Welcome To The Harem

Soul Purpose by She Who Hides
Summary: "I stopped missing my soul. That's how I know I lost it." Requiem missing scene, Krycek/Marita, NC17.

Hi :) I had meant introduce myself and
get this out onto this list sooner,
but Real Life--and my lurker's nature
--got in the way. However...I just
got a direct request to post here, so I'm
going to forget all about being
shy. And I'll let the story serve as
introduction. :) Hope you all enjoy


Title: Soul Purpose
Author: she who hides
Feedback: I would really appreciate it...
Archives: I would love to be archived!
Please send an email w/ URL. Goss and
Spookys OK.
Category: Krycek/Marita, Requiem post-
ep...more missing scene, actually
Spoilers: Requiem, 1S/2F, Patient X
Rating: NC17
Summary: "I stopped missing my soul," he
said harshly. "That's how I know I
lost it."
Disclaimer: These characters all belong
to CC and his crew at 1013.

Notes and Warnings: Thank you to
ellixian, my pariah buddy, who edited
for me and convinced me it was worthy. :)
The title of this fic might be
strange and oddly sappy (no, not
misspelled ), but the tone of the fic
dark. Well, IMO, it is. You might

"give me your lust, and your sorrow..."

Doesn't get much better then this, Alex
thought as he sprawled out and
sighed. The bed creaked, the mattress
sagged and the blankets scratched even
through his t-shirt, but he didn't need
to be comfortable. Not when he was
clean, and well-fed...even with the
horrible bed, he was almost content.

Only thing I need now is to be well-
fucked, he thought as he caught a trace
of Marita's scent on the still, hot air.

She had a familiar smell, one that he
found almost...insanely arousing after
having spent so many months in a cell
packed so full that he didn't even
have the room to get hard, let alone jack

Of course, his fellow inmates hadn't
seemed bothered by the lack of space.
They'd all been quite...active...but he'd
been left alone. Despite being
one-armed and malnourished, he'd been
dangerous--the other inmates had
sensed that, and kept their distance.

Hadn't bothered him any. They had all
carried the musky smell of decay and
deprivation, with the bitter underlying
aroma that comes from never washing
off built-up grime and dirt. He'd never
smelled anything worse in his life,
was only too glad to keep as much
distance between them and him as the
crowded confines allowed.

But there's no need for distance from
her, he thought, and shifted as blood
pooled in his groin.

Her skin carried a musky scent too, but
it was...clean and most assuredly
female. Somehow a little dangerous...the
scent of a predator, he had thought
when he first met her, but he liked it,
preferred it.

She had been a sleek, dangerous woman
when he met her, his favorite kind.
The only kind he had any use for at all,

When he'd seen her last, however,
dangerous had faded into desperate...

Forget that now, he told himself. No
matter to you if she died, and hey--she
didn't. She looks...fully recovered.
Looks cold and hard but there's heat
just under the surface--

Alex shifted again, drawn into memory. He
hadn't thought about her in a long
time, but could remember how tight her
body was, how wet. How fine her skin
was. How it seemed so delicate but never
bruised when he put his hands on
her...no matter how rough he was. No
matter how rough she asked him to be.

She always came harder when it was rough,
he thought. With a fierce little
moan and incredibly powerful
contractions...she just splintered when
came. He loved it.

Alex closed his eyes and imagined pinning
her beneath him, spreading her
thighs with his, and then plunging deep
inside her, right down into the
places that had always begged for him,
even when she was pretending to fight
him off.

She'd probably try to fight if I touched
her right now, he thought. But it
wouldn't last, it never did. She'd be wet
in just a few seconds, and then,
when he started to thrust, she'd start to
cling like velvet...

His eyes opened again and he stared up,
into the shadows. Spider webs clung
to the corners, the ceiling, and Alex
would've bet that there were at least
a dozen furry little arachnids watching
him. He smiled and turned his head,
looking for Marita.

Late afternoon light filtered in through
the window, and Marita had
gravitated towards the moment they
entered the dingy little room. The panes
were narrow and the glass was dirty, but
she still gleamed in the dim light,
and he began to throb more powerfully, to

Not need, he thought. Never need, that's
never come into this kind of thing.
Want...this is all want...

And he wanted to take some of the gleam
off her, to muss her hair and ruin
that trim little suit. He *wanted* to
make her dirty--

"How did you manage to survive, Marita?"
he asked, sitting up on the edge of
the bed. He hoped he could make her
angry, hurt her. She was always more fun
when she was busy hating him. "You looked
like fucking hell, last I saw

She didn't respond. To his surprise, she
didn't even stiffen.

"Now...you look pretty good for a woman
who barely escaped death," he
continued, pushing, wanting some kind of
response. Silence and passivity
just weren't...satisfying.

This time he got what he wanted, but not
in the way he was expecting. She
didn't turn, didn't look at him, still
didn't seem to tighten up. She just
stood, straight and motionless and said,
"You're wrong, Alex. So wrong."

He let his eyes trail down her body,
lingering on her ass, the curve of her
hips and the long, slim length of her
legs. "How am I wrong, Marita?" he

"I didn't barely escape death; I *did*
die." She moved for the first time,
pressing her hand to the window, then
clenching it, making a fist. She
pounded the glass, once, and then slowly
dropped her arm.

"They brought me back again and again,"
she murmured quietly, "and they took
more from me every time...until there was
nothing left."

It was as dramatic a statement as any
soap opera queen could have made, in
spite of the fact that she said it all
calmly, coolly, without a lot of
emotion or emphasis. Alex rolled his eyes
and slowly rose, crossing the room
to stand just behind her.

"Such melodrama," he whispered in her
ear, watching as little wisps of hair
danced lightly with his breath. "How long
did you have to practice saying
that to get it so perfect?"

Marita turned her head and met his gaze.
Her eyes were completely empty and
chillingly cold, but Alex didn't look
away. He was used to that emptiness,
that chill; it was there every time he
looked in the mirror. And he was
pretty damned sure that there was
something there behind those eyes,
something that was...missing...in him.

"No," she said. "This isn't an act. They
did leave me with my life after
they took everything else, but now I wish
they hadn't. Now I wish that
they'd killed me."

"Liar," he murmured. "You want revenge.
You want it so much you can taste
it. I can taste it too...can almost
imagine its sweetness."

"I'm empty, Alex. Everything's gone. Even
the need for vengeance."

Alex tilted his head back and laughed.
"Oh, that's rich. There's hate right
there at the surface, Marita, don't even
try to deny it. And where there's
hatred, there's some kind of desire...and
where there's desire, there's at
least a thousand other things." He shook
his head, disgusted. They were just
wasting time discussing the finer points
of her emotions, and it really
couldn't have mattered less to him...

He took a step closer, pressed his body
against her. His body didn't care
about discussion or the fact that her
eyes were beginning to darken and
chill further. Didn't even care about the
fact that her skin was cold
despite the stifling humidity of the
room, the warmth of her suit, the heat
he was trying to generate between them.

My mind doesn't care either, he reminded
himself, and ground his body
against hers.

"If you're really feeling empty..." he
whispered in her ear, "I could give
you something. Something to fill you up.
I haven't been with a woman in
months, so I could probably give you a
whole lot of whatever it is you're
trying to pretend you don't want."

"Wait till we get back to the States,"
she said coldly, before turning away
from him. "Give it to a whore."

Alex laughed again, huskily. "You're as
good a whore as any streetwalker in
America, Marita. Why should I wait?" He
crowded back against her, pressing
her body between his and the window,
rubbing against her. His body hardened
more as he felt her skin begin to warm,
and he thought for a moment that he
would lose his control right there. But
he clenched his teeth and held on,
then let out a long breath.

"My fellow inmates figured out what you
are," he whispered. "And they
weren't exactly the brightest crew. Did
you understand any of what they were
saying to you? Did you know that they
were telling you..." He moved even
closer, wrapping his arm across her
stomach and pressing his lips against
her neck, just below her ear. "Did you
know they were telling you to get
down on your knees and suck? That all you
needed to do was bend over and
they'd take you till you passed out
beneath them? Did you hear the way they
talked about you?"

That got him the reaction he wanted--her
spine stiffened sharply, even as
she shuddered with obvious revulsion, and
he chuckled. She was sure to be
hating him now...

Slowly, giving her time to object, he
pulled her skirt up, bunching it
around her waist. The windowsill was
pretty high--probably digging into her
stomach a little as he pressed his weight
against her--and the crowd below
was bustling in the late afternoon heat,
too busy to look up at them, but it
was still a huge thrill...

He met her gaze in the almost mirrorlike
surface of the window and bared his
teeth in a false smile, then reached
around and unzipped the fly of the
jeans she had supplied him with earlier.
When he had freed himself, he
worked her nylons and her thin silk
underwear down, slowly, tracing her skin
with just the tips of his fingers,
waiting for her to object to his touch.
But she didn't say anything.

Then he rubbed his cock against her soft
skin, enjoying it, waiting. She
swallowed, closed her eyes, but still
remained silent. So he slipped a hand
around her and pressed his fingers up,
between her thighs, close to the
center but not...quite...touching it.

"Say something, Marita," he whispered.
"Come on. You know I'm not going to
hurt you...unless you want me to..." He
pushed his hand up and she spread
her legs a little, just enough.

She was wet. Totally soaked, thick with

Surprised, Alex froze, but then he
chuckled deep in his chest. "Feels like
you do want it," he said before sliding
his hand free. He trailed his
fingers up, spreading her moisture along
the curve of her neck and then
licked it up slowly. Then he pressed
himself against her even more firmly...

"The body lives," she said coldly, but
her breath caught. Alex sank his
teeth into her neck, feeling her pulse
pound. Victory, he thought, and
pushed his fingers back inside her.

"The body...wants to fuck," he murmured
in her ear before taking her lobe
between his teeth and biting down, gently
at first and then more firmly when
she held her breath for a second.

"And it doesn't bother you that they took
my soul?" she asked, and he met
her gaze again in the glass.

"You've still got a soul, Marita," he
said harshly. "Stop fucking whining.
They took a lot from you...They took a
lot from me too. They've taken from
everyone; you're no different."

"I feel different," she replied, and then
moved, as if she was going to back
away--but he pinned her more firmly
against the glass and curled his

Her eyes slid shut and her throat worked
convulsively. He smiled and rolled
his hips up against her. Widening his
stance, he slipped his fingers out of
her and trailed them across his burning
skin, covering his heat with her
thick warmth. Alex closed his eyes for a
second, savoring...

And then he pressed the head of his cock
against her and thrust forward,
torturing himself by moving slowly,
breaching her inch by painfully slow

She moved, dropping her forehead against
the glass and pressing her hands to
the wall. Her legs spread a little
further and he sank in deeper, all the
way, touching bottom and holding there
while she moaned, low and deep.

"Do you miss your soul?" he asked through
gritted teeth, thrusting hard. She
didn't say anything, just rolled her
forehead against the glass and pushed
back. So he pulled away from her, almost
completely. "Do...you...miss your
soul?" he asked again.

"Yes," she hissed. "You fucking bastard,
yes, I miss it."

Alex clenched his jaw, fighting against
the need to thrust, to tear in and
pound her right through the glass. "I
stopped missing mine," he said
harshly. "That's how I know I lost it."
He gave in and bucked back against
her, listening as she moaned, watching
her breath fog against the window as
she jolted against him.

"I miss...mine..." she panted the words,
over and over again, so he wrapped
his arm around her and pulled her tight
against him. Sweat glued them
together, soaked his shirt, scented the
air...but he didn't care. He was
enjoying it too much.

So good, he thought. As good as I
remember, better--

But she kept whispering, even when he
rotated his hips against her and
pushed as high, as hard as he could go,
sealing them together, touching her
womb. He growled, sick of talking, sick
of debating her soul or lack

"Shut up," he ordered her, then lowered
his hand, spreading her open. He
pinched her clit and held on tight as she
bucked madly against him. "Shut
up," he repeated, "and come."

It didn't surprise him that she did as
ordered, that she tilted her head
back with a long, low sigh and gave in.
As soon as she began to convulse, he
thrust harder, faster, pounding until the
glass in the window rattled...and
he broke.

Letting his body relax, he rested against
her back. His chest was hot, his
shirt soaked with sweat, and he was
uncomfortably aware of her blouse, her
skirt where it was bunched up around her
hips. He could have sworn that he
felt every strand of linen in her suit...

If he'd had enough energy, anyway. As it
was, he could barely keep himself
upright while he waited for his pulse to
even out and his muscles to stop

"Feel alive now? Feel your soul?" he
asked when he could breathe again.

"I hate you." Her voice was calm and
detached but her skin was finally warm
where it was bare against his. And when
he met her gaze in the mirrored
glass of the window, it was fire-hot,
searing. So he just laughed before
stepping back, his softening flesh
protesting the move, the friction, by
hardening teasingly.

"I hate you too," he told her before
pulling her away from the window and
drawing the thin curtains closed. She
turned to face him then as he began to
strip, and he swelled further under her

He smiled at her in the near darkness. "I
hate you, too," he repeated. "But
you're an incredible fuck. And if the
Cancerman sent you to come and fetch
me from this little corner of Hell, he
must trust you. You must have
something he wants to use. I'd love to
figure out what it is..."

She stared at him and he laughed. "How
about this," he said, mind running
quickly through a hundred different
scenarios and options. "Let's hate each
other and fuck and go crazy--and then
take over. Get a little of Their
power. It'll make us both feel better--"

"We tried all of that before, Alex, and
look where it got me--"

He fisted his cock in his hand and pumped
slowly, drawing her attention
down. She won't be led by sex this time,
he realized, noting how her eyes
were hot but calm; her guard was still
up. But lust had never hurt...

"So this time, we'll be smarter," he
said. "We'll plan better. We'll want it

"You'll kill me when you have what *you*
want," she murmured, looking back
into his eyes.

"Oh, no, Marita," he murmured. "Not me.
*He'll* kill you, no doubt about
that...as soon as you've outlived your
usefulness to him, you'll be
worthless. You'll be dead. Unless, of
course--maybe he'll give you back to
Them. Who knows?"

She paled quickly, and he knew--just
*knew*--that he was going to get what
he wanted. Whatever he wanted.

"I'd never give you to Them," he said
silkily, taking a step toward her. "I
won't give up the best sex I've had in
years." That much was actually
true--he wasn't sure that he'd let her
share the power, but he wouldn't kill

"You left me to die," she said, her
bitterness very evident

"And now I'm asking you to help me kill
the ones who hurt you." He shrugged
and went to sit on the bed. He hated the
rough material of the spread but
loved the way the smell of sex hung heavy
in the air, the way his cock was
pounding, the way his mouth was watering
with the desire to taste her.

"I'll even let you hurt me," he murmured,
and smiled. "If you want to, you
can try to fuck me to death."

Marita finally moved then, smoothing her
skirt back down over her hips but
not bothering with her nylons and the
thin strip of silk that had
masqueraded as underwear. But instead of
coming to him, she turned away.
Moved to the window, reopened the
curtains and went back to her vigil.

Alex shrugged again and lay down, idly
stroking himself. She can ignore me
all she wants, he thought, studying the
cobwebs in the corners. But she
knows it as well as I do...it'll take no
effort for me to get her exactly
where I want her, exactly where I like
her best. She wants to be avenged,
wants to be part of my little coup...

He closed his eyes and cleared her from
his mind, focusing on the idea of
killing the Cancerman, of finally taking
what he wanted, what he had meant
all along to have.

Oh yeah, he thought before drifting off
into sleep and what he hoped would
be vivid dreams of triumph. It doesn't
get much better than this...



This was fun, and I think I should do it
more often. :) What do you think?
My mailbox is open to comments...

Thanks for reading!

she who hides