Title: A Shared Obsession, Chapter 2. Author: Satina E-Mail: bizzzichick@yahoo.com Website: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/xtasy Rating: R for naughty thoughts and language Keywords: Sc/K Disclaimer: All of the characters mentioned were dreamed up by someone else, not me. I only dreamed up the sex stuff. I'm not allowed to make any money off them and this story is not any kind of attempt to do so. I'm just getting my jollies here and hopefully assisting some other people in getting theirs. I've stolen these characters, I'll admit it. I'm engaging in nonconsensual writing activity. But my God... someone has got to let these people shake it loose once in awhile, because their almighty creator is the worst kind of tease and that's just not good for them. Don't sue, unless you want to adopt all of my creditors as your own and have a whole new reason for keeping your phone number secret. Hey, it's not that I'm avoiding the Student Loan people... I'm just taking advantage of my right to defer payment until my education actually ends up making me some money. But I digress. Spoilers: TONS up till One Son. This is a SPOILER-FEST... a regular SPOIL-O-RAMA, so if that freaks you out, run now. Hell, there's even spoilers in the summary! After all, we're talking rumination here and that means history, folks. And by the way, Krycek still has both arms in my world, obviously, even though we're talking early seventh season. Maybe they *almost* cut it off, maybe it just didn't happen. Whatever. Hey, I'm contriving like crazy just to get these three together. I'm not trying to write CC's vision for these characters. I give you smut, he gives you cannon. I give you Krycek with two arms, he cuts one off. Who do you love? Summary: Following her encounter with Krycek up against her bedroom wall, Scully ruminates over the night's events, and we learn more about the Dana Scully who would get a tattoo and stay the night with a strange man in a strange town (Never Again), have an affair with her married professor (All Things), and oh yeah, sleep with her first FBI partner (Lazarus). Hmmm... maybe we fic-writers aren't deviating so far from character after all with our twisted musings. Archive: Sure, just tell me where so I can visit. Notes: This series is ongoing, with elements of M/S, K/S, and M/K depending on the chapter. For this reason, not all chapters will be posted to all lists. If you are receiving this chapter but have not read the one before it, you can read it on my website: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/xtasy and I suggest you do, so that you know what the hell is going on. Besides, it's some really toe-curling Scully/Krycek smut. You don't want to miss that, do you? Feedback: PLEASE please please! It contributes to my delinquency. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Chapter 2 Scully heard the sound of her apartment door closing softly and let out a heavy sigh. The evidence of Krycek's visit was drooling down her thighs and starting to itch, and she rubbed them together in an effort to rid herself of the tickling sensation. She was still standing against the wall of her bedroom, naked from the waist down, just as Krycek had left her. She would move if she could just figure out what the hell she was supposed to do now. She had just been well and truly fucked by Alex Krycek. And though it had not been a consensual encounter, she had been shocked to her core to find herself insane with response to this killer's touch. Her eyes closed in guilty remembrance as her own primal moans and, yes, screams reverberated through her mind, along with the way she had sank her nails into that rock-hard ass and yanked him harder and deeper, clutching him with her shaking legs. Who the fuck was that woman? Was that really Dana Scully? She sank down to the floor, hugging her knees. She placed her head down on them and felt tears roll down her cheeks. They weren't the tears of a woman who felt she'd been raped, and they weren't the tears of a woman who had just said good-bye to a lover. Dana Scully wasn't sure what she was crying about, only that crying seemed to be the only action her body was ready to take at this time. Her mind prodded her, reminding her that perhaps she wasn't so totally unacquainted with the lusty woman who had climbed Krycek like a tree tonight. It kept distracting her from her indignant confusion with images of a young, fourteen-year-old Dana Scully, lying about her age and dating dangerous older guys behind her parents' back in an effort to compensate for the patriarchy of both her father and her older brothers, as well as the scornful assumptions by her peers that a "brain like Dana" wouldn't have any interest in real fun. She had been the straight-A student with cigarettes and miniskirts tucked into her bookbag, leaving her after-school study sessions to neck with leather-clad bad boys under the bleachers. Her family didn't have a clue. Most people didn't. Was her life now any different? She bore a permanent inking on the small of her back attesting to the fact that she had not lost her taste for dangerous men and coloring outside the lines, but her peers, her colleagues, her family and even her partner could only see the bookish nerd buttoned up in her dark suit. What had happened to Dana? Had she given her up when she had kicked her smoking habit, right after her college graduation, in preparation to enter medical school? No. Though she had not smoked a single cigarette since then, during med school she had had a few wild weekends and school holidays, including one unforgettable road trip that had made her sick with fear of an unwanted pregnancy for weeks after. And in between the grueling demands of her training, she was still able to fit in a few illicit affairs, including that one with her married instructor that had ended rather badly. Was it that, combined with walking into the unmistakable boy's club of the Federal Bureau of Investigation that had made her think she had to squelch her spirit and put a permanent stop to her wild sexuality? What a fucking double-edged sword women walk on a daily basis. Wanting the men they work with to be able to get past their hormones and see them as colleagues long enough to get some work done, while also wanting to retain that which makes them feel sexy, female and free. On top of that, being cruelly ridiculed when they found it impossible to live successfully in both worlds and opted for the respect rather than the infatuation of their male coworkers. Ice-queen. That was certainly not what the wife of the professor she'd fucked had called her. Which was worse... ice queen or whore? Lucky little Dana Scully had gotten the opportunity to be called both. They both pretty much sucked. During the first two years with the Bureau, she had flitted from romance to romance, flinging aside her boxy, boring suits at the end of the day and trading them for tight little lowcut sweaters and short skirts, a cold beer and a hot stud at night. She had even had a doomed fling with her first partner at the Bureau, against her own better judgement. Sometimes it was just so hard to be good. Then she made that long walk up to the main office to accept her new assignment working with Spooky Mulder. The minute she'd rolled away from the man in her bed at 11:21pm to answer the phone call from Mulder after their first case together, she realized that working on the X- files was to be owned by them. "Tomorrow," she had said, trying to keep her work and personal lives from colliding. But she had hung up the phone and spent a sleepless night, staring into the darkness and wondering if the world would ever be predictable again. And when her lover had reached for her during the night, she had brushed him away with all of the attention she would have given a buzzing insect. John had stopped calling when she'd had to turn him down twice because she was working on something important with Mulder, and aside from a few stale dates set up by well- meaning friends and family, she hadn't had a relationship (or even a fuck, except for Ed Jerse) since. Well... there was that writer that she had come very close to falling into the sack with. Naturally she would choose to sow her oats with a psychotic or two. What really pissed her off was that in her most honest moments, she admitted to herself that being owned by the X- files also meant being owned by Fox Mulder. He was simply too strong a personality, with too strong a passion, and too single-minded an obsession to do anything but follow breathlessly. And he kept her too busy (and too caught up in keeping his respect and admiration...face it, Dana) to have any fun at all outside of the X-files. The thing was, despite all the horror she had invited into her life when she had made that first decision to stay after the liver-eating mutant thing, she loved working the X-files. She loved walking the edge of the unknown...confronting the darkness...straddling the knife's blade. Why the hell else does a girl join the Violent Crimes division of the FBI? She lived for the excitement, the incredible revelations and even the mortal danger. But dammit! When had dangerous, sexy, fun Dana completely disappeared and like some psychedelic mushroom's feast been absorbed into the asexual, fact-obsessed, tightly-buttoned thing called Scully? Wiping her nose on her satin sleeve, she put her hands on the carpet to push up off the floor and stand up. When Krycek had closed the door behind him, she had fully intended on calling Mulder as soon as she could get to her phone. Now she pushed the sweaty tendrils of hair off her cheeks and made her way to the bathroom to draw herself a bath. Of course, she would have to tell him that Krycek had taken the file, but how much more she would reveal to her partner about the events of this night she had not yet decided. Maybe after a long soak and a half-bottle of white wine she'd have a clearer perspective. Better yet, bourbon. Fuck it. ..................................... She laid back in the bubbles, already working on her second highball glass of bourbon on the rocks and feeling very warm and relaxed all over. Alex Krycek. Alex fucking Krycek. It took Alex fucking Krycek to pry Dana loose from her prison inside the terminally-tight- assed Scully and make her scream like a celluloid whore. Studying her toes peeking up through the bubbles at the end of the tub, she tried to figure out just what had precipitated this unforseen case of spontaneous human combustion. When she had first met Alex Krycek, she had seen him as mostly an interloper, poking his nose where it didn't belong, namely in Fox Mulder's life. She sized up his cherubic good looks and fawning behavior around her partner and pegged him as a popular pretty boy who had charmed his way up the ladder and probably couldn't find his ass (no matter how tight and yummy it was) with two hands. She had always assumed that if a guy was too good-looking there was no way he had developed either his intellect or his higher interests, since a cute face and bod meant those things just weren't that necessary in life. Truthfully, she'd been damn shocked to see that the brilliant Spooky Mulder had also been a classic case of sex on legs. After reading all about his amazing work she had thought she would be greeted with some skinny, pasty-faced social malcontent with a maniacal gleam in his eye. Mulder was not pasty-faced. His skin actually had a rather attractive golden glow to it. The rest? Ah well. Nobody's perfect. She snorted unlady-like, remembering how pissed she'd felt, knowing that if they were to work together she would not be able to count this particular piece of mancandy among her conquests. She had already made the mistake of fucking her partner once before, and she had told herself that if she were to make the difference she knew she could at the FBI, she would have to keep her hormones in check from now on. She had definitely been a little more bitchy than was absolutely necessary to secure his respect in those early days together, but it just wasn't fair, dammit, to have that luscious length of manmeat dangled in front of her every day and not expect her to take a swipe at it. She would have been *really* put out if she had realized that her association with Mulder would also mean that she wouldn't be getting *any* from anybody for a really long time. That bit of knowledge had snuck up on her, silent as a wraith, as her social life dwindled away to nothing. Her life's events had also fallen into the weirder and weirder, until the point in time where even if she had found someone to hang out with on a regular basis, she would never have known where to start to explain what she did on a day to day basis. "Sorry I didn't make it to the restaurant, honey. I was chasing after a guy who regenerated parts of his body by eating tumors. How about next Tuesday, instead?" Sometimes she felt like she lived in a universe only parallel to the rest of the world... just her and Mulder, walking alongside ordinary people but never really living *with* them. Tonight, she had felt like a part of the world again. Of course, this world carried with it the tang of gun oil, the feel of leather against flesh, the smell of cigarette smoke, and thighs so sore she knew it was going to be a bitch to walk tomorrow. Not to mention an arm that was most definitely sprained from having been yanked up behind her. Is there no fucking happy medium? She tapped the bottom of her upturned glass with the fingers of the hand on her uninjured arm, knocking the cubes of ice against her lips in an attempt to suck the last drops from the bottom. Frowning, she reached down to the floor beside her and poured a third glass of bourbon and leaned back into the cooling suds, cradling her sore arm. Okay. Back to Alex Krycek. After he had disappeared and been revealed as one of the men behind her abduction, she had come to see Krycek as a piece of a big nasty puzzle, without much thought to how he played his part as an individual. Then of course there was that time she had had to stop Mulder from killing him. She wondered what Krycek thought about that. Did he think she had given a shit about his life that night? She hadn't. She'd only known that Mulder was so jacked-up on whatever had been slipped into his water system that he was about to destroy his life with a double murder charge. Krycek was still just one shadow among many to her, albeit a much darker one if Mulder's suspicions about his involvement in his father's death and later her sister's, were correct. Her sister's death. Now she knew what it was to carry the kind of guilt Mulder carried, knowing your involvement in something had led to the loss of someone precious to you. She had eventually found out that a man named Luis Cardinale had pulled the trigger, but Mulder was sure Krycek was involved as well. Scully usually needed proof before she made a declaration like that, but she also knew how uncanny her partner's instincts could be. She wouldn't bet against him. Following her freaky experience on Ruskin Dam, she had not known what to think about Krycek. She had known she wanted to smack Mulder upside the head repeatedly when he'd started brushing off her surfacing belief in the fact she'd been taken by aliens, not the government. Good God. Start actually agreeing with the man and he looks at you like you're a damned crackpot! Sometimes she just wanted to kick him in the nuts like she had the little boys on the base when they'd gotten too cocky with a pigtailed, freckle-faced little snip of a girl named Dana. She used to spend a good deal of time kissing those little boys, too. Especially when she'd been in her pre-teens when kissing became more fun than kicking. Now it seemed she was back to getting to kick ass instead of getting any. But anywho. She had been so relieved when Krycek with his cryptic note and his curious kiss (yeah, Mulder had told her about that part of it, too) had finally succeeded in putting her bird- dog back on its trail. But as to Krycek's motives in risking his life to do this, she could only guess and shake her head in wonder, once again running to keep up with her partner as his faith and his passion for the truth was rekindled by this shape-shifting shadowman. And fuck was he pretty. Scully slurped up the last of her third glass of bourbon and placed the glass haphazardly on the floor beside the tub with a clank. Pretty and deadly, powerful and cunning, strong and sexy... all the stuff Mulder was but without the hands-off restrictions and Mulder's apparent lack of attraction to her. She didn't blame Mulder for that, really. She wouldn't be attracted to the dry, cold person she had become either. If he only knew. But she couldn't let him know. She thought that if she revealed that side of herself to Mulder, he would be unable to see past it to the scientist and equal partner beneath. So he didn't know about the Dana Scully that vibrated herself to bliss with his body on her mind more nights than she cared to think about. He didn't know about the Dana Scully who could give an hour- long blowjob and use medical techniques to keep a man hard for hours before inducing multiple orgasms. The Dana Scully who went braless whenever she wasn't at work, and wore these sexy little French hose with built-in garters and no panties to work all the time. Krycek had met that Dana tonight. He had caught her with her panties down, so to speak, and he didn't seem to have a problem with finding a way to express his physical attraction to her. In fact, now that she thought about it through the bleary haze of three glasses of bourbon and an hour and half of being submerged in bubbles, she realized that Alex Krycek, with his angel face, long dark lashes, omnipresent black leather and a voice that sounded like a perpetual groan of pleasure, was pretty much a walking fucktoy. Her brows knitted in a frown as she realized that Alex Krycek would also probably screw just about anything that caught his fancy, and that in his haste to put a dent in her bedroom wall with her ass, he had not used a condom. She reached between her legs and gently... very gently... fingered herself, washing away the remaining traces of his presence, feeling the stinging and bruising in her long- dormant tissues even through the layers of bourbon and exhaustion. She'd definitely have to get tested as soon as possible. What a pain in the ass. Now she was pissed. She dragged herself up out of the cold water and wrapped her body in a towel. Carefully stepping out of the tub on rubber legs, she very slowly made her way to her bed and collapsed across it sideways. She slept for ten hours. ................................................... End Chapter 2. Feedback will result in more chapters. Yeah, I'll resort to blackmail if I have to. bizzzichick@yahoo.com ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~Satina My fic: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/xtasy List Mistress of Dark Rooms, celebrating the darker side of erotic x-files fanfic. 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