TITLE: Some Like It Hot 
AUTHOR: Krikkit 
CATEGORY: SRA (Scully/Krycek, MSR) 
RATING: NC-17 
ARCHIVE: Gossamer, anywhere else please drop a note 
DISCLAIMER:  They're not mine, but boy, are they fun to play with! 
FEEDBACK:  Makes me happy!  Turbofox@geocities.com 
SPOILERS:  Faint, mostly speculation for SR 819 
SUMMARY:  Sometimes, the fly prefers vinegar to honey. 
  
Some Like It Hot 
by Krikkit 
>==<*>==< 
  "Faking an orgasm is the death of a relationship," her mother had told her.  
"It breaks down on trust and intimacy.  How can you love someone who can't even 
be honest about their feelings?" 

But, Scully mused, how can you possibly bring something like this up at a 
delicate time?  It's easier to let them finish, isn't it? 

She squeezed the muscles in her vagina a few times, prompting a series of 
appreciative groans from her sweating, straining partner. She whimpered a little 
for his benefit. 

Amazing how disgusting sex noises are when you're not into it. 

Scully's legs and abdomen were getting tired.  She was going to be sore if it 
wasn't over soon.  She began to tremble and whimper more pointedly, knowing that 
it would encourage him to finish faster. 

Sure enough, the australopithecine on top of her grunted and thrusted, disposing 
a few teaspoons of genetic material inside her body. 

He rolled off of her, pulling her close and nuzzling her neck.  He sleepily 
whispered contented nothings into her clavicle.  She pushed away from him and 
rolled off of the bed.  "I'm going to shower, now." 

She was answered by a snore. 

The hot water coursed down her back, washing away Mulder's scent and the 
tenseness in her muscles.  Normally, sex with Mulder was good. Lately, though, 
she wanted something more.  Something wilder, more primitive, less? less 
marital.  Less coddled. 

She had tried to bring it up with him, but he had stared at her like she was 
completely out of her mind, then started spouting some babble about father 
issues and dominance games.  She hadn't bothered to listen, and had shut him up 
with one well-placed hand.  The subject had never come up again. 

"It's just a phase," she whispered to herself.  "It'll pass, and you'll be happy 
again with him."  The thought echoed in cynically in her head.  Yeah, sure you 
will. 

She toweled off and headed into the living room with a blanket.  She couldn't 
stomach the smell of his sex right now. 

She was awakened from her sleep by a tickling at her nose.  She turned her head 
and wiggled her face in the soft blanket, and sat up. The sun was barely up, and 
the apartment was quiet.  Mulder must still be asleep. 

She headed for the bathroom, absentmindedly scratching her stomach and picking 
sleep out of the corner of her eyes.  Yes, there was Mulder, compromising the 
structural integrity of the building with his low, nasal buzz.  She wrinkled her 
nose at the faint scents that still hung about the room. 

A few minutes later, hair brushed into place and sporting a clean, comfortable 
pair of sweats and T-shirt, she ambled into the kitchen and made a beeline for 
the coffeepot and started her daily regimen of vitamins and tasteless breakfast. 

She heard Mulder shuffle into the kitchen, making a manly show of scratching his 
assets and yawning widely.  He captured Scully in one arm and kissed her 
shoulder.  Her eyes crossed as the full force of his breath smacked her across 
the nose.  "Jesus, Mulder," she grouched, "do something about your mouth." 

Mulder childishly stuck his tongue out at her, and headed for the fridge.  

Several links of sausage and three pre-wrapped pieces of french toast made their 
grand entrance onto the counter, followed by orange juice and whole milk.  While 
the first two were being nuked, he downed two glasses of the orange juice, then 
filled the tumbler to the rim with milk.  He retrieved the sausage and toast 
from the microwave, drowned them in maple syrup, then plopped ungracefully down 
at the table.  He sniffed his meal, an expression bordering on Nirvana crossing 
his face.  He looked up at Scully, holding her coffee and solitary piece of 
toast, plain, and low fat strawberry yogurt. 

"Want some?" he said with a wicked grin. 

Scully stared at the clots of fat swimming in syrup, and tried not to throw up.  
"No thanks, Mulder," she choked out. 

They ate their meal in silence, until Mulder put down his fork and frowned at 
the remaining bite of sausage.  He seemed to gather his thoughts, expressions 
flitting across his face like snowflakes in a gale.  He finally looked up at 
Scully, his expression having settled on a tight, tense frown. 

"Scully, why didn't you come back to bed last night?" 

She carefully set her spoon on the table and met his gaze.  "Mulder, I don't 
want to talk about it." 

He stared at her for the space of a minute.  When he finally spoke again, his 
voice was a few notes higher in pitched and strained. "You faked it again last 
night." 

Her fingers tapped the table, telegraphing her agitation.  "Mulder?" 

He cut her off sharply.  "No excuses.  You promised.  Never again." 

Scully's back stiffened at his tone.  "I was tired, Mulder.  I just wanted you 
to finish so I could get to sleep." 

"What, am I no good?  I can't please you?"  His voice rained ice on her ears. 

"Mulder, we've already discussed this.  I really don't want to talk about it 
again.  Especially first thing in the morning."  She was starting to worry a 
little.  Mulder's face was turning an alarming shade of red. 

"What, you don't want to discuss why you aren't capable of making love like a 
normal person?  Why you seem to prefer lying cold in bed than enjoying being 
close to someone?  Tell me, Scully, why do you like playing the whore?" 

Scully gasped sharply at the attack.  She stood up, grabbed her shoes and keys, 
and headed for the door.  It slammed shut with a satisfying BANG!, echoing off 
the hallways as she made her way to her car.  She could barely find the keyhole 
through her tears.  She wiped her eyes, gathered herself, and roughly jammed the 
keys into the ignition.  She spotted Mulder racing down the stairs towards her, 
clad only in his jeans, waving and yelling at her to stop. 

Her tires made a satisfying set of black marks on the pavement as she squealed 
her way onto the street. 

She wandered for a few hours, not making any note of where she was or paying 
much attention to the traffic around her.  She replayed the events of the 
morning over and over in her mind, trying to find a solution, but only 
succeeding in making herself angrier.  Just who did Mulder think he was, to act 
like he had the right to act like some sort of moral judge for her?  Her father? 

She pulled over at a gas station, behind a Ford F-250 that looked like it had 
gone off-roading in Hell before being hit by every train in North America.  The 
driver wasn't much better, his dark, greasy hair tied back in a ratty ponytail, 
his jeans looking like they hadn't seen water since the mud had originally 
attached itself to his legs.  She locked her doors as she stepped out.  You can 
never be too cautious, she thought  to herself. 

When she came out to the building, she saw the man perched proprietarily on her 
hood, grinning at her from behind his sunglasses. 

"Can I help you?" she said, mentally making note of his features. 

"Yes, Agent Scully, as a matter of fact you can," he said amicably, whipping out 
his gun and pointing it at her.  "You can get into the truck." 

She slowly made her way to the passenger door, cursing herself for leaving her 
gun and cell phone at home.  She caught herself - why get mad at herself?  It 
was Mulder's fault for whipping her up into such a fury that she couldn't even 
remember to grab her basics before she left! 

She rapidly dismissed that thought as she settled herself onto the torn leather 
seat.  She wasn't going to childishly throw the blame on someone else when it 
properly belonged to her.  She wasn't going to sink to Mulder's level. 

"So," she smiled brightly at the driver, "Where are we going?" 

The driver looked at her like she had lost her mind.  "Uh?" he said 
intelligently, "uh? we're going to see the boss." 

"Good, I've been telling myself I need a change of scenery," she chirped. 
She found she wasn't lying.  She really was looking forward to their 
destination.  It was keeping her mind off of her domestic situation quite 
nicely. 

She roused herself from her nap.  The sky outside had fallen dark, and there was 
little sign of civilization in the land around her. Unwittingly, Dueling Banjos 
began playing in her head as she pondered where they were going. 

"Are we almost there yet?"  She studied the driver.  He seemed fairly healthy, 
in spite of his grime.  Well fed. 

The driver grunted neutrally at her, and turned sharply onto a dirt road. 

The path led a few miles back through weeds and rusted autos, eventually ending 
at a run down shack with a disintegrating porch and leaning chimney.  Paint was 
peeling dolefully off of the wood paneling.  It looked like a stereotypical 
haunted house. 

The driver gestured for her to get out of the truck.  She slid to the ground, 
her legs buckling from disuse.  She caught herself on the door, pulling herself 
upright and shaking life back into her limbs. 

The driver came around, and helped her regain her balance.  She muttered her 
thanks as she took in the view.  She glanced back at her escort, who nodded his 
head at the front door.  She took a few steps toward the porch, then looked 
back.  The man still stood there, his hands crossed.  She looked back at the 
porch, took a deep breath, and braved the rickety steps. 

The door opened with a rusty squeal, revealing a dark, cobwebbed interior rich 
in dust and droppings.  The floorboards creaked ominously as she walked.  She 
glanced back through the front door, but the driver and his pitiful truck were 
gone. 

She frowned in indecision.  She could run for it, but it was miles to the dirt 
road, and she didn't recall seeing anyone on the main road it led to. 

A hand came out of the darkness behind her and clamped down on her arm.  Another 
snaked around her waist and drew her against a hard, masculine body. 

"Dana," he whispered throatily, "so lovely to see you again." 

Scully sat on the antique bed with her arms crossed, glaring at the dark figure 
seated across the room. 

"We had an agreement, Alex." 

"No, Dana, I never agreed to anything."  He glanced up, the light reflecting off 
of his eyes.  "I never wanted to."  His voice caressed her, sending thrills of 
remembered electricity down her spine.  "I don't think you wanted to either.  
You came quite willingly, didn't you?" 

Scully's gaze hardened as her anger rose to the fore.  "What do you mean by 
that?  Are you insinuating something?" 

His rich laughter echoed off of the ceiling.  "Darling, you want to be here as 
much as I want you to be here.  You're not handcuffed or tied down.  You're not 
even drugged!  What's keeping you from leaving right now?  Why haven't you 
left?" 

"You know I can't leave," she hissed.  "You've got me on a leash that I couldn't 
possibly throw, not now.  Not ever." 

Krycek stood and strode boldly across the room to stand right before her.  He 
crouched down before her, staring straight into her face. Her eyes spit fire at 
him, challenging him even as her arousal became apparent.  He reached up and 
gently caressed her cheek. 

"Dana, love, why would you ever want to get over us?" 

His hand slid into her hair, drawing her into a rough, wild kiss.  She matched 
his enthusiasm, pulling him close and running her hands down his back and 
buttocks.  He stood, lifting her and wrapping her legs around his torso, 
grinding his erection into her softness.  She tore lips from the embrace and 
gasped loudly. 

Krycek chuckled deep in his chest, and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced 
once, then sat up, glaring at him.  Suddenly, it hit her. 

"My God, Alex, you have your arm back?" 

He slid on the bed towards her and roughly captured her breast in his 
regenerated hand.  "A gift from some scientist friends," he muttered, before 
recapturing her mouth. 

She pushed him away.  "What?  Let me see!" 

"Not now," he growled. 

"No, really?" 

Krycek grabbed her shoulders and pushed her firmly into the bed.  "Do I have to 
go over this again?" he said. 

Dana shook her head vigorously, licking her lower lip.  Alex's eyes followed the 
path of her tongue, then bent to trace it with her own. "Alex?" she whispered. 

"What, baby?" he said, bending and nibbling on a nipple.  She scissored her 
legs, flipping him on the back and pushing herself up to straddle him. 

"If you don't fuck me now, I'll kill you," she growled, and ripped off his 
shirt. 

"Whoa, girl, that's the only shirt I've got!" he laughed.  He pushed her off of 
the bed, and started removing his clothes.  She watched him predatorily, her 
eyes gleaming with a savage light.  He paused as he reached his boxers, noting 
that she hadn't moved a muscle. "You just gonna watch?" he said mildly. 

Scully tore at her clothes wildly, not caring when her buttons popped or when 
her bra strapped snap.  She didn't bother to even step out of her panties, 
preferring to rip them straight off of her body.  She finally stood before him, 
naked, and stared hungrily at his body. 

Krycek stalked towards her, moving with fluid grace.  He stood a few inches 
behind her, watching her chest rapidly expand and contract. He noticed the wet 
gleam inside her thighs, and abruptly shoved his finger inside of her.  His 
other hand reached around and gripped her breast.  "Tell me what you want," he 
growled in her ear. 

"Fuck me," she snapped.  "Dammit, you bastard, give it to me hard." 

"Whatever you say."  He pushed her over, forcing her to catch herself on the 
edge of the bed.  She felt his eyes drink in the sight of her exposed clit, wet 
and swollen with hunger for him.  He slid one finger gently in and out of her, 
almost tenderly painted the lips of her pussy with her moisture. 

Scully felt him pause an aching eternity, then felt his hands brutally grip her 
hips.  He became still again, not moving.  She began to growl deep in her 
throat, but didn't dare twitch. 

"Good girl," he stated calmly, then pounded into her, drawing a raspy scream 
from her throat. 

She bucked wildly against him, feeling the weight of his balls slap at her 
thighs, desperately grinding herself against his swollen masculinity.  Cries 
raggedly tore from her throat as he roughly kneaded and pinched her ass, 
occasionally giving her a light slap across the rump.  His other hand glided up 
her ribs and tweaked her nipples, gently yanking them in time with his harsh 
thrusts. 

He pushed her fully onto the bed and stood over her, cock standing stiff and 
gleaming in the dim, yellow light.  He moved forward, kneeling on the mattress, 
easily flipping her over and drawing her hips into his lap.  He penetrated her, 
gently this time, stroking her sex-maddened clit with his thumb, the rough 
texture causing almost painful waves of stimulation to wrack her body.  She 
stared into his face, the stoic, distatched expression adding fear into the 
heady mix of emotion.  Sweat was beading on his forehead, the only outward sign 
that he was reacting at all. 

He grinned cruelly at her.  "Is this what you want?"  He increased the pressure 
on her clit, making her moan loudly.  "Oh, Dana, I'm going to make sure I ruin 
you for any other man."  He pulled her torso up and bit her nipple, impaling her 
roughly on his penis.  Her cries became more and more ragged, sweat glistening 
in her hair. His tongue licked a trail from her nipple to her ear, his hand 
following a similar path from her ass to her abandoned breast.  He nipped her 
earlobe as he tweaked her nipple, thrusting wildly into her hot depths.  She 
screamed loudly, then collapsed against him.  He finished himself off with two 
quick strokes, then laid her gently on the mattress. 

"Goodnight, darling," he said, placing a kiss on her cheek and drawing the 
covers over her.  She felt the mattress spring up as his weight left the bed, 
and heard his soft footfalls as he turned out the light and left her alone in 
the room. 

She was asleep in a matter of seconds. 

The sound of a mockingbird's raucous chirping aroused her from her sleep.  She 
sat up and gasped, realizing she was sore.  She looked down at the pale bruises 
on her breasts and the finger marks on her hips. 

I look like a rape victim, she thought crossly. 

She slid out of bed and looked around for a bathroom.  A brief search led her to 
a cracked alter of porcelain, which served her well enough. She wiggled the 
latch a few times before realizing that the toilet wasn't working.  She sighed, 
then decided to explore the rest of the house. 

The bedroom led to a giant living room, which in turn led to an ancient kitchen. 
 A grand stairwell led to an upper story, which she didn't dare explore.  The 
stairs didn't seem at all stable.  She stood in the middle of the living room, 
straining to hear any sound of a person moving around. 

"Alex!" she called, hearing her voice emptily echo off of the walls. There was 
no reply.  She headed back into the bedroom and sat on the bed, waiting. 

Presently, he strode in, clad only in jeans and a leather jacket.  His arms were 
full of brown paper bags, his keys dangling off of an index finger. 

"There had better be food in those," she said evenly.  She felt his gaze roam 
her naked body, and saw him grow hard again, straining inside his jeans. 

"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is," he replied, handing her a carton of low 
fat yogurt and a plastic spoon.  He pulled a couple of cinnamon rolls and a 
quart of mild out for himself. 

Scully frowned suddenly, reminded of Mulder.  God, the poor man was probably 
going insane trying to find her, she thought. 

"Mulder's looking for you," Krycek suddenly stated as if reading her mind.  
"He'll probably trace Neil to this house tomorrow.  You'll be rescued, soon."  
He looked up at her, eyebrows raised. 

Scully found herself wondering whether she wanted to be found. 

She finished her yogurt, then tossed it at Krycek.  He deftly caught it with his 
left arm, grinning as he put the trash in a bag.  He held his hand up and 
wiggled his fingers at her. 

"So, Krycek, tell me about your arm."  She crossed her legs, preparing for his 
lecture. 

"Not much to say."  He placed the bag on the floor and shrugged at her.  "I'm 
not sure how the technology works.  From what I could gather, the nanos read 
DNA, then direct cells to form the necessary tissues.  Voila, a new limb." 

"That's it?"  Scully looked disappointed. 

"Yeah, that's all I can tell you." 

"And that's what the Senate resolution was trying to export?" 

He frowned handsomely at her.  "Enough of that."  He stood and stretched, then 
glanced at her playfully.  "Be back in a second, sweetheart." 

Scully stretched out on her side, making sure her rump was in full view of the 
door when Krycek came back.  She wasn't disappointed -- his eyes widened 
appreciatively at the slight revealing of her pink lips, already wet with 
arousal. 

"Ready to play?" she purred. 

Alex shrugged off his jacket and crawled onto the bed.  The sudden dip in the 
mattress rolled her over, and she let her legs fall open, exposing her fully to 
his appreciative gaze. 

He nipped the back of her knee, then nibbled his way to her aroused center.  He 
slid his tongue over her folds, pressing and twirling her clit.  She sighed 
deeply, and ground her pelvis into his mouth. He bared his teeth and nipped her, 
drawing a low moan from her throat. 

She reached down and pulled him up by his biceps, thrilling in the feel of hard 
muscle shifting beneath her grasp.  He ground against her, the fly of his jeans 
harshly abrading her tenderness.  She exclaimed loudly, and pushed him down 
again.  "Be nice," she rebuked. 

Krycek laughed in his throat and sat back on his calves.  He eyed her center, 
thinking to himself.  Scully watched as he seemed to come to a decision, undoing 
his jeans and throwing them onto the floor.  He pulled her down, propping her 
pelvis up on his knees, exposing her completely to him.  He ran his fingers 
through her moisture, stroking the fluid down to her tight anus and back up to 
her opening.  He slid his finger into her, moistening it all the way to his 
palm, collecting her dew in his hand and painting it further down her flesh. She 
began panting in anticipation, twitching her hips as he stroked her. 

"Dana, be still," he warned. 

She froze, not moving a muscle. 

He slid a finger into her puckered opening, gently stroking it, easing the 
passage.  She moaned but remained perfectly frozen.  He smiled at her, getting a 
fleeting grin in return.  He efficiently smoothed her essence onto his straining 
cock, and slowly began penetrating her tight ass.  She expertly began relaxing 
her muscles, easing his passage into her ass, moaning as he rocked in and out of 
her.  He slid into her to the base of his erection, watching her face grow taut 
with sexual energy.  He raised slightly off of his calves, and began plunging 
enthusiastically into her tight hole.  She howled loudly, her arms thrashing 
about the bed, her head tossing from side to side.  Her arousal was sharpened 
and more violent, creating a dark turbulence in her body.  She groaned as she 
felt two of his large, firm fingers plunge into her cunt, his thumb circling 
around and stroking her clit to a fevered pitch.  His other hand, supporting her 
back, kneaded roughly at the smooth globes of her ass, lifting and guiding her 
into each of his careful thrusts.  She felt him begin to throb in her, his 
erection pulsating with orgasm, shooting heat deep into her. 

He withdrew from her, then bent over and licked at her clit until she screamed 
her release.  She clawed at his head with her nails as she came, leaving red 
trails peeking through the short, dark hairs. 

As he sat between her legs, breathing heavily, she chuckled at him. "What is 
it?" he asked, puzzled by her mirth. 

"Looks like I marked you this time, Alex," she said, her voice humming with 
content. 

Krycek had dragged cold rain water in the house for her to wash up. "Can't have 
you leave here smelling like this," he joked. 

Scully found herself dreading Mulder's arrival. 

Krycek looked up and saw her hesitation written all over her face. "It's not 
possible, Dana.  You know you have to go back." 

She nodded mutely, understanding the reasons but disliking the taste of it 
anyway.  Normal life didn't hold much of a draw for her right now. 

She rinsed the sweat and sex from her, shivering as the icy cold water ran down 
her skin.  She rinsed her hair, shaking the droplets out of the auburn tresses 
with a deft toss of her head.  Krycek handed her a towel, watching her mop up 
the last of the moisture from her skin. 

"Clothing's on the bed," he stated deadly.  "Mulder will be here in about an 
hour."  He strode gracefully out of the bedroom and into the living room.  
Scully didn't bother to follow him.  "I'll catch you later," his voice teased, 
followed by the bang of the front door being slammed. 

She silenced the voices in her head demanding that she follow him, and silently 
dressed herself. 

The sound of tires spitting gravel jerked her from her daydreams, snapping her 
into full alertness.  The hollow metallic slam of an abused car door followed, 
followed  by the sound of hurried footsteps crunching over gravel.  The front 
door flew open with a bang, and the panicked visage of Fox Mulder flew across 
the living room, eyes wildly scanning the house.  His gaze finally settled on 
her, and he ran full tilt at her, barely managing to stop before ramming her. 
"Scully!  Oh, god, are you OK?  Did they hurt you?"  Mulder looked close to 
tears. 

"None the worse for wear.  I'm mostly hungry," she said, injecting a relived, 
sheepish tone into her voice. 

Mulder visibly relaxed, drawing her into a firm hug.  "I was so worried," he 
said.  "I thought I had killed you?" 

Scully hushed him gently.  "I'm all right, love.  Can we go home?" 

Mulder kissed her gently, and smiled into her weary face.  "OK, let's go." 

As they drove off, Scully watched the house recede into the distance. The 
wildness inside her had quieted, leaving an almost tranquil emptiness inside 
her. 

She could make it without him.  She would talk to Mulder, and work it out with 
him.  He would take root in her heart, drowning out her lust for that dangerous 
man. 

Sure, Alex could make her scream. 

But Mulder could make her fly. 

She could live without him. 

Right? 

>==<*>==< 
Finis