper away. Hot
breath on his throat, along his jaw, hovering above his lips. The
sensations wove into the dream he was living, hastening his breath, tightening
his body, speeding the flicker of eyes behind closed lids. Only
a dream. Only a dream, to feel so soft. So
close. So hot. So real.
Hazel eyes, pupils dilated in the darkness of the livingroom,
flew wide at the solidity of the dream, and stared with dazed shock into deep
emerald eyes surrounded by a thicket of black lashes, inches from
his own. He could see the brown ring around Krycek's
irises, the light reflecting from lips recently moistened by a quick tongue.
The other man wasn't making any other moves, just holding himself there, poised
above him. One strong hand was gripping the cushion along the back of the couch, the other was digging into the seat cushion next to
his torso, between his bicep and his ribcage. Mulder fought the sudden trapped
feeling of claustrophobia and returned his unwilling houseguest's stare.
"For a guy who doesn't sleep much, you go out like a light when you
finally do," Krycek murmured roughly. His eyes
stayed fixed on Mulder's, the unwavering intensity
beginning to rouse something in the agent that he'd thought he'd shoved deeply,
safely to the back of his mind.
"I take what I can get." His own voice sounded unusually husky.
Krycek grinned suddenly at him, a slice of white in
the dark, and leaned even closer.
"Sounds familiar," he rasped back, and fastened his teeth
lightly in the sensitive skin at the side of Mulder's
throat. He reacted instinctively, trying to punch, or kick, or slither out from
under the other man, but Krycek was surprisingly
strong, and too close for him to effectively strike, sliding his hands
immediately to twine with Mulder's fingers, holding
him immobile. "Turn about's fair play,"
Alex growled into his ear, loosening his teeth to nip lightly at Mulder's earlobe. In response, Mulder employed a different
tactic, writhing and bucking in an attempt to throw Krycek
off. It did not have the intended effect. He found himself flipped onto the
carpet in front of the couch, the coffee table roughly pushed aside, and pinned
in place by the other man's bulk. His breath was coming in short gasps now,
partly anger, partly fear, and partly, to his complete embarrassment, arousal. Krycek chuckled deeply in his chest, and ran his tongue
lightly into Mulder's ear, prompting a shudder and
another abortive round of bucking. "You got too close for me to take you
out in
Mulder tossed his head to the side, trying to get leverage to headbutt Krycek and stun him.
That didn't work either. Alex tucked his head into the curve of his shoulder
and began to lick and nibble the tender flesh along his neck and collarbone.
The friction between their bodies and the unaccustomed attention to his
erogenous zones was working on Mulder, hardening his erection and dampening his
skin with sweat. "What the fuck are you doing, Krycek?"
he managed to squeeze out from behind clenched teeth. The younger man had
settled his body firmly onto Mulder's and was rocking
slowly, rubbing himself against him, provoking a helpless moan from deep within
him.
"It really has been a long time, hasn't it, Mulder?" Krycek responded nastily, grinding his crotch against Mulder's as if to remind the hapless agent just what was
happening. He growled and lunged at Krycek, as if to
bite him, and Alex shocked him into stillness by meeting the lunge, open
mouthed, sliding his tongue between Mulder's lips,
thrusting in and out in mimicry of full intercourse. Mulder's
mind screamed at him to bite the bastard, but there was a kernel of truth in Krycek's taunts. It had been a very long time, and this
whole situation was so completely out of his normal experience that he found
himself swallowed by the sensations running over his skin.
Without conscious volition, he accepted the movement of tongue over
tongue, the lips pulling at his, suckling his lower lip, plundering his mouth.
Everything felt hazy, as if he was still in his dream, and the world narrowed
down to the heavy body moving sinuously over his, the hands pulling at his
sweatpants and undershirt, the mouth that wouldn't stop moving over his. A
muffled whimper escaped and he found his own hands clutching the soft smooth
leather of Alex's jacket, pulling him closer, peeling it down his shoulders and
off his arms. Hands fought one another as he tried to unbutton jeans and tear
off a shirt that he vaguely recognized as his own, his hands clashing with Krycek's as the other man fought just as hard to strip him.
Alex won.
One brief, hard, victorious stare, and Krycek
dropped his head to engulf Mulder's erection, fingers
leaving Mulder's in order to steady the thrashing
hips at his chest. His quarry gasped, and froze, then
a throaty moan escaped. He smiled grimly to himself as he felt long, elegant
fingers weave through his hair, no longer pushing him away. He knew when to
give in order to get what he eventually wanted, and he was willing to
compromise if it got him his way. And Mulder would pay for this pleasure ... by
giving him his own.
Mulder couldn't move. The sensations of tongue and lips and the odd
scrape of teeth on aching cock were making his mind explode into colors he
hadn't seen in quite a while, and never under these particular circumstances. Krycek knew what he was doing. The rhythm would speed up
just enough to send him near the edge, then the little
tease would slow down, pull away, ignore the hands urging him closer and
explore the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, or roll his balls from side to
side in the sac, or nibble at the tender flesh behind his balls. All the while
his poor cock was screaming for attention, and Mulder was not so slowly losing
his mind. What the fuck was he waiting for? An engraved
invitation? He didn't realize he'd said that out loud until he felt the
vibrations of Krycek's chuckle against the base of
his cock. Pulling away with his mouth but continuing to milk Mulder with his
fingers, rocking his palm against the straining muscle, he grinned up at his
victim.
"You could say please, you know." When Mulder stared at him as
if he'd lost his mind, he dipped his head just long enough to take one short,
sharp, hard suck at the head of his cock, squeezing the shaft strongly at the
same time. Mulder couldn't quite muffle the scream that time.
"I'll take that as a request." Alex relented and bent to finish
Mulder off, bobbing his head in a serious rhythm and massaging his balls and
perineum firmly. Mulder rocked in counter rhythm, unable to do anything other
than hold on to Krycek's hair and try very hard not
to scream as he came.
It didn't work. Krycek nearly laughed at the
full throated scream he heard as Mulder arched and climaxed, and the dull
double thump of the upstairs neighbor pounding on the floor nearly made him
lose it again. He concentrated on milking the last of the cum
from the other man, wondering at his propensity for laughter during sex. The
sudden thought that he hadn't had nearly enough of either in the last several
months was enough to wipe the smile off of his face. He sighed, and pulled
himself up to his knees to look down at Mulder.
Flushed skin, utterly relaxed muscles, slightly open mouth with that
luscious lower lip wet from being bitten, shell shocked look in the dilated
hazel eyes ... yeah, it had been good for him. Krycek
thought for a moment about his planned escape, then glanced at Mulder's watch on his wrist and decided he had enough time.
He wrapped his hands around Mulder's wrists and
propelled the taller man to his feet.
"C'mon, foxy, time for bed."
"Don't call me that." The soft voice lacked it's
usual sharp edge when someone called him the hated name. Krycek
grinned. Guess maybe getting the top of his head blown off, in all senses of
the word, disarmed the normally cutting tongue of Agent Mulder. He pushed his
unsteady burden onto the bed, and followed him onto the blanket. Mulder looked
at him distrustfully.
"I don't sleep here," he declared.
"I'm not planning on sleeping," Alex responded with a wicked
smile. Mulder's eyes widened,
and he stared thoughtfully at Krycek. As he watched,
the younger man reached into his side drawer and pulled out a small foil square
and a small bottle of astroglide. "Your last one
have a problem with being dry?"
Mulder blushed slightly. "Not so much that as, well, she wasn't very
big and I'm, uhm ... why the hell am I telling you
this?"
"Good point," he grinned. "It was just down my throat, you
don't have to tell me you're kinda large."
"Shit," Mulder groaned, and rolled to get off the bed. Before
he could complete the move, Alex was on top of him, his chest pressed firmly
against Mulder's back, legs entwined with his, voice
whispering hotly in his ear.
"Not so fast, Mulder. Not so damned fast." He wedged one long thigh between the swimmer's
thighs underneath him, and angled his own erect cock to lie between the barely
spread asscheeks. "I won't hurt you. I just want
to be in you. Just the once."
"No." Mulder tried to be forceful, but the entire situation was
turning him on all over again. It looked like it was going to be a night for
firsts.
"Yes." He popped the lid on the lube bottle and squeezed some
of the slick fluid onto his palm, still keeping one hand on the back of Mulder's neck. At this point, he wasn't holding him that
tightly, and the agent could have escaped. Other than a slight movement of his
hips, what might be interpreted either as an attempt to get comfortable under
Alex's weight or a small thrust into the mattress with a newly erect cock,
Mulder wasn't going anywhere. Krycek grinned to
himself again. Before Mulder could change his mind and make a serious move to
escape, he gently worked a finger into his ass, pushing past the ring of muscle
and pulling up into a rolling motion, scraping against his prostate.
Mulder was hooked. Literally. The sensation screaming
through his mind at the Krycek's touch inside of him
demanded something more. He found himself thrusting back against the other
man's hand. Krycek did laugh, then, a softly
triumphant bark. Mulder couldn't have cared less.
A second finger joined the first, stretching him, opening him, forcing a
moan from deep in his chest. "What do you want, Mulder?" Krycek whispered into his ear, bearing down with his hand.
Mulder groaned, but couldn't, or wouldn't, answer him. He felt the pace increase, the gentleness giving way to urgency, and the
whispered question came to him again out of the darkness. He heard the tear of
foil, and glanced up over his shoulder to see Alex tearing open the package
one-handed, holding the corner with his teeth, eyes gleaming at him. His
thoughts were screaming at him, and the pressure was building, and he wanted
something, anything, everything, and he needed it now and if he didn't give it
to him soon -- "Give it to me!"
"My pleasure," Krycek bit off, and
pulled his hand back sharply with a final rake across Mulder's
prostate. Pausing just long enough to roll the latex down over his own hard
cock, he carefully placed the head against the small hole and bore down hard.
Mulder bucked suddenly, trying to throw him off. "Too
late. Damnit, hold still!" Krycek thrust his left hand through the thick hair at the
back of Mulder's head, and guided himself the rest of
the way in with his right hand. Mulder seemed to be frozen, not making any
further attempt to get away, and Krycek gradually
worked himself into Mulder . When he was finally fully
within the tight confines, he rested against Mulder's
sweaty back and panted lightly. It felt incredible, hot and tight and ... god,
he loved virgins.
Mulder buried his face in the pillow and tried to ignore the signals his
body was sending to him. He couldn't believe he'd given himself away like that.
What the flying fuck had he been thinking? As his thoughts began to chase
themselves in ever more frantic circles, something happened that rendered his
attempts to remain unresponsive moot. Alex started to move. Slowly.
In little circular movements. Up. Down. In. Out. Over. Around. Every muscle in his
body tensed. It felt incredibly good. Against his will, he felt his cock harden
again, and groaned. "Slut," he whispered fiercely, to himself. There
was a strangled snicker from behind him.
"Don't ... be so hard ... on yourself," Krycek
managed to get out.
"Fuck you," Mulder groaned in return.
"Too busy fucking you!" Krycek
laughed back, and Mulder grinned in spite of himself. Then the pace of the
thrusts increased, and neither man had the breath for talking.
The orgasm was intense for both of them. Krycek
came first, thrusting in as hard, as far as he could, once, twice, a third
time. The unaccustomed sensation of cum surging inside him triggered Mulder's second climax of the night, and he whimpered as he
thrust into the tangled sheet beneath him. Eventually, they stilled, and Krycek wearily withdrew. Disposing of the condom in the
small wastecan next to the endtable,
he rolled over and looked at Mulder, sprawled, satiated, on his stomach.
"You have a great ass," he felt compelled to say.
"Thanks." Mulder mumbled, finally unburying his face to look at
Krycek. "I think." They stared at one
another for a long moment. Alex found himself pulled into that lethargic stare,
leaning over and moving closer, until he could open his mouth over Mulder's in a deep, exploratory kiss. Mulder didn't pause,
just pushed up with his tongue to pursue his own investigations. Krycek ran his hands up along the strong column of Mulder's neck, tilting his head to allow deeper access. As
he lost himself in the kiss, he barely felt Mulder's
hands on his wrists, pulling his arms above his head, pulling him closer.
**click**
The cold metal felt completely out of place around his wrists.
"What the fuck-!" He tried to pull away from Mulder, only to
find himself handcuffed to the brass rails inset in the headboard. As he was
adjusting to this reality, Mulder rolled somewhat awkwardly out from under him.
Krycek looked from his cuffed hands to his erstwhile
lover.
"You were on your way out the door, Alex." Mulder smiled
sweetly at him with a hint of teeth. "We can't have that. You're our last
best hope for victory over Cancerman."
"What the hell do you think I am?
Mulder lifted himself from the side of the bed and bent over to pat his
ass, putting a sting into the pat. "Nah, just our own
resident rat. But you also have a very nice ass."
"Thanks a hell of a lot," Krycek
muttered into the pillow as he heard the sound of the shower begin. It was
going to be an uncomfortable night.
Now he remembered why it had been so long since he'd gotten laid. Complete and utter lack of trustworthy bedpartners.
Scully didn't quite know what to make of the glowing smile on her
partner's face when he opened the door. After all, it was only
"Did you have any trouble with Krycek last
night?" she greeted him. If it was possible, the smile glowed even
brighter.
"Nope. He thought
about escaping but changed his mind. He's in the bedroom." He gestured
with his head and closed the door behind her.
"Well, is he going to cooperate?"
"I thought I'd leave the persuading up to you, Scully."
For some reason, she didn't quite trust the very innocent look in his
eyes. He tried to look sober, but it didn't quite come off. Quirking one brow,
she dropped her coat on the side chair and strode into Mulder's
bedroom.
Oh.
Perhaps there was a reason for Mulder's unusual
good cheer. Krycek was lying in the wet spot.
Scully felt a grin stretch her lips. Yes, they would find the truth. And
this man would help them. Because if he didn't, she wasn't
going to unlock the handcuffs. She was going to keep him here until he
agreed to help them bring down Cancerman, avenge her
sister's death and find Mulder's answers. And if he
needed persuasion, well, she was a doctor. She knew secret doctor things. And
she would use them on him.
After all, he had a very nice ass.
Mulder heard the muffled thumps and exclamations through the closed door
and smiled serenely to himself as he began to make coffee. There was time.
Scully needed to blow off some steam. Krycek needed
to be convinced. And he needed the rest. He settled gingerly into the couch
cushions and let his mind wander as he listened carefully. The screams were
getting louder.
This bizarre partnership could be one hell of a lot of fun.
**** MY end to apocrypha, with the Ratboy
screaming for utterly different reasons than in the original *****