E-MAIL ADRESS: StarWindDancer@hotmail.com

Fandom: X-Files

Pairing: Skinner/Krycek

Rating & Warnings: NC-17 for violence. No sex 
yet, only punishment.

Summery: Krycek is about to take a turn in his 
life through choices Skinner give him.

Spoilers: General for early seasons. Breaks off 
about Tunguska/Terma. He has his arm. I'm not 
sure if the nanocytes exist. They could. I have 
more story to write. I originally wrote a 
version of this story as, I get horney, Krycek 
gets tied up and spanked by Skinner. I'm 
revising it to share and things are switching 
around.


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Fallen Angels 1: Alex's POV
          by StarWindDancer
*          *          *

I am a slave.

I was claimed by Walter Skinner about a week 
ago. He took me, I was there and he was there 
and I needed someone to be there and he took me.

To tell the truth, I'm not *actually* his slave 
yet. I'm supposed to take a week to think about 
it, to come to terms with the idea. I didn't 
even get past the second night before my 
decision was made.

I couldn't sleep that night. The nightmares of 
my life were haunting me, strange images 
crossing over my mind. I was scared shitless at 
that point. I knew what Skinner was asking of me 
but I wasn't sure if I could give it. I'd been 
owned before, just taken for a ride by... 
people.

I didn't think I could go there again but what 
Skinner asked of me, it was too much of an offer 
to pass up, to not consider.

So I wasn't sleeping. I felt the need to get up, 
to move and keep moving until I sank. At times 
like that, it feels like I need to start 
throwing myself against the walls to see if I'd 
bounce. I've actually tried it. It's not really 
bouncing but more of a flopping.

Wal-Mart was my refuge that night. I used to 
frequent grocery stores when I was sleepless and 
needed something to do. I like Wal-Mart, more 
things to do.

I'm not sure what I was doing that night except 
for shopping for things I really don't need. I 
think I was looking for silk boxer shorts to 
sleep in (don't ask me why, I don't usually 
sleep in boxer shorts. I tend to wear pants to 
bed, usually what I was wearing that day.)

I looked at thick, white, wooly socks and large 
undershirts and that's when I found it.

I picked up the leather belt, hanging with a 
dozen others. It was plain brown with a light 
scroll work on the edges. It was the longest one 
they had and it looked *SO* much like the one 
Skinner used on me.

That was the beginning of *this.* I was being a 
bad, ruthless little shit even though I was 
really supposed to be working for him. You see, 
I was in Internal Affairs in the FBI. Spender, 
my supervisor, sent me in to determine what to 
do about Skinner and Scully and Mulder. They 
didn't play nice with others.

I was told that I was supposed to record and 
report improper conduct by the group due to 
complaints from the DOD, CIA, local and state 
law enforcement groups, and Military Police. I 
knew I was supposed to spy on them, I just 
didn't know I was supposed to *spy* on them, to 
be their betrayer.

It was my first investigation in the FBI, in 
internal affairs. I really didn't know better 
but I saw the scam in time. I went to Skinner 
soon after Spender started implying that I 
should *distract* Mulder from his mission. 
Officially I'll claim that I went to Skinner 
because Spender didn't take my recommendation to 
offer Scully a new position in pathology in 
California, near her family there. It was a 
great promotional opportunity. She was qualified 
and it was too tempting for someone like her not 
to pass up.

Skinner had me spying on Spender then, reporting 
his abuse of power. The more I looked at my 
supervisor, the more I realized that it should 
be *him* that should be investigated and not 
Skinner. Mulder still needs his ass kicked for 
his bone headedness. The FBI is for the people, 
not him.

How hypocritical of me to think that. I've used 
the FBI and it's connections to my advantage the 
last couple of years. They were a tool for me to 
use.

Skinner is a kind man, he's kept me in his 
thoughts and in his sights as someone on the 
inside, his spy. To a point, I was. Whenever I 
needed someone's attention and needed to mess 
with them, the FBI and Skinner was who I called 
upon. It was basically free resource for me.

Until the last time. I showed up to my meeting 
with Skinner cockier then hell and jonesin' for 
a fight. I got the fight and got my ass kicked 
and I got something... else. A bit of truth.

I don't know how to describe it but it was the 
most erotic moment of my life. I didn't think so 
at the time. I was downright pissed when I came 
to tied up in Skinner's bedroom to the wall. I 
remember pulling on the ropes, jerking at them, 
screaming at Skinner to let me out.

That's when he spelled it out for me. He gave me 
an ultimatum, to continue being his tool 
fighting Spender or else be a free agent at the 
whims and mercies of whatever may come. He 
gagged me and raised the belt.

I can remember just about every single agony of 
the belt on my flesh. I remember hearing it 
swish in the air and the crack it made when it 
hit me. I remember the pain flooding through me, 
making me angry and scared and so out of 
control.

And then there was his voice, his calm, soothing 
voice calling me back from whatever edge I was 
on. He kept telling me that I was a good man 
once, that I wanted to help people. He kept 
reminding me what I *should* be doing, who I 
*should* be.

I was a broken wreck by the time he was done. I 
was shaking and crying and so alone and broken 
when I fell to the floor when he cut the ropes. 
I wouldn't allow him to touch me when he tried 
to ungag me. I pulled back from him every time 
he moved close.

I knew I couldn't let him touch me, I knew I was 
a jagged, ragged piece of flesh. I was ashamed, 
I was so ashamed of myself. I hurt *so* much 
then, I can't even describe it.

Eventually Skinner got me calm enough to pull me 
into his arms. He only briefly checked to make 
sure that the ropes hadn't tightened when I 
struggled. Other then that he just held me and 
let me cry and wiped the tears away.

I remember how big his hands seemed, when he 
held my head and ran his thumb over my cheek, 
just under my tear filled eyes. I remember 
looking into his soft, chocolate brown ones and 
thinking I'm safe here.

We barely talked. Only enough after that for 
Skinner to cut the ropes off my wrists and 
ankles. He put some blue aloe gel over the welts 
on my back and gave me the bottle so I could put 
some more on later. I got dressed and was ready 
to leave when he stopped me. A light touch on 
the arm was enough to stop me from just walking 
out that door. He said that he did care, that he 
wanted to take Spender down and that I had 
another chance with him and he let me leave.

I was back at his place about 2 weeks later with 
file after file of stuff I'd kept back, that 
I've withheld because I was playing for power, 
not justice. I handed it all over to him. I 
don't think anybody could be more surprised then 
how he was that night, seeing me there in the 
doorway with so much information and clues.

I was scared of Skinner after that point. Every 
time he reached out to me to take a file or 
something, I'd jerk back. I'd jump every time I 
heard his voice if he wasn't sitting directly in 
front of me. I was so unnerved by him. He didn't 
fit in the same place anymore.

He started to apologize for his conduct, for 
what he did to me but I couldn't let him cheapen 
that moment. I think that startled him about as 
much as when I handed him all those files. I 
told him that I needed that, that I needed 
someone to ground me after everything that had 
happened. I told him that I needed someone to 
trust, to have a Scully.

That's when he made his offer. He said that I 
would become his, his instrument, his operative, 
his tool, his. He said that I had a week to 
think about it, to not come until next Sunday 
and to consider what I wanted. Then he pushed me 
out the door to let me think.

And that is what led me to here, holding that 
brown leather belt. I could almost still feel 
the welts, there was still bruising on my back 
but mostly they had disappeared, healed since 
then. I knew that I needed them. I felt such a 
desire, such a hunger to have that leather 
pressed against my flesh again, holding me in 
check.

I needed that grounding, I needed somewhere to 
belong, I needed someone to belong to. I needed 
*more.*

I twisted the leather in my hand, feeling it 
soothe against my skin. I looped it around and 
ran it against the sensitive skin of my neck. I 
was hard in an instant.

I bought the belt that night and played with it 
for a while after going back to bed. I still 
felt restless until I laced the belt through the 
buckle. I punctured an extra hole in the belt, 
about 16 inches past the buckle. I slept like 
that, the belt tied around my throat, a 
connection back to this world, holding me, 
claiming me.

I couldn't wait for Sunday. I'd be there at 
midnight, as the day turned. I wanted time with 
Skinner. I wanted him to show me how to be his.

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