Summary: A series of chance encounters can have personal consequences.
Pairing: Sk/K
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These are the property of CC, Fox and 1013. But, by chance, I too encountered them.

This being the Fourth

The late February surprise snowstorm had effectively shut down DC.

Not that there was a lot of snow, relatively speaking. Not even four inches. But the news programs were filled with images of cars sliding sideways down streets, buses unable to get up hills, a few stalwart souls cross-country skiing across Washington Monument Park.

Skinner was just happy to have made it home in one piece. The Bureau had shut down at noon, everyone sent home to try and control Friday's rush hour. It had taken him three hours to accomplish what usually took forty minutes.

He filled the CD player with jazz, changed into jeans and sweater, and was examining his fridge to see if he had put that bottle of white in when the doorbell rang.

He wasn't expecting anyone, but assumed it was someone from the building: security downstairs was quite tight these days since the Condominium Board had hired an ex- cop for the lobby desk. They still hadn't gotten over the body tossed off his balcony.

He looked through the peephole anyway to check. Saw the back of a head resting against the door. Longish black hair.

He wondered if it was just wishful dreaming that made him think he knew whom the hair belonged to.

He made lots of noise unlocking, then opening the door.

Opened it to see Alex Krycek leaning against the door jamb.

Skinner slouched against the edge of the door, looked over the man he hadn't seen since that fall night in Virginia.

Krycek waited for Skinner to finish checking him out. He didn't know if he was going to be invited in, had no intention of asking. It had been almost five months. Surely by now Skinner had taken up with someone. He had convinced himself that this visit was just to satisfy his curiosity: Skinner's private life was just that, private. He knew no one whom he could casually ask about it.

Skinner, he admitted, looked a thousand times better than the last time he'd seen him. And the sweater and jeans made him look hot. He found that he had no trouble remembering the taste of his mouth, of his skin. His cock twinged at the memories.

Skinner was both attracted and irritated. The "boy" felt he could come and go with impunity. Stir up his life, his libido. Make it impossible for him to want anyone else, that is if he could ignore the work load that had dropped on his desk since some of the cut- backs the Bureau had undergone in the fall.

Neither said anything, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Skinner broke first. "Shit!" He reached out and dragged a suddenly smiling Krycek into the apartment.

Krycek took a very quick glance around the apartment from the entrance way. No signs of anything more than a Skinner habitation.

He turned and pushed Skinner against the apartment door, mouth hungry on him, hand at Skinner's waistband, hurriedly pulling down the fly.

Skinner was taken aback for exactly five seconds. After that, he tried to devour the mouth on his, one hand clamping Krycek's head to his own, the other also working down a zipper.

They were both hard, erect, hungry.

Krycek dropped to his knees, prosthesis supporting his weight against the door, hand pulling out Skinner's already thickening cock.

He hadn't been able to put it into his mouth when Skinner also dropped to the floor, pushed Krycek onto his back, mouth hungry at the man's waist. He was more successful at capturing his prey. Krycek gasped as Skinner's mouth enclosed his cock.

He let himself enjoy the sensations that Skinner's mouth elicited. Then suddenly felt bereft. It took a push and a twist, a quick limber movement and he too had a mouthful to work with.

Skinner remembered the things that Krycek had seemed to like done to him, had Krycek do things to him that made him see stars.

There was no real subtlety in this encounter: it was just plain hungry sex.

Skinner came first, took time to finish before he returned to the business in his mouth. He had an easier time of swallowing Krycek's come this time as it shot down his throat.

They lay, fully dressed except for partially open pants, Krycek still in his leather jacket, faces resting in each other's groins.

Skinner gave Krycek's softening cock a final suck, let it slip out of his mouth. "Jesus! I'm too old for this on-the-floor stuff."

Krycek rubbed his face on Skinner's penis, "We can move to the carpet if you prefer."

"Carpet burn." Skinner pulled himself up Krycek's body to kiss him on the mouth. He had dreamt about that mouth, had craved it. Now he had it.

Krycek returned the kiss with a deeper one of his own. He had been worried that he wouldn't be allowed in. Felt giddy with relief.

Skinner grabbed Krycek's head by the hair, held it still till the eyes looked at him. He had a grin on his face, the delight in his eyes reflecting the delight on the face between his hands.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Nice to see you again."

Krycek swallowed a laugh. "Same here."

"So tell me, Krycek, are you going to be here when I wake up tomorrow morning?"

Krycek's expression grew thoughtful. "Would you like me to be?"

Skinner was about to make some snarky remark but caught himself just in time: Krycek was seriously asking that question. Was still waiting for the answer.

Skinner stroked his lips across Krycek's mouth. "Oh, yes." Then to lighten the moment, "Besides, the whole city is closed down. DC has little snow clearing equipment. Public transport has been closed down. My car does not have the proper tires for dealing with this weather. Face it, Alex, you're snowed in with me for the duration."

His voice took on an evil edge. "And I get to do anything I want to you." He dropped a light kiss on that delicious devil smile spreading across Krycek's mouth. "And everything I've dreamt of doing."

The stubble rubbing against him woke Skinner up the next morning. He lay in bed quietly enjoying the sensation of waking up with an armful of Krycek.

The previous evening and night had been any excuse to touch, to taste. Foreplay, as Krycek called it, had taken place on the couch, in the kitchen on the table, even on the carpet.

It was as if once the initial encounter was over, there was no hurry to do anything but re-establish contact.

Almost by mutual understanding, the time was spent in cock-teasing, heavy petting, necking sessions that led to the edge but not over.

By the time Skinner suggested they go upstairs, Krycek's eyes were heavy with arousal, his cock was sore from rubbing on his inside seam, his skin felt every thread in his t-shirt. And he couldn't remember ever having been so stimulated in his life.

Skinner just wanted to feel skin against his skin. One more touch from Krycek and he was going to blow up.

They drew out the torment by undressing each other slowly until Krycek finally had enough and dragged Skinner down onto the bed.

They shut the world out.

Unjacked all the phones. Took the batteries out of the cell phone. Unplugged the computer. No TV. No radio.

Just jazz, chess, lazy conversations about music, chess strategy, books. No references to anything in the "real" world.

Making meals together. Making love on the couch, fast and hard. In the bed, exploratory. Learning more and more about what pleased the other. Sleeping entangled together.

Monday morning arrived in spite of them.

Skinner put on his Bureau persona while Krycek, eyes still heavy from early morning sex, watched from the bed.

Neither spoke. Skinner knew Krycek would disappear again before he'd be back tonight: Krycek, because he didn't know what to say.

Skinner gave his suit jacket a last shrug so it settled into place. At the door he stopped, turned for one last look. He sighed, went back to the bed, took one last kiss and left.

Krycek's eyes stayed shut until he heard the downstairs door close.

Chance Encounters V

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