Title: THE FIRST TIME
Date: September, 1999
Summary: There were three in a bed and the little one said...
Archive: Archive/X, Ratlover, Gossamer. Any others if you ask: just so I know where this is travelling to.
DISCLAIMER: The usual, accompanied with bitter longing.
This is for Solan, who beta's for me. I thought about ending the ANSWERS series with LONG DISTANCE RUNNERS 2, but she, and others, wanted one with the three of them together. So, here it is. Comes between LDR2 and ANSWERS. And this is it: no more.
Skinner watched Krycek make himself a sandwich.
It was four a.m.
He stood quietly in the doorway of the kitchen as Krycek made toast, loaded both slices down with butter then peanut butter. Which meant that the man needed a quick energy fix. He said nothing as Krycek opened the fridge, stood staring into its depths, finally pulling out the milk. The fact that he spilt some as he poured himself a large glass was the signal for Skinner to clear his throat.
"You're coming home rather late."
Krycek stilled for a breath, then moved his meal to the table. "I called."
The first time Krycek had pulled an all-nighter at work, he hadn't called. Had been totally taken aback when he had been severely raked over the coals by both Skinner and Mulder when he returned home the next evening. They knew he had been all right because Mulder had placed a call in to the office and had had the receptionist inform him that "Mr. Krycek is certainly in this morning: I just saw him with Mr. Nash. But there's a do-not-disturb sign on Mr. Nash's door. I can take a message if you care to leave one."
The upshot of the lecture was that Krycek now knew to call not just if he were going to be pulling an all-nighter, but if he were going to be the slightest bit late. He had been surprised that someone would worry about him that way: he wasn't used to checking in.
Skinner looked Krycek over. He was eating as if starved, his hand shook slightly as he drank. Skinner sighed. Took the glass away from Krycek, poured the milk into a mug, nuked some warmth into it, added chocolate powder, stirred and gave it back to the man.
"Okay," he joined him at the table, "what have you been up to?" Because he recognized a fit of nerves when he saw one. Krycek might be working on a regular basis, but his body still betrayed the fact that he wasn't yet back in top form.
Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't a fit of the giggles. Which Krycek was trying hard to control with varying success.
"You remember the argument I had with Johnson about that opening I told him would let in anyone with a brain?"
Skinner thought a moment, then did remember. Johnson was one of the planners at Nash Securities. For some reason Skinner never fathomed, Johnson and Krycek had taken one look at each other that first day and decided that outright warfare would exist between them no matter what.
"So, what did you do, take his program apart?"
"No. He didn't believe me when I did that."
Skinner suddenly realized that Krycek was dressed in black, that his hair was scrunched down as if he had been wearing some headwear of some kind. He had an idea where this was going and he didn't like it. God! If *he* didn't like it, Fox would be livid!
"Tell me you didn't actually break in." Then groaned at the delighted grin that split Krycek's face. "Krycek!"
Krycek sat back in his chair, stretched his legs out. He held the warm mug in his hands, its heat helping to control the slight tremors that affected his real hand.
"Well, he wouldn't listen to me. What else was I supposed to do?"
"Krycek, this is supposed to be a desk job. An inside job. You know, where no one can take pot shots at you."
"Don't you believe it," snapped Krycek. "They take pot shots all right, just not with bullets." He took a breath and forced himself to calm down. He hadn't meant to let that slip out.
He was surprised when Skinner stood up, came around behind him and placed his hands on his shoulders, slowly working the knots out. He let his head fall forwards, letting the hands soothe the night's tensions away.
After a while, Skinner prodded, "So, you decided to prove Johnson wrong. How did it go?"
"Like a breeze. Just like I told him, anyone with a bit of brains could do it. All they have to do is get their hands on the security system lay-out."
"Not too fair there, Krycek. I mean, you do have a copy of the thing in your office," Skinner pointed out, reasonably.
"Didn't use it." He was feeling too relaxed to take umbrage. "I hacked into the company's system and pulled it out from there. Which reminds me, I'll have to tell Nash about that. He's got to warn them that their system is too easy to get into."
Probably, thought Skinner, their system had been perfectly adequate until Krycek decided to hack in: not every hacker had Krycek's specialized expertise.
"You sure they'll believe you?"
Krycek snickered. "I left a business card propped up on the owner's computer, with a note telling him to call Johnson."
Skinner shook his head. "Bit childish."
Krycek leaned back into the hands that were bringing him off the high. Who'd have thought that after all the years he'd been doing things like this, that one done just to prove a point would leave him so wound up?
"Who'd you convince to act as back-up?"
"No one. I went by myself." Said it very casually, so that he really didn't understand why it set off such a fuse in Skinner.
But it did. It got him a lecture that made Mulder's rants look tame. Here he was, being yelled at by a man who just tolerated him, for being stupid, thoughtless, putting his life on the line. "What if you had attracted the attention of a guard, you fucking idiot! They're armed in that place! Asshole!"
Yelled at loudly and long enough to wake Mulder up, have him join the party.
Skinner expected Mulder to add his two cents' worth, but Mulder just sat there, at the table, listening to Skinner expertly ream Krycek for his actions of the night. It was, decided Mulder, rather more interesting to be a spectator to one of Skinner's AD reamings than be the recipient.
Not that Krycek took it quietly: the two of them were shouting at each other. These days, when Skinner put on his AD voice, Mulder preferred to slowly work his way around Skinner's objections. Maybe that's why he was challenging Krycek, nose to nose, at the top of his voice. Maybe he'd missed the challenge of a rousing good argument. Mind you, Mulder thought, his way was much quieter.
The sound of a telephone finally penetrated through the noise. Mulder went into the living room to answer, where he would be able to hear.
It was Thomas Nash.
No, he didn't need to speak to Krycek right then and there. Just tell him to come to his office first thing. Yes, he knew about the break-in: a security guard had found the card, called the owner who had called him. Yes, actually he could hear the noise from the background. Yes, he agreed with Skinner that going in without back-up was not particularly bright, but then he could also understand why Krycek did it. That was something he wanted to discuss with Krycek. No, certainly not, his job was *not* on the line because of this.
Mulder turned off the phone, went back into the now quieter kitchen. Why was it, he thought, that the two of them got so turned on by fighting? Because, even if they weren't aware of it, the two of them were sporting the beginnings of erections.
Skinner went stomping out, went back to bed. Mulder smiled: he was going to reap the benefits of that hard-on. He passed Nash's message on to Krycek. Went up to the man, kissed him. Tasted anger, arousal and Krycek's own particular flavour.
"He's right, you know," he whispered by Krycek's ear, "that wasn't smart of you."
Krycek would have died rather than admit it to Skinner, but Mulder was a different deal. "Yeah, well, it was pretty much off the cuff. I really hadn't planned to do this."
He leaned into Mulder's body, wanting him, knowing that he wasn't going to get him. When they had sex, Mulder always picked times when Skinner wasn't around. He pulled back: no sense teasing himself with something he couldn't have.
Mulder started for the stairs, expecting Krycek to follow him, but Krycek went into the living room, dropped onto the couch. "I just need some time to unwind."
Mulder stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up them to the bedroom door that was closed, looked back to the man lying on the couch, arm over eyes. Krycek never made demands, never even made requests. He accepted whatever was handed out to him, piece-meal, without complaining.
If it had been him in this position, Mulder realized, he would have thrown a couple of major temper fits by now.
He looked upstairs again, then turned around and went into the living room.
Krycek was surprised when Mulder sat next to him on the couch, using his hip to make him move over a bit, catching the prosthesis between his body and the back of the couch.
Was even more surprised when Mulder began unbuttoning his shirt. "What are you doing, Mulder?"
Mulder said nothing, just smiled that "come hither" smile he used whenever he initiated sex with him.
Krycek cocked an eyebrow, looked out toward the staircase. Talk about putting his life on the line! Shit! If Skinner came down and caught them at it... well, he had no idea how the man would take it. It was one thing knowing your lover had sex with another man, under your roof; quite another to catch them in the act.
He wanted to say something to Mulder, but between the knowledgeable fingers stroking his chest, the fact that there was still a residue of the high he'd gotten that night and the hard-on that was still hanging in from the argument with Skinner... Hell! He was only human.
And then there was the added danger of Skinner's presence, of his possibly coming down to see what was taking Mulder so long.
Oh, why the hell not! And he raised his mouth for Mulder's kiss as his hand found its way under Mulder's t-shirt, to stoke up Mulder's fire.
Neither one of them heard Skinner's grunt from the stairs. He watched for a minute, watched Mulder help strip the shirt off Krycek, their mouths glued to each all the while. They pulled apart just long enough to pull Mulder's t-shirt off over his head.
At least they're being quiet, he thought. His mouth tightened even though he had to admit to himself that neither one of them ever rubbed his nose in the fact that he shared his lover.
He started back up the stairs when the two men came off the couch, stood, the easier to get rid of Krycek's jeans and shorts, Mulder's sweats.
They *were* beautiful together, he thought, two long bodies that both gave him pleasure. Because he, too, made use of that scarred body when Mulder wasn't around. Always when the tension in the house had built up to a point when it was either have sex or punch each other out. And Mulder was no fool: it hadn't taken him any time to understand why those bruises, the bite marks on both their bodies appeared only when he was off somewhere. Not that he mentioned it: like a lot of things in this household, it was never discussed.
And as usual with Krycek, this sex was rougher, less refined. And fucking arousing, thought Skinner as he felt his cock reacting to the action he was witnessing.
He dropped a hand to himself, began stroking. He'd been doing some work on the house lately and his hand was rough. Made him think about lube.
By now, Mulder and Krycek were making more noise. Not on purpose, but because they'd forgotten about the man supposedly upstairs. Krycek had dropped to his knees; Mulder's eyes were shut tight, his whole being concentrated on the play of that magic mouth on him.
So the lubed finger that penetrated his ass was not such a surprise until he realized that there was also someone standing behind him. He opened his eyes, turned his head slightly and closed them again at the sight of his other lover. Jesus! How was he going to handle this without hurting anyone?
Except that Skinner didn't seem to need handling. While one hand was working at opening him up, the other had snaked around his chest to play with his nipples, to stroke his chest and belly.
Krycek felt Mulder stiffen, looked up to see if his lover was all right and saw the large man behind him. He stilled his mouth, began releasing Mulder's cock. In the hierarchy of things in this household, he knew his place.
Over Mulder's shoulder, Skinner's eyes met Krycek's. Saw loss and acceptance in the younger man's eyes as Krycek began pulling back. He reached with his free hand, managed to grab some of Krycek's hair and tugged him, not too gently, back to Mulder. Krycek's eyes closed over his astonishment, but he didn't question, just took Mulder back into his mouth.
Mulder stopped thinking. Between Krycek's mouth and Skinner's fingers, he was being fucked fore and aft. Then Skinner's cock replaced his fingers and all Mulder could do was weave back and forth between the two sensations of penetration and moist warmth. His only contribution was a mantra of "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" which ended in a jumble of throaty sounds punctuated by a loud groan when he came.
Krycek swallowed, sucked, encouraged the last sensation out of him possible. Skinner pulled out, let Mulder slide down him to the floor, stood solidly erect over the two men.
The feral grin he gave Krycek warned him. Krycek began dropping his shoulders to the floor for support as Skinner stepped over Mulder, positioned himself behind Krycek. He used one hand to stroke himself, the other to prepare Krycek. With no more than that, he entered him, taking him roughly, enjoying the way Krycek threw up his head, grunted when he did so.
When he had established a rhythm that pleased him, Skinner reached under and took Krycek's neglected cock in hand, setting up the rhythm that he knew would send the man over the edge.
Mulder lay on his side, sleepily watching his two lovers achieve orgasm.
Skinner rested his body on top of Krycek's for a minute or two before pulling out, stripping the condom off himself, holding it in hand since there was nowhere to dispose of it in the immediate vicinity. He lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, waiting for his heart rate to settle.
Krycek slowly stretched out his legs, resting on the carpet here and there wet with his come. He sighed.
Mulder reached out to touch Skinner's leg, pulled it closer so he could rest his cheek on it. He stroked the other leg with his hand.
Krycek turned his head so that it faced Skinner's. The older man's eyes were closed. He raised himself onto the prosthesis, leaned over and kissed his thanks. Then he pushed himself up to his knees, then his feet. He did his best to clean the carpet with his shorts, took the condom out of Skinner's hand, disposed of it in the downstairs bathroom and made his way up to his room. He looked back to see Skinner still lying there, eyes closed, Mulder grinning sleepily at him then up to Krycek. The smile grew at Krycek's nod.
Skinner waited until he heard the door to Krycek's bedroom close before he opened his eyes. Mulder slowly made his way to his feet, offered Skinner his hand to help him up.
Skinner let him tug a bit before he pushed himself off the floor. He accepted Mulder's kiss as his due for what had happened here. Couldn't help seeing the smug expression in those near green eyes as they made their way up the stairs.
Half way up the stairs, Skinner looked back. Sighed.
"Remind me to get that carpet scotch-guarded."