TITLE: PROJECT 6: Skinner's Revenge (Working Draft) AUTHOR: unChuck aka Lopsided Weevil
EMAIL: lopsided@flashmail.com
WEB: http:/members.tripod.com/~Lopsided
DATE: May 10, 1999
ARCHIVE: NO
SUMMARY: Part 6/7. See my web site for previous parts.

____________________________
PROJECT 6: Revenge
by unChuck
~~~~~~~~~~

"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 interruption.

"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 up."

"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."

"What!"

"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 him.

"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. Again.

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 flesh.

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 unpleasant image.

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 his emotions.

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 his inquisitor.

The steam from the showerhead slowly began to fog up the glass shower door, as Alex slipped the first of his fingers into Mulder.

"Tell me."

__________

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 match.

"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 dimensions
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 posture.
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 had flinched.

"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 that way?

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 becoming
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 partner did.

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."

"Sir?"

"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 6: Revenge