Fic: Dirty Little Secret (DW/XF crossover) (original) (raw)

Dirty Little Secret (DW/X-Files crossover)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Martha Jones/Alex Krycek, suggested Krycek/Mulder

Warnings: PWP. Violence and a tiny bit of gunplay. The things I do for maverick0324. ;)

Martha Jones was panting, out of breath from running around a damp and dirty parking garage, and gingerly holding her scraped and bruised arm against her body. She could feel blood dripping down her skin and wondered if he was animal enough to be able to smell it.

Apparently so. Krycek's footsteps were feather light and she didn't know he was behind her until she felt the cold press of a gun against the back of her neck.

"You've been spending too much time with Mulder," he whispered, breath warm in her ear. "You're reminding me of him."

She started to speak, a sarcastic reply quick on her tongue, but the gun pressed in harder. Warmth twisted through her but she ignored it.

"It wasn't a compliment," he said roughly.

"Then why are you so happy to see me?" She said, pressing back against him. She ran one hand up his side, shoving up his shirt until she could feel flesh to distract him while her other hand make a sneaky grab for the gun.

He growled and held the gun away while he twisted around until he had her shoved hard against a square concrete pillar. "Don't think so, bitch."

He tapped the gun to her temple. They were both out of breath, chilled but sticky with sweat.

"But you're still happy to see me." She rocked her hips forward. He was hard and thick, an obvious outline in his dark trousers.

"Bet you're happy to see me, too." He took both of her wrists in one hand and held the over her head, the backs of her hands rubbing raw against the rough concrete, while he shoved his gun into his pocket.

She could have easily escaped at that moment if she'd wanted to, but she didn't.

He reached between them and unsnapped the button on her low riding jeans. His thumb rubbed a light circle around her belly button and a tremor went through her. The zipper was next, inching down painfully slowly until he could see the pale pink cotton of her panties. He dipped his head, nose brushing her cheek. "So what is it, Martha Jones? Happy to see me or not?"

She refused to say anything, just leaned against the pillar and tilted her hips toward him. He pressed his palm flat against her stomach and slid his hand downward, underneath the layers of denim and cotton until he found feel coarse curls and then searing dampness between her legs. He rubbed a finger across her slit, press inward until he could feel her pulsing around him.

"Oh yeah," he said smugly. "You're happy to see me all right."

"Not like I'm the only one," Martha muttered, pressing her thigh against his hard on. "So let's just say we cut the foreplay and you fuck me now?"

Krycek groaned and dropped his grasp on her hands in order to undo his trousers. He lifted her up, biceps straining until her legs locked around his waist, and pushed inside of her with one firm thrust. Her head dropped back, skull thunking against the wall as he wrapped his arms around her back and started to fuck her at a fast, greedy clip. Her mouth dropped to his neck and she bit down hard on the exposed skin.

She knew she'd be sore the next day, but it was worth it. She hung on for dear life as he pressed into her, unable to let go or say a word. This was how it worked with them; gritty and violent and brilliant. When she came, she saw stars. When he came, she saw him - mouth open, face red, eyes closed. She felt him throbbing inside of her and when he pulled out she could feel him still, sticky and dripping between her legs.

When he was done he zipped off his pants and sneered at her. "You're such a little slut for my cock. What did I tell you? More and more like Mulder every day."