Now that the hunt for Mulder is over I'm not sure what to do. I doubt Krycek will let me take him back to the police station. The next flight to Washington doesn't leave until tomorrow. And it's been a long, strange day. I need some sleep before I can even begin to figure out how I got myself in this situation. But here I am, and, oh what the hell.
I reach out to grab the back of Krycek's head and pull his mouth to mine. His hair is soft. I twist my fingers in the short strands and tug, eliciting a growl from the back of his throat that vibrates through me. In retaliation I feel his hands slide up my back into my hair, and he pulls so my throat is bared to him. He licks and sucks his way down the column of my throat. I don't think I've had a hickey since I was in college. And I didn't enjoy that one nearly as much as this one.
Impatiently I tug his head up and lock our lips together. Krycek kisses like he's a man about to be killed any second. No holding back, completely devouring me until I can't tell which way is up. I finally manage to insinuate a hand inside his jacket and let out a pitiful moan as he sucks my tongue into his mouth. I feel like I've got a tiger beneath my hands. It's dangerous, and scary, and my mind melts into a kaleidoscope of sensation. We come together in the middle of the front seat and two seconds later I'm being lifted into his lap. He bucks under me, grinding his arousal into my backside. This is all too much. I'm falling through the air at a hundred miles per hour with no parachute.
I pull away to take a gasping breath, meaning to stop him, until his lips fasten on my neck again. One hand is sliding under my skirt, while the other pinches my nipple.
"Oh Jesus," I gasp, arching my back. I reach blindly for purchase and feel hard denim under my hand. I squeeze his thigh like I've been wanting to do for the last half hour.
"I've been called worse," he growls. "God Dana. You're a hellcat."
"It's always the quiet ones," I reply, quoting him. I feel his body vibrate with silent laughter as he kisses his way down the V of my blouse. The feel of his hand inching farther up my thigh makes me jump, and suddenly I've got a handful of very hot, very aroused Alex Krycek.
He hisses and moans as I inadvertently run the heel of my hand over his straining erection. I swear, I didn't mean to do it, and pull my hand away like it's been burned. When is the last time I heard a man make those sounds because of me? I can't help the purely feminine smile that stretches my mouth as I say, "How is Becky Millar doing?"
He lifts his head to look at me and the corner of his mouth turns up. "Becky Who?"
Electricity zings between us as our eyes meet. This is so wrong. For reasons I can't begin to count. His hand abandons my skirt to cup the side of my face. He rubs his finger lightly over my swollen lips and I can't help but lean forward and capture his lips in another kiss. It's wrong. But it's also the most heartbreakingly tender kiss I've ever received. And that's more scary that the whirlwind of passion I just found myself in. This is Krycek, being the total opposite of everything he's supposed to be, and I don't think I can handle it. I taste blood and realize that the cut on his lip must have broken open again. I pull away and stare at him wide-eyed.
"Now what?"
"I--I don't think . . ." That I can do this, I mean to say. No matter how much I want you. The incident in the interrogation room seemed so innocent, but this is too all-consuming. I feel like I'm losing myself.
I wait for him to get angry, or to laugh at me. He studies me for a long time, then gives me a squeeze and asks, "You want me to drive?"
I nod and ignore the quiet moan as he slides me across his lap and into the passenger seat. I feel like such a prude. If I was Krycek, I'd be demanding satisfaction. He's got more patience than I could ever give him credit for. He slips off his jacket and hands it to me in a bundle. I tuck it between my shoulder and the window and weakly smile my thanks.
"You've probably had a long day. Get some sleep," he says.
And that's when all the adrenaline, all the excitement slowly begins to seep from my body, and my fatigue creeps back in.
"I won't go back to Monument. Knowing Mulder he's already stormed the police station."
Probably. Which means he's found out that I left to 'take the suspect to a more secure facility', which I obviously haven't otherwise I would have told him on the phone. I'm gonna have a lot of explaining to do when I get back to Washington--with or without Krycek. Especially why I've casually placed my life in his hands for the next few hours while I catch some Z's.
I try to stay awake and make conversation. It seems rude just to go to sleep when his pants are so obviously uncomfortable. But when I ask him about the Eagles he smiles over at me.
"Go to sleep, Dana."
4:37 AM
Sleepy Hollow Motel
outside Dallas, TexasI wake up in a still, empty car. For a moment panic seizes me. Krycek didn't abandon me on the side of the road, did he? I guess I kinda deserve it, what with the way I left him hanging. Then I hear voices, and sit up to see him walking toward the car. The sun hasn't risen yet, but from the dim floodlights we look to be at a motel. I've stayed in enough motels to last three lifetimes.
"The Ritz was booked?" I ask when he climbs back into the car and hands me a key.
"No, Mulder confiscated all my cash when he arrested me. Fortunately he missed my secret stash. Unfortunately, my secret stash is only forty dollars."
I note that the blinking neon sign above the main office says $49.95 per night. Pretty pricey for a motel.
"So how did you pay for the room?"
"I charmed the front desk clerk. Cute little thing."
I find that I'm actually jealous, even though I don't have any real reason to be. "Sure she was."
He laughs. "Come on, Scully. You know you and Becky Millar are the only ones for me."
"Becky Who?"
Instead of answering, he asks, "You got a bag in the trunk?"
I nod and quirk my eyebrow at the door of our room. Number 42. Very funny Krycek. I gather up my leather pillow and get out to stretch as Krycek retrieves my travel bag. So it looks like I'll be sharing a room with him. But the question I'm really burning to know is will I be sharing a bed with him? I admit I'm nervous. I want him, but the implications and the complications are too much to face. I've only just taken my first few steps on the road to rebel-hood.
My eyes are met by two double beds, beige carpeting, wall sconces, and matching furniture. Wow. No wonder this place is expensive. It's actually nice.
"Are you waiting for me to carry you over the threshold or something? 'Cause I'm beat. I haven't slept in two days."
I step out of the way to let Krycek through. He sets my bag on one bed and collapses on the other, legs dangling off the end. He poses an interesting picture, spread out on the bed like that. He doesn't open his eyes as I close and lock the door.
"Where are we?"
"Just outside of Phoenix," he answers around a yawn. "There's a flight leaving for DC at eleven tomorrow. I booked you a seat. Wake up call at eight."
Well, it looks like everything's taken care of. I sit down on what apparently is my bed and take off my shoes so I can rub my feet. I have this whole stretching routine that I do after long car rides, but I'm too self conscious with Krycek in the room. Maybe I'll get the opportunity if he goes to have a shower. Then again, if he goes to have a shower I'll probably be too busy panting at the bathroom door to bother with stretching.
"Do you want to shower first? Krycek?"
A soft snore is my only reply. Guess that answers that question. I pad over to the side of his bed and stare down at him. He looks young in his sleep. Too young to be a fan of the Eagles, to have gone through the Academy, to be able to disarm a federal agent in the blink of an eye. I itch to lean down and press a kiss to his slightly parted lips. I really need that milkshake. Without the leather jacket to hide his black t-shirt, I can see clearly how well developed he really is. It makes me realize that he held back with me in every way. This man could hurt me. But he won't. My eyes linger on his midsection far longer than is decent, and then down those long, long legs to his boots.
The first boot comes undone under my fingers before I even fully process what I'm doing. He doesn't wake up, doesn't shift, doesn't even twitch. So the second one comes off, and then both socks. There. That's better. My hand hovers indecisively over the button on his jeans. On one hand, I don't think I'd take too kindly to being undressed by a quasi-stranger. On the other hand, sleeping in jeans--especially jeans as snug as those--will be really uncomfortable.
What happens if he wakes up? I don't want him to think I'm leading him on. Especially since I'm not prepared to follow through. I think I will be one day. If I ever see him again. And if I don't see him again, this opportunity will never present itself again.
After what has to be the most pathetic internal debate I've ever had with myself, I pop open the button on his jeans. The zipper comes down ever so slowly, and when nothing appears but more brown skin my pulse increases noticeably. If Krycek is one of those guys who runs around without any underwear on I'll . . . Well, lets just say the words salivate and suction come to mind.
I'm almost relieved when an elastic waistband appears. He's wearing black briefs. I smirk. Of course they're black. I curl my fingers in his belt loops and tug gently. Krycek grunts and I freeze. I just know that when I look up he'll give me that Cheshire grin and say "See anything you like, Dana?" When I finally find the courage to look up, he's still sleeping peacefully. I let out my breath and give a few more experimental tugs, finally managing to get the denim down over his hips. Now that the hard part is over, I kneel at the end of the bed and pull the jeans down his legs. They end up folded neatly on a chair, with his boots tucked safely underneath.
I hear Krycek shift, and turn to admire as he absently mumbles and scratches his chest. I'd like to take off that black t-shirt as well, but then he'd definitely wake up. And I'm not quite ready for that possibility. My God, he's gorgeous. And all laid out like a buffet-- half-naked, vulnerable, oh-so-edible Alex Krycek. I wish I had a camera. And a milkshake. I don't even care what flavor it is anymore. I just need that thick cool ice cream sliding down my throat, so similar to--
I stop my thoughts right there and tear my eyes from Krycek's underwear. Ok, Dana, time to cover him up or face insanity. Neither choice is particulary appealing--it's been a long time since I had a man like this in my hands--but with a sigh I move back to his bed. Task A is to get him all the way onto the bed, task B is to get him under the covers. I lean down and brush my fingers lightly over his hair.
"Krycek. Krycek?" I whisper. He doesn't move.
"Alex?" There we go. He mumbles something and turns his face toward my voice.
"Alex. Let's get you to bed, okay?"
Krycek sighs, "'Kay," and his eyelids flutter briefly before falling shut again.
I put my hands under his armpits and gently urge him up the bed. I turn down the covers on one side and roll him toward it. Damn. What an ass. And I thought it looked good in jeans. He snakes his arms around the pillow and snuggles down as I reluctantly pull the sheets up over his legs. I let the covers pool around his waist and squat by the side of the bed. I thought he'd look younger in his sleep, but he seems just as dangerous and sexy as ever. I run my thumb lightly over his mouth, avoiding the cut. His lips part and I feel his tongue against my skin, drawing my thumb into his mouth. I move forward to replace my finger with my lips when his eyes open, startling me. My entire visual field is taken up by green. A moment later Krycek blinks, breaking the spell.
"Dana," he breathes, eyes sinking shut. His breathing immediately evens out to slow, deep rhythm. I don't know how long I stay like that, staring at his slumbering face. The things I saw in his eyes, I don't even know how to decipher. I don't know if I want to. I think that if I grow old and forget the sound of Krycek's voice, the smell of his leather jacket, the feel of his body moving under my hands, I'll never forget the way he looked at me as he said my name just then.
I finally crawl into my own bed, resigned to let my out of control thoughts turn into insomnia. Maybe sometime during the night my jitters will turn into courage and I'll jump into bed with him. I must drift off though, because the next thing I know it's morning.
9:49 AM
Sleepy Hollow MotelThe bed next to me is empty, as is the bathroom, though there is a wet towel hanging over the shower curtain rod. I peer through the curtains and notice that the car is gone, but it doesn't even occur to me that Krycek is gone for good until I see the note on the table. The note is sitting propped against a drink container. I pop off the lid and look inside, eyes widening. It's a strawberry milkshake. How could he have known? My eyes turn to the note.
Dana,
As you've probably figured out, I'm not going back to Washington with you. I'm sorry I have to steal your car, but mine's back in New Mexico with everything that Mulder confiscated. I hope you have enough money to catch a cab to the airport. If not, I'll make it up to you next time. Don't forget--your flight's at 11. See you around.
Alex
P.S. Enjoy your milkshake, and smack Mulder for me, will you?
I snort and glance at my watch. Oh no. I glare at the phone. So much for wakeup calls. It's ten. I call for a cab, and start brushing my hair. I'd like to change, but I don't think there's going to be time. I'm just finishing brushing my teeth when I hear a car horn outside the door. I snatch up my bag from the bed and the note from the table. I'll have to spend the plane ride trying to come up with a story for Mulder and Skinner.
1:32 PM
AD Skinner's office
FBI Headquarters"He what!?"
I decide to stick to simple, as bad as it might reflect on my abilities as a federal agent. "He overpowered me, Mulder, and took the car. My plane ticket disappeared, so I had to wait until this morning."
"Why didn't you call me? I tried to get ahold of you all night."
Good question. "He took my cell phone. Did I forget to mention I was stranded in the desert? In the middle of the night?"
I can tell Mulder's about to cave. Skinner still looks upset. And who can blame him? He met me at the airport. Seems he'd been there since last night, waiting for me to show up with Krycek. Oops.
"Look Mulder, Sir, I'm tired and dirty. I'd really like to go home for a little while." I think I smell too, like sweat and sand, and maybe even a hint of leather. I'm the epitome of rumpled, ragged, helpless female at the moment.
Mulder offers to drive me home, and I reluctantly accept. Thankfully, the drive is silent. I hope that Mulder thinks my silence is due to the guilt of letting Krycek get away. Because in reality I'm fantasizing about all the ways he could have woke me up in the hotel. Good thing he snuck off, or we'd probably still be in Texas.
"Home sweet home," Mulder says as we pull up to my building, snapping me out of my daze.
"Yeah, thanks Mulder. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
He just nods as I climb out of the car, but he's got that look on his face like he wants to say something. He follows me to the trunk as I get my overnight bag.
"What is it, Mulder?"
"Scully, nothing happened, did it? I mean, he didn't . . ."
Rape me? I suddenly feel overwhelmed with guilt that has little to do with Krycek. Mulder's been really worried about me, and I've been lying through my teeth to him since last night.
"I'm fine. Really." I smile to confirm it, and turn to go. I'm almost home free when he speaks up again.
"Hey, Scully, you dropped something."
I turn, having no idea what he's talking about. I'm only carrying my bag. Mulder takes a few steps toward me before he freezes, and I follow his gaze. Oh no. This has got to be a bad dream. I'm going to wake up any second now.
Lying between us on the sidewalk is a condom. The shiny foil condom wrapper that Krycek tossed to me and I stuffed in my pocket and forgot about. I could always say that I didn't drop it, but Mulder's eagle eyes probably saw it fall out of my pocket. I bend awkwardly to retrieve it.
"Uh, thanks," I say, turning and walking away quickly. But not quickly enough to miss the glimmer of suspicion in his eyes.
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