From: KassXF Date: 20 Mar 1999 20:39:22 GMT Subject: NEW: The Beginning - Sk/K NC-17 Disclaimer: Not mine Category: Sk/K Summary: Post Apocalypse sometime and Krycek muses.... The Beginning by KassXF@aol.com How the hell did this happen anyway? I'm still not sure. One day I'm in charge of the kill switch that rules Walter Skinner, and the next day, I'm in his bed. It wasn't quite that simple, of course. It came after the End of the Colonization effort. I like to write it like that. I just wish I'd had more to do with it. Layers within layers within layers, that was the Syndicate. Everybody had an agenda other than the stated agenda of merely staying alive post-Col. Some wanted to prevent the Colonization at all, and were working like madmen with the very tech they'd negotiated from the colonizers. Some wanted their own personal kingdoms. Some just wanted to save their own skins. Me, I really didn't want to end up being larval food for one of those *things*, and I wanted to stay alive during the short term, and I wanted somebody to stop the fucking invasion. Which was hard to do balancing on the wire the way I had to. So, when I was ordered to, ah, make an impression on Skinner, I decided to do it my own way. So to speak. I'd tell him what he was supposed to do, and then I'd give him a few hints on what he could do 'inadvertantly' to sabotage it, as well as throw a few monkey wrenches into the long-term spokes. If that makes sense. Hmmm, bad metaphors. What the hell. Anyway, somehow, we came to a sort of detente. Once he realized that I really was a patriot, just not in the conventional sense of the word. Not that we had drinks together, mind you. But hell, at least he wasn't trying to punch me like Mulder. And then came the plague. It made some people sick, some sick enough to die--think of the Spanish Influenza at the end of WWI. Think how hard that hit. That's what the plague was like. Skinner got sick, I got sick, fucking Mulder didn't. Of course. Scully didn't. I swear to Christ, it wasn't fair. But, more importantly, the others got sick. And died. Uniformly. Whatever their particular genus. Genus--I think that's the word. Homo Erectus, Homo Sapiens, Alien Shapechanger, Alien Oilien, they all died. And the ones who hadn't been infected fled. Because it was an engineered plague. A calculated risk. To get rid of them. And the shit lives in the dust, in the soil, in the water. Amazing. Like giving everyone plague to make them immune, only this wasn't as disfiguring. It could have been as deadly. It nearly killed me. The only reason I didn't die is that Skinner came looking for me. Found me in this hole of an apartment, sick as shit, delirious and convinced that the oilien was coming to suck up my mind again. He found me, called an ambulance. Barely out of the hospital himself, I wonder if he wasn't going to kill me, thinking I'd been part of the plague. He doesn't say. I doubt he will. He's like that. Anyway, when my lungs finally cleared out and I more or less emerged from the fog of illness, he was there. He told me that they were gone. That it was over. And then the crazy bastard told me he'd gotten me immunity because of what I'd given him over the last few years. I think I was relieved. I'm not sure, I was still pretty damned weak. And when I got out of the hospital, guess who was there? If you didn't guess Walter Skinner, you're clearly not paying attention. He took me to his place. Guestroom, in case you were thinking something else. And I was just weak enough that I let him, moped around eating everything in sight and trying to get back on my feet. The end of the first week, he dragged my ass out to get the final--get that, final--fittings on a new prosthesis. Fucking amazing, brand new technology. I was still not up to my fighting weight, so punching him in the mouth was out of the question. Instead, I refused to wear the fucking thing. We argued all the way back and when we got back to his place, I went back to pack up what little I had there. Got my ass tackled before I got down the hallway. I was hardly a match for him, but if you think I just let him do it, you're crazy. I swear, we rolled around on his hallway rug and then suddenly, I realized we were closer than we'd been in years. I could smell the faintest trace of his aftershave. We stared at each other for a minute and then, feeling suicidal, I kissed him. Hard. And his lips parted, he rolled back over on top of me and I'm fucked if I know how I kept thinking long enough to grind my hips up against him. Maybe I didn't. Maybe it was pure instinctive lust. I was as hard as stone, so was he, and I thought he was going to suck my brains out through my mouth to start with. Who knew the bastard wouldn't kill me? Who knew he could kiss like that? Christ, he was hot. I don't have a fucking clue how he got me out of my clothes without my noticing it. Probably because my brains had been sucked out. Most guys are too macho to admit they like it, hey, they just let you suck them off or fucked you or whatever, and I had him pegged as one of those. Not even close. He got my clothes off and worked his way down my body with a lot of enthusiasm. My nipples--Christ, my nipples hadn't had attention like that in years. I was writhing and making noises like I was a fucking Holy Roller Snake Handler speaking in tongues. He worked his way down my belly, who the fuck knew that it could be hot to have someone rim my navel, for God's sake. And he didn't touch my cock at first, I was on the verge of deciding that he *was* one of those guys after all--well, in some small corner of my brain that hadn't melted--and he yanked my ass off the rug, pushed my legs back and ate me like a piece of fruit. Not my cock. He fucking rimmed me until I was screaming his name. I think I was screaming his name. He told me later that he didn't hear any coherent words at all. And then, when I was jellified from that, he sucked my cock down. It felt like I was on fire. By the time he got around to fucking my ass, I was begging and whimpering and fuck him if I didn't use words, it was his fault. He slid into me slowly, nearly stopped until I made this sort of scream at him. Tried to wrap my legs around his ass. And then it was hot and hard and sweet, and Jesus, I hadn't had it like that in so long, and he was so good, I swear, I just exploded, without either of us touching my cock. He roared when he came, and yeah, there was some victory there, but then he sagged down over me, kissed me again. Asked me if I was all right. I laughed hysterically. And that was the beginning. He retired from the Bureau not long after and we came here. To the mountains. Because there were a few people who still wanted my skin. And he wanted it intact. Finis