NEW Arrested Momentum 1/1

Deslea R. Judd
Copyright 2003

DISCLAIMER: Characters not mine. Interpretation mine.
ARCHIVE: Sure, just keep my name and headers.
RATING: R for sex and adult themes.
SPOILERS/TIMEFRAME: Non-specific, but during a time of consolidation. Probably either late Season 4 or Requiem.
CATEGORY/KEYWORDS: Vignette. Romance. Krycek/Marita. Skamperfic. Shades of low-key BDSM.
SUMMARY: A special request leaves Alex annoyed. But why did she ask?
DEDICATION: For Kristen, who was horrified.
MORE FIC: http://fiction.deslea.com
FEEDBACK: Love the stuff. deslea@deslea.com.
AWARDS/ELIGIBILITY: Spooky Awards 2003 eligible.

Alex Krycek was annoyed.

This was not an unusual state of affairs. What was unusual was the fact that the source of his annoyance was a naked woman, and one working her way down his body with her lips, at that.

"Quit pissing around, Marita," he muttered, voice gravelly with irritation.

Instantly, the kisses stopped, and she sat up. She held up a black riding crop with one hand, and perched the other on her hip. "You promised, Alex."

He wondered whether she would really use it. In fact, he thought she probably wouldn't. Madam Lash she wasn't. Still, it wouldn't pay to piss her off. Not at the best of times, and especially not when he wanted to fuck her.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and she lowered the crop. Shone him a mischievious little grin and lowered her mouth to his belly once more.

He tried to stay still. He really did. He even managed it for a minute or two. But he kept looking at her blonde head, moving oh, so slowly down towards his cock, and it bugged the shit out of him. He wanted to *do* something - drag her up, plunder her mouth, kiss her and suck her and fuck her. His hand twitched in the general direction of her head, and with difficulty, he stayed it.

Why the fuck had he agreed to this?

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. BDSM was never high on his own list of turn-ons, but nor had he been opposed to the idea when she suggested it. He didn't see himself as a submissive, but this was pretty vanilla in BDSM terms. More role-playing than anything. Hell, he was used to taking orders, even when he didn't like them. And let's just say for the record that Alex Krycek foresaw no objection to being told to ravish the most beautiful woman to grace his bed in a long, long time.

So why the irritation?

He was just lying there, that was why. Useless. He was hard, but he felt impotent in every way that mattered. He wanted to move and speak and touch and push and pull and thrust. He wanted to act. He felt it like a need. A compulsion. He felt mounting frustration, so strong that he was very tempted to just walk away. Get up, go to the bathroom, jack off. She might flounce out in a huff, but she'd probably be back. And if she wasn't, she'd take him back if he went to her. He was sure of that much.

Really, the only thing that stopped him was the thought of her warmth wrapped around his cock. God, he wanted that. Needed it badly. He'd forgotten how good it was to sink into a woman's softness and just forget everything else. Marita would have slapped him if she knew that the thing he liked best about her was fucking her, but it wasn't that simple. He liked fucking her best because that was the one thing that was just about them. No work, no vaccine, no Mulder, no Spender. And when they were finished, that was the one time he was at rest.

Damn women and their stupid romance bullshit. Any man could pretend to give a shit about foreplay. It took love to want to hold onto her afterwards. Why didn't women understand that?

God, he wanted to fuck her.

So he stayed there. Irritated. Not even her mouth around his cock could totally alleviate his annoyance, although it certainly made some inroads. He felt himself lengthening in response to her strokes, and slowly, he relaxed. The tension in his body ebbed away a little. His hand found her hair.

She pulled away.

"Marita!" he protested. "I was getting into that."

"I told you not to touch me."

"You're sucking me off! How can I not touch you?"

"Alex," she warned. Reached out for the crop.

He stared at her mutinously, but he leaned back once more. Closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

Damn it, was it really worth it just to get off?

Tough call. But her mouth was around his cock again. That was something. Maybe he'd wait it out, after all. And there were worse ways of spending a night in.

In truth, all irritation aside, it was good to see her in a good mood again. She'd been worried about him. Said so at great length and frequency. You're going to work yourself into an early grave, Alex. He'd told her it was better than the alternative. She hadn't had an answer for that.

He told himself to be patient with her. She had needs too, and it was one thing to say their needs were secondary, but they couldn't do that all the time. There had to be something left for them. Even if it was just a riding crop and a blowjob.

She pulled up and away. He felt her moving above him. Straddling him with slender thighs. Her ass against his cock. Soft, sex-scented wisps of hair teasing low on his belly.

"Alex?"

He opened his eyes. Fuck, she was beautiful, sitting there like that.

"Yeah?"

She looked at him. Unusually grave. "Tell me what you want."

At last. He let out a low sigh of relief. Began to sit up. "God. I want to fuck you."

She pushed him down again by the shoulders. "No!" she shouted. Her face hovered over him, framed with hair, eyes suddenly, inexplicably wet. "I don't want you to do anything, don't you get that, you stupid asshole? Shit!"

He stared at her. Utterly bewildered. What the fuck?

He groped for an explanation. Came up blank. "What?" he demanded. "What?"

"Tell me what you want," she whispered. Fingers brushing his lips. "Not what you want to do."

It was important to her, but he couldn't begin to fathom why.

"I don't understand."

"Here," she prompted. Still brushing his mouth. "What do you want here?"

He couldn't speak. Just tried to rise up to kiss her.

"You want me to kiss you?"

He nodded. Still hopelessly confused, but understanding what she was asking for, at least. "Yeah."

She leaned down and closed her mouth over his. Softness. Warmth. Tender hands stroking his neck. She felt so good. He closed his eyes. Let her warmth and her kindness sweep over him. Surrendered to it and let her love him.

She took his hand in hers. "Where?" she asked him, breaking the kiss, eyes wide.

"Breast," he managed. When had that ordinary word become so hard to say?

She guided his hand, and he watched its path with longing. Marita watched him, and she shifted. Bringing her breast to his lips. He took it into his mouth, staring up at her. Still confused, but the confusion was gossamer-thin. He felt adrift. Engulfed in her white softness. Everything else seemed far away. Her breaths grew heavy, and her gaze distant, and she spasmed against him, his name falling from her lips. Moved down to kiss him once more when it was over. All he could feel was wetness and heat in his mouth, and slick warmth pressed hard against his cock, and, God, he wanted her.

"Inside," he breathed against her. "I want to be inside you." To his utter mortification, there was sudden heat in his face. Salt in his throat.

It wasn't the need that moved him. It was understanding that he could ask.

"Alex," she said. Gently. He felt her body engulf him. He gave a long, low sound of need when she sank down against his hips.

"Oh, God," he breathed. "Jesus, Marita. You're so fucking soft."

Her mouth tasted of tears when she kissed him. He still had not even the faintest idea why. He kissed her too. Tender. Bewildered.

"You don't have to do everything, Alex," she said into his hair. She kissed his temple. "It isn't all up to you. Not with us."

Light dawned. "That's what this was about?" he wondered, staring up at her. Stroking her hair. She didn't try to stop him.

"Pretty much." She smiled a little. He tried to tug her closer, but she shook her head. Still smiling.

"I want you closer," he said awkwardly. It didn't come naturally, and he didn't think it ever would. But the look on her face was worth it. She sank down closer and held him tight.

It was quick. He was overwhelmed as much as he was aroused. It didn't matter. They stayed there, kissing and touching long after the ripples had ebbed away.

"You know, Marita," he after a while, "I'm never going to be the sort to just ask like that. I'm not good at asking. For anything."

"I know that, Alex," she said. She sounded sleepy. "But will you let me give? Just now and then?"

"I'll try," he said. "Good enough?"

She nodded. Kissed him. "Good enough."

END

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The exact discussion leading up to the writing of this fic appears below.

deslea: oh, crap.
kristenk2: what?
deslea: I now have a Krycek/Marita BDSM vignette plotbunny.
kristenk2: LOLOLOL. Don't worry, it will pass. Or you'll just noodle it around like I do my MasterSlave one. But you won't write it. Trust me. :)

You'd really think she'd know better by now, wouldn't you?

The precursor to the chat snippet was that we were talking about a Harem discussion in which we'd been asked to consider which pairings would work as BDSM. I contended that Krycek and Marita were highly unlikely, but not impossible, because men with heavy commitments and a highly ingrained sense of responsibility were often the ones who liked to be dominated, because it was the only way they could let go. That made me think I'd like to see it explored, but I knew I couldn't write a full-scale BDSM. I have an intellectual understanding of what drives it, and some knowledge of the scene, but I don't relate to it well enough to be able to write it in depth.

So anyway, while we were talking about it, I got to thinking about how so many sexual fantasies don't pan out. Like, you want to try something, but then when you try it, neither of you really like it, or it's awkward or uncomfortable, or whatever. And that spawned the idea, what if Marita engineered something like this to try to make him let go, and it just annoyed him? And it all just snowballed from there.

But still. It might not have happened if not for Kristen. Heh.