Classification: K/CSM. Rated NC-17 for m/m interaction.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Alas, they belong to Chris
Carter, 1013, and the Fox Network...for now <evil chuckle>.
Archive to All Things Rat, Archive X. Anywhere else with permission.
Spoilers: Paper Clip, Apocrypha, Terma, The End.
Feedback to email@example.com
Author's note: this is a little snippet I came up with during
a repeated viewing of the Fifth Season finale. I know it's a weird
pairing, but I thought it was time someone wrote another Nicotine
Naughty <g>. No beta readers were harmed in the making of
this story, so all faults are mine alone.
(c) December 1998 by Russianrat
The old man's breath came in harsh gasps as he ran laboriously
through heavy snow, his coattails flapping around him. Mentally,
he blessed the shapeshifter for cleaning out his lungs not so
long ago; otherwise, he would hardly have been able to run at
all. Nevertheless, he heard his pursuer closing in on him rapidly.
A shot rang out in the frosty air. The man came to a stop, staring
up at a figure in black silhouetted against the blue skies of
Ontario. The assassin lifted his gun hand and quickly whipped
off his hood.
It was Alex Krycek.
The Cigarette Smoking Man smiled, thinking to himself that this
would be an appropriate ending after all.
"Take your shot, Alex!" he shouted, and turned away.
"Right there!" Krycek's voice was firm. The CSM halted
and glanced up once more.
"I was sent to bring you back," stated Krycek. His green
eyes bore into his enemy's. Time seemed to stretch out like liquid
taffy while the smoker waited, uncertain now.
Then Krycek lowered the gun.
"But I'm not sure I want to," he said so quietly the
CSM thought he'd misheard.
In lieu of an answer, Krycek inclined his head in the direction
of the cabin behind them. "Let's talk."
"If you're going to kill me, I'd just as soon die here."
"I'm not going to kill you. At least," Krycek's mouth
twitched in the ghost of a smile, "not until after I've had
a chance to hear your side of the story."
The CSM shrugged. At Krycek's gesture, he moved ahead of his former
associate and they walked slowly back to the cabin in the woods.
Krycek let the smoker enter first, barely glancing at the body
of the other assassin, the one who'd been unfortunate enough to
open the front door and get a shotgun blast to the chest for his
When Krycek stepped across the threshold, he saw the CSM calming
putting a kettle of fresh water on to boil.
"Tea?" he asked.
Krycek nodded briefly while scanning the interior of the room
for possible traps. The CSM made a sound that might have been
"You have nothing to worry about, Alex."
"Oh, yeah?" Krycek finally sat down in a chair and eyed
the other man warily.
"Yes. You're the one with the gun, remember?"
The smoker checked the water, then poured them both a cup of tea.
Krycek took his and sipped the hot liquid before setting it down
"So." The CSM sat down on a double bed that had been
pushed against one wall. He shook a cigarette from his ever-present
pack of Morleys and lit up. "You wanted to talk."
"I just wanted to know why."
"I presume you're referring to that little incident with
the car bomb."
Krycek's eyes narrowed angrily. "That 'little incident' nearly
cost me my life, you bastard."
"Then there was that business with the missile silo. You
did that too, didn't you? You meant for me to starve in there!"
The CSM shook his head, almost sadly. "I know you don't remember
it, Alex, but I also let you out. Didn't you ever wonder why the
door was locked one minute and open the next? You were unconscious,
of course, but I made sure you were still alive before I left."
Krycek frowned. "Even if I believed that, I still want to
know why. Cardinale was the screw-up, not me. Why didn't you go
"Ah, but we did. He's dead, you know."
"Hmph. I'm not surprised. Yet I'm alive."
"So you are. I've missed you, Alex. I suppose I kept hoping
you'd return to the fold someday."
Slowly, the CSM set his cup down and stubbed out his cigarette.
Equally slowly, he reached across the gap between them and laid
one hand on Krycek's thigh.
"We had some good times, didn't we?"
Krycek pursed his lips as if thinking. His expression softened
just a bit.
"Yes. I suppose we did." He covered the CSM's hand with
his own. "Damn you."
"Of course." The smoker lifted his free hand and brought
Krycek's mouth to meet his.
Krycek groaned deep in his throat. He embraced the other man,
his lover, his enemy. He no longer knew which, or cared. All that
mattered at the moment was the heavy throbbing of his cock.
The CSM smiled. He lifted Krycek's right hand and drew him over
to the bed. He opened Krycek's coat and began to run his hands
over his lover's arms, then stopped in shock and confusion. The
CSM stared back into eyes that had suddenly gone cold.
"A mishap in Russia. I lost my arm to some overeager peasants."
Krycek refused to elaborate further.
"I'm sorry." The smoker tried to touch the join of flesh
and plastic, but Krycek pulled away angrily.
"Leave it," he growled.
The CSM nodded. He put his arms around Krycek's neck, careful
to avoid contact with the prosthetic. They kissed, and after a
moment, Krycek relaxed once more. He returned the CSM's advances
with increasing fervor.
"Come back to me, Alex," the smoker murmured into the
young man's ear. "I've really, really missed you."
"Mmmm," said Krycek in response. He licked the smoker's
lower lip, savoring the bite of nicotine on his tongue. "Show
It was the smoker's turn to moan as Krycek pushed him down onto
the bed. While the CSM watched from his prone position, Krycek
toed off each boot and squirmed out of his black pants, letting
them drop to the floor. He left his shirt on.
"Your turn," demanded Krycek in his dark, husky voice.
The CSM couldn't undress fast enough. Krycek noted the scar on
his exposed chest silently. Then the smoker was naked, his cock
already hard against his belly. He turned slightly and withdrew
a couple of small packets from the bedside table.
Krycek chuckled. "Condoms and lube? Up here?"
The smoker shrugged. "You never know."
"Yeah." Krycek lay down on his right side, draping the
artificial arm across his stomach, away from the smoker. He wiggled
his ass invitingly. "Do me."
The CSM nearly came then and there. He held his breath for a moment
to regain control, then carefully donned a rubber. He spread some
of the lube onto his fingers and pressed one long, yellowed digit
into the puckered ring of Krycek's asshole. Krycek gasped, pushing
back onto the finger until it was swallowed whole.
"Yesss," he hissed. "Now."
The smoker couldn't wait. Bracing himself with his hands on Krycek's
slim hips, he buried his cock inside the young man in one long,
smooth thrust. Krycek shouted wordlessly. The pain was quickly
replaced by pleasure as the CSM angled the next thrust across
his prostate gland. Krycek gripped the sheets with his good hand
and rode the cresting waves of excitement. To his great surprise,
he felt the smoker's hand slip around his waist to grasp and stroke
Krycek uttered a shrill cry that began deep in his chest and spilled
out of him in tandem with ropy bursts of come. The CSM released
Krycek's cock, dug his nails into the young man's hips and grunted
his own release with a last deep push. Krycek spasmed once more,
then lay panting within his lover's embrace.
Evening was falling. Krycek stirred.
"I'd better go." He rolled over and gazed deep into
the CSM's eyes. "I suggest you find another place to live,
The smoker sat up and lit another cigarette.
"Where would I go, Alex? I like it here."
Krycek shrugged. "It's your funeral."
He pulled on his clothes one-handed, with practiced ease. Planting
a kiss on the CSM's cheek, he rose from the bed and headed for
the bathroom. A minute later, he emerged, smiling.
The CSM followed Krycek to the door. No words were exchanged.
The smoker stood in the doorway, watching as Krycek headed up
the hill, then he turned and went inside.
At the top of the rise, Krycek paused. He stared down at the cabin,
his brow furrowed. As he watched, a blast of heat rocked him back
on his heels. The tiny log structure seemed to sway, then flames
engulfed it from one end to the other. In minutes, there was nothing
to see but smoldering ash.
Krycek grinned wolfishly.
"Smoke on that, you son of a bitch."
Then he resumed his climb, a black phantom in a world of white.