Disclaimer:  Still not mine, in fact now they run and hide from me when I call them.

Rated NC17 for M/M sex.  Slash at last!

Plot:  Filling in the blanks left by Chris Carter.  Alex fucks his way around the universe while battling aliens and Fox Mulder.  Today he gets off__. the ship_

Thanks as always to Orithain, for beta of the finest, and to Paula, Nic, Aries,
Spike and Frankie for advice and encouragement, hints, suggestions and occasional beatings.  Owie!

Archive: Terma of course, elsewhere if you tell me first.

Feedback:  Whining for feedback.  Need feedback.  Where is it? sashworth@home.com wants to hear from you.

Guilt Edged 2-2 "Giving it All Away"                                    by Dr. Ruthless
*************************************************************

He lay, content, sexually replete, mind plotting the safe hand-over of his treasures and his next meeting with Fox Mulder.  For a few minutes he dozed but finally struggled up with a start and reached for his discarded clothing.

//Time to get going now.  Let's go.//

Once more back at the boiler room, he fumbled in his pocket for the key he knew
was there.

But it wasn't.  It wasn't there, and the door was unlocked, and

//Dear God in heaven don't let it be, please don't let it be. // 

But despite his prayers, his fervent, toes clenched and everything in him straining towards heaven prayers. D'mitri was gone.  And fuck it!  Fuck everything because now he was lost.  Now he was back at their mercy, and the night was going to be long and cold.  He stood beside the blankets where his ticket to salvation had lain for the past few days, getting his scattered thoughts into some kind of order.

//The bitch!  The fucking, evil bitch!  She's killed me.//  The opening door gave him a sudden, total shock.  Ice water thrown over warm shoulders or the sudden surge of movement in close darkness as you peep under the bed would make
you feel this way.

//Because he knows a fearsome fiend doth close behind him tread.  Oh, sweet Jesus, I'm fucked.//

And inexorably, as unstoppable as the sunrise, the door swung open.

Being Krycek, he turned to face his killer, wanting whoever it was to know that
Alex Krycek, one time FBI agent, traitor, and killer for hire was also brave enough to die without whining about it.  The man behind the door stepped in, and he received his next shock, his first glimmer of hope.

It was the Brit.  It was the Brit, and he felt the adrenaline surge prepare him
for fight or flight, and this was both, baby, this was most decidedly both.

*********

His negotiations, clever words and half-lies had done a number on the Brit for sure.  That was why he now found himself in handcuffs in the very place he had kept the boy.  Talk about poetic justice.  He was amazed he was still breathing, and he knew that if he could convince the Brit of his sincerity, he would be home free.

It had not been easy.  The Brit had known it all, known about the vaccine, known about Marita, known every last sordid detail, and been determined to have
the vaccine from him.

Alex knew that the Brit would have gone to any lengths to force the information
of its whereabouts from him, and he would, he had no doubts, have yielded the information, screaming.  Then, it dawned on him that the Brit wanted something else from him, and that he was going to make it, he really was.

It was himself.  The Brit had the hots for him, and that was OK.  That was fine.  He was no longer the righteously indignant little straight that had reacted so violently to Fox Mulder's proposition.  He had learned.  He had been
taught, and never let it be said that Alex Krycek was not a quick study.  He knew how to suck cock.  He could tell when someone wanted to slip it to him, and he knew he could command the highest prices.  He was always good at whatever he did.

He would give the Brit everything his sorry heart desired, and at the end of it
he would walk away the winner.  He had planned it out, content to lie in his chains knowing his looks, the sheer, feral sensuality of him, would work on the
Brit.

He had been right.  The old man had spent a long time, far longer than necessary, watching him.  "Interrogating" him.

//Interrogating!  Right!//

And Alex had put on a show for him, writhing and sultry, legs spread, lips wet and eyes smoldering.  The Brit had been affected, he could tell.  His chest had
moved faster.  He had flushed and turned away, only to return for more almost immediately.  Alex gazed up at him, eyes like pools of bruised moss, shadows making the play of thick dark lashes on his cheek almost irresistible.

He had, of course, known what Alex was doing.  He had smiled thinly, mouth stretching as if he had needed to dredge his memory to locate the instructions for doing so.

"You really are a piece of work, aren't you, Krycek?" he had asked, not unkindly, and Alex had flashed his white smile briefly,

//That's how you do it, old man!  See that?//

and his chin had gone up.

"I am what you made me.  I'm a survivor."  His voice was almost a whisper, causing the old man to lean in close.  His throaty whisper was pitched to buzz across his ears and send darts down to his gonads.  Alex licked his lips and closed his eyes briefly, feathery lashes lying dark on his bristle-stained cheeks, achieving a look that was at once both vulnerable and dangerous.

He heard the man above him catch his breath and then, peeping through the veil of his lashes, saw him duck down until his face was only inches from his own.  He saw the expression of shame and longing and knew that he had won.

He lowered his voice still further and whispered, knowing he had him now and that it was only a matter of time.

"I could.... be.... useful to you"

"What do you want, Krycek?"  The man had not drawn back; if anything, he was closer.  Alex fought back an urge to brush his lips over those that hung just above him.

//Too soon, but close... any minute now and he's mine.//

"I want my place.  I want to stop hiding and take my place... I want..." Alex gleamed up at him speculatively, stretching seductively as he did so, eyes carefully monitoring the effects of his artful sensuality on this old man who held the key to all his futures.

"What?  What is it?  What else?"  The voice was gentle, promising, and Alex risked it then, straining upwards to brush the thin lips with his tongue flicking over them, before dropping back down to his former, relaxed position.

"Fox Mulder."  He blurted it out.  "I want Fox Mulder.  He owes me."  The old man's face clouded over.  He had flinched at Alex's sudden onslaught on his senses, and now he appeared ill at ease.  Alex lay quietly, his very posture a challenge, and waited.  He felt very sure of himself now.  He could see the effect that his proximity was having on the other man.

"Give me the vaccine, Alex.  Give it to me, and I'll sponsor you.  I'll give you what you've asked for and more besides."  The Brit's voice was measured, and Alex could sense the care with which he chose his words, but he could also see the pulse in his neck beating rapidly, hectically, and the swelling at the front of the man's trousers was unmistakable.  He had won.

He nodded, and at long last the Brit drew out the key to the handcuffs and moved to unlock the restraints that held Alex.  Pausing, he suddenly changed his mind, turning instead to the buttons on Alex's jeans and reaching inside to
release his cock, already swelling and stiffening as he brought it out.

The man hitched his pants leg and knelt carefully, taking Alex into his mouth very suddenly and making him cry out as warmth, wetness and a flickering tongue
sent a charge through him.  A charge that grew rapidly as the man began to suck
on him, to squeeze and fondle his balls, and finally to probe a questing finger
into his anus, twisting and hooking until he found the small gland inside and stroked it as he sucked.  Alex, made responsive by relief, excitement and plain, old deprivation, allowed the sensations to take him over, and he came fast and hard, pumping his emission into the greedily sucking mouth at his groin.  Finally, he fell back, trembling.

"You'll do."  Leaving his clothing in disarray the Brit finally unfastened the cuffs that were holding him in place.  "Get the vaccine, this ship is due to sail in a couple of hours.

************************


Sue aka Dr. Ruthless

<sashworth@home.com> ICQ#14783367 <Alyosha303 on IM> <Xtrovert1@aol.com>

That's underwear, ladies and gentlemen~Nick Lea (Access Hollywood)


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