Picking Up The Pieces

Author: KinkyGrrl Diane (kinkygrrl1980@yahoo.com)

Website: https://www.angelfire.com/extreme4/kinkygrrl1980/

Keywords: Krycek POV, slash, h/c, K/Sk, Sk/K, NC-17

Spoilers: As if anybody cares about spoilers by now...

Archive: Ask, please.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Chris Carter and Them, yadda yadda. No copyright infringement intended, I write for love and feedback, not money.

Summary: The morning after the night before.

Notes: This is the fourth in the "Broken" series inspired by a Peja-challenge, following Broken Promises, Paid in Full, and Paying the Price. There will probably be more. No beta has yet touched this piece, so read at your own risk :).

Picking Up the Pieces

          Sleep abandons me slowly.  I’m warm.  Comfortable.  I can feel a large, hairy arm draped over my back.  A muscular leg, also hairy, rested between my thighs.

          I’d forgotten how good it feels, not waking up alone.  It had been so long since I woke up in bed with...not Mulder.  My eyes snap open.

          God.  Did I really do what I remember doing?  I must have, because Skinner is here.  Still here.

          Probably worn out, from the stress if nothing else.  When he wakes up...no, better not to think about it.  If I start thinking I’ll start brooding, and when I get broody my mind ends up wandering down dark pathways better left untraveled.

          I’m glad I decided not to carry through with my first intentions.  Though, to be honest there hadn't been much of a chance that I would.  My original plan to torture and mutilate Mulder and Scully's boss had been a fleeting impulse, born of rage and frustration and...things I don’t want to think about right now.

          I carefully untangle myself from the big man's limbs and slip out of bed.  The morning chill raises goose bumps along my arms.  I pick my robe up off the floor, slip it on and stand, arms wrapped around myself, trying to recapture that fleeting feeling of warmth.

There’s a rustling behind me, as if a large body is shifting between the sheets.

          Another opportunity missed.  If I could have been dressed and gone before he woke up I wouldn't have to face him.  I turn, to find Skinner studying me.  The A.D.'s brown eyes are alert, not blurred by sleep.

          "How long have you been awake?" I keep my face carefully neutral.

          For a moment, Skinner doesn't answer.  He sits up and stretches casually, letting the sheet slide down to reveal chest and the top of a muscular thigh.  "Long enough," he says finally.

          I feel my body stir.  God, he's beautiful.  Large.  Powerful.  Those hands...

          My cock begins to rise.  I want to feel those big, calloused hands on me, on my cock, on my ass.

          If I voice my desire, Skinner will give me what I want.  Because that was the deal.  He’ll come in my ass, and then he’ll leave.  I turn quickly, rearranging my robe.  It doesn't help much.  I think about the smoker, his hands on my ass, tracing the lines of the fresh scar.

          My erection wilts.  I feel like gagging.  "I'm going to fix some coffee."

          “What’s the rush?”

          The question catches me off-guard.  I study Skinner warily, trying to tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

          The A.D. lies back on the bed, hands behind his head, looking relaxed but not at all sleepy.  “I’ve been thinking about you all morning, Krycek.  About some of the things you said last night.”

          My gut clenches, as I realize what he’s talking about.  You fucking idiot.  What the hell were you smoking last night?

          Maybe Skinner wouldn't remember exactly what I said.  Maybe I can pass it off as a joke.  What I really meant was...

          What I meant was that I had planned to rip your heart out of your chest and send it to Mulder as a souvenir...

          What I really meant to say was...

          Nothing.  That's what I should have said.  Nothing.  Too bad nobody sent that memo to my big fat mouth.

          "What are you thinking?"  Skinner’s got this self satisfied look on his face, like he thinks he’s back in control.  Hell, maybe he is.

          "That I'm glad I took your gun away."

          Skinner gives a bark of laughter.  “Bullshit.  You’re wishing you’d left me in the garage last night.”  He slides out of bed and stands up.  “Too bad.  Too late.  We’re both stuck with this until the terms of our agreement are satisfied.  I’ve had enough shit hanging over my head for long enough…I’m done with that.  Get on the bed, boy.”

          I edge around him, warily.  “I’m making coffee,” I tell him.  “Krycek’s Rule Number One for Living…never fuck in the morning before at least one cup of coffee.”

          “Fuck your rules, Krycek.”  Skinner grabs the robe and yanks me down onto the bed.  I try to squirm away, but I’m too slow, or maybe he’s too fast.  His weight crushes me into the mattress.  The robe gets flipped up and I feel cold air on my butt.  He’s got my thighs pinned between his knees; I should be able to twist and throw him off, I’ve fought bigger men than him before, but there’s something weighing me down from the inside.  Something invisible crushing my chest.  It hurts.  Not this way.

          I feel Skinner’s weight shift slightly.  He tosses a tube of slick down on the bed.  “You wanted this, Krycek.  You kidnapped me to get it.  Enjoy it, if you can.”

          He doesn’t take any time with me, just a few quick thrusts and it’s over.

          "Have the terms of our agreement been satisfied?" he demands as he dismounts.

          "Yeah."  I turn my face down into the pillow, willing myself to feel nothing.  At least he won't cut me up before he leaves.  With knives or with words.  Not his style.  Especially not after what the smoker did to him.

          I feel his calloused hands on my body, turning me over.  He sits down on the bed, so close that I can feel the heat from his body.  The big man hesitates for a moment, eyes roaming over my face as if searching for something.

          He must be wondering if I'm pissed.  If I'm going to come after him for this.  I force my expression into a grin.  "Not exactly my best experience ever.  I suppose it was what I deserved, huh?"

          Skinner considers me gravely.  "It was more.  And less.  That wasn't why I did it, though.  It wasn't about revenge."

          "Just an added benefit, then?" I prod.  What does he want?  “Get a little of your own back?”

          Skinner shrugs.  "Maybe," he admits.  "It was supposed to be a lesson, Alex.  A lesson you need to learn."

          "What kind of lesson?  You wanted me to know what it feels like to be raped?"  I snort, feeling bitterness rise up like bile in the back of my throat.  "Kind of unnecessary, don't you think?"

          "That wasn't the lesson."

          "You want me to know that you're dangerous?  Shit, Skinner, I never doubted that."

          "No.  I gave you everything you asked for.  I fucked your ass and I came.  Everything.  Paid in full."

          "Yeah."  I watch him, hoping that nothing shows in my face.  "So?"

          "I'm still here."

          "Yeah.  I noticed.  What are you waiting for...permission to leave?"

          "No," Skinner says. "You're not listening to me, you stupid little fucker.  I'm. Still. Here."  His fingers brush across my face.

          My mouth opens, but there’s nothing coming out of my brain.  Nothing except "Why?"

          Skinner's fingers trace a pathway down my eyebrow, around my eye, down to brush across my lips.  He’s watching them, like he wants to kiss them.  "Because you get a hard-on from just seeing me sit up in bed in the morning.  Because you say stupid, endearing things when you're fuck-drunk."

          I feel my face grow hot.

          "Because I was worth more to you than getting your revenge on Mulder.  In a sick sort of way there was no greater complement you could have paid me."  Skinner bends over me, and then his mouth comes down on mine.  Punishing.  Demanding.

          A flush of arousal, sharp as pain, spreads through my body.  My cock is instantly hard, the burn in my ass only adding to the pleasure.  I moan into Skinner's mouth as his hand finds my testicles.

          "Now I have *you* by the balls, boy." His grip tightens almost to the edge of pain.

          "God…yes." I owe the man that much.  My pain.  My surrender.  "Do it, Skinner...do whatever you want.  Cut me.  Mark me.  Whatever you need.  I won't come after you for it.  I swear it."

          "Is that what you like?"

          "No." I try to read his eyes, his body language.  What does he want me to say?  "But...it's what I deserve." Mulder always loved to hear that.  Mulder got hard, thinking about punishing me.

          Skinner's expression darkens.  "Don't ever think that I'm like Mulder."

          I wonder if Mulder said something to him, or if Skinner is just very perceptive.  I can’t help squirming as Skinner's hand explores my nipples, pinching them between his fingers.

          "How many people are there in this bed, Alex?"

          I realize what he’s asking.  Do I think about Mulder, when I'm with Skinner?  No.  Yes.  I wish he was here.  I wish he could see that somebody wants me.  I want him to know what he's lost.  "Three.  I guess."

          "What do I have to do to get rid of him?"

          For a moment I can’t breathe.  "I don't know.  Tell him to go away?"

          Skinner's lips twitch.  "Do you think that will work?"  His fingers grasp my cock, I almost come just at the touch of him, at the look of concentration on his face as he spreads pre-cum down to my root.  His attention is all on me, on what I’m feeling.

"Ah.  Fuck."

          "Mulder never does as he's told," Skinner observes absently.  "Let's see if you can do better."  He hoists me up onto my knees and spreads them, grasping my cock roughly with his dry hand as he slides his cum-slicked fingers into me. "Come for me, boy."

          It’s so unexpected that I cry out, and then I orgasm so hard my vision dissolves in sparks.

          When my body finishes spasming, Skinner remarks thoughtfully.  "I suppose that answers that question."

          I can’t remember what the question was but I’m too satiated to ask.  I lie on the bed, feeling an odd contentment that I don’t ever remember feeling before, as Skinner wipes me clean and covers me with a blanket.

          "I'm going home to take a shower and change my clothes.  Maybe do a little damage control.  You did know the parking garage had cameras?  Never mind...of course you did.  Calculating little terrorist."  Skinner's hand ruffles my hair.  "I'll be back here tonight.  Plan on ordering out.  We have a lot to talk about.”

          “We do?”

          He pulls the covers up to my neck and tucks them in.  My eyes start to sting; I close them quickly so he won’t see the tears in them.  Nobody ever tucked me in like that.  Like they cared.

          “Don’t disappoint me, Alex.  You’d better be here tonight.”

          “I will,” I promise him.  It isn’t until after he’s gone that I realize he’s stopped calling me by my last name.