TITLE: PROJECT 6: Skinner's Revenge (Working Draft) AUTHOR: unChuck
aka Lopsided Weevil
DATE: May 10, 1999
SUMMARY: Part 6/7. See my web site for previous parts.
PROJECT 6: Revenge
"Don't play with me, Mulder,
I already do enough of that myself."
"Agent Mulder, it has come to my attention that you may be
engaging in what can best be described as highly provocative behavior.
Would you like to enlighten me as to your whereabouts for the
past three days?"
"Sir, I'm not sure what you're referring to. Agent Krycek
and I..." Mulder's words were cut off by his superior's angry
"I'm getting very impatient with your evasions, Agent Mulder;
I want the truth of these matters, and I will not hesitate to
punish the guilty parties." Mulder could see the anger building
in his boss's face as his swelling neck strained against the confinement
of the tightly buttoned clean white dress shirt.
"Sir, I don't understand."
This has gone on long enough, Agent Mulder. I want you to stand
"Sir, if you'd let me explain..."
"Do as you're ordered, Agent Mulder. I will not tolerate
this kind of behavior. Now stand up and take your jacket off.
Now, Mulder, not five minutes from now."
"Sir, if you'd permit me to explain, I'm sure we could, we
could..." Mulder's words drifted off as the Director's behavior
simultaneously intimidated and hypnotized him. He was being drawn
in by the power and force of this man's will.
"Drop them britches boy."
"Drop your pants, Mulder. I'm going to take you across my
knee and give you the spanking that you deserve."
"Please, sir!" Skinner was turning into a man Mulder
could no longer recognize. He was slumped over and even his clothing
had changed. He was no longer dressed in his tailored, well fitting
suit and tie, but instead was wearing a pair of dirty overalls
with one of the straps unhooked, exposing one side of his massive
chest, splotches of dirt encircling his large nipple, like so
many dirty fingerprints. Even his feet were bare. This was definitely
not the Skinner Mulder knew and respected, this was some animal,
some beast of a man.
"Come on now. Come on, squeal. I wanna hear you squeal."
Skinner had him by the scruff of the neck and was pulling the
helpless agent across his muscular thighs. Mulder felt as if he
were falling into some sort of abyss, tumbling down towards the
fiery depths of a hell world made of his worst imaginings, a hell
where he was spread across the grimy lap of one Walter Skinner,
trapped by knotted pants tangled around his ankles, his ass exposed
to the cold air and the even colder glare of the manbeast dominating
"Please, sir." Mulder struggled to come to grips with
the desperate situation. The confused agent saw the dirty baseball
cap that rested at an awkward tilt on his boss's bald head and
the sweat that covered his chest. He breathed in, smelling the
unmistakable odor of another man, the musky scent of an animal
on the hunt. Skinner's speech had taken on a hillbilly twang and
his breath was heavy and hot.
"Damn, I'm going make you squeal like you just don't care.
Let's get it, boy. Drop them britches, come on now."
Mulder awoke suddenly, with the first crashing slap across his
ass. The violent images of his dream caused his whole body to
tremble with fear and excitement.
"What's the matter?" Alex asked as he was stirred from
his slumber by Mulder's unexpected movements in confines of the
small bed. Ignoring his partner's questions of concern, the troubled
man arose from the bed and silently walked to the bathroom. Alex,
still half asleep, watched him passively through hazy eyes. Slowly,
he reached full consciousness and took in the unhappy realization
of the situation. Mulder was giving him the silent treatment.
Alex threw the covers back and reluctantly climbed out of bed,
brushing aside the shells from the sunflower seeds as he sat up.
Damn, he hated when Mulder ate those things in bed; those things
could hurt, and damn it, they could bite you in the most inconvenient
of places. Then again, all the other things Mulder did in bed
more than made up for the bite from a few nasty sunflower shells.
He climbed out from the warm sheets and the slight chill in the
dark room brought about a dusting of goose bumps across his naked
As he walked to the bathroom, unconcerned with his nakedness,
he nearly tripped on Mulder's Superman costume, the tattered remnants
of the previous night's activities. Yes, Alex surely loved what
Mulder did in bed! As he let out a gentle laugh, images of their
little roleplaying adventure flashed through Alex's mind. He had
to admit that Mulder certainly was a creative fellow. Superman
indeed! Lois Lane never had it so good.
Alex continued on his path into the bathroom to find Mulder and
discover what was troubling his lover. As he entered the already
steamy bathroom, he heard the shower running and saw the hazy
form of Mulder slouching under
the spray, his hands covering his eyes, as if to block out some
Alex opened the door to the shower stall and stepped inside. Within
an instant his body was covered in a fine, cold mist of spray
from the showerhead. The goose bumps that covered his supple,
baby-soft skin grew larger with the chill from the mist, but as
he stepped fully into the shower, the warmth from steam chased
away the goose bumps and returned his flesh to its naturally smooth,
touchable state. Mulder, sensing his presence, turned away from
Alex, leaning under the spray, with his hands against the shower
wall. The pose reminded Alex of a man preparing to be frisked
for weapons, but it wasn't weapons Mulder was concealing, it was
Alex gently kissed the back of Mulder's neck, hoping to comfort
his lover and coax the truth from him. He hated when his partner
turned away from him. If only he could make eye contact with Mulder,
he'd soon have the truth. There was something about this man and
his eyes; it was the one vulnerability Alex always knew he could
exploit, if he could just make eye contact, make that connection
with him. But Mulder was putting up a strong defence, turning
his back to Alex, refusing to look at him. He would have to try
a different approach.
"What's wrong, Mulder? Tell me," Alex pleaded with his
gravelly, early morning voice.
No response came from the silent one, as Alex continued his gentle
kisses on Mulder's shoulder and down his back. If he could not
get to the truth through Mulder's eyes, he would have to find
it via other parts of the man's body.
"Tell me." Again, Alex pleaded.
Still, no response came. Alex crouched down on his knees, as his
kisses traced down the ridges of Mulder's spine, to his lower
back. Mulder's body seemed to be relaxing, but the man remained
stubbornly silent. Why couldn't this be like the first time, Alex
asked himself, why couldn't this be like the phone booth? It had
all been so simple then, but now things had become complicated.
Alex's project was nearly complete. Soon, Fox Mulder would be
his and nothing that would happen in the future would ever change
that. There was just this one thing, this one last barrier that
he needed to break through.
"Tell me," was again repeated from Alex's lips, but
in a more demanding tone. Mulder's silence was beginning to frustrate
The steam from the showerhead slowly began to fog up the glass
shower door, as Alex slipped the first of his fingers into Mulder.
Mulder was nervous. Very nervous.
The uncomfortable FBI agent scanned the room. He was sitting in
Assistant Director Walter Skinner's office with his current partner,
Alex Krycek. Current partner, god, those words carried such a
confusion of meanings. In any event, he and his "partner"
were sitting there. Silently. Nervously. Waiting for Skinner to
speak. Or maybe waiting for Skinner to take out a pistol and shoot
the two of them. It would, after all, be justifiable.
Mulder knew that Alex had been up to something, but to what he
was unsure. There had been phone calls. Many phone calls. Once,
he was even certain that Alex had been calling Skinner. But why,
why would Alex be calling Skinner so late at night? It was a subject
that Mulder preferred not to think about. Mulder prided himself
in not always acting like the typical male, but in this one thing,
this one relationship, he was doing an amazing job of completely
sublimating any vestiges of emotional maturity. He was going to
burn in hell for this. A song began playing in his head and the
words echoed over and over. "Come on baby, light my fire."
Yes he would most certainly burn, and Skinner was holding the
"Agent Mulder, is there something of particular interest
outside my window?"
Skinner's words brought Mulder back to reality. Taking a quick
glance at his watch, he realized that he must have been staring
out the window for at least three or four minutes. God, this morning
was not going well. Worse, his ass was damn sore after the events
of the previous evening. The song continued to play in his head,
"...try to set the night on fire...", but Mulder preferred
not to think about that either. If only he could think "happy
thoughts" and block all of this from his mind. But quite
honestly, Mulder didn't have a clue what "happy thoughts"
were, let alone how to think them.
If only he could be alone with Skinner and explain things to him.
Mulder wanted to be honest with this man that had guided and protected
him for the past three years. But *how* was the question. How
to start a conversation. How to be in a relationship based on
something other than the work. How. How indeed.
"Gentlemen, I regret to inform you that I'm pulling you off
your current case." Skinner stared sternly at Mulder, doing
his best drill instructor impression. "The hotel murder case
will be turned over to another agent, just joining our office."
Great, Mulder thought, he'd really screwed up now. Skinner had
never taken him off a case before. Things were getting bad, very
bad. He couldn't even look his boss in the eyes as he sat there,
nervously squirming in the small chair. Damn, he cursed, Alex
had been rough this morning.
"I have a higher priority matter that I'd like the two of
you to investigate."
Finally, some good news! Mulder was relieved to be getting off
this infernal case. It wasn't that the case was all that difficult
or unusual, in fact he was fairly certain he knew who, or more
accurately, what was responsible for the murders. It was just
that it was driving him fucking nutso. Fucking nutso. That was
a very apt description. He was doing things, saying things - like
"fucking nutso" - that weren't part of his normal behavior.
What was normal? Mulder wasn't sure. If there was such a thing
he was fairly certain it had little to do with him. Maybe it was
time to do a psychological profile on himself, see what really
made him tick. Nah, too much work.
Just as he was beginning to drift off again, he heard Alex clear
his throat. Looking over at his partner seated next to him, he
took a moment to study the young man. Now if anyone needed to
be psychologically profiled it was one Alex Krycek, such an unexpectedly
complicated individual, the deeper he probed the more difficult
it was to understand him. The man seemed to have a psychological
make up the size of an elephant, somehow shoehorned into an exterior
the size of a golfball. Talk about time and relative dimensions
in space, the more time Mulder spent with Alex the more inexplicable
there seemed to be to him.
Here and now was a perfect example of everything that defined
Alex Krycek. His partner was sitting there with his butt planted
firmly in the chair and his back in the ideal position for correct
His arms lay on the armrests, also at the ideal angle. His suit,
though cheap, was neatly pressed and his tie hung at exactly 90
degrees. Hung. Perfectly.
That was Mulder's difficulty with Alex, on the surface everything
was normal, bland to the extreme, but probe more deeply and you'd
find a hornet's nest of complications and contradictions. And
then he saw it, saw the bees buzzing around his head, around Alex's
neck to be exact.
Mulder's expression changed, suddenly and dramatically to one
of shock. That tie. The one around that beautiful neck. It was...
one of his! Alex had fucking borrowed one of his ties! Would Skinner
notice? Would he realize the connection? For a moment Mulder panicked,
but then did his best to restore his composure. He continued to
study his partner, scanning up to his innocent, expressionless
face. Innocent, yeah right, Mulder whispered to himself, as he
continued to squirm uncomfortably in his chair.
The young man was perfectly shaven, as always, and not a hair
was out of place, due in large part to the unique petroleum product
he would comb into it each morning. In short, he was practically
perfect in every way. Just like Mary Poppins. Mulder was still
amazed at the transformation. Mary Poppins by day; Alex the slut-machine
by night. God, Mulder's ass was sore.
"However, before we go into this new case, I'd like you to
meet the agent who will be taking over your existing investigation.
You'll need to go through the usual debriefing, but I've already
taken the liberty of giving her access to some of the case files.
She was formerly a DEA agent in the Northwest, but is now with
the FBI here in Washington."
"She, sir?" While female FBI agents were not unheard
of, they were still something of note. Mulder quickly looked first
at his partner and then at Skinner. He could have swarn that Alex
"Yes, Agent Mulder, she." Answering the agent's question,
Skinner arose from behind his desk and walked over to his office
door. "Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Agent Bryson, she's
volunteered to take over your case."
Alex stood up, rising swiftly from his chair. His sudden actions
startled Mulder, who was somewhat puzzled when the younger agent
did not immediately turn around to face the door, instead Alex
continued to face the desk and stare out the window. It was almost
as if he were in some sort of panic, like a deer caught in the
headlights, dealing with some complex internal mental overload.
But within seconds, as Mulder continued to observe him, the panic
disappeared, the crisis apparently resolved. The anxiety seemed
to wash away from him, and he returned to normalcy. Mulder watched
as his partner turned around and faced the doorway, a blank expression
on his face. The odd actions of his partner only increased Mulder's
unease. He would only be happy when this unpleasant day was over,
but then the end of the day would mean night, and night would
mean dealing with Alex, not this Alex but the other Alex, Alex
the slut-machine. It was all a logical progression, as night followed
day so too did sex follow Alex Krycek. And he wanted Alex didn't
he? Wasn't he the one that had initiated this, this, what would
you call it? Not a relationship, this wasn't a relationship, and
it wasn't an affair; he hated that word, 'affair,' he wasn't Cary
Grant and Krycek damn-well wasn't Deborah Kerr.
Unable to deal with the thoughts overrunning his brain, Mulder
turned has attention to the doorway. Agent Bryson entered the
office with a hesitant grace, neatly dressed and with long, wavy
hair delicately framing her face. Strangely, he felt as if he
was watching some bizarre reflection of himself - a cosmic yin
to his ephemeral yang. She seemed perfectly at ease and yet completely
out of place all at the same time, like some painting by Picasso
or a puzzle with the pieces mismatched.
"Hello, Agent Mulder, it's nice to meet you. I've heard many
interesting things about your investigative techniques."
Alex coughed slightly at her words, while the female agent extended
a warm, but strangely large hand towards Mulder. "I've dealt
with some unusual cases myself, it might be enjoyable to exchange
a few case histories."
Mulder reluctantly accepted the outstretched hand and offered
his own in a brief handshake. But there was something else, something
in that voice, that disturbed him, it reminded him of something,
someone, but he couldn't quite place it. It was almost as if he
were speaking to one of those women, the kind that answered the
phone when he called those special numbers, the ones he called
late at night when he was lonely and looking for some momentary
thrill to distract him.
"Hello, Agent Krycek." He watched as Denise turned and
greeted the nervous
young man with a warm and inviting smile. "I've been very
anxious to meet
you, I've found your case notes in the files most intriguing.
Sidling up to Alex, she placed her hand on his shoulder and slowly
began stroking his back in a personal, familiar way.
Mulder saw that her touch caused a shiver to go up Alex's spine.
Was this touch unwelcome? Mulder was uncomfortably unsure of the
answer. Outwardly, yes, Alex was uncomfortable, but why, for what
reason? Was this woman known to him? Why did he get the feeling
that Alex was trying to hide something?
"And I must say, Agent Krycek, I really like the tie you're
wearing. Is it a designer?" Denise smiled seductively at
the increasingly nervous man at her side as she ran her supple
fingers down the length of the silken sheath. Her touch was personal,
sexual, a violation. What right did she have touching Alex in
It took Mulder several seconds to realize the significance of
her words and her reference to the tie, his tie, that hung around
his partner's neck. In a moment of panic, he looked over at Skinner
and watched, as Skinner's expression slowly changed from confusion
to shock to anger. His superior looked back at him with a flash
of disgust. He could almost see the flames shooting from the older
man's notrals and the steam pouring from his ears.
Uncontrollably, his attention returned to Alex and this new unknown
woman. Who was she, Mulder asked himself, and what connection
did she have to Krycek? Until now, he had never thought of Alex
in that way, it was as if he had come to Mulder a virgin, untouched
by any other human. But there it was, staring him in the face:
Alex with a woman, with a woman touching him, feeling him in the
most intimate of ways. And why would she make Alex so nervous?
And damn it, why had she touched Alex in that way, that familiar
way! He wanted her off of him, she had no right to him, she was
treading on already claimed territory. Mulder's breathing was
heavy, almost angry, with his face turning slightly flushed. Was
this Denise person someone from Alex's past? Why would he sleep
with such a woman? Mulder wanted to spit the words out of his
mouth they made him sick. To think of Alex with this, this...
thing. God, she didn't even look like a woman, she looked like
some woman wannabe, like some fey guy in a skirt.
"Agent Krycek, perhaps you'd like to begin briefing Agent
Bryson on this case; I have a few matters I'd like to discuss
with Agent Mulder."
Mulder could tell that Alex wasn't happy with his new assignment,
and he agreed that the feeling was mutual. He no more liked the
idea of Alex being alone with this woman than his obviously nervous
This day was not going well. It had started out with a nightmare
of the mind and turned into a nightmare of reality. Here he was
stuck between a rock and a hard place, stuck between the possibility
of his lover running off with some trampy woman and dealing with
the anger and disappointment of the man he most respected. But
there was nothing he could do but stand there and watch Alex walk
out and then wait for Skinner to make the first move. Some days
just plain sucked, and this was one of them.
So he stood there immobile and watched and waited. Skinner walked
the woman, the thing, to the door while Mulder's stomach churned.
His boss closed the large wooden door and turned to faced the
now isolated man. They were gone, Alex, the tie and Denise, all
that was left was the ugly residue of their presence. An uneasy
silence filled the room as the two men stood there, Mulder looking
out the window, feably trying to avoid looking at Skinner. Seconds
seemed to slowly drain away as if they were minutes. Mulder took
a strange comfort in the silence, the longer it lasted the further
away the confrontation seemed to be.
"Turn around, Agent Mulder," Skinner commanded in a
forceful voice that parted a path in the thick syrup of silence
that had surrounded the two men.
Mulder was startled to hear the strength with which Skinner spoke
his words. Instinctively, his body tensed and he quickly turned
to face his superior. He stood there, as if at attention, waiting
for Skinner's next order. He watched as the man crossed the room
and stood in front of his desk. For the few minutes that Agent
Bryson had been in the room, he had nearly forgotten about Skinner
and the anger in the man's eyes, but now all his worries refocused
on the mass of muscles standing stearnly before him. He watched
nervously as Skinner leaned back against the desk, firmly gripping
the thick wooden edge with his large, powerful hands. Skinner's
dominant pose only caused further panic to build within Mulder's
mind. It was his mind that was was being overwhelmed, unable to
deal with the jumble of images and issues swirling among his synapses.
There was Alex, beautifully complicated Alex, and the issue of
the tie; why had he worn Mulder's tie, didn't he realize the risk
he was taking, exposing their relationship to a less than sympathetic
FBI? Their relationship, if that's what it should be called was
another hopelessly complicated issue. Why had he let himself become
involved this way, and taken such incredible risks just for a
little sex? And next there was the case, a case that was being
taken away from him. Was this because he'd failed to do his job,
was Skinner punishing him? Skinner, god, Skinner was something
he'd have to deal with immediately.
He felt Skinner's angry gaze beating down on him, like the hot
rays of the sun. He was sweating from nearly every pore in his
body, he could even feel the musky moisture between his toes and
the clinging grip of his sweaty boxer shorts. What would happen
next, he didn't have a clue.
"Remove the jacket." The words came from Skinner's mouth
like darts thrown with precision force at a helpless target. Nervous
but unable to speak, Mulder did as he was told, handing over the
suit coat to his boss. Skinner folded the jacket neatly and placed
it in the second side chair.
"And the tie."
"Remove that god-damned ugly tie, Agent Mulder."
The anger in Skinner's voice caused Fox Mulder to pull himself
back, as if the force of his superior's words had pushed him.
He slowly removed the tie and handed it with embarrassment to
his boss. All his most disturbing fantasies, were coming true.
Skinner grasped the tie tightly in his hand and studied it. He
twisted it in his hands, as if to make a garrote, snapping and
twisting it into a distorted rope.
"Drop them britches boy."
Mulder was bound up by the look of evil radiating from Skinner's
eyes; he was transfixed by the penetrating gaze. He knew then
and there that it was going to be a long day, a very long day.
He tasted the first bead of sweat that trickled down his forehead
and across his cheek, finally landing on his parched and swollen
lips. A very long day. And hard. And rough. And sweaty. And, and...
his mind began to blur as the room seemed to go dark, in the background
he heard what sounded like banjo music begin to play.
"I wanna hear you squeal, foxyboy."
______________________________________________ THE END? PROJECT