Summary: Some people never meant to fall...but plans change. Krycek/Marita, post-Requiem, NC17.

Title: Dropped Angels
Author: she who hides
Feedback: Devoured like spectacular cookies. Feed me by sending it to
shewhohides@a...
Archives: Yes to Spookys, Gossamer, Ephemeral, Xemplary. Others, please send
an email.
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, hard as I pretend they
might. :)
Rating: R to NC17ish.
Category: K/Marita
Spoilers: For my other stories, Soul Purpose and Mapping the Veins. Both
easily located at Ephem and not too important to this story. I don't think.
Summary: Some people never meant to fall...but plans change.
Notes and Warnings: Thanks to my beta-buddy for accepting that even she might
actually come to like Marita/Krycek stories. And a warning that said buddy
didn't really get a chance to do much with this one but I was tired of having
it hanging around. Oh, yeah. And I got terribly, terribly sick of dealing
with mail.com and just took over an AOL account. Who ever woulda thunk that
AOL would be a better option than any other? Please do note the change.

*:*:*:*:*

Marita and Byers sat in front of the computer, their intent faces eerily lit
by the light from the monitor. Alex watched them carefully, a little
surprised by how closely their chairs were pulled together, and how smoothly
they functioned as a team. In the past eighteen hours, they'd broken four
codes--low level security codes, sure, but when it had been him and Marita
working on the codes, they'd been lucky to get one a day.

"They're working well together," said the woman sitting in a chair behind
him, her voice as soft as velvet but scraping across his skin like wire. He
turned away from the computer room, letting his eyes adjust to the relative
darkness of the shadows where Agent Scully sat.

"Never would have figured Marita for a computer geek," he murmured, leaning
his shoulder against the door frame. His prosthetic arm dug uncomfortably
into his side but he didn't move. With Scully, he was careful to minimize any
and all reminders that he had what might be considered a handicap. They were
working on the same team for the moment, under a grudging cease-fire, but
that didn't mean they trusted each other.

She stirred, ensconced herself more deeply in the armchair, and rested her
hand on her stomach. Just that was enough to remind him of her pregnancy,
which was a kind of reassurance. He wasn't the only one with a disadvantage.
And in the long run, his would probably prove to be less debilitating.

"I try not to figure anyone for anything these days, Krycek," she said very
quietly. He smiled in response. "Better to be expecting surprises, don't you
think?"

"Oh, definitely." He added an extra note of sincerity to his voice to amuse
himself, knowing that she could see right through him.

There was a tingle in the base of his spine again, and he just knew that
Marita was looking at him over her shoulder. But he didn't turn around to
confirm it. "You never know when someone you've figured for a friend will
stab you in the back," he said a little too loudly. Just in case.

Scully tipped her chin and cocked an eyebrow, studying him. Abruptly, genuine
amusement gleamed in her eyes. "No," she said, in agreement. "And you never
know when someone you've pegged as an adversary will lend..." Her gaze
glanced across his shoulder where he had it propped against the door. "A
helping hand," she finished.

Alex gritted his teeth. But since she had reminded him that she remembered,
he took his weight off his uncomfortably propped shoulder and prosthesis, and
stepped out of the doorway. There was an armchair across from Scully and he
dropped into it, then coughed a little as a cloud of dust puffed up.

The Gunmen had incredible equipment and kept all of it functioning perfectly.
But as housekeepers, their habits left something to be desired. He probably
got out the dusting cloth more often than they did. When he had a place to
dust, anyway.

Scully leaned back into her own chair. Her slightly swollen belly pushed
against the soft material of her sweater, and for the hundredth time that
day, Alex wondered why she wasn't bothering to try and hide her pregnancy.
He'd been certain that she would, back when they originally started to work
with each other rather than around each other. After all, she'd made no
mention of her test results--

Maybe she assumed I'd already know, he thought. A correct assumption, yes,
but he wasn't certain if she'd been thinking logically enough at that point
to even wonder about how much he knew.

"Where's Skinner?" he asked abruptly. The former Marine had demanded the
control the little nano-toys, had been there for every meeting to make sure
that Alex had given up his gun before he got within a mile of Scully and the
Gunmen. A bulky, harsh-voiced bodyguard--or baby-sitter, depending on how you
looked at the situation.

Scully made a dismissive gesture, then put her hands back on her stomach.
Alex wondered if she knew how protective the gesture was, how much better off
she'd be if she could just pretend the child didn't exist--at least while she
was in company like his.

"Skinner's with Frohike and Langly. They have other things to attend to," she
said quietly. "And I decided that if you were going to make a move, you'd
have done it by now. Subterfuge beyond this level just doesn't seem to be
your style."

"No, it's not," Alex muttered, and frowned, aware that Scully was watching
him like a hawk.

"Your help has been invaluable," the agent told him. A little smile flirted
with the corners of her mouth; a cat's grin. "Everything is going well, so
far."

"Did you know that you sound like the smoker when you talk like that?" he
asked idly, wondering if he could make her flinch.

He couldn't. She met his gaze dead-on, that same smile on her face. "I
learned a few things about myself these past months," she assured him. "For
one, I learned that I can be just as ruthless as *he* was."

"But can you be as cruel?" Alex leaned forward, searching her pale, set
features. Her smile had vanished; she met his gaze calmly and coolly.

"I don't know," she said, after a long pause. "But I hope to find out."

After studying her eyes for a silent eternity, Alex forced himself to relax.
He laughed and sat back. "I certainly don't want to find out," he told her.
"I think I'm scared of you."

Slowly, Scully's smile came back. "You ought to be," she agreed. "I don't
think you're a stupid man."

He didn't respond, just continued to watch her. Gaze level, she stared back.
There's something inside her, he found himself thinking. A will to fight that
might be stronger than my own.

Inexplicably, he wondered if maybe he really *should* fear that latent power
in her, but there was a sound in the doorway and her gaze shifted. The spell
was broken, although Alex didn't bother to look around. He knew who it was.
He'd always know when she was there--

"We've got another one," Marita said softly, almost subserviently. Hidden
deep in the shadows, Alex rolled his eyes. Subservient. It wouldn't last,
which wasn't quite a shame...

"I think we're about to break through to another layer." Through the open
door, Byers' voice sounded excited, enthusiastic. And a little breathless.

Cursing himself, Alex refocused on Scully just as one of her eyebrows arched,
and then she nodded. "The two of you are incredibly efficient," she said.
"But are you *sure* that you haven't tripped off any alarms? Gone through any
trap doors?"

Alex didn't need to look to know that Marita was smiling. "Trust us, Agent
Scully," she said coolly. "We're very good at this."

A rustle of cloth, the tap of high heels on linoleum, and then she and Byers
were murmuring to each other. Alex frowned, lost his focus on Scully for a
moment, intent on trying to decipher their words. His hearing was keen, and
they weren't exactly far away, but they were speaking too quietly. He
couldn't hear the words, just the tone--

"She isn't Byers' type," Scully said quietly, and chuckled when Alex
refastened his gaze on her face. Then she seemed to reconsider. "Of course,
the last woman he fell for was something of a double agent. And a beautiful
blonde one, at that."

He forced himself to relax. "Why're you telling me this?" he asked
nonchalantly.

She searched his face. "Because you seem a little...jealous," she informed
him. For a moment, her eyes glittered brightly. He half expected them to turn
red.

"Not likely. He doesn't compare to me in any way," Alex said, and then cursed
himself because he knew he'd just confirmed that he felt...something. Not
jealousy, he assured himself quickly. But something, nonetheless.

Scully nodded agreement. "No. He's intellectual, kind, respectful. Dignified."

"And a real snazzy dresser."

"He's also whole." She beamed him a bright, fake smile as he barely prevented
a wince.

"That was a bit below the belt, wasn't it, Scully?" he asked, barely keeping
anger out of his deliberately laconic tone.

"No, that was further north and a little to the east."

"Did you know that she fucked Mulder?" He was certain that would knock her
back a pace or two, and bring him some vengeance.

It didn't.

"He told me," she said, and maybe her tone was a degree or two colder, but
she definitely wasn't wincing. "He told me that a long time ago."

Well, that was a surprise. Alex nodded and shut up, studying the play of
shadows over her face. In turn, her gaze was intent upon him, so focused that
he unconsciously tensed, a part of his mind preparing to dodge a bullet.
Instinctively sensing danger.

A few minutes later, Scully hummed a little sound, considering. "So, do you
trust her?" she asked, casually.

Smooth as glass, Alex lied. "Absolutely." He tilted his head, aware that the
cold little smile was playing around her lips, matching it with a faint sneer
of his own. Question me, he challenged her. I'll play any game you have in
mind.

"I'll bet I trust her more than you do," the agent said slowly, her gaze
flicking away to the rectangle of light through which the sounds of computer
work drifted. He was a little surprised by her shrewdness. But he shouldn't
have been, and accepted that; the something in her eyes that hinted at her
strength should also have warned him of her perceptiveness.

Alex began to wonder if he'd been underestimating her for years, or if in
Mulder's absence, the dangerous parts of her nature had flourished.

"I need a drink," he said, rising from the chair. What he really needed was
to get away for a moment, think about this new and improved Scully in more
depth.

She nodded. "The guys are good with keeping their larder stocked. Just don't
drink all of Langly's beer, and stay away from anything labeled with a big
'F'. Frohike makes his own liquor on occasion. I've seen it eat hot dogs
whole."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, and walked away amazed. One moment she
could be sending warning signals up and down his spine, the next she amused
him with her casual almost-acceptance of his company. A complex woman, he
thought again, and wondered if any of that complexity was just an act for his
benefit. Designed to keep him wary of her.

He knew it probably wasn't. If he had been focused on her for all these years
instead of on neutralizing Mulder as the potential threat...

Well, he probably wouldn't have been able to focus on her at all, really. If
he'd been paying more attention in the beginning, the shooting in her
apartment wouldn't have left her sister dying on the floor.

There were days when he regretted that mistake, regretted that an innocent
life had been taken because he wasn't doing his job better. But he was good
at shelving regret as quickly as possible. Any train of thought involving it
dissipated within minutes, and was forgotten for months. That was how he
functioned, and that was how he stayed in control.

There was nothing to be done about it. Nothing at all.

In the Gunmen's grungy kitchen, he found a paper cup and filled it with tap
water, sipped idly. He didn't trust the contents of their refrigerator. Why
Scully didn't play Snow White for the little dwarf and his buddies was beyond
him--she certainly spent a lot of time in their headquarters, and seemed the
type to need cleanliness. Maybe they weren't letting her lift a finger
because she was pregnant; maybe she just *didn't* care.

Another little facet to a character that he was beginning to find fascinating.

He settled his hip against the edge of the counter and stared out the small
window over the sink. It faced out onto the brick of a building just across
the alleyway, but that was fine. He didn't need scenery, just a focal point.

His mind began to click through options and different analyses. Intelligence
was something he wasn't often credited with, but it was an integral part of
him--he couldn't have survived as long as he had, living the life that he
had, without a brain that functioned well. Street smarts only carried a man
so far. In a situation that required real thought, they left him on his
ass...or bleeding in a gutter.

Or a Tunisian jail cell. He cursed himself daily for falling into Spender's
traps time and again, cursed the man's almost supernatural ability to second
and triple-guess him. He'd learned his lessons though, and finally taken the
step that he'd been planning for more years than he could count. And Spender
had faced a suitably ridiculous death.

The thought made him smile.

More than a half hour later, he was still standing in front of the sink,
still focused out the window. His smile had faded, disappeared. He was
looking into his own eyes in the glass, the darkness beyond it so absolute
that he was reflected perfectly. He kept thinking that Scully was probably
wondering what he was doing, would probably be coming out to track him down,
but he'd moved past the problems and complications of her mind. That train of
thought had only lead him down the path to wondering about the complications
of Marita's mind, and onto a vague feeling that something was wrong. That
something didn't fit.

Since the day when he had followed her down to the dock, she'd been working
hard, doing everything exactly as he wanted. She'd even begun anticipating
his next move and quietly arranging everything just so, as if she could read
his mind and knew what he would need.

He'd never worked well with others, preferred to fight his battles alone and
do his research without the hassle of dealing with 'assistance'. But he
needed her now, and he couldn't find fault with her current behavior as his
partner. Hell, he couldn't even ask for more.

But there was that tingle. The crawling feeling along his spine that he
sometimes got when he turned his back to her, when he let her out of his
sight. And the deep, gut feeling that he got whenever he saw her in the
company of Byers--

Admitting to himself that the feelings her time with Byers aroused in him had
nothing to do with the feelings creeping around in the subconscious parts of
his mind wasn't an option.

There was just something...

The steady click of heels on linoleum dragged him from his contemplations,
and he shifted his focus, using the mirrored surface of the window to watch
the doorway. He knew it was Marita coming towards him, as if summoned by his
thoughts; her gait was familiar and distinctly different from Scully's. The
agent walked quickly, with a businesslike, impatient stride. Marita moved
more languidly, her stride longer, the tap of her heels striking the ground
less forceful.

She came into the kitchen and didn't look in his direction, headed straight
for the refrigerator. He turned away from the window, leaned back against the
counter again and crossed his arms over his chest, watching her as she dug
around the shelves.

"We need fuel," she said tonelessly, obviously feeling his intent stare.

"Fuel. For a few more hours of sitting in front of a computer?"

Marita turned away from the fridge, her hands full of sandwich materials.
"No, not a few more hours. We're nearly done, and once we've gotten through
the final layers, there's nothing else we can do for a few days, until we've
figured out how they move money in and out of those accounts." Her voice was
a quiet monotone, her eyes cool and expressionless. Alex held her gaze,
studying her face, wondering what was really going on inside her mind.

Then she turned away, to the cluttered table, and started playing with the
food. Her shoulders were set straight, the line of her back tight, her
movements bordering on self-conscious.

She senses my mood, Alex thought, uncomfortably aware that if she knew him
that well, he might be at a disadvantage with her. A few weeks before, she'd
been open to him, seemingly too tired to guard herself. He might have let his
own defenses crumble then, hadn't bothered to build them back up...

That's not permissible, he told himself. She was to be worked with, to be
used, and to be fucked if the mood was right. Not to be trusted, not to be
relaxed around.

"Byers thinks that we should only syphon out a little money the first few
weeks. A hundred thousand, maybe two. Then make a few larger hits, more bold
ones." She didn't turn to look at him as she spoke, just began to more
smoothly and efficiently build up the sandwiches.

"Byers thinks," Alex murmured silkily, letting just a hint of his annoyance
slip to the surface. "When did Byers get to be the expert on the Consortium
and how this ought to be handled?"

"He's not," Marita said, a little too calmly. "But I agree with him. We need
to make it look like we're slowly becoming more bold, more certain of
ourselves. Trip the alarms in perfect order, and there's intense dissension
among their reforming ranks. As we take more without them being able to find
a hole to the outside--"

He hated to admit that it made sense to not only fuck with the finances but
also the minds in charge of the Consortium's new leaders. His plan had been
to get in, clear out a huge chunk of change, depleting all of the accounts in
a day or two. The money would come in handy, not only for their plans but
also for daily living expenses, and as a weapon. The Consortium's members
might not care about their fellow human beings--some of them didn't even care
about the lives of their families--but they cared about their cash.

But, if they dipped into the funds more slowly, making it look like an inside
job...

"All right," he said abruptly. "Tell Byers to go ahead and move slowly. I'll
explain it to Scully."

"Already got her OK for the change of plans," Marita murmured, beginning to
wrap the food back up. He growled at her, hating the fact that he was the
last to know, hating the warnings that were sliding through his system like
dark, icy ribbons.

"When it concerns the Consortium, you talk to me first." He moved across the
kitchen quickly when Marita nodded and headed for the fridge with the
leftovers. As soon as her hands were free and closed the door, he pulled her
around and pushed her back into the cool metal. "Marita. Do you understand
me? If you've got something to say to Scully about her hunt for Mulder, go
ahead. If you've got something to tell the Gunmen about how they could get
into the files more efficiently, go ahead. But if you've got a plan, or a
change in plans, for how we deal with anything else--I know first." He
wrapped his hand around her arm, dragged her aside. With a little effort, he
had her boosted up on the counter, and stepped between her legs.

"Alex, quit it," she said calmly, meeting his gaze with hers shuttered and
cool. But her hands shook a little when she reached out to push him back. "I
understand. I'll even apologize. Just back off."

He shook his head, feeling his needs rush to the surface, dark and ready for
violence. Not apologies. Certainly not understanding.

She was playing with him. Setting him up for something. And even if she
wasn't, if his instincts were wrong and his paranoia was just working
overtime...it wouldn't hurt to give her a little reminder about who was in
charge.

"I don't want your apologies," he whispered, leaning into her and setting his
teeth in her skin, just below her ear. He dug in sharply, just for a second,
listening to her gasp and feeling her body tense and shudder. He hadn't hurt
her, but there would be a mark on her skin. "That's what I want," he said,
then trailed his tongue over the little dents his teeth had made in her soft
skin. He wasn't sure if he was referring to the taste of her, the way she
shuddered for him, or the mark he had made on her. He didn't care.

Maybe because I want it all, he thought, and nipped her earlobe because that
made sense to him, the thought satisfying all his darker urges.

"When we go back to the cabin," he whispered in her ear, letting his mind
flood with images. "When we turn into the drive, I want you to start sucking
me off. Maybe before then. Maybe when we get on the highway--"

"You'll kill us both," she said flatly, but there was something humming just
underneath the impassive tone. Something needy, edgy. Nothing submissive or
apologetic.

He shook his head, backed off a little to meet her gaze. Her arms were
straight at her sides, her hands clenched on the edge of the countertop, her
face caught between cool logic and the rough passion that could flare between
them. "I won't die for you," he told her, and put his hands on her thighs,
pushing up her skirt. "You're good, but not so good that you'd be a
distraction."

She smiled bitterly, didn't fight him when he used his hands to push her legs
apart. "You're not worth dying for either." Speaking huskily, her voice laced
with passion, she made the words sounded almost like endearments. It made
Alex laugh.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he said, and wrapped his good fingers against her,
hard, hoping to leave marks. "I wouldn't expect you to do anything more for
me than suck. But when we got back to the cabin, I'd pull you upstairs with
me, to the bed." The narrow band of her panties were no barrier, and his
fingers slipped underneath, found her already wet. He smiled into her eyes,
watched them half close as he gently pinched her clit.

This was how he preferred her. Hot, wet, her body accepting him. There was no
threat here that he couldn't handle--not that she would ever be a threat
beyond what he could deal with. But when she stopped thinking and just
reacted, he sensed a total honesty in her that was lacking when they were
working.

"Maybe I'll tie you down to the bed," he whispered, aroused by the scent of
her, more aroused by the ideas that were forming in his mind. "Hands above
your head, ankles against the footboard. Helpless."

"I'd fight you." Marita gritted her teeth as he abandoned her clit, began to
trace gentle patterns around it. He watched with fascination and a deep sense
of satisfaction as her skin flushed with arousal.

"I always win when we fight, Marita," he reminded her gently, before pushing
two fingers inside her almost roughly, watching her back arch and her mouth
fall open. "Remember that, and we'll both be better off."

He pumped his fingers inside her, passion clouding his mind and almost making
him forget where they were, who was around. Almost--but not quite.

Rubbing his thumb against her clit as he pumped his fingers was enough to
make her gasp. Her head fell back, against the cupboards, and a light glaze
of sweat gleamed on her collarbones, in the hollow of her throat. Her hair
was down for once, and little strands clung to the sides of her throat,
shining silkily in the dim light.

"You look like a fallen angel." He drew his fingers from inside her, trailed
them down her thigh to her knee, painting a trail of moisture, massaging it
into her skin. She'd have to shower to get rid of the scent of sex, and
wouldn't be able to get one before she had to go back to the computers--which
meant that she'd trail it past Scully, and Byers wouldn't be able to miss it.

It'd be perfect if Byers walked in on this, actually, Alex thought hazily.
He'd have a hard-on for months, but he'd know...that she belongs to me. That
sharing a talent for computers with her means nothing compared to this. That
he could never handle all the passion and the danger in her.

He dipped his fingers back inside her, gathering more moisture. This time, he
rubbed it into the hollow of her throat, right above where her pulse kicked
against her delicate flesh. Then he leaned down to taste her, enjoying the
way her heartbeat jerked raggedly and her thighs tightened around the hand he
had slid back between them.

"I'm not fallen," she gasped as he lingered, nibbling, wondering if the mark
he had left on her neck had faded. It took him a couple seconds to refocus
and to think back to his last comment.

He leaned away from her again, watching her face. "No? Well, you're certainly
not a wing-bearing member of the species, Marita."

"I didn't fall," she repeated, and clenched her body around his invading
fingers. "I...was dropped."

"Dropped." He stared at her for a second, unmoving, and then snorted. "You're
amazing, sweetheart. All these little moments of heat and melodrama.
Sometimes I wonder if you even realize how much of a soap opera queen you can
be."

Her hands came up, moving for the first time since he had set her on the
countertop, and wrapped around his forearm, guiding him to touch where she
wanted. She was all gleaming strands of hair against the blue-green and
chipped paint, white skin and dark suit, incredible heat and wetness between
her thighs and eyes that were dark with passion, yet also cool underneath,
almost distant.

No, no one else would ever be able to handle her. He doubted anyone else ever
had.

Then again, there might have been one man...

Suddenly, he was just curious enough to ignore the heat of her body and the
rising pressure in his own. "Did you even get to enjoy fucking Mulder?" he
asked, stilling the movement of his hand. She grimaced, her hips twisting.
"It must have been over fast. From what I hear, the man hadn't been laid in
ages."

"Didn't matter, Alex," she whispered roughly. "He was fast, but he knew how
to move, how to touch. And he was hung."

Behind them, in the doorway, someone cleared their throat. Alex froze,
cursing himself for forgetting where they were, and looked over his shoulder.
Scully looked back at him calmly, and he wished she was Byers, and slowly
withdrew his fingers from Marita's body. His reluctant partner's thigh was
shaking under his hand, but when he looked back at her face, she was already
becoming composed, the flush fading from her skin, her eyes shuttered, cool
and impassive.

"Correction," Scully said gently, drawing Alex's gaze back to her face. Her
eyes were as clear and secretive as Marita's, but she was smiling faintly,
amusement making her eyes gleam even in the dim light. "Mulder wasn't hung.
Mulder *is* hung. No need for the past tense yet."

He wondered if she was losing her mind. There he was, with a woman sprawled
across the countertop, the scent of her body heavy in the air, and Scully was
arguing semantics about the size of Mulder's cock and what tense should be
used when referring to it?

"Is hung," Marita murmured, agreeably, and his gaze swung back to her. She
looked into his eyes for a cool, timeless moment, and then pushed at his
shoulder and slid off the counter, straightening her skirt and her tousled
hair. Then she walked to the table, no shake at all in her legs, the flush
completely faded from her skin.

But he could still smell her, and smiled when she grabbed the plates with the
sandwiches and excused herself politely. She'd be carrying the scent of
arousal back into that cramped little area where she and Byers played with
keyboards. The skinny little guy wouldn't be able to ignore it.

That was pretty damn near perfect, as far as he was concerned. A little extra
torture for the computer geek, combined with a statement of his
possession...oh yeah. Perfect.

When she was gone, he looked at Scully again. She crossed her arms over her
chest and cocked an eyebrow.

"I hope you won't mind if I ask you to sterilize that countertop," she said
softly, smoothly.

He laughed. "Just tell me where there're rags and cleaning solution in this
dump, and I'll make it all go away."

She pointed, and he headed for the appropriate drawer, moving carefully
because his erection was straining at the seam of his jeans. He'd let Marita
take care of it later. He hadn't been teasing her when he told her he wanted
a blowjob on the drive home, when he told her that he would tie her to the
bed if he felt like it. She'd be more wary and more willing to fight him if
he warned her of his intentions, and that would only made winning more fun.
More gratifying.

"I'll put up with a lot of things from you right now, Krycek." Scully
hesitated a moment, not from uncertainty as far as he could tell. She was
just...considering. "I've forced myself to...overlook...many of the things
you've done in the past because you're valuable to us now. I hate it, but I'm
trying to accept that there are things that need to be done, things that only
you'll be able to do." She watched him begin the clean up, and he nodded.

"I'm glad you can see that," he told her smoothly, scrubbing at the
countertop. "I was pretty sure I'd have to slay dragons for you before you
admitted that I was handy."

"But don't ever do something like that in this place again," she said,
ignoring his words. Her voice was as gentle and quiet as spring sunshine, and
twice as cool. "Not even if you feel the need to mark your territory. There
are too many cameras in too many places, and you never know what the Gunmen
will take offensive to--or find amusing enough to make into a home video."

The idea of the Gunmen watching a tape of him and Marita made him laugh. "No
problem, Scully." He looked at her over his shoulder. "But if they do make
that into a home video, try to get me a copy, all right? You never know when
my sex life will take a swing for the worse again. Might be nice to have
something to remember it by."

She studied his face for long minutes, and he wondered what she was looking
for, confident now that she would find nothing he didn't want her to see.
Playing with Marita had renewed his confidence.

"When you're ready, we'll discuss the change in plans," she murmured. "And
we'll discuss the fact that you might be able to dominate Marita with sex and
anger now, but you'll have to watch your back in the future."

She turned, walked away. Alex watched her go, then tossed the wash cloth in
the sink and looked back out the window at the brick face of the building on
the other side of the alley, wondering how the hell women had gotten to be
so...dangerous.

Wondering how long he'd be able control his partner, and if he was even in
control of her at all.

*:*:*:*:*

I was going to keep sex completely out of the equation. Really, I was. :) And
I did try real hard, but damn. These two are smokin', at least in my warped
little mind. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed...despite the smut invasion :) Please
do write to tell me what you thought!

she who hides
shewhohides@a...