'Skinner to you'
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: adult
Clay and Clark watch the X-Files episode Existence. Smut ensues.
Eclipse PWP/Snapshot #16.
Disclaimer: Clay and Clark belong to themselves. All right, I'm in a majorly bad mood. They belong to DPB and CBS, but I wish they'd get a clue and put them on more often. Skinner and Krycek and any other X-Files characters mentioned belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions and FOX, but don't get me started on *him*.
Please do not archive this story without asking me first. It's more than likely that I'll agree, but I want to know where my stories are.
Spoilers: the XF episodes Existence and SR 819, and maybe some other XF ones.
For Alex, who said that Clark did the right thing hiding the tapes when we talked about Clay and Clark watching Existence and therefore inspired this story.
Thanks to Elizabeth for her beta. All remaining mistakes and infelicities are my doing, as always.
*****
Thank god that show's over. I could enjoy taking out Chris Carter right now, but not because he killed off Krycek. No one with a brain could do anything but figure he'd gotten a shipment of some really good mushrooms just before he wrote the script. Because this idiotic X-Files season finale has fucked with my evening. Damn him to hell for that. I was hoping for some sex, but there's no chance of that now. I've got to deal with Clay, who is taking this too seriously. It's just a show, dammit.
"I'm never watching that show again," he announces, and I sigh. Yeah, should have known that was coming. "Clark, get all the tapes. I'm throwing them out."
Oh, that's not going to happen. I like the show, and I'm not losing my tapes. But I can handle this. "Sure, Clay." I get up. He's glaring at the TV like it's Rabb. Yeah, right. Don't I wish he hated Rabb that much. "Want me to get you a drink?" If it'll get him over this, I'll get him drunk. So what he has to work tomorrow? He can call in sick, and then maybe I'll get sex.
"No. Goddammit," he mutters. "What was Krycek thinking? Skinner wouldn't kill Mulder on his word alone. Hell, he wouldn't do it with proof. What's going on? What did I miss?"
I nod to myself as I make a pile of the tapes, making sure to get the one from tonight out as well. Now it's making sense. This is Clayton Webb who's dealing with this. He has to understand everything. I could tell him it's not supposed to make sense? Maybe later. Right now I've got to get these away from him.
"How about I take these straight out to the trash?" To my car, but he doesn't need to know that.
He just nods. Good, he's back to thinking. I get out and stow the videos in the trunk. He's not going to check the dumpster to make sure I tossed them. I would, but Clay's not that paranoid. I think he's not. Hmm. Better buy some blank tapes and label them, then toss them. That way I'm covered if he does check.
When I get back in, he's still on the couch, and after an hour of watching him think, I give up and go to bed. He doesn't even blink, and I'm too beat to care.
*****
"Krycek," I hear and roll over. What the fuck? Then someone pinches my nipple, and I groan. "That's right, Krycek, I want to hear you."
All right, someone wants me to be Krycek. I'll do it. I can do anything.
"Open your eyes," I hear next and do it. It's Clay beside me, and his fingers roll and pinch my other nipple this time, getting me to buck up off the bed. "Good boy, Krycek."
The X-Files. Krycek dying. And my Clay's decided I'm Krycek. Wonder who he thinks he is? How the hell do I find out? I'd peg him as Skinner. He fucking hates Mulder, so not him. Deep Throat? Yeah, Clay could be him, but he never knew Krycek. Too bad. I liked Deep Throat. Cancerman? No way. Has to be Skinner. But I'd better check.
"Tell me what to call you." The direct approach, one I can't say I'm into, but it usually works with him.
"You don't need a name. I know who you are. I want you."
He's really into this, but that's fine with me. I'll be Krycek for him. I'm getting sex. "Then tell me what you want."
The laugh I get from him is fucking wonderful. Jesus, if playing Krycek for him does this, I'll do it any time. "You know the deal. Every time you fuck me over, I fuck you."
"Right." No argument here. Sounds like he's Skinner to me, but I'm not going to fuck this up now.
I get up on my hands and knees, and he gives me one of his brilliant smiles before he moves away. He's back soon, and I spread my legs farther apart as soon as I feel his fingers slide down the crack of my ass. He's fast and thorough. Then the mattress shifts, and he's behind me, his cock at my hole, wanting in.
He gets the head of his cock into me, and I groan. So damned good, even the flashes of pain from getting stretched that much. With him, that adds to the thrill. I'm hooked on him for sure. I hated getting fucked in Leavenworth, hated it when I traded sex for information, hated it when I got my lessons in the DSD, figured I'd hate it even when he did it, but I was wrong about that one. He makes it different, makes it right.
"You won't fuck me over again, will you, Krycek? No more shit with that palm pilot?"
Yeah, I was right, he's Skinner. "Never," I get out, and he pushes the rest of the way into me, getting my prostate and making me moan. He's fucking me good and hard, no shit about taking it slow, and his hand comes around to work my cock, letting me know this isn't going to be a long one. Fine with me. I'm too damned close already.
I come with a groan, then he does, no sound from him, but I know from the way his body stiffens, then relaxes. I know Clayton Webb better than anyone in the world, and I like it that way.
He pulls out and collapses on the bed. I ease myself down next to him.
"Sorry," I hear and open my eyes again.
"What the hell are you sorry for?"
I can see his face, and it's got that goddamned closed look on it again. I hate that look. He wore it all the time when fucking Rabb was around, before he got smart and trusted me. He has to trust me. "For calling you 'Krycek'. That was uncalled for."
"Clay, for god's sake, I loved it. You want me to be Krycek, fine. I'm not complaining." Just don't leave me. Just don't go to someone else's bed. I'll kill the next person you sleep with. "Did you get what you wanted?" I hope so. I tried my best.
"Of course." He sounds surprised that I ask, and I smile to myself. Really? Nice to know I've still got it. "You didn't mind?"
"I'll be anyone you want." Just don't call me 'Rabb'. All right, go ahead. As long as you're with me.
"I don't want you to think I want anyone but you."
"Hey, I'm the best. No way anyone else could come close." I know he still probably wants Rabb, but I can live with that, as long as he's with me.
"Right." His lips brush over mine, then they're gone. "Take off the prosthetic, then go to sleep." There's a note of teasing in his voice, and it makes me smile.
"Night, Walter."
I get a snort from him, then a laugh. "Skinner to you, Krycek."
I laugh, too. "So can I take the tapes out of the trash?"
"Like you ever put them there. Just keep them away from me."
He knows me too well, but right now I don't care. I know him pretty damned well, too. "Sure thing, Clay."
I turn over as he laughs again and let myself relax. It's going to be fine. I know it will be. Even if I have to wait to watch the X-Files with him, it's not even close to the end of the world. I've got him.
The End
Posted 11/21/01
To read the next Eclipse Snapshot, go to Ornaments.
