Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television program
"The X Files" are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox
Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and have been used without
permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
Archive: MKRA/MSSS: Yes Gossamer: No Usenet: No
(Can be distributed to mailing lists, which require age statements.)
Cert: NC-17, contains description of homosexual sex.
Notes: Yet another *AU* 'how Krycek got out of the silo' story. For
those who've read my other pieces, this teeters on the serious - you
have been warned. (I'm trying to work up to angst, bear with me. )
As usual I shower many thanks on Spooky in the Basement for her editing
and this time in token of my gratitude I named the story after her
The little bit of russian later in the story means "Should I stop?"
Many thanks to Tanya for letting me know the correct phrase.
Feedback: If you would care to offer some feedback then send a note
Insatiable But Patient
Some of the corridors were lit and some were not, so he kept the light
in his caving helmet switched on, and ignored the dancing shadows
that appeared and then vanished along the walls. This was the
forty-second silo he had tried. He was beginning to think that it would
be the one hundred and ninety-eighth before he found anything, or even
more likely that all two hundred would be empty, but he was not the
type to give up.
Stopping at the door, he went through his usual routine - look at the
plans, cross off the number, check and re-holster the flare gun, which
he had decided was his best weapon against something that was mostly
oil. Then open the door, place the wedge under the door, look into
silo... and then he saw it. He had been scanning all the silos
carefully for a human figure, but this was not human. It was large and
dark and utterly alien, not even the barnacles and dank sea smell
could make this anything of Earth.
He stood watching it for a moment, fear coiling in his guts, but also
an excitement of boundaries broken, unacknowledged dreams made real.
Then, prosaically and a little regretfully, he turned his eyes away
and began scanning the walls of the silo. Huddled against the wall at
a point furthest from the craft was what looked like a bundle of rags.
He sidled around the walls keeping half an eye on the craft until he
reached the figure.
He checked the neck for a pulse, his fingers sticking on the oil that
covered the skin, there was a beat so he gently shook the shoulder.
"Krycek, can you hear me?"
The figure stirred and the eyes opened, then shut again blinded by the
light on his helmet, so he removed it and placed it to the side to
provide illumination. The eyes squinted open and then focused on his
features with a distinct lack of welcome.
"Oh shit! Skinner."
"Great to see you too, Krycek. Still things could be worse."
He was answered by an eloquent shudder that said things had been worse.
"Can you stand? And walk?"
Krycek lay still for a moment and then pressing a hand against the
wall levered himself upright. Skinner placed an arm around his waist,
and pulled him to his feet, for a moment he was supporting both their
weights but then Krycek leant a little away and balanced on still
shaky legs. Skinner replaced his helmet and they slowly made their
way to the door, Krycek refusing to look at the dark presence in the
middle of the room, but Skinner gave it one last lingering look,
trying to capture the belief to take with him.
When they got through the door, Skinner propped Krycek against a wall,
removed the wedge and closed the door, bolting it again. Then turning
to Krycek, he held up a water bottle for him to drink from. Krycek
gulped down a couple of mouthfuls and would have drained the bottle,
but Skinner only allowed him a few swallows before pulling it back.
"That's enough for now, or you'll just be sick."
He was pleased to see the glare he got in return, it looked like his
captive was not only compos mentis, but still had enough spirit left to
be of use. Looking down at the fuming green eyes he remembered an old
line of poetry *My head is bloody, but unbow'd.*
"All right, we have to do a bit of walking to get out. We'll take our
time because I don't want to have to carry you."
"Because you're dirty, you smell and I don't want to strain my back."
"I meant, why are you here?" Krycek snarled, not appreciating his
"We have unfinished business." The smile that accompanied this was
enough to silence Krycek. They moved off down the corridor, Krycek
leaning on the wall for support, neither of them seeing the concealed
camera that had been recording all movement at the door marked 1013.
Krycek had lapsed into sleep or unconsciousness on the four hour drive
to the cabin. They stopped a couple of times and Skinner allowed him
some more water but he did not rouse when they arrived at the cabin,
so Skinner ended up having to carry him after all. He had picked
him up in the travel blanket that he had used to protect the seat of
the truck, and dropped him onto the floor of the bathroom using the
same blanket as a rug.
He wanted to keep Al's stuff as clean as possible. Al was too good a
friend to worry about such things, but the oil might be difficult to
explain. He had known Al for ever, or at least since they were boys
together. There had been a falling out when Skinner had enlisted and
Al had dodged the draft by going to Canada. But when Skinner returned
he had made a point of finding Al and acknowledging that perhaps he
had been right, and the friendship was renewed when Al had said
'Perhaps we both did what we thought was right'. They had kept in
touch since then and when they met up it was as if they had seen each
other just the day before. When Skinner had called and asked for the
loan of this cabin, Al had been happy to let him have it, teasing him
about going away for a dirty weekend. Skinner looked down at the
filthy figure at his feet. *If Al only knew.* He began to run a bath,
since it did not look like Krycek would be able to stand up for a
As the bath ran, he began to strip the clothes from Krycek, not an
easy task since the oil had dried in places and stuck the clothes to
the skin. He went into the kitchen and found a jug which he filled with
bathwater pouring this over the stiff cloth to loosen it. Finally, when
everything was removed, he turned off the water and checked the
temperature - hot, but not scalding. He lifted the body and lowered it
into the water. Krycek had lost a lot of weight, which Skinner put down
to the dehydration. His hands were bruised and crusted with blood where
he had probably been beating at the door but there were no other
external injuries. He probably had a few sore muscles from lying in the
cold for so long, but the heat from the bath would help those. Skinner
supported Krycek with one hand and reached for the shower gel with the
other, then lathered Krycek's hair, using the jug to rinse it off. Then
he moved down the body, and as he worked Krycek's eyes flickered open.
He looked at Skinner with some puzzlement, as if trying to work out how
they had become so intimate all of a sudden.
"Can you sit up by yourself?"
A nod, and a slight shifting of balance, and then Skinner was able to
use both hands to spread the gel over the body and work it into grey
suds. As Skinner impersonally washed his genitals, Krycek stared
straight ahead, probably embarrassed but determined not to show it.
Skinner let the filthy water run away and used the hand shower to
rinse Krycek off. Then with a sigh, he decided that one of Al's
washcloths was going to have to be sacrificed, and he refilled the bath
and began again. By the time he had finished the second rinse Krycek
was looking presentable if not exactly pristine, and the heat of the
water had bought a flush to his skin giving the impression of health.
"Stand up, and step out."
Skinner led him into the bedroom next door and stood him in front of
the fire, briskly towelling down the bony limbs, then wrapping him in
a bath sheet and telling him to sit down. He threw a couple of logs
onto the fire before going into the kitchen. He was glad he had thought
to buy a supply of invalid drinks on the way, since Krycek did not look
up to anything solid at the moment. He boiled the kettle, and carefully
measuring out the powder, made up the drink, and carried it into the
other room. Krycek wrapped his hands around the mug and drank it with
an appreciation which Skinner had never thought to see applied to
Krycek sat for about ten minutes looking into the fire, then made a
choking noise and bolted for the bathroom, where he threw up
comprehensively. Skinner followed him in and was worried to see that
the vomit was flecked with black, perhaps it was just the oil from the
alien but if it was bile then Krycek might have some internal injuries.
Krycek cursed and moved to the sink to wash his mouth out. Skinner
handed him a glass of drinking water, which Krycek sipped tentatively,
and then they returned to the bedroom.
Krycek had complained bitterly when Skinner handcuffed one wrist to
the bed, but no matter how weak he seemed, Skinner was not letting him
free during the night. Skinner had dozed on a chair in the bedroom,
keeping an eye on his prisoner. Krycek had barely slept, as soon as he
seemed to drop off he awoke with a jerk, pulling against the metal of
the handcuff, only settling back again when he saw Skinner's eyes
gleaming in the firelight. A couple of times Skinner had released him
to go to the bathroom and had given him some more water at the same
time. Skinner was feeling a little happier since Krycek seemed to be
able to keep the water down, so it was probably just the oil mixing
with the food that had caused the vomiting previously.
Krycek did not look very rested when they got up in the morning.
Skinner was tired as well, but knew from previous experience that he
could keep going for a few more days with little sleep.
"Can I have something to wear?" Krycek asked, a trifle sulkily.
Skinner had given him a pair of boxer shorts to sleep in, since the
fire kept the room quite warm, and there were plenty of blankets on
the bed. But he guessed Krycek would feel a little unhappy about
parading around in a pair of shorts all day.
"OK, let me get the coffee going." Skinner said, and walked into the
Krycek followed him and sat on one of the chairs, scanning the kitchen
as Skinner moved around. Then Skinner returned to the bedroom and
unlocked the trunk in which he had placed his belongings, not wanting
Krycek to be able to get at them easily. As he rummaged about he
listened carefully and was not surprised to hear a small scraping sound
in the kitchen as the chair moved. Bare skin on wood made little noise
but it was there if you knew to listen for it, so he was able to pick
the right moment to spin round and knock Krycek's legs from under him.
Krycek came down hard and humiliatingly on his rump, but twisted
around, still trying to brain Skinner with the frying pan he had picked
as his weapon. Skinner's hand caught his wrist, and just held it, not
bothering to twist it to make Krycek drop the pan. Krycek tried to pull
free, but even when he was at full strength, he would have had a
problem trying to break Skinner's grip. Skinner reached over and took
the frying pan away from him.
"I don't think you're quite recovered enough for the fried breakfast
Krycek furiously threw a punch with his free hand, but Skinner quickly
moved the pan and all he got was a set of bruised knuckles for his
pains. Skinner let him go and placed the pan to one side then reached
into the trunk and removed the sweat top and trousers he had picked out
and dropped them on Krycek's lap, then locked the trunk and stood up.
"Do you want to try some coffee ?"
The only response he got was a vicious green glare, but he was almost
whistling as he went back to the kitchen, carrying the pan. On the
whole he had had worse starts to a day.
Krycek returned to the kitchen dressed in the sweats. It was just as
well the trousers had a drawstring, since he looked like he had
borrowed his big brother's clothes. He sat down, a little gingerly
after his recent encounter with the floor.
"How do you take your coffee?"
"Two sugars and lots of milk." Krycek muttered.
"Well, I think I'd better leave out the milk, since that doesn't do
much for a weak stomach, but the sugar's a good idea."
Krycek again wrapped his hands around the mug, as if trying to warm
them, although the heat from the stove was making the kitchen even
warmer than the bedroom. He sipped at the coffee, obviously enjoying
the taste. When he finished, he watched with some envy as Skinner
polished off scrambled eggs on toast, but did not ask for any,
realising that he had little chance of keeping it down. When they had
both finished and it looked like the coffee was staying with Krycek, he
felt up to asking Skinner a question.
"What unfinished business?"
"You mean, apart from matters arising from our last little meeting in
Krycek grimaced, it had probably been a mistake to look quite so
pleased when he had joined in that melee.
"Don't worry. I'll wait until you can stand for more than ten minutes,
before I discuss that with you. No, what I want is information."
"I don't know anything." *Drat, that had come out with a whine.*
"I think you know things that I want to know. After all, just about
all my acquaintances, smokers and non-smokers, have been looking for
you for the last week or so."
"Yes, and if I speak, some of your acquaintances will make sure I have
a very unpleasant ending."
"More unpleasant than being locked in a silo?"
Krycek swallowed convulsively a couple of times, and managed to get
the coffee to stay down.
"I can be patient Krycek. I'll let you rest and build up your strength
a little, but you're going to tell me everything you know, and you had
better hope that it's what I want to know."
Krycek was eyeing the handcuffs with revulsion, the feel of that cold
metal kept bringing back memories of another metal object. Skinner was
watching him and perhaps reading his thoughts, since he placed the
handcuffs on the bedside table.
"Get into bed."
Krycek slipped under the covers, and then watched with some worry as
Skinner stripped down to his boxers and moved round to the other side
of the bed.
"What are you doing?"
"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you, and since you don't like
the handcuffs I need to be close enough to know if you're up to
something. Don't worry, your virtue is safe with me, Krycek."
Skinner climbed into bed, and then laughed out loud.
"I can't believe I just used virtue and Krycek in the same sentence."
"Ha. Ha. Hilarious."
Krycek moved further over to his side of the bed and turned his back to
him. Skinner kept to his half of the bed but reached out and laid his
hand on Krycek's hip. Krycek lay tensely for a while but Skinner stayed
still and at last Krycek let himself drift into a doze. He awoke again
almost immediately but felt only the softness of the sheets and the
heavy warm weight of Skinner's hand, so he relaxed and let himself sink
deeper into repose.
Skinner lay awake a little longer; as he had hoped the simple human
contact had given Krycek enough reassurance to sleep at last. As he
waited for Krycek's breath to lengthen and deepen he thought back to
other nights in the jungle. When he had recovered from his wounds he
had been posted to another unit, since his own no longer existed.
Although he was only a few months older than the other soldiers, they
regarded him as a veteran, almost a father figure. When things got
really bad for one of his comrades, he would make a point of lying
close to him during the night, and just the knowledge of having
another human at hand would chase away the terrors of things seen or
To survive the silo Krycek had to be tough, both physically and
mentally, but he had faced horrors that were inhuman. During the day
he still had been unable to take any nourishment, and he needed a good
night's sleep to help him to recover. In the dark, even the hand of an
enemy could be enough to keep the shadows at bay.
Krycek awoke with a start. It was light, not the thin light that had
filtered into the silo from the corridor, but honest to goodness
sunlight. As he took that in, he felt a movement next to him. His mind
raced for a moment, it had been so long since he had wakened with a
lover still in his bed, that he could not even begin to think of a
name. And then he relaxed, chuckling silently to himself. Well, Skinner
was hardly his first choice as a bed partner, he preferred something
Skinner got out of bed and came round to his side, then
unceremoniously grabbed his wrist and handcuffed it to the bedpost.
"What the fuck... ?"
"I'm going to take a shower and I want you still here when I get back
- preferably without a frying pan."
Krycek decided that an injured look was probably wasted on Skinner, so
lay there patiently, luxuriating in the sunlight and the warmth and
day-dreaming. Although Skinner might not be his first choice he was not
unattractive. *All that toned muscle.* He indulged himself with a
pleasant fantasy containing Skinner and a pair of handcuffs while
listening to the water running in the bathroom. He was stretching when
Skinner returned and wincing at the numerous aches, particularly in his
overused stomach muscles.
"Sore? I'll see if I can do something about that later."
Skinner unlocked the handcuffs and shepherded Krycek to the shower
where he kept an eye on him in the mirror as he shaved and cleaned his
teeth. Krycek was feeling so relaxed that he was tempted to put on a
show as he caught Skinner looking at him. But in the end decided that
Skinner would not appreciate it, he looked more like a watchdog than a
Seated in the kitchen again, Krycek's stomach rumbled at the rich
smell of the coffee, and practically sat up and begged as Skinner
prepared his own breakfast.
"Do you want to try the chocolate flavour? That might taste as good
coming up as going down."
Krycek regretfully accepted the offered mug. Actually it did not taste
bad, he had always had a liking for chocolate, or anything sweet for
that matter, and hunger did wonders for the taste buds. He kept a fond
eye on Skinner's plate, but when half-an-hour had passed and the
chocolate was still with him, it went way up his list of favourite
They went into the lounge where Skinner unlocked his briefcase and sat
down with a pile of papers. Krycek idly scanned the bookshelves,
taking down some books and flipping through them. It looked like either
the books had been left by everyone who had stayed there over the
years, or the owner had very eclectic tastes. Finally he picked out a
copy of Walter Lord's "The Miracle of Dunkirk". He liked books about
last minute escapes, and any book whose closing sentence was 'He was a
hero to someone, after all' had a certain appeal for him.
After a couple of hours, Skinner gathered up his papers and then
locked the case. He went into the kitchen and then the bathroom,
finally ending up in the bedroom. Krycek pretended to be engrossed in
his book, whilst keeping an eye on his movements, Skinner reciprocated
by glancing towards him every thirty seconds.
"Krycek, come in here."
Krycek unfolded himself from the chair and walked into the bedroom, a
couple of bath sheets were spread across the bed covers and Skinner
was holding a smaller towel and what looked like a bottle of olive
"Take your clothes off and lie down."
"I'm going to give you a massage, it will help with those sore
"I think I'd rather have the sore muscles."
There was enough of a warning in that voice to make Krycek sigh and
pull off his top and trousers, and reluctantly the shorts. Skinner
threw him the towel which he quickly wrapped round his hips and then
motioned to the bed.
"Lie down on your back."
Skinner started on the legs, and soon Krycek began thinking that this
was not a such a bad idea after all. *Who would have thought Slaphead
would be so talented.* He was not quite so happy when Skinner reached
his stomach, since the strong strokes seemed to swing between pain and
pleasure, but as they continued, the relief began to win out. Skinner
finished with the front and told him to turn over; he went back to the
legs, and kneaded up to the towel, then moved past it onto the back
and shoulders. Krycek felt as if he had sunk into the bed covers, he
was so limp. He was not even concerned when Skinner removed the towel
and began to stroke and rub his buttocks. *God, that feels so good.*
And then with a sinking heart he realised that it was a little too
good, and he tried to wriggle away from the hands.
"That's enough, I feel fine now."
"Sure all your muscles are relaxed enough?"
Skinner was definitely laughing at him, and with one quick movement
tipped him over and onto his back. Krycek ardently wished for the
towel back, but it would have been pretty useless to hide his firm
"Now, there's a muscle that's still a little stiff."
And before Krycek had a chance to voice a protest, Skinner's hands
were on him, and as he had already had a chance to find out, they were
very talented hands.
Skinner smiled as he looked down at Krycek, his head was thrown back
and he had grabbed two handfuls of towel, perhaps in an effort to
anchor himself to the bed, since his hips were thrusting rhythmically.
Skinner was not planning to drag this out too long, since he would
undo all the good he had done to the stomach muscles, but a little
exploration seemed in order for future reference. One hand moved down
and gently teased the firm balls and he was rewarded with a muffled
curse from Krycek. The curse seemed familiar somehow, and an idea
crossed his mind; he worked hard on the shaft until he could see the
balls drawing up and then slowed down to a pedestrian stroke.
So it seemed the little rat was fluent in Russian, and not just
childhood memories if it sprang to his lips that easily. Skinner
speeded up the stroke again and Krycek suddenly convulsed under his
hands pumping his seed out onto his stomach and chest, then he lay
gasping and shuddering. Skinner went into the bathroom and returned
with a washcloth, with which he cleaned up the cum.
As he was doing this, Krycek's eyes opened and he looked up at him, a
little ungratefully he felt.
"What was that little stunt about?"
"It's an old saying, Latin originally I believe - 'Get them by the
balls and their hearts and minds will follow'. Do you want to try the
chicken flavour for lunch?"
The next two days passed in a similar fashion, except that Krycek
resolutely refused Skinner's teasing offers of another massage. When
they had gone to sleep that night Krycek had moved so close to the
edge of the bed that he had almost fallen out, but Skinner had made no
They settled into a routine during the day, of Skinner working at his
papers and Krycek reading his way through the bookshelves. There was
almost a holiday atmosphere in the cabin, Skinner rarely had the
chance to work peacefully like this, and Krycek relished the reprieve
from being always on the run. Of course, there was the small problem
of Skinner biding his time for him to make a recovery, so he played up
his weakness to the hilt.
For the evening meal of the second day Krycek had managed a bowl of
soup, which had seemed to him like a gourmet feast, even though
Skinner's cooking ability was of the most basic variety. They were
sitting in the lounge afterwards and Krycek was pretending to read a
book, but the pages of the book never got turned as he tried to work
out what version and what percentage of the truth he could tell
He would have to make his story convincing, or Skinner would follow
the exact letter of the law, and put him in prison, and they both knew
he would not survive for long in there. Also he would need to provide
something sufficiently interesting that he could bargain for his
freedom with it.
He realised that the scratching of Skinner's pen had stopped and when
he glanced up he found Skinner watching him, and realised that Skinner
probably knew exactly what he was contemplating.
Skinner woke up feeling chilled, the arm lying outside the quilt had
goosebumps. He glanced at the clock, it was just after five. Krycek
was lying curled up beside him, with only his dark hair showing
outside the quilt. Skinner leant up on one elbow and checked the fire.
There was only a faint glow visible, so Skinner quietly climbed out of
his side of the bed and went to tend it.
He was placing some kindling on the embers to get a flame before
placing on the larger logs when he heard a sound behind him. He spun
quickly but found that Krycek was merely heading for the bathroom, his
white teeth showing in an amused grin as he passed Skinner. Skinner
built up the fire, and kept an eye on Krycek as he yawningly returned
to the bed.
After a few minutes he was satisfied that the fire had caught up again
and would burn for a few hours, so he returned to bed. Left to
himself Krycek had rolled over and was facing towards the middle,
instead of his usual position with his back to him. He had already
dropped back to sleep. Skinner considered him for a moment and then
with a calculating smile that would have worried Krycek if he had seen
it, he made a few preparations and then stripped off his boxers before
slipping into his half of the bed.
Skinner lay on his back, his hands behind his head, a few inches away
from Krycek and waited. Krycek's hand came questing across the sheet
and when it found the warm skin, he moved to snuggle against Skinner's
side. Skinner grinned in satisfaction and bought his arms down
cautiously to hold Krycek closer, without waking him.
Krycek came awake slowly, a luxury that was rarely allowed him, but he
was warm and safe in the arms of a fellow human. His mind paused and
went back to consider that last thought again and then came awake a
little more to register his position.
He was on his side, pressed against another more muscular side, his
arm was across somebody's chest, his head nestling on the same chest
just below the shoulder. The somebody's arm was around his back and
the other hand rested on his hip. His upper leg was entangled with the
other's legs and as he concentrated on the lower half of his body, he
realised that he had an erection. *Oh shit.*
He tried to gently pull away from the encircling arms but they just
tightened. So with a sigh he opened his eyes and raised his head to
meet Skinner's amused glance.
"I need to go to the bathroom."
"No you don't, but you do need something." as he spoke Skinner's
hand trailed teasingly from his hip up along his side and Krycek's
erection firmed in response.
"I can manage by myself." Krycek's attempt at independence was spoiled
by the gulp he gave as Skinner's hand stroked along his back and
slipped inside his boxers, a finger sliding down into his cleft.
"Let's take a vote, shall we?" asked Skinner, the amusement still
evident in his voice. His hand slid over the front of Krycek's shorts
and caressed his erection, which responded by butting enthusiastically
against Skinner's hand like an abandoned puppy.
"I think the majority have it."
Skinner's fingers slipped inside the waistband of Krycek's shorts and
snapped it gently.
Krycek considered objecting, but found to his surprise that he trusted
Skinner not to hurt him, and although he had put on a good act of
innocent outrage at the time, that massage had been sublime. So, with
a small grumble, just to maintain some appearance of reluctance he
rolled onto his back and lifted his hips, carefully working the shorts
over his erection and then skimming them down his legs and dropping
them on the floor.
Skinner's hands found his wrists and pressed them back on either side
of his head, and he had a small moment of panic. But then Skinner's
mouth found his and shortcircuited all his survival instincts, except
for the one which told him he had to breathe and that only remembered
to cut in after what seemed like several small eons.
He lay gasping, trying to gather together some semblance of a thought,
but Skinner's mouth had moved on to explore his jaw and neck and then
down onto his chest. Every square inch of his skin seemed to have
acquired a separate life, either lamenting the passing of that mouth
or setting up a clamour of 'Me next, me next!' And then the mouth
found his again and he strove to devour it all for himself, his tongue
twisting and duelling with Skinner's, until the mouth removed itself
"Hmmh, I think it's now unanimous."
Skinner threw back the covers and knelt, one leg on either side of
Krycek's thighs, their erections just brushing in passing which caused
Krycek to groan and thrust reflexively. Skinner reached forward, under
his pillow and bought out a tube of K-Y, which he dropped onto
"How convenient." Krycek's dry tone acknowledged the planning that had
gone into this apparently spontaneous coupling. Skinner ignored the
"Lube me up."
Krycek squeezed out some lube onto his fingers and reached for
"No. Inside me."
Skinner leant back a little supporting himself on one hand to give
Krycek access. Krycek's eyes narrowed and then glittered, and he
grinned with a malicious delight.
"You're going to let me fuck you?"
"You're going to be inside me Krycek, but make no mistake, I'll be the
one in control, and you'll be somewhere I can keep an eye on you."
Krycek reached forward and delicately stroked Skinner's anus. Skinner
gritted his teeth and tried not to move. This was the one major
problem with this position, it gave Krycek too much of an advantage,
in the beginning at least. Krycek pressed against the hole and Skinner
tried to relax as much as possible, then the finger was past the tight
muscle and sliding into him. Krycek moved it a few times and then
withdrew it, to replace it with two fingers. The two fingers moved in
and out and stretched him, then pressed upward. Skinner had been
waiting for this but realised he was not quite prepared for it as he
gasped and his hips bucked of their own accord. Krycek did not let up
and it was a few seconds before Skinner could come out with a coherent
"OK, Krycek, I'm ready, it's your turn now."
The fingers continued ruthlessly, and there was a definite smirk in
"Are you sure? You really seem to be enjoying this - been a while has
it, old man?"
Skinner had an intense desire to spin Krycek around and fuck him until
he howled, but he wanted Krycek in a receptive mood, and that would
require a little more finesse. So he just leaned forward and pushed
Krycek's hand away, and then reached back under the pillow for the
small foil package. He carefully tore it open and removed the condom,
rolling it down the hard eager shaft in front of him. Then taking the
lube from Krycek he smoothed it slowly and carefully over the condom,
and although it was not necessary, he rubbed a little on the balls,
being rewarded by a 'Shit' from Krycek as he jerked away.
Skinner grasped the cock and moving forward pressed down against it.
The green and brown eyes meeting and refusing to look away as the
intense sensations rippled through both their bodies. Skinner let
himself sink slowly down, savouring the filling and the control, and
the fire flickering in those eyes, until he could go no further.
With his hand he reached out to the V at the base of Krycek's throat
and let a finger slide down through the hair, across the chest, and
stomach, finishing where their two bodies joined. Reaching up with
both hands he placed fingers in the hollows between collarbone and
shoulder and trailed them back down, circling and brushing against the
nipples on the descent, he smiled as he felt Krycek's cock jerk within
"Are you just going to sit there all fucking day?"
"I'm an old man, I have to take my time."
Krycek was not the patient type, his hands reached towards Skinner's
cock, but Skinner caught them by the wrists.
"There's a perfectly good pair of handcuffs on the table there, and
I'm quite happy to use them, boy."
Skinner released the hands and they fell back onto the sheets where
they clawed and fisted as Skinner resumed his torturous tracing. When
Skinner leant forward and found Krycek's mouth with his own, the hands
came up to hold his head close, and Krycek's tongue twisted and jabbed
trying to urge him further. Skinner's cock jumped and throbbed where
it was caught between their two bodies and he pulled back panting
"Move, fuck you, move."
"Perhaps I need an incentive... I know, how about some answers."
"What!" It came out as a shout, and Krycek's eyes flew open wide in
disbelief, seething with fury and lust.
"Give me the names of the people in my department that I can't trust."
Krycek managed to pull his reeling senses together and deliver his
"I was never told that kind of information."
"But I bet you found it out."
And the hands began moving again, fingers reaching from his sides up
to his navel and then down. Then turning and the backs of the fingers
trailing up the muscled chest to rub across the hardened nipples.
Krycek growled deep within his throat. Then one hand reached back and
down to torment the sensitive balls, lifting and rolling them,
stroking the delicate skin beneath. Krycek tried to buck abortively,
but could not move, could not dislodge the weight or escape the
He gasped out a list of names.
"So many." Skinner stared into the distance, absent-mindedly
continuing to roll the tender balls in their thin sac.
It was almost a scream, it was at least loud enough to attract
Skinner's attention, and he began to move. He used his hands to grasp
the top of Krycek's hips controlling the pace, and fucked Krycek surely
and sweetly. As he saw the tension build he reached for his own aching
cock and stroked it faster and faster until he came and brought Krycek
They lay entwined, Skinner lying half on and half off Krycek's chest,
where he had been pushed after collapsing on the smaller man. He was
still close enough to feel the pounding of the heart, and the pumping
of the lungs. Then he felt a breath drawn in as Krycek spoke.
"That's a hell of an interrogation technique. I don't remember that
"The benefits of age and experience, Krycek. Wait and see what you get
when you try to lie to me."
Krycek decided that silence was his best answer to that.
Krycek was handcuffed to the bedpost again. They had finished lunch
and Skinner had just marched him into the bedroom and locked him up,
then gone outside. Krycek heard the truck starting as it was backed
away from the lean-to, and then the engine stopped and the kitchen door
opened again. Skinner came in and unlocked the handcuffs, he dropped a
length of chain and some leg shackles on the bed which Krycek eyed
"Take those sweats off."
Krycek decided not to argue, since he was beginning to realise the
futility of that with Skinner. Meanwhile Skinner attached one end of
the chain to the foot of the bed, and when Krycek had removed his
trousers, he snapped the shackles onto his ankles. They were tight and
cut into the flesh a little. Skinner padlocked the other end of the
chain around the middle of the shackles link.
"OK, Krycek, I'm going into town to get supplies, I'll be about four
hours. There's water on the table there, you've got enough chain to
get to the bathroom and if you get cold you can get into bed. If you
do manage to get out of that chain, you have to find some clothes,
since it's pretty chilly out there, and then you have to walk about
thirty miles to the nearest habitation, which will probably be empty
anyway. I will see you later - understood?"
"Crystal clear." Krycek waited until Skinner was at the door before
calling. "I could murder a steak."
The door slammed shut, with enough force to rattle the mugs in the
Skinner had been gone a couple of hours and Krycek had shuffled into
the bathroom. He hoped that Skinner was not going to do any window
shopping, since the metal was really digging into his ankles. As he
clanked back into the bedroom, feeling like Marley's ghost, his heart
almost stopped. Sitting quietly in the chair that Skinner had used the
first night, was an elegant grey-haired man, studying the rumpled bed;
standing by the door, holding a revolver, was an inelegant goon.
"Ah! Mr. Krycek. I don't believe we've met?" The voice was as
languidly elegant as the figure and had a distinctive English accent.
"I don't think we've had the pleasure. Mr. - ?" Krycek astonished
himself with the calmness of his own voice.
"Smith. Yes, I think Smith will be sufficient. No, we haven't met, but
we have a mutual associate who's rather fond of Morleys."
Krycek could suddenly hear a thundering in his ears, and he threw a
hunted look at the doorway, where the gunman just stared stoically.
"It seems you've been leading him rather a dance. Tsk. Tsk. I think
you should be rather relieved that I found you first."
"What do you want?"
"Information. Like our estimable Assistant Director."
He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket, which Krycek could see
was covered in Skinner's writing.
"This was on the table in there, a very interesting list of questions.
It makes me wonder if perhaps our Russian colleagues in the Consortium
are getting a little restless, or perhaps some other agency? Anyway,
I'm sure you'll be eager to tell us."
As he finished speaking he raised ice-cold eyes from the paper to
Krycek, whose mouth went dry. This man made him think of an epee -
slim, deadly, steel.
"When do we leave?"
"How sensible. I think right away is best, I don't want to have to
kill Mr. Skinner. Unlike our smoking friend I don't believe that death
brings silence; there are some dead bodies which shout their message
from the roof-tops."
Smith gestured at the thug who came forward and unlocked the irons, and
then at another gesture took off his overcoat and handed it to Krycek.
Smith rose and led the way from the bedroom with the gunman bringing up
the rear, as he reached the door he turned and looked back at the bed.
"If I were you, Mr. Krycek, I would avoid future meetings with Mr.
Skinner. I have the feeling he will not be pleased to see you again."