| Summary: Explanation of where Pendrell went (because he didn't die!) and some hot slashy sex between him and Krycek.
Author: Chrysoberyl Rosewood
Title: Winging It
by Chrysoberyl Rosewood
Note From Chrys:
I didn't realize it until right now, but this is my very first attempt at
writing erotica. Isn't this so incredibly special?
Yeah, well, it is.
Anyway, once again, this is an X-Files fanfic, and you probably need a bit of a
background if you're going to make sense of it. Alex Krycek is a bad, bad man.
No one likes him. He's evil. He attempted to kill your hero and mine, Fox
Mulder. However, for this story, he's the love interest of everyone's favorite
lab tech, Danny Pendrell.
In the show, Pendrell dies. I joined a club a few years back (see note on
previous story, "Partnered" to learn more), which honored Pendrell's passing.
And like any good Brenden Beiser fan, I KNEW that no one on the X-Files REALLY
dies, and that he would be back at any second.
That was six years ago and I'm still waiting.
So anyway, this is my little concoction of how Pendrell really didn't die, with
a lot of good sex thrown in for the fun of it.
Please don't sue me for using your characters, Chris Carter.
Krycek walked down the dimly lit street, his dark eyes glinting in the shadowy
lights. He glanced back and forth, always ready for trouble, wherever it may
choose to seek him out. Although there was no one that he knew of in particular
that, at the moment, wanted to haul him off to jail or worse, there was always a
chance that some shadowy conspirator had taken an interest in his past movements
for the Russian government, and would want to . . . seek him out.
When he had received the encoded note in his e-mail box, he was incredibly
confused. When decoded it said, simply, "I need your help. Meet me at the Spot,
2:00 a.m. this morning. --P" Krycek knew who it was from, but he didn't
understand why this particular would choose this method of contacting him,
nor why he wouldn't just wait until Thursday to ask for help when he saw Krycek
again. But that was "P" for you.
As he approached the corner of 11th and Parkington, dubbed "the Spot" for quick
reference, Krycek didn't see whom he was supposed to be meeting. The street
lamps threw their glows in pools that had very nearly no affect on the inky
blackness surrounding them. Krycek liked it that way. It made him felt warm and
sheltered. Although it was true, the darkness hid his enemies, it also hid him
from his enemies.
Krycek glanced at his watch, only stepping into the light for a few seconds.
1:58. Damn. He was always early. And everyone he was always meeting was always
late. He stepped back out again, once again bathed in darkness.
Ten minutes later, a voice came from behind him. "You're early. Again."
Krycek knew instantly that it was the same person who had sent the e-mail. He
turned around slowly, letting the seconds tick away. "And you're late. Again."
"Ah, but when you're in the position that I'm in, you can't just rush away from
your job. Especially when you're working on a case with others."
Krycek sighed, because he knew it was true. "Let's walk," he commanded, starting
off down the street. The other quickly caught up to him, and they continued
on their way, just two on a leisurely stroll down a darkened street at 2:00
in the morning.
"That's what I came to talk to you about," said the man.
"What is?" Krycek asked, confused.
"My job. And getting out."
Krycek observed a long and drawn out silence, the only sound the swoosh of their
pants, and an occasional car turning a few streets over. After amassing enough
time to probably make the other nervous, Krycek chose to respond, "And what
makes you think it's time for you to get out?"
The other didn't speak for a couple minutes. When he did, he said simply,
"Because I know you."
Krycek laughed. He certainly did. In fact, Krycek was the one who had decided to
put this particular in the position he was in, both as a distraction to
Mulder and Scully, and as a help from the inside. And since Krycek was out,
there was really no need for the other to stay. "You're right," he said,
reaching for his keys and unlocking the door to a dingy apartment. "It's about
time you got out. Now, come on inside, and we'll discuss how we'll do that."
The dim street flitting for one last moment off of Agent Danny Pendrell's face
as he entered the building, followed closely by Krycek.
"So do you finally understand?" said Krycek, gritting his teeth, and reaching
into himself for patience. Deep within himself. There wasn't much left.
"No, wait," said Pendrell for what seemed like the twentieth time that night.
"You're going to have someone *shoot* me?"
"No, not *shoot* you, shoot *at* you."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference *is* that the gun will not be loaded. It will be up to *you* to
pop the bladder filled with blood," Krycek sighed and stood up from the
"Oh, so *that's* what that was supposed to be for!" Pendrell responded. "I
really didn't understand what a bladder of blood was going to do for me. Okay, I
get it." He paused for a moment. "Now, tell me again about the drug?"
Krycek closed his eyes. He opened them again. "What *is* it with you and every
little detail? You don't need to plan everything out! You just . . . go with the
flow! You just . . . do what comes naturally! You just . . . use a little
creativity and common sense and it will sort itself out. You just *wing it*!"
Pendrell's expression was one of hurt. "Why does it matter that I want a little
structure in my life? I like to know what's going on. I don't want anything to
go wrong. I want to know that this thing will go off without a hitch. Scully's a
doctor, you know, What if she finds the bladder? I mean, it doesn't take a
doctor even, to figure out that I've not been shot!"
Krycek gave a twisted grin. "We'll slip a little something into her drink, too.
She'll be a little disoriented. And with this 'vulnerable little lab boy'
routine we've been building up around you, you know she had a thing for you.
She'll be too distressed about the possibility of death to be able to think
straight. And the drug will help, too."
Pendrell looked a little smug. "Yeah, I do play the vulnerable lab bit well,
Krycek looked at him. "What does that mean?"
"It means she wants me."
"She wa--you *are* crazy, you know that?"
"What, am I making you jealous?"
"Jealous? Of a woman? How can I be jealous of a woman? *I* know you've only got
eyes for me. *I* know that you'd never touch her. And I," said Krycek, leaning
over Pendrell, "know it's only me that can make you scream in pleasure." With
that, he planted a firm kiss on Pendrell's lips, then backed away to sit in his
Pendrell's mouth screwed up in mock annoyance. "Fine. You go on believing what
you want to believe. You don't know me that well."
Krycek's eyebrows arched artfully up. "Oh, *don't I*?"
That brought a mischievous grin to Pendrell's face. "No. You don't. But if you
pull this off, I just have to warn you. Woman or no woman, I'm going to have one
hell of a thank you for you."
Krycek's breathing became a little shallower.
"But not until you pull it off," Pendrell sniffed, then sat back in his chair.
"Now, about this bladder again. Where do I put it?"
Krycek rolled his eyes.
A week and a half later, Pendrell was sitting at the bar.
Okay, remember, remember, remember, thought Pendrell. Remember to put the drug
in my drink when I see the four consecutive flashes out of the east window.
Remember that this is a quick acting coma inducing drug, so stagger around for
awhile, and only drink it right before he shoots you. Pendrell squeezed his eyes
shut. The worry was what was getting to him. Remember that you trust Krycek to
come get you with ambulance, and that when you get to the hospital and your
heart is found to be "stopped" and you are declared "dead" that Krycek will
rescue you. You will not wake up six feet under. You will not wake up to find
your lover dead beside you.
Pendrell wished that his ninth grade teacher had not forced him to read "Romeo
and Juliet," or, if he had to read it, that his tenth grade teacher had told
him, "An overactive imagination is what good are made of. Run with it,"
or if she had, that he hadn't listened to her.
The waiting was killing him.
Then there were the four flashes. Oh, God, this is it. He thought. He saw the
man enter. He took a quick swig of the alcohol in his hand and shouted something
in the general direction of Scully. There was a bang.
Pop the bladder, pop the bladder! He thought. He did.
The last conscious thought that he had with Scully standing over him was Gee,
this stuff really is fast-acting.
Twelve hours later, Pendrell opened his eyes.
At first he didn't know where he was. He was lying on something soft. There was
a cool air blowing on him from his left, and his hands were folded together on
his chest. He looked up at the ceiling. It was nothing special. He started to
turn his head to the left but stopped short when it felt like his brain was
falling out of his ear.
"Ohhh . . ." he moaned. "My head!" Even talking was too much for him, so he
whispered it. "My head."
Just then, someone entered the room. "You're awake!" a voice said. "I was
beginning to be worried. The drug kept you unconscious for longer than is
Pendrell then remembered. "Oh, yeah, that," he whispered. "Well, I've always
been that way. When I had my tonsils removed, I didn't wake up for two hours,
and my flew into a rage, hit the doctor, and began screaming that he had
killed me. By the way, when will the ache in my head go away?"
Krycek looked at him blankly for a moment. "Oh! Well, that should go away in a
few minutes. It usually doesn't last more than a couple seconds, but maybe it's
along the same lines as your prolonged unconsciousness. It usually goes away
instantly and suddenly in the first few seconds after you wake up. You won't
even remember it." He smiled down at the lying on the couch. "You should be
as good as new in a few minutes. Meanwhile, I'm sure you're starved. I'll go fix
something for you to eat. We don't have any obligations until tomorrow morning."
The grin he threw Pendrell was more than a little bit mischievous.
Pendrell grinned shyly back at him, and squeezed his hand. "Then I guess you'll
get your thank you tonight," he whispered. "If my brain doesn't ooze out my ear
"You'll be fine," said Krycek, laughing. "I'll be back."
He left the room, and Pendrell watched him go. He then closed his eyes, which
seemed to make the pain lessen. Less than two minutes later, it was all gone.
Surprised, Pendrell opened his eyes. Krycek was right. He could barely remember
the pain that was threatening to his skull in two just a second earlier.
He sat up carefully, but there wasn't even a hint of a headache. "Strange," he
muttered to himself.
Pendrell then stood up and looked at himself. "Oh my--" His clothes were soaked
in drying blood. His was ripped and his pants were covered with mud. In
his next breath, he nearly gagged. He didn't smell the greatest, either. He
hurried across the living room into the bathroom to get out of his clothes as
fast as he could.
Krycek heard Pendrell shuffling around in the bathroom, and left the cheese
sandwiches to cook on the stove.
"Do you need some clothes?" he asked, knocking on the door.
Pendrell turned from the sink where he was standing in nothing but his
underwear, scrubbing his face. "That would be great. You never told me that the
blood would smell so badly."
"It's real blood; what did you expect?" Krycek answered.
"R-real blood?" Pendrell stammered.
"Not human blood," Krycek said, smiling. "It's, well, I'm not sure what
it's from. It's what they used to use to make horror realistic."
Pendrell put down the washcloth in frustration. "I'm just going to take a
shower. I'll never get this smell off me."
Krycek looked longingly at Pendrell for a few moments, but then decided that
joining him in the shower wasn't the best idea. He was still recuperating from
the effects of the drug, and they needed to eat first. "I'll go get your clothes
and then finish making our dinner."
Pendrell's eyes took on a saddened look. "You won't join me?"
"No," Krycek rubbed a playful hand over Pendrell's left butt cheek and gave it a
squeeze. "Food first. Then we can . . . play . . ." He left.
Pendrell stepped into the shower and let the water run over his body. When he
heard the door open, he thought Krycek hesitated a little longer than necessary,
as if almost caving in and joining him in the shower, but he didn't. The door
shut with a soft thud.
Krycek was humming as he put the ketchup and sandwiches on the table. Pendrell
came out, rubbing his hair with a towel and wearing the fresh-smelling clothes
that Krycek picked out for him-"Although I don't know why I even put them on,
since they're coming right back off again."
Man, thought Krycek to himself, you wouldn't tell from his demeanor in public,
but when he's with a lover, there is no shame to that boy! And that's why he's
so sexy. Krycek smiled.
"What are you grinning at?"
"Nothing. Just-oh, come here." Krycek gathered Pendrell in his arms and gave him
a bear hug, then let go and sat down at the table.
That was definitely not what Pendrell was expecting. "*What* was that?" he
Krycek began laughing. "Nothing! I just wanted to see how you would react."
Pendrell smiled his crooked smile, then sat down. "You are so strange,
They ate their cheese sandwiches in amiable silence, each thinking their own
private thoughts, but not letting a hint of it show on their faces. When
Pendrell had swallowed his last bite of sandwich and Krycek had finished gulping
his milk, they looked at each other.
"I'll clear the plates," said Pendrell, "since you made dinner."
"It was just cheese sandwiches!" argued Krycek.
"No, I'll do it."
Krycek wandered into the living room, wondering what to do for the next few
minutes. He was hoping that Pendrell would pull of this thank you without
embarrassment. Although he loved the dearly, Krycek knew that Pendrell was
not the one who would take charge of a relationship. But maybe, just maybe, he
could pull it off.
He was about to.
Pendrell contemplated the best way of starting things. Tonight would be his
night-for Krycek. He would please Krycek. He would make him happy. He would make
him beg for mercy. How exactly would he do that? Pendrell had always been one to
plan exactly the last details in his life--but now with his "death," he was
starting over with a totally new life. And that's exactly what he would do--in
the words of Krycek, "wing it". Start over. Do what came naturally.
He rinsed the last dish, put it in the dish drainer, and stepped into the living
room. Krycek was staring out the window, something distant only he could see.
Pendrell quickly drew the blinds.
"Oh, are you done--" started Krycek, but got no further.
Pendrell had closed the distance between them and had placed his mouth firmly
over Krycek. He was now kissing Krycek with all his might, his tongue tracing
over Krycek's teeth, and sliding over his tongue.
Wow, just like that! thought Pendrell. No planning, no thinking, just bam!
Krycek was more than a little bit stunned, but it was a very pleasant way to be
stunned. For a couple seconds, he just sat there numbly, letting Pendrell do the
kissing, but then he decided this new take-charge attitude of Pendrell's. He had
never been the one to instigate things in their relationship before, and that
was fine with Krycek--not that he minded this new Pendrell. In fact, he rather
enjoyed it. Maybe Pendrell really did mean to give him a terrific thank you.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
As Krycek began to kiss back, Pendrell hands began roaming. His right hand
stroked through Krycek's hair and to the back of his head. He pulled the
closer to him, as his left hand curved over Krycek's buttocks. Krycek linked
hands behind Pendrell's back and sighed happily into the kiss.
Pendrell decided it was about time to move things along. He began thrusting his
tongue more intimately into the other man's mouth--which left Krycek pleasantly
surprised again. Pendrell rubbed his left hand up Krycek's side, and underneath
his t-shirt. He brought the other hand down, broke the kiss, and lifted the
shirt up over the man's head. A second later, he was back at Krycek's mouth,
sucking and thrusting, almost in confusion.
He pulled away. Krycek's back and side were suddenly cold from where Pendrell's
hands were previously roaming. "Wha . . .?"
Pendrell gave him the sexiest look he had and whispered, "Wanna see me . . .
Krycek's eyes crinkled into a half-smile.
"Are you smiling at me, man?" said Pendrell, sternly.
When Pendrell made a derogatory noise, Krycek laughed.
"No, no. It's just, I love this new, take-charge Pendrell. It's very . . . very
. . . sexy." Krycek threw a come hither look at Pendrell, and the man's will
power nearly gave way. Pendrell didn't know if he could stand stripping for
Krycek, although it was his idea. Well, better start.
Pendrell began weaving back and forth, slowly reaching for the bottom of his t-
shirt. His hands moved in a downward arc, closer and closer . . . He slowly
lifted the cotton material over his head and threw it to the floor, forgotten
already. He stared Krycek straight into the eyes as he rubbed his hands over his
own chest. Left hand up, right hand down, left hand down, right hand up, moving
in little circles. He rolled his head backwards and forwards as the circles
approached the jeans clasp. He popped the button with his thumb, and pulled the
zipper down so slowly that Krycek was sure that he would never get to the bottom
of it. Down, down, down, down-- But Pendrell was at the bottom, and he slowly
hooked his fingers around his jeans and pulled them down. He stood up slowly and
stepped out of them.
He was standing there in only his underwear now, and Krycek could already see
the outline of his hardened cock under the underwear. That reminded Krycek of
his own familiar ache gathering in his groin area. Moaning softly and closing
his eyes, Pendrell slid the underwear down until his cock pulled free, and the
underwear slid to the floor. Krycek was incredibly turned on. He began to cross
the space that was between him, but Pendrell's eyes popped open and he held up
his hand. Krycek stopped.
With the hand, Pendrell then began to rub Krycek's chest. He stepped closer to
the man, and placed his lips on Krycek's neck. His lips traced slowly down
Krycek's chest, nipping in places, stopping at the man's nipples and at
each one. He continued slowly down Krycek's stomach, until he reached the man's
jeans. He licked Krycek's stomach and pulled away slowly. With one swift
movement, the button and zipper were open, then the pants were pulled down.
Pendrell could see Krycek's straining member underneath the thin cotton, and he
nuzzled his right cheek to it, moaning.
Krycek grasped Pendrell's hair, pulling him closer. They sat like that, Pendrell
moaning and rubbing his cheek against Krycek's clothed member, and Krycek
pushing his hips against Pendrell's head. Pendrell pulled away, but only enough
to slide the underwear down to the floor. He motioned for Krycek to step out of
"Lay down," Pendrell commanded.
Only to happy to oblige, Krycek sat down right where he was, then leaned back
until his head rested on the floor. Pendrell climbed to the top of him, not
touching him at all, though, except the sides of his arms next to Krycek's
sides. Pendrell leaned in and kissed Krycek roughly, at the same time thrusting
his hips so that their cocks brushed one another.
Krycek started from the contact, not expecting it. Pendrell did it again. Krycek
tried to follow him on the way back up, but Pendrell broke the kiss. "No . . ."
Pendrell grinned, then reached down and bit Krycek's left nipple. He slid back,
kissing and licking his way down Krycek's chest and stomach, until he began to
nuzzle the place where his leg met his body. He kissed down, down, and pushed
Krycek's leg up, licking and nipping his inner thigh. Pendrell rubbed his right
hand over the top of Krycek's stomach, then brought his lips to Krycek's sac,
Krycek began moaning and Pendrell broke the contact. Krycek moaned even louder,
which made Pendrell smile. He quickly licked Krycek's cock, but was gone before
the could even react. He traced the tip of his tongue up the underside of
Krycek's cock, then pulled away swiftly before Krycek could press himself
against him. He licked up the right side of Krycek's cock, then pulled away. He
repeated this process on the top and left side, until the he was tormenting
began to beg him to stop.
"Oh, Pendrell . . . please . . . don't . . . oh . . . yes . . . please . . .
touch me . . . oh . . . no . . . yes . . .oh . . ." Krycek didn't think he was
going to be able to stand it any longer when suddenly Pendrell's mouth closed
around Krycek's entire cock. He began sucking, pulling the deeper and deeper
into his mouth, until he had to suppress his gag reflex.
"OH YES YES, PENDRELL, MORE, MORE, YES, PLEASE, GOD, YES!" screamed Krycek, as
his hip movements became more erratic.
Pendrell and let go, and let go, letting Krycek slide in and out
of his mouth.
"YES, SUCK ME, HARDER, MORE, MORE!" Krycek's movements were frenzied, his hands
spasming in Pendrell's hair.
Pendrell could see that Krycek wasn't going to last much longer. He relaxed his
throat, pulling Krycek in as far as he could and hummed.
That was all it took.
Krycek came, screaming, spurting his seed into the other man's mouth. Pendrell
did all he could to hold on, nearly choking one time, but he made it. Krycek's
hips pounded into his mouth, and he screamed Pendrell's name.
As the shaking subsided, Pendrell let Krycek's flaccid cock slide out of his
mouth, gasping for breath. He sat up, sighing.
Krycek swallowed, and let his legs drop to the floor. He sat there for a moment.
"So, was it good?" Pendrell asked, still breathing a bit hard
Krycek's senses were still reeling from the incredible fucking he had just
gotten. "How in the *hell* did you learn how to do that, Mr. Sexy?"
Pendrell swallowed, looking at Krycek from the corner of his eye. "From you."
"From me? You mean, you've *never* done that before?"
"No. I've always been very passive. On the receiving end. Not that I mind." He
gave a mischievous grin.
That's when Krycek noticed Pendrell's straining member. "Oh, no, I'm feeling
very selfish at the moment," he said, grinning. "Do you want me to do something
about that?" He reached out for Pendrell's dick.
"No! I mean, no." Pendrell said. "This is my thank you present to you."
"So that means that you're just going to give me the blow job of my life and not
do anything about yourself? That's supposed to be a present?" Krycek lifted his
"I didn't say that was the end of your present, did I?" said Pendrell, then
instantly wondered why he did.
Krycek looked extremely surprised. "You mean there's more?"
Winging it, thought Pendrell. "Yeah, there's more." He covered Krycek's mouth
with his. The intensity of the kiss was enough to knock Krycek off his feet, if
he had been standing. As the kiss deepened, Krycek even began to feel faint
stirring in his cock again. Pendrell pulled away. "And who said I wasn't going
to do anything about myself?" he asked.
Before Krycek had a chance to ponder what that could possibly mean, Pendrell's
tongue was once again traversing the inside of his mouth. Pendrell on
Krycek's bottom lip until he didn't think he could handle it anymore, then he
pulled away. "Watch," he said, in a low, throaty voice.
Pendrell scooted back a ways from Krycek and spread his legs slightly apart. He
rubbed his left hand over his chest, and rubbed his right hand up and through
his hair. He threw his head back, and moaned, moving his left hand closer to his
Krycek watched the proceedings with more and more excitement, his eyes growing
wider and wider. Definitely no shame to this boy. He felt the stirrings in his
cock begin to take on more shape, and before long, his cock was hard again.
Pendrell's left hand suddenly changed direction, and moved back up his chest,
until both hands were clawing in his hair. He slid his legs under him, so that
he was sitting on his knees. He moaned loudly for Krycek's benefit, then began
stabbing his dick into the air, his moans growing louder with every thrust. He
moaned and moaned, until Krycek was sure that one more stab he would, somehow,
inexplicably, come. Pendrell suddenly stopped. He rolled back onto his butt and
spread his legs wide apart, thankful for flexibility. He looked right into
Krycek's eyes. He rubbed his hands down his chest, slowly, slowly, stroked his
inner thighs, then began to trace both thumbs up his cock.
He shuddered. He pressed his thumbs harder into his dick. He stroked, and
stroked, his hands moving up and down his cock, rubbing and touching places that
always elicited a groan from him. "Oh . . . yes . . ." he moaned.
Pendrell's eyes never left Krycek's. Krycek's however, never stopped following
those roaming hands. His breath was coming in shallowly now; he watched as
Pendrell stroked himself with one finger, then two, then three, until he was
violently fucking his hand for all he was worth.
Krycek's eyes never left Pendrell's hands, which were in a blur moving over his
cock. He watched as the other poked and prodded and rubbed himself, groaning
loudly in satisfaction. It was one of the most erotic sights Krycek had ever
seen. Krycek reached down for his own penis.
Pendrell saw it, and as soon as Krycek's hands touched his own dick, Pendrell's
stopped touching his own. Although his mind screamed, "Noooo!" somehow Pendrell
steeled himself, and with sheer willpower, moved to his knees again. Surprise
was evident in the other man's eyes, and he almost ashamedly took his hands
away, and looked at the floor. Within half a second, Pendrell had crossed the
"It's all right," he murmured. "That was what I was waiting for."
He licked Krycek's nipple, looked at his dick, and pushed him back on his back.
He wiped the precum off of his own cock and slathered it on his entrance. He
wiped Krycek's precum up and down Krycek's cock in preparation of what was to
Pendrell stood up, then put a foot on either side of Krycek's chest. Krycek's
heart pounded in expectation of what was to come. Pendrell lowered himself, ever
so slowly, prolonging the moment. He paused with Krycek's cock outside his
entrance, then slowly impaled himself on the other man. Down, down, down,
stopping until the burning sensation had died away and the incredibly good
feeling of fullness filled him.
Pendrell slid his bent legs underneath him thanking flexibility for no uncomfort
in sitting this way.
He began to rock. As he began to rock, his hands crept up and over his legs,
grasping his own cock once again.
"No, let me . . ." gasped Krycek, trying to pull his hands out to grasp
Pendrell's penis, but he couldn't. The way Pendrell had sat down had pinned his
arms to his side. "Please . . ." But Pendrell wasn't budging. He held Krycek's
arms fast underneath him, and continued to squeeze his own cock.
But the problem of touching Pendrell was fast becoming the least of his worries.
Heck, he didn't really care about any worries. The erotic sight of Pendrell's
masturbation continuing right in front of him and the tightness on his cock were
quickly becoming the only thing he could sense. Krycek began to meet Pendrell's
movements, up for down and down for up.
"Yes, Pendrell, baby, yes," moaned Krycek, steeling his arms against the legs
that were pressing in to his sides. Up and down and up and down; his hips were
moving frantically now. "Harder, please, go, oh, yes . . ."
Pendrell was once again fucking his hand as hard as his cock would take it. He
moaned loudly, still rocking, still lifting his body up and down on top of
Krycek, but becoming much less rhythmic and much more frantic. "YES!" he
shouted. "Do it to me, baby!"
Then, Pendrell threw back his head and howled. Krycek began to see stars and his
hips lifted Pendrell off the ground. Pendrell on the underneath
him, his hands jerking around his cock. His powerful muscles began squeezing
Krycek, and he came, too, screaming and spurting his seed into the on top of
Gradually the men's bucking quieted down and they fell apart, just lying on the
ground, looking at the ceiling.
"That was so incredible, Pendrell."
"Um . . . thanks . . ."
Krycek pushed himself up on an elbow. "No, it was. And you're trying to tell me
that you *planned* all this?"
Pendrell looked sheepish for a moment. "Well, no, not really. I'm dead. I'm a
new man. I've decided just . . . to . . . wing it . . ."
"Well, Mr. Sexy, I just have one thing to say."
There was a pause.
There was another pause.
"I sure hope that you decide to wing it every night."
Write me: ChrysRosewood@yahoo.com