Author: Ratwoman

Title: The Tempest

Fandom: The X-files

Disclaimer: Chris Carter invented the X-files.

Pairing: Mulder/Krycek/Skinner. For Ursula, who encouraged me to write another

threesome.

Series: Maybe.

Summary: Mulder and Skinner catch Krycek in a cabin in the woods.

Please feed me with feedback!

Author's note: I have no idea whatsoever about Tunguskian geography, forgive me

any inaccuracies.

Author's homepage: http://www.geocities.com/ratwoman2001/index.html

THE TEMPEST

By Ratwoman

Ratwoman@unicum.de

Mulder stared gloomily out of the window of the truck. Skinner had insisted on

driving and maybe it

was better that way, because, admittedly, Mulder did not act at all sensible

where it concerned Krycek.

On the other hand, Mulder would at least have the feeling of having control

over the situation, if he

was at the steering wheel on the way to the place where according to their

informant, Alex Krycek was.

Mulder tried to imagine what would happen if they really found that rat bastard

in the cabin in the

Tunguskian Mountains. He'd love to kick into that pretty face, smash that

beautiful body, returning the

pain of all his lies and betrayals. And he was afraid that he would do just

that.

Maybe Krycek would not be there at all. Someone could have warned him or his

survivor instincts

could have told him to flee. Or maybe his survivor instincts had left him and he

was dead. This was

one possibility Mulder did not like at all.

*

Skinner stopped the car about one mile before the hut. "We better walk the

rest." He said. Krycek

would see them if they approached by car, they had a better chance to catch him

unprepared if they

walked.

Still, Skinner wondered what they would do when they got Krycek. The correct

thing would be to

arrest him, bring him to Washington and deliver him to the courts without delay.

Skinner just was not

sure if they could follow the accurate ways. There was something about Krycek

that always made him

do the wrong thing despite better knowledge. First starting that threesome when

Krycek was still in the

FBI. It had been stupid and dangerous; if anyone found out, all three men's

careers would have been

over. Nevertheless they could not help but meet each weekend in some anonymous

hotels.

Then that night before Mulder's and Krycek's trip to Tunguska, when Mulder had

brought Krycek into

Skinner's apartment and they had forced him to have sex with them. Well, not

exactly forced, but they

hadn't asked him either.

A few minutes after they had started walking it started to snow. The snow got

heavier soon, the wind

blew fiercely and Skinner pondered the possibility of having to stay overnight.

*

Krycek stared sullenly at the half-empty bottle of vodka. He did not feel pain

anymore, but he didn't

know for sure whether it was because his arm-stump was healt or because he had

stunned the pain with

alcohol.

He didn't remember much of the days after the attack in the woods, but somehow

he had survived the

loss of blood. The loss of his arm. Krycek swallowed another gulp of vodka,

savouring the heat

radiating through his body.

All the pain he had gone through was not really the worst of it; he suffered

more from the loss of a part

of himself. It made him feel incomplete and restricted. Crippled.

Simple things like putting on his clothes took longer now, reminding him of his

loss.

Krycek had gone through a lot of crap, often thinking that he had reached the

end. Until now he had

survived everything, but he didn't know how to make it in his profession with

only one arm.

One thing he thought was certain: he couldn't reach his goals anymore by

offering sex. As much as he

had despised himself for selling his body, the thought that he would be rejected

now because of his

mutilation was even worse.

However, Krycek's survivor instincts were still intact; he jumped up when he

noticed a small noise

coming from the hall, took his gun from the table and moved silently as a cat

towards the door.

Holding his breath Alex heard steps coming nearer. Someone from the Consortium,

maybe? Whoever

it was, Krycek wouldn't let him get him. He removed the safety lock from his gun

and jumped into the

corridor; ready to shoot whomever it was who were only a few steps before him.

It was Walter. Wrapped it layers of isolating clothes because of a winter colder

than anything he was

used to in the States, weapon in his hand, the unmistakable brown eyes in a

handsome, male face. They

stared at each other for a moment, then Krycek remembered that he was in the

advantage of pointing

his gun at the other man.

"Drop your weapon." He said with feigned calmness. When Skinner didn't react, he

added: "I would

really hate to shoot you, but if you leave me no choice, I'll do it."

He doubted the truth of his own words.

Luckily he didn't need to find out whether he would be able to kill Skinner,

because the older man

lowered his weapon and let it fall to the floor, his eyes never leaving

Krycek's.

"Now, push it to me with your foot." Alex ordered. Skinner obeyed promptly this

time. Alex was about

to bow down and pick up the gun when he remembered he couldn't. He held his own

weapon with his

right hand and his left arm - cut off with nothing but a heated knife.

For a weak moment Krycek wished to drop his gun and throw himself into Skinner's

arms, seeking

comfort and safety. But he knew, seeking comfort from the pain was as futile as

jumping from a tree in

order to learn how to fly. Skinner would arrest him and bring him to prison. And

no appeal whatsoever

that it would be hard to fend off all the sick perverts in jail with just one

arm would make Skinner

change his mind.

Keeping Skinner in check with his gun, Alex slowly backed away along the

corridor in order to escape

through the back door. Just as he wondered how to open it without dropping his

gun, the door

magically swung open, hitting him at the back and making him stumble forwards.

Krycek cursed as he

lost his weapon, seeing it scuttle across the floor, but in an instant he turned

around and simply overrun

the man standing in front of the door. This man was no amateur either; Krycek

felt a violent jerk as the

man grabbed his ankle and tugged so hard that he fell into the snow.

*

Mulder had been about to open the door when he'd heard through the wood Krycek

giving Skinner

orders. Mulder had waited until Krycek was at the door before slamming it open -

almost a complete

success. Krycek had lost his weapon but was professional enough to just run him

over. Nevertheless,

Mulder, not an amateur either, had managed to catch the rat when he had jerked

his ankle, then thrown

himself on the man lying in the snow.

To make sure he didn't escape, or maybe just out of pure spitefulness, Mulder

hit the back of Krycek's

head with his gun, knocking him out cold.

Mulder sat up and looked at the man lying beneath him, forbidden images floating

through his mind.

Images of Krycek lying like that underneath him, with no clothes on. Mulder

shook his head and

reached for the handcuffs, closing one of them around Krycek's wrist, then he

reached for the left wrist

to find only an empty sleeve. Mulder stared horrified at the unconscious man

underneath him. Who

had done that to Alex?

Then Skinner crouched down beside him, shouting, because of the howling wind,

something about

having to get Krycek back into the house before the storm was getting any worse.

Mulder looked at the dark sky. It was a deep grey, almost black, with fats

moving clouds. Snow was

falling in heavy flakes; no way they could leave the hut before tomorrow. Gazing

down at the

unconscious man beneath him, Mulder noticed that he was already covered with a

thin layer of snow.

Almost unwillingly Mulder rose to his feet and helped Skinner to carry Krycek

back into the hut.

It was much warmer there, so the FBI-agents hurried to shed themselves out of

their isolating clothes,

dropping jackets and trousers to the floor into small puddles of melting snow,

only leaving on their

long underwear. Krycek, whom they had dropped on the floor, was still

unconscious; the snow on his

clothes was melting, turning jeans and sweater into a wet fabric clinging to him

like a second skin.

*

Skinner knew how wrong it sounded when he said they'd better get Krycek out of

his clothes before

he'd catch himself a cold. And he knew where undressing Krycek would lead to,

eventually.

Skinner started shedding Krycek out of his shirt while Mulder was tearing off

his jeans. His belly was

as flat as he remembered, his chest as firmly muscled.

Skinner sharply inhaled when he pulled the shirt over Krycek's head, seeing that

his left arm was gone.

Horrified, Skinner examined the fresh scars on the stump. It didn't at all look

like done with a laser

scalpel in a clean, modern hospital; it rather reminded him on the crudely done

amputations he had

seen in Vietnam in provisional field lazarettos.

Skinner gazed frowning at Mulder. The younger man looked quite shocked at the

scarred man between

them. Krycek stirred and moaned slightly; glad to have a reason to take over the

initiative, Skinner

ordered Mulder to help him carrying Krycek into the next room. It turned out to

be a cosy living- and

sleeping room: a bed, rather large for one person, a table with a couch and two

chairs, a stove with a

crackling fire, keeping the room warm.

They lay Krycek down on the bed, sitting down at each side of him. Skinner

wasn't really surprised

when Mulder closed the open end of the handcuffs around the brass rails in the

headboard of the bed;

he was rather concerned about the mischievous gleam in Mulder's eyes as he let

his gaze travel over

Krycek's naked, lush body, that lay so openly presented to their desires. And

Skinner certainly felt

desire for that pretty young man; from the first moment he had seen him in his

office all Skinner

wanted to do was shedding him out of his clothes and consume him. Skinner

watched the Adonis like

body writhing and his thick lashes flattering, before green eyes opened,

looking at them in confusion.

*

When Krycek awoke the first thing he saw were two very familiar faces. Alex

looked at them with

more scrutiny: they were only wearing long underwear, as in deep winter, and

they were staring down

at him with greed and lust. Krycek realized that he was naked and when he tried

to move he found out

that he was chained to the bed.

He saw Mulder smiling wickedly, then shivered as he felt Mulder's fingers move

over his chest. Then

Mulder bent down and licked along Krycek's throat. Alex moaned and stretched his

neck to give

Mulder access to as much skin as possible. So he was with his lovers again.

Abandoning himself to

their lust, yet sure that they would give him pleasure in return.

Alex closed his eyes and moaned softly. Skinner joined in now, stroking his

thighs, a tongue flicking

his nipple.

Yet he felt that there was something wrong, something he had forgotten. Krycek

tried hard to

remember... smoke, the Smoker, all the wrong decisions... hatred in Mulder's

eyes, Skinner's angry

gaze... the woods in Tunguska, weird people, holding him down while someone cut

off his arm...

"No!" Krycek called. What was going on here? He was crippled, he wasn't

attractive anymore, so what

were Mulder and Skinner up to? Toying with him in order to leave him frustrated?

That was too cruel!

"Don't...!" he begged.

Then exactly what he'd been afraid of happened. Mulder jumped up and walked

silently across the

room. Damn!

*

Krycek was like a drug. Mulder couldn't resist, overwhelmed by lust, by

addiction, all he wanted was

to consume Alex, to get intoxicated by him, to devour him. Then the drug started

protesting.

It would only lead to feelings of guilt if he just took what he wanted against

Alex's will. No matter

what an evil monster Alex was, it was wrong.

So Mulder forced himself to keep his hands to himself and crossed the room,

stopping at the window

and staring out into the storm. All he could see were snowflakes, swirling

around in such a thick cloud

that it almost looked like a white wall.

*

Skinner heard a small, whimpering noise escaping Krycek's throat, saw him gazing

after Mulder with

needful desire in his eyes. An expression of desperation flickered over Krycek's

delicate features while

Mulder stared out of the window with his back to them.

Skinner observed Alex thoughtfully. What exactly was it he was afraid of?

Obviously not of them as

Mulder was thinking, or else Alex would not have looked so desperate when Mulder

jumped off.

Besides, Alex was just a slut.

Could such a beautiful creature be afraid of rejection? But fear of rejection

had nothing to do with

beauty; it was a matter of self-esteem.

Krycek hadn't had a problem of self-esteem the last time Skinner had seen him;

but a lot of bad things

had happened to Krycek in the meantime.

Sadly Skinner moved a hand along Krycek's left shoulder and down the stump.

Krycek shivered and

tried to withdraw, looking aside.

"Alex, look at me." Skinner ordered. Krycek ignored his request, staring into

thin air. Skinner sighed,

then said: "Alex, I really wanna fuck you. However, if you have any objections,

I won't do it. Just say

no and I'll leave you alone. I might even remove the handcuffs." He added with

slight amusement.

Krycek's head was still turned aside, but Skinner could observe that he was

frowning suspiciously.

"Anyway, I think your anxiety derives more from a fear of rejection than from a

fear of the terrible

things Mulder and I could do to you."

Skinner noticed Mulder turning around and staring blankly at them. Skinner bent

down to lick Alex's

throat. "I usually don't reject people who I tie up first." He murmured as he

nipped along Alex's jaw

line.

*

Alex hoped desperately that Skinner told him the truth, but even though some

rational part of his mind

told him that Mulder and Skinner shouldn't reject him for missing a limb, more

likely for any other

reason, he couldn't really believe it. For, what could have drawn them to him in

the first place except of

his good looks? There was not and never had been anything else he had to offer;

so since his body was

not as pretty anymore, shouldn't they lose interest?

However, Skinner was still nipping his jaw and unless this was some kind of sick

game he was playing,

like arousing him to leave him the more crushed, this meant that Skinner didn't

find him disgusting.

Krycek closed his eyes and tried to relax, trying hard to forget his doubts and

just enjoy it.

*

When Mulder heard Skinner's words, he reclined from staring out into the storm

and turned around. He

could clearly see Krycek's face, suspicious, disbelieving. But when Skinner

started licking his throat,

Krycek closed his eyes, his features smoothened in careful enjoyment. Maybe

Skinner was right.

Maybe Krycek was just insecure about his loss.

Krycek moaned softly when Skinner tongued his larynx. Smiling wickedly, Mulder

approached the

bed. He wouldn't just stand by and watch.

*

Skinner looked up when he felt the bed shifting, noticing with satisfaction that

Mulder had joined

them. Mulder, in a smooth movement swaying over Krycek's body, attacked him

gently with teeth, lips

and tongue. Following his voyeuristic streak, Skinner just watched as Mulder

travelled his way down

Krycek's flat stomach, lingering a bit to tongue his navel before he reached his

groin. Skinner

swallowed hard as he watched Mulder's proceeding. Mulder was very good at this,

he knew. Now he

was awakening Krycek's cock to life by licking first along one side, then the

other, front, along the

vein on the back, finally driving Alex mad by swirling his tongue around the

head of his cock. Krycek

frenziedly raised his hips to get more contact.

*

Krycek felt like drowning, drowning in a sea of pleasure. Mulder's tongue was

lapping gently at his

most sensitive parts, moist, soft, sensuous, licking here, lapping there... He

must have died and gone to

heaven. Yes, so must heaven be, forever being licked by the expert tongue of Fox

Mulder. Or maybe it

was rather hell; it was too good. He was not made for receiving so much

pleasure. It would kill him, it would burn him from the inside, it would tear

him to pieces.

Krycek didn't realise that he was weeping silently until Skinner gently wiped

off the tears. "Let it go,

Alex." He whispered, before he descended to lick the sensitive skin on his neck

in time when Mulder

swallowed his rigid cock. Finally, taken past the edge, Krycek screamed and

came, writhing and

thrashing about as his semen shot out in a never-ending ejaculation.

*

Mulder was hit by Krycek's right lick and pushed off the bed as he was thrashing

about like a bolting

horse. Mulder fell hard onto the floor, but was rather surprised and very proud

of his skills. Sitting up,

he looked questioningly at Skinner, who was seated on the bed.

"Krycek?" he asked.

"He's out." Skinner answered.

Climbing back on the bed, Mulder gazed at the unconscious man lying next to his

boss. Alex was just

gorgeous, looking like a sleeping Adonis.

Reminded on his own hard, aching cock, Mulder asked frowning: "And what shall we

do now?"

"69?" Skinner suggested.

*

When Skinner woke up he felt disoriented for a moment. He was in a strange

environment, a heavy

weight on his shoulder. Looking aside, he realised it was Krycek's head on his

shoulder. Krycek

looked angelic, innocent when he was asleep, inevitably awakening Skinner's

protector instincts,

making him want to provide a safe place for Alex, a place where nothing would

hurt him anymore.

What he would have to do was quite the opposite: in a few hours they would have

to get up, drive to

the next airport and get a flight to Washington, to deliver Alex to the courts.

It seemed so hard to do

now.

Skinner looked up when Mulder cast his shadow onto the bed. Mulder's mischievous

smile promised

nothing good. Or maybe it did, in some way.

"We're snowed in." Mulder said.

***

To be continued???

Visit my homepage:

http://www.geocities.com/ratwoman2001/index.html