TITLE: Nemesis

AUTHOR: Zoe Rayne

EMAIL: zoerayne@chisp.net

RATING: NC-17

CATEGORY: S,R

SPOILERS: "Tunguska" (just a little bit) 

KEYWORDS: RAPE. Slash. Skinner/Krycek. Mulder/Krycek.

SUMMARY: Skinner takes his anger out on Krycek and Mulder 
watches, both shocked and aroused.

REALITY NOTE: Personally, I practice safe sex. However, I don't 
write safe sex. Just pretend this is happening in a world without 
sexually transmitted diseases, okay? 


"I became a virtuoso of deceit. It wasn't pleasure I was after, 
it was knowledge. I consulted the strictest moralists to learn 
how to appear, philosophers to find out what to think and 
novelists to see what I could get away with. And, in the end, I 
distilled everything down to one wonderfully simple principle: 
win or die."

- Merteuil, in Dangerous Liaisons

Virtuoso of Deceit:
NEMESIS
by Zoe Rayne <zoerayne@chisp.net>
http://www.chisp.net/~zoerayne/


nem e sis (nem?i-sis) noun
     Retributive justice in its execution or outcome. 


"He'll be safe here," Skinner said. I pushed Krycek into the 
apartment and closed the door behind us. Without warning 
Skinner's fist connected, first with Krycek's stomach, then with 
his jaw. It happened so quickly that Krycek was a limp navy heap
on the beige carpet before I could react. I opened my mouth to
protest, but Skinner's gaze met mine and I could see the anger
in his expression. Perhaps some of that was reflecting from me. 

"Do you have anything to drink?" I said instead. 

Skinner waved a hand towards the kitchen. "Make yourself at 
home," he said. Then he hefted Krycek over one muscular shoulder 
as though the unconscious man was a child and carried him into 
another room. I slipped my jacket off and draped it over a chair, 
then loosened my tie and pulled it over my head, allowing it to 
drop on top of the jacket. 

I walked slowly to the kitchen, trying not to think about my 
father, about Dana's sister. I believe in many things-things that 
Scully claims are irrational and the result of an overactive 
imagination-even so I couldn't bring myself to believe that 
Krycek was not involved in their murders. 

The rational part of my mind knows that justice should be meted 
out by the system, that vengeance has no place in the life of an 
FBI agent. But right then rational was the last thing I wanted to 
be. There were so many regrets in my life already; I didn't want 
one of them to be letting that murdering son of a bitch go 
unpunished. 

Still, a small part of me wondered whether I was simply being 
spiteful. Did I truly want to avenge the deaths of Melissa and my 
father, or was I merely angry because I'd allowed myself to be 
deceived by him? Was I just seeking retribution for a lover's 
betrayal? 

It was easier to slake my physical thirst than to contemplate my 
thirst for revenge. That kind of deep introspection is best done 
while gazing into the bottom of a beer mug. I unbuttoned the 
cuffs on my shirt and rolled the sleeves up. The Assistant 
Director's refrigerator was a stereotypical bachelor's-virtually 
empty except for a multitude of take-out cartons. As I reached 
for a can of soda I heard something from the next room. It was a 
low moan, almost a sob. 

I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to know what might be 
happening to my former partner. I didn't even want to think about 
him anymore. I just wanted to get on with my life, get on with my 
search for the truth. My hand was on the knob and I was ready to 
walk out Skinner's front door when something Scully had said came 
back to haunt me. 

"It's funny," she had said. "I just realized something. How much 
you're like Ahab. You're so consumed by your personal vengeance 
against life, whether it be its inherent cruelties or its 
mysteries..." 

Was I now on my way to hunt down the white whale, ignoring 
anything that would not further my search? I turned back and 
followed the sounds until I came to a closed door. Turning the 
knob gently, I pushed it open and stood in the doorway of a small 
bedroom. I tried to take in the scene inside that room. It was 
tame compared to the strange things that Scully and I have seen 
in the course of our investigations, but still it stopped me cold 
and left me floundering, unsure how to react. 

Krycek lay flat on his stomach in the middle of a wrought-iron 
four-poster bed, a pillow tucked beneath his hips. I saw a glint 
of silver at his wrists; he was handcuffed, his arms stretched 
over his head and held in place by a cord tied to the headboard. 
Each ankle was encircled by a black strap, which was in turn tied 
to the footboard with a cord, keeping his legs spread apart. His 
clothing was in a pile close to my feet and his bare skin looked 
oddly white against the blackness of the sheets. 

Skinner stood next to the bed, his jeans unbuttoned and his 
thumbs hooked in the waistband. He stopped for a moment and 
looked at me, his expression one I will never forget. Pure, 
unadulterated hate. It felt as though his passion, his anger was 
burning into me. I wonder if I looked like that in the storage 
lot when Krycek stepped down from the cab of the truck. I dropped 
my gaze to the floor and when I looked up again Skinner had 
pushed his jeans down and was stepping out of them. 

I guess I had known from the moment I opened the bedroom door 
what Skinner intended. Until that moment I never would have 
guessed that he had so much rage bottled up inside him. His was 
nearly a match for my own anger towards my former partner. 
Nearly, but not quite. I closed my eyes and savored the image of 
my father as I had last seen him. He lay unmoving, bathed in 
harsh, unforgiving light as his life slowly trickled away onto 
the linoleum. When I opened my eyes again I had no reservations, 
no desire to stop Skinner's actions. I wanted to see Krycek suffer 
for the pain he had caused. 

He was kneeling between Krycek's legs, his right hand 
working a growing erection. I found myself focusing on Skinner's 
defined, muscular form. I had gotten into the habit of thinking 
of the Assistant Director as a desk man, one who could no longer 
handle the rigors of field work. I was mistaken. Muscles rippled 
across his back as his hand moved rhythmically on his cock. 
Watching the scene, knowing the only possible outcome, I felt 
stirrings in my own loins but tried to ignore them. 

He reached down and grabbed Krycek's hips, pulling him upwards. 
Another quiet sob escaped the bound man's lips but I wouldn't--
I could not--look at his face. 

Skinner's hand moved to his mouth and he unceremoniously spat 
into his palm and lubricated himself with the saliva. Guiding his 
penis with one hand, he pressed it against Krycek's 
sphincter muscle. I heard the bound man gasp at the contact. This 
is for my father, you bastard. With a sudden hard thrust Skinner 
forced himself inside, pulling back on his victim's hips until 
his shaft drove as deep as possible. 

Krycek screamed. 

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't look away, but I couldn't watch. I 
closed my eyes, trying to conjure up the vision of my dying 
father. Krycek's muffled screams intruded into my thoughts until 
I could no longer picture my father's death. So I thought of 
Scully, of her pain at the loss of her sister. That was something 
I could understand, could empathize with. That pain could drown 
out Krycek's agony. Melissa had done nothing. She was an innocent, 
in the wrong place at the wrong time. The son-of-a-bitch had 
mistaken her for Scully and murdered her. And he'd had every 
intention of murdering Scully. 

When I opened my eyes, I could hate him again. His body was 
stiff, every muscle tensed against the torture Skinner was 
putting him through. And Skinner was being thorough, pounding his 
cock into Krycek's ass with a frightening ferocity, mindless of 
the blood that coated his shaft. Skinner's body was covered with 
a sheen of perspiration and he smiled a grim smile. I relished my 
former partner's cries, each one arousing me more and fulfilling 
my need for revenge. This is for Melissa Scully. And for any 
other innocents who died at your hands. 

Skinner's body tensed, his muscles rigid under his skin as he held 
his hips tightly against Krycek. As he came, the last of the 
tension and frustration faded from his face. He moved easily off 
the bed, penis still semi-erect, and retrieved his jeans from the 
floor. Reaching into a pocket, he produced a handcuff key. He 
walked toward me and I automatically stepped into the room to 
allow him to pass. 

"I'm going to take a shower," he said, handing me the key. "Here. 
He's all yours." He was relaxed and there was no longer any sign 
of the demon that had been driving him. I watched his retreating 
back until he disappeared into another room and closed the door. 
I looked down at the key in my hand, suddenly much more aware of 
my own erection. The last of my own anger slipped away, to be 
replaced with embarrassment-at my reactions and at being a party 
to this kind of vigilante justice. 

I looked up at Krycek. His dignity had been stripped away with 
his clothing. He turned his head to face me and his green eyes 
were pleading. "Mulder," he whispered, almost too quiet for me to 
hear. It took my breath away and left me with a sick sensation in 
the pit of my stomach. 

It was so strange to see him like this, so different from the 
last time I had seen his bare flesh, caressed his body with my 
touch. He had always been the one in control, running our 
relationship the way he wanted it. And I'd let him. Suddenly I 
remembered something he had told me once, the first night I 
shared my bed with him. 

"Mulder, I need you to understand," he had said. "There are 
some things I can't do. I need to be in control. It's nothing 
to do with you...just something that happened when I was young. 

"It was late and I was out walking-anything to be away from home, 
away from the shouting and slamming doors. That was my only 
peace, back then-walking through the silent streets with the 
darkness blotting out everything else." He had paused and stared 
off into space for a moment and I wondered what his childhood 
must have been like. 

"I didn't know it at the time," he'd continued, "but the varsity 
football team had lost the key game of the season that night. I 
wouldn't have cared if I had known. But the team cared...and I 
was an easy target. There were maybe a dozen of them, drunk and 
angry." This time when he'd hesitated I'd seen the muscles in his 
jaw working. I'd reached out my hand, but he'd recoiled from my 
touch. 

"They raped me, Mulder." He spoke through clenched teeth. "They 
held me down and they took turns raping me and beating me. I 
spent more than a month in the hospital where the doctors told me 
I was lucky I hadn't died from my injuries." 

Coming back to the present, I realized I was clenching the key in 
my fist. Shit. What could I say to him? This is for your 
betrayal. I stood by and watched while you were raped again 
because you made me feel used. What had I been thinking? I moved 
over to the bedside, looking down into his red-rimmed eyes, into 
the depths of his pain. 

"Alex..." My voice caught in my throat and I knelt on the bed, 
releasing his wrists from their bondage. The handcuffs had cut 
deeply into his skin, leaving bloody welts around each wrist. He 
pulled his arms down under his chest and closed his eyes. Tears 
spilled from underneath his eyelids and soaked into the bed. I 
couldn't watch his suffering. I turned to the foot of the bed, 
unbuckling the leather straps from his ankles. 

As soon as he was loose he curled up into a ball, clutching the 
pillow to himself as though it would protect him from further 
pain. I sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out and putting 
my hand to his shoulder. He jerked back from my touch as though 
I'd burned him, his eyes snapping open. 

"Why?" he asked, his voice still barely audible. 

I still didn't know how to answer him. Finally I sighed. "For my 
father, for Melissa Scully, for everyone that you've destroyed. I 
thought I could judge you and find you guilty of those crimes, 
and that I could live with letting Skinner carry out your 
sentence." 

"And can you, Mulder?" he asked, a little stronger this time. His 
body was trembling, and I reached out to pull part of the covers 
over him. He continued, "Can you live with it? Can you live with 
knowing that you've played into their hands, that you've bought 
what they were selling without so much as questioning it?" 

I felt as though I'd been sucker-punched. In the distance I heard 
the front door slam. I looked down at him, into his eyes. All I 
saw was hurt and betrayal-no guardedness, no deception. I reached 
out my hand again, this time to stroke his cheek with my fingers. 
For a moment he didn't move, then he reached out to me, arms 
encircling my waist. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, 
holding him as sobs wracked his body. 

Gradually he relaxed into me. The trembling had stopped and his 
breathing was more regular. I ran my hand slowly down his 
shoulder to his waist. He shivered and gasped at the touch. I 
quickly moved my hand back to his shoulder, not wanting to hurt 
him. Not wanting to hurt the man I had so recently wanted to 
kill. 

He pulled his face away from my chest and whispered, "You don't 
need to stop." He continued, his voice choked with emotion, 
"Please don't stop. I need your touch, something gentle to take 
away the hell." 

I looked into his eyes and saw something there that I had never 
seen before: vulnerability. In all the time we had been lovers, 
Alex had never needed me, had never opened himself up to me. Is 
this what it took for us to truly mean something to one another? 

Silently, I slipped his arms from around my waist. I stood up, 
quickly slipping out of my clothes. My own erection was already 
firm again just from the feel of his body next to mine. I lay 
back down on the bed, trying to press as much of my bare flesh 
against his as possible. I found myself staring into his eyes, 
trying to decide what he was thinking, how he was feeling. 
Slowly, he closed his eyelids and touched his lips gently 
to mine. 

I almost pulled away from him, but emotions overwhelmed me and I 
relaxed into his kiss. When he finally eased the pressure of his 
lips against mine and opened his eyes to look at me, I could 
hardly find the words to ask him what I needed to know. 

"Alex, why?" 

"Why what?" he whispered, brushing back a lock of my hair that 
had fallen in front of my eyes. 

"Why me, why now, why a kiss?" There was so much that I wanted 
answered. He had never kissed me before. He'd always said 
kissing made him feel too exposed. 

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Because," he said, "I 
wanted to kiss you." No answers to the rest of the question; but 
then, it didn't really need answering right now. 

I pushed his shoulders away from me until he was lying on his 
back. Gently I kissed his chest, tickling his nipples with my 
tongue and moving slowly downwards across his flat stomach. A 
soft moan escaped him as my lips lightly touched sensitive skin. 
His body relaxed under my touch until it almost felt like we had 
never been apart. I reached the patch of thick black hair and 
began to kiss my way up the shaft of his cock until I reached the 
tip. I could hear his breathing become more ragged as I ran my 
tongue around the head. I slowly sank down onto it until his 
erection filled my mouth and throat. I heard a quick intake of 
breath, followed by a low moan of pleasure. 

When I looked up towards his face, sliding my mouth up the shaft 
of his cock as I did so, he was smiling. Carelessly he reached 
down and twined his fingers into my hair. 

"Mmmm, Mulder, that feels just right. You feel just right." 

I continued to work my mouth up and down the shaft of his penis, 
occasionally grazing it gently with my teeth to elicit louder and 
more intense reactions. My hand strayed down to where my own cock 
was aching with arousal. I could feel Alex building to climax, 
throbbing rhythmically against my tongue. 

"Wait." 

I stopped, pulling back until my lips were no longer wrapped 
around his cock. "What do you want me to do?" 

"Take me," he replied, hesitantly. "Fuck me." When he saw the 
uncertainty in my expression, he added, "Please, Mulder. Trust me.
I've dealt with this before. Refusing to give up control didn't 
keep it from happening again. Let me deal with it my way?" 

For an instant I wondered whether I was a fool to listen to him. 
The one constant in my life for the past few years had been 
"trust no one." Was I really ready to hand all the cards back to 
Alex Krycek? But then, he was trusting me, too. 

I reached for the drawer of the nightstand, rummaging through 
Skinner's personal effects. Finally, beneath the handgun and 
stack of skin magazines, I found a tube of lubricant. I knelt 
between Alex's legs, not quite sure how to do what he asked. 

"I want to be facing you. I want to see your eyes and be able to 
touch you," he said. 

I spread the lubricant generously over my cock. Even the gentlest 
touch now made me ache for release. I don't know what expression 
crossed my face when I looked at the bruised and torn flesh where 
Skinner had taken him, but it must have been bad because Alex 
said, "I'll be all right. I've survived worse than this before." 

As gently as I could I pressed the tip of my cock against the 
opening and slowly began increasing the pressure, trying to watch 
both what I was doing and how he was reacting to it. As my cock 
began to slide slowly inside him I could feel his muscles tense 
in response to the pain. I heard a sharp intake of breath and 
looked up to see Alex's lower lip between his teeth and a trickle 
of blood dripping from his mouth. Silently he nodded at me and I 
continued the pressure until I was completely inside him. As I 
began to sort through the sensations I realized how good it felt 
to be inside him-to just rest there, my body sheathed in his. 

He reached out and took my hand, guiding it to his waning 
erection. I slowly stroked it and felt it come back to life 
beneath my fingers. Gently I followed the familiar rhythm, 
remembering all the times before when I had touched him like 
this. I could feel the twitching of his body as he neared climax. 
He tensed and his sphincter tightened around me as he came. 

I heard myself gasp at the sensation. My over-stimulated cock 
couldn't hold back any longer. The orgasm that had been building 
since I first saw him, naked and spread-eagled on the bed, 
finally found release. 

When I opened my eyes, Alex was smiling at me. I lowered my body 
onto his, content to wrap my arms around him and hold him to me. 
This is for my betrayal, Alex. Because I stood by and watched you 
be hurt. Because I loved you once and I'm not sure that I don't 
love you still. 

--fait accompli--

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: Thanks to Mitch for proofreading skills, to KA 
for her understanding and to everyone who beta read it: CL, L, 
SG, S, and V, you guys are great! And as always, major thanks to 
my husband, without whom this stuff wouldn't be getting written

DISCLAIMER: Everything "X" belongs to Chris Carter, Fox 
Broadcasting and Ten-Thirteen Productions and I haven't asked 
permission to play with their toys (naughty me). However, I am 
doing this only for fun and the enjoyment of fellow X-Philes, not 
for profit. I don't intend copyright infringement--and I don't 
actually have anything of value so it'd be pointless to sue me 
anyway. ^@^@