Summary: Explanation of where Pendrell went (because he didn't die!) and some hot slashy sex between him and Krycek.
Keywords: MM
Universe: X-Files
Author: Chrysoberyl Rosewood
Title: Winging It

Winging It

(MM cons)

by Chrysoberyl Rosewood

Fall 1998 



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 gay sex thrown in for the fun of it. 

Please don't sue me for using your characters, Chris Carter. 

<3 Chrys 



The Story:

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 man 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 man quickly caught up to him, and they continued 
on their way, just two men 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 man nervous, Krycek chose to respond, "And what 
makes you think it's time for you to get out?" 

The other man 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 man 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 man 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 animal bladder filled with blood," Krycek sighed and stood up from the 
table. 

"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 boy bit well, 
don't I?" 

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 
chair again. 

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 animal 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 stories 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 
usual!" 

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 mom 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 man 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 
first." 

"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 split 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 shirt 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 animal 
it's from. It's what they used to use to make old horror movies 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 
demanded. 

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, 
sometimes." 

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 man 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 man 
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 . . . 
strip?" 

Krycek's eyes crinkled into a half-smile. 

"Are you smiling at me, young man?" said Pendrell, sternly. 

"Yes." 

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 sucking 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 
it. 

"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 . . ." 
moaned Krycek. 

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, 
and sucked. 

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 man 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 man 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 man 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 sucked and let go, sucked 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 
eyebrows. 

"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 sucked 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 
thighs. 

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 man 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 
space. 

"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 
come. 

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 ejaculated on the man 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 man on top of 
him. 

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. 

"What?" 

There was another pause. 

"I sure hope that you decide to wing it every night." 

*****

Write me: ChrysRosewood@yahoo.com

http://www.asstr.org/~Chrysoberyl/
