Walter Sergi Skinner felt silly--damned silly. Stupid really. He knew he stuck out like a sore thumb. He was sure that he was about to make a spectacle of himself, acting like a damned old fool.
    What was he thinking to let Mulder drag him into this—a man of his age should know better. He dropped his hand to his belt buckle, idly traced the embossed figure of a cowboy on a horse. His other hand absently flicked at some imaginary piece of lint on the leg of his blue jeans. Skinner lazily looked down at the boots he was wearing, complete with spurs, and shook his head. He quickly checked the narrow piece of leather around his neck that passed for a tie. He made sure that it lay straight between the opening in the small leather vest he wore and gently rubbed any wrinkles out of the plaid flannel shirt he wore beneath it. The only concession he made to his former life was to link his handcuffs through one loop of his belt.
    "''Walter, let's go out...let's go wild,' he said." Skinner mumbled to himself. The longer he waited, the more surly he became. "'Let's dress up, go as cowboys to the Country bar outside of town. Nobody will know us there,' he said and I fell for it, again!" His mood just then ratcheted down another notch.
And here he was, dressed as a cowboy, feeling silly, looking like a fifty-year-old kid at Halloween waiting for his older brother to take him out.
    "And Mulder's not even here!" The AD was pissed now. He pushed the Stetson a little higher up on his head, which allowed just a little of his baldhead to show. He looked around the apartment but noticed nothing out-of-place. He switched off the lights in the room and sat in a chair to await his lover's return.
 

On the quiet street below, a tall, dark stranger turned the corner. Dressed in a leather motorcycle jacket, boots, Tee shirt, and jeans—he carried this study in black to a ridiculous extreme.  And to complete this comic picture, latched onto his arm was a little, old woman, so portly, in fact, she was all chest and ass. The sallow colour of her skin was in stark contrast to the complete blackness of her companion. The straw coloured hair on her head, which owed much more to art than nature, drew your attention to her immediately, such an odd couple they seemed.
    "You're not from Washington, are you, dear?" Jarod looked at her as though she had just said something profound and interesting.
    "No, I'm not. Just visiting."
    "Do you have a name?" She said this with such a motherly interest that Jarod answered her immediately.
    "Jarod," he stopped momentarily and looked at her once more, "LeJeune." He told her.
    "Suits you, dear."
    "Mine's Joan, Joan Wheyman and I've lived in this town all my life. It's not a bad place, you know, if you keep to yourself and mind your own business." She smiled at him with a teenage coyness that totally belied her years. "I didn't think you're from Washington, everyone around here knows Hagel Place."
    She maintained her death grip on Jarod's arm and stared straight ahead. Jarod walked with her quietly and slowly, not wanting to hurry the older woman.
    "Here it is," she announced. "I hope you find your friend and have a nice visit with him."
    "I'm sure I will," Jarod replied. "Thank you for all your help."
    "You're welcome," she said. "I always like to try and help a stranger in town."
    She finally relaxed her grip on Jarod's arm and pointed at the building where they had stopped.
    "Good luck!" she shouted back at Jarod; she continued to waddle down the street.
    Jarod stopped and looked at the building, a dark frown on his face. These security buildings aren't hard to enter; he knew that from experience. A simple matter. Just stand and ring all the buzzers, someone would be sure to be expecting a visitor and would let you in without question.
He thought about what Alex had told him about Mulder, 'such a brilliant mind', 'so smart', 'the best profiler at the FBI'. And yet, Jarod thought, he was so easy to find. If that were true, Mulder must collect enemies like some people collect parking tickets. Jarod smiled snidely as he remembered how easy it was to track the agent down—all he had to do was to open the telephone book, and there before him, in black and white, was Mulder's name and address.
    Not the sharpest knife in the door, Jarod thought as he placed his hand on the door, mentally preparing to meet the man who has his Alex tied up in knots.
 

Walter sat in his chair, more concerned with his own feelings of discomfort in this damned costume than he was about Mulder's whereabouts.
    He pushed his glasses back and massaged the bridge of his nose, for the fiftieth time that night he was sure. He heard a noise in the hall and was certain that it must be Mulder's returning. But the sound of a key in the lock wasn't what reached his ears. First the doorknob was turned but the locked door didn't budge. Skinner's interest was peaked now; he knew the sound of a lock pick when he heard one.
    With his heart pounding in his chest, Skinner's natural flight or fight instincts took over. He chose to fight. He quickly got out of his chair, crossed the room and stood flat against the wall where he would be hidden from view by the opening door.
    Jarod quickly succeeded in picking the lock, peeked in the crack of the opened door and saw that the lights were completely extinguished in the apartment—he grew bolder. Silently entering the apartment, he closed the door behind him, resting his back against it to allow his eyes to get used to the dimness of the apartment.
    Skinner's actions were quick and cat-like as he tacked the young man and brought him to the floor with an audible thud, depriving Jarod of the air in his lungs. Jarod was a strong man; his strength honed from many years in the Centre's weight room, trying in vain to elevate the crushing boredom he felt when he wasn't actually doing SIMs. This didn't help him here; Jarod's svelte, compact muscularity was no match for Walter's superior weight and build. Walter was lying atop him and try as he might Jarod couldn't dislodge him.
    With Walter's knee squarely paced between Jarod's legs, brought up tight against his groin, and Walter's arm tightly pressing into Jarod's throat, he had no choice but to submit.  Skinner quickly frisked him for concealed weapons—finding none—he lingered a little too long, perhaps, over Jarod's hard and ample erection. The Assistant Director was able see the heat in Jarod's face at his traitorous body's reaction to the scuffle.
    "Been a long time, hasn't it, son?" He sneered. Skinner was not a man who missed an opportunity to press an advantage when he saw one.
    Jarod's face just grew redder.
    "Yes, it must be a long, long time." Skinner chuckled as he hand traveled slowly over the evidence of Jarod's arousal. He moved his large hand from base to tip, slowly, stopping only long enough to squeeze Jarod's balls before his hand made the return trip. A slow, lecherous smile covered his face.
    "What are you doing here, Boy? What did you hope to find?" Skinner's face thrust into Jarod's personal space; his nose pressed directly against that of the prone and darkly clad invader.
    The only reply Jarod made was an audible hiss made through his clenched teeth.
    For the first time that night, the AD thanked his lucky stars that he had included his regulation handcuffs as part of his costume for the evening.
    "Okay, have it your way," Skinner said as he reached to his belt buckle and fetched the handcuffs, quickly snapping then on the arm that he held tightly and he roughly yanked Jarod to his feet.
    Jarod made no protest and followed Skinner, without resistance, to the chair in the center of the room and Walter forced him to sit it in. Skinner quickly brought Jarod's other hand behind the chair and looped the handcuffs in the rungs, quickly snapping the other cuff to Jarod's free arm. Only then did he cross the room to switch on the lights.
    Skinner looked back at his captive—his dark, dangerous looking masculinity was not lost on the AD, how could it not, the AD had an eye for the better things in life. A handsome man in leather, dark jeans, and sporting an erection is not one of the things that he wouldn't appreciate.
    "What are you doing here?" Walter asked again.
    Jarod just looked at him as though this was something he did everyday. He stared Walter squarely in the eye; his face showed neither fear nor apprehension. If fact, he looked like he was in control. He made no reply.
    "Boy!" Walter was getting madder by the minute. "Boy, you're in a lot of trouble. Break and Enter is a serious offence. " Walter looked toward the telephone. "All I have to do," he said, "is make one call and you'll rot in jail for ten years!"
    "You don't know me, " Jarod spoke, "but I know who you are?"
    "What?" Walter roared.
    "Walter S Skinner, Assistant Director of the FBI." Each letter was spit out as an insult; the threat was evident in the voice.
    Skinner saw this man, as though through a tunnel, he was sure his heart had stopped in his chest, and his lungs, so used to breathing, seemed so still to him now. He felt the adrenaline in his blood, racing through his system at supersonic speeds—felt it, from the tips of his fingers to the tips of his toes. If this gets out, he thought,...if this gets out, his life was over, Mulder's life was over! He couldn't permit that, he couldn't; he had to do something to neutralize this threat.
    An impudent smile curved across Jarod's face. "So, you won't do that."
    "What!" Skinner was not used to having his authority challenged this easily.
    "Look at yourself," Jarod laughed. "Dressed up in that...what is that outfit? A cowboy suit." Jarod's smile widened. "I think you'd have a lot of explaining to do, dressed like that, in the apartment of your..." Jarod smiled evilly and paused momentarily for a emphasis, "employee."
    Skinner roared in frustration.
    Jarod pressed his advantage. "So you tell me, who would have the more explaining to do, you or me. You won't call!" Jarod shouted.
    Walter walked toward him, slowly removing the leather tie around his neck. He bent slowly and secured Jarod's legs to the chair.
    "For the last time, who are you and what do you want here?"
    Jarod said nothing.
    Skinner approached him threateningly and Jarod closed his eyes in anticipation of the blow he was sure would come.
    His face went scarlet again as Walter slowly traced the outline of his flagging but still evident erection. Jarod couldn't deny the pleasure he felt as he unconsciously arched his hips toward the offending hand.
    Skinner looked at him and smiled, he liked it much better when the ball was in his court.
    "Who are you?" The AD repeated
    Jarod remained stonily silent.
    Skinner's hand rubbed across Jarod's Tee shirt. Walter enjoyed the feel of the hard muscle under his hand. He quickly gathered a handful of the black cotton and quickly jerked it upward toward the younger man's head. As the naked flesh of Jarod's stomach and chest was revealed Walter cast an appreciative glance at the compact power of the man. Tight muscle covered by the finest, most gossamer hair that Walter had ever seen. He rubbed his hand slowly and sensuously over the man's chest, noticing how quickly the younger man's nipples formed into a dart shaped arousal.
    "Feeling good, Boy!"
    Jarod just hissed and pressed his erection into Walter's hand.
    Walter ran his finger up and down the zipper of Jarod's jeans, pressing the metal ever harder into the younger man's cock. Jarod's eyes were closed, from either embarrassment or pleasure, the AD wasn't quite sure.
    "Let's see what we have here, shall we?"
    Jarod's eyes flew open just in time to see the dedicated look on Walter's face. He felt real fear but showed noting on his face; no SIMs he had ever performed had ever prepared him for this. Walter's fingers grabbed onto Jarod's zipper and began an agonizingly slow lowering of it. Click by sickeningly audible click, the zipper descended and the captive man's fully blown erection popped out.
    "Impressive!"
    Jarod was beside himself with humiliation at his body's reaction. Walter slowly enclosed the cock in his hand. Slowly masturbating him, hellishly slowly, and, despite his shame, Jarod tried to spread his legs further and push himself in Walter's hand.
    Walter laughed.
    "Now who are you?"
    Jarod laid his head back, closed his eyes and moaned, enjoying the moment and te feelings speeding through his body.
    Walter noticed that Jarod was dangerously close, saw the body he was working on tense and he stopped his furious pumping. He moved his hand to the head of the cock and smeared the fluid into the turgid flesh. Jarod groaned again. Slowly Skinner moved his other hand up Jarod's stomach finally stopping at his erect nipples, pinching them to further life. The cock twitched in the AD's hand.
    "What do you want here?"
    Silence.
    Walter licked his own lips and placed his hand on the growth between his own legs and messaged it.  He bent over the bound man; slowly tracing his tongue over Jarod's closed lips.
    Jarod groaned.
    Skinner looked at his handiwork and was more than satisfied with the result. He brought his mouth down until it hovered above Jarod's erect nipple. He snaked his tongue out and gave the nipple a lick. Jarod arched into the older man's hand. Walter worked the nipple ruthlessly, licking and sucking, and then biting it hard.
    Jarod arched his chest toward Walter's mouth; he moaned helplessly.
    Walter released the younger man's cock from his hand with a noticeable whimper from Jarod. He reached into the jeans and felt for the man's balls. They were pulled up tightly to his body and Walter yanked them down sharply; Jarod yelped in surprise.
    The AD released Jarod's balls from their confinement and pulled them up closer to his cock. Reaching down with his other hand, Walter closed the zipper a couple of notches, being careful not to pinch the man—effectively trapping the man's jewels outside his pants.
    "Now, for the last time, who are you and what do you want here?"
    Jarod lowered his head so he could see himself exposed to the cool evening air of the apartment. He said nothing as his tormentor gently rubbed his hand from his compressed balls, slowly bringing it up the entire length of his cock, a finger toying with the slit. Jarod's mind wasn't exactly coherent with all the erotic attention he was receiving, but he said nothing, only an occasional moan escaping through his clenched teeth. His mind exploded as Walter brought his mouth down to cover the head of his cock. The most, warm heat of the AD's mouth almost driving the younger man over the edge.
    Walter whipped his head upward at the unmistakable sound of a key being inserted into the lock. He looked back over his shoulder and saw his lover close the door behind him and toss his keys on the table.
    Words froze in Fox's throat as his lover moved aside to reveal a very aroused man cuffed and tied in his chair. Mulder didn't miss, either, the flushed, aroused look of his lover as he greeted him with his eyes.  Walter's eyes spoke for him, pleading with the younger agent not to say anything and play along with the game.
    "Gee, Walter, you gut us a pet!"
    Skinner chuckled in relief to see Mulder catch on so quickly.
    "And I see he's not fixed either." Muldler's eyes were laughing, although his lips were not.
    He crossed the short distance to stand before Jarod very quickly. "Yes, he's definitely not fixed!" He reached out his long hand to give Jarod's cock a little, exploratory stroke. "Very nice, Walter, and it's not even my birthday... is it?"
    Skinner beamed as he came up behind his lover and thrust his erection at Mulder's ass.
    Mulder groaned as he moved back against the older man's erection.
    Fox quickly decided that he liked this game, whatever it was. His boss slowly reached around him and started to remove the knot of his tie. Slowly opening the buttons on Mulder's shirt, revealing more chestnut brown flesh as each button was opened. Walter pushed the opened shirt to the side and placed each of his hands on Mulder's chest. Each thumb, in turn, rubbing and then scraping the exposed nipples into hard nubs as he sucked his lover's ear into his mouth. Fox gasped and pushed his chest into Walter's hand.
    Jarod's eyes were wild with arousal and confusion as Mulder still held on to him, playing with the head of his cock, only stopping when the cuffed man was perilously close to an eruption. His balls we heavy and painful in his sack, his stomach muscles, under Fox's exploring and appreciative hand, were cramping in frustration and sympathy with his own denied fulfillment.
    Fox definitely liked this game. He leaned into his lover's embrace as Walter licked at his neck and spooned his entire body against his lover in a showy and tawdry imitation of coitus. Yes, Fox definitely liked this game!
    As Skinner slowly ground his erection into Mulder's ass he asked again: "Now, what are you doing here?"
    Jarod only arched himself further into Fox's hands, his shame and humiliation knowing no logical limits.
    "He doesn't speak," Fox said, barely noticeably, through heavy and laboured breathing.
    Jarod's eyes spit fire.
    Skinner's hands slowly slipped down Fox's body to reach for his belt buckle. Deliberately, so that Jarod could see exactly what he was doing, he opened the buckle and let his lover's pants drop heavily to the floor. With one hand he roughly slipped the boxers from Mulder's waist and slid them to his ankles.
    Jarod's mouth dropped open in excited shock when he saw Fox's fully aroused cock flap against his stomach. His chest was heaving from his own frustrated arousal and need for release. The fact that Fox's hands were so busy on his body wasn't helping his state of mind one bit.
    "Bend over, Lover." Skinner said in a silky and sultry voice that would have melted butter. Fox's cock jumped in anticipation.
    The younger agent did as he was asked, removing one hand from Jarod's erection and the other from his chest. Placing them on either of the cuffed man's thighs for support, he smiled evilly. He brought his head down to within a hair's breath of Jarod's erection and snaked his tongue for the most teasing of licks that he could manage.
    Jarod cried out and Fox smiled his most beatific of smiles, sweet and innocent, almost tender—angelic.
    Mulder cried out with pleasure as Skinner opened him up and brought his tongue down the whole length of his crack, licking and sucking, probing him with the wet heat of his tongue.  Mulder's eyes lost their focus as he pushed himself into Walter's sweet, wet tongue.
    Jarod's senses were full of the smell of sex: his own, the man bracing himself on his thighs, and the man on his knees, doing things with his tongue that Jarod could only barely imagine. The wet sucking noises coming from Skinner were driving him mad, sick with need. He didn't know if he would survive this night if he didn't cum soon.
    "Oh, god!" he screamed as the velvety wetness of Fox's mouth captured the head of his cock and started a furious sucking; he felt that his life was being sucked into the brown haired man's mouth. He had never experienced anything like this in his entire life; he felt, at once so erotically charged, and then so bereft and whimpering when the mouth was removed.
    Fox wiggled his ass into Walter's mouth and smiled at Jarod.
    From somewhere, and Jarod never quite saw, Skinner produced a tube of lube, pouring a generous amount on his hand, began messaging it into his lover. Fox moaned, groaned, and exhaled a blast of hot air in the general direction of Jarod's prick.
    The cuffed man groaned in agony as Fox nuzzled his stubble-covered face against his engorged cock. Jarod licked his lips and looked extremely fuckable at this moment.
    Skinner's fingers set up a bruising pace where they entered his lover. "More, Walter, harder!" Fox moaned.
    The AD was quick to comply and Jarod heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being opened. Walter sighed when his own turgid flesh was finally released. Fox looked up at Jarod then, and winked at him, as much as to say 'Don't you wish this was you?'
    Jarod felt that he had never been so horny and yet so unfulfilled.
    Skinner buried himself to the root in his lover, driving Fox's head forward, only stopping when it met Jarod's chest. Walter couldn't tell who groaned the louder, him, his lover, or the man they were tormenting.
    Fox pushed himself back on the cock splitting him in two and looked into Jarod's eyes, smiling.
    "Oh, god, Walter, yes! Do me, do me hard!"
    Fox maintained a death grip on Jarod's thighs, the only thing stopping his torrent of sounds was when he took the cuffed man's cock into his mouth again, sucking, pumping and licking him into a frenzy. Fox knew how close the man was and dropped the cock from his mouth.
    Jarod whimpered at the loss of the heat and the feeling of the rarest silk when that mouth was taken away.
    Mulder traced the vein on the underside of Jarod's cock with his nose as Walter plundered his ass. He couldn't recall the last time he had been this excited. Looking up at Jarod's tormented, aroused face only seemed to make him harder. With each stroke of Skinner's cock, he felt it right down to his toes. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer. He was going to cum, cum without anyone laying a hand on him.
    Skinners thrusts became more powerful and erratic, his moans louder and louder.  He hands gripped Fox's hips tighter as he rammed himself at the hot, warm heat encasing his cock.
    "Oh my god, Walter!" Fox said as he slightly righted himself. As he felt Walter spurting load after load into him, he felt his own orgasm racing to completion. As though in slow motion, he saw his own seed leaving his body with a powerful force. Shot after shot of hot fluid hitting the cuffed man on his stomach and chest. He could clearly hear the horse, pitiful, agonizing groans coming from Jarod in his state of hyper-arousal and frustration.
    Walter clasped Fox to him tightly, his hand working Fox's cock, milking him completely, forcing every last drop out of him. He licked at Mulder's ear as his lover groaned in complete satisfaction.
    They both laughed as they saw Jarod, in a vain attempt, reaching his own hand towards his cock trying to get some relief, but the cuffs wouldn't allow him the reach he needed.
    "Quite a case of blue-balls you got going there, Son!" Skinner snickered. "Come on Fox, shower."
    Mulder followed his lover to the bathroom quickly.
    "What was that all about, Walter? Not that's I'm complaining," Fox as Skinner closed the bathroom door.
    As Skinner removed his sweat-soaked and sticky clothing he said: "I have no Idea, Fox. I was waiting here for you, all decked out in this ridiculous outfit." He pointed his hand toward the growing pile of clothing on the floor. The tone of his voice and the look in his eyes didn't leave any doubt in Fox's mind as to whom his lover thought to blame for this. "I heard a noise, thought it was you, then I heard a lock pick and there you have it."
    "Why didn't you just call the police and have him arrested?" Fox was really curious now.
    "He knew me, Mulder. Knew my name, knew what I did. He told me I couldn't call. He knew the kind of mess I would have explaining to the DC police why I was in the apartment of one of my agents, alone, dressed like this. He had me and he knew it."
    The younger agent raised his eyebrows, smiled coyly, looked his boss squarely in the face, enjoying immensely the rising pink colour of his skin.
    "Well, yea, one thing led to another," Skinner said.
    "It certainly did," Mulder replied with a lilt in his voice.
 

As Skinner dried his lover's chest and stomach with the white, fluffy towel, Mulder trapped his face and placed a chaste skin on his cheek. "Now that we've got him here, what are we going to do with him," he asked.
    "I don't know what we can do, aside from beating the truth out of him—he won't say a word. Let him go, I guess," Skinner replied.
    The look on Mulder's face reflected his agreement.
    Skinner, still naked, exited the bathroom first. He looked at Jarod cuffed to the chair, his equipment deflated, but still quite visible lying on his jeans, and he felt slightly guilty.
    Jarod perked up a bit at the sight of the well-muscled and amply endowed Assistant Director and his breath caught in his throat.
    Skinner pulled the cuffed man's Tee shirt down over his sticky chest, gently released his zipper and packed the man back in his jeans, and closed the zipper again. Fox came up behind him and passed him the key to the handcuffs that he retrieved from Walter's pants on the bathroom floor.
    Walter's smile communicated his thanks.
    Skinner quickly unlocked the handcuffs as Fox untied the leather strip holding his legs down. Jarod rubbed some feeling back into his arms. And as quickly Skinner grabbed him by the scruff of his Tee shirt and practically lifted him off the chair.
    "You were lucky this time, Boy! Take a word of advice, don't do this again. If I ever see you around here, even smell you around here; you won't be so lucky next time. Do I make myself clear?"
    Jarod bristled at the close proximity of the larger man, but nodded his understanding. On legs complaining from being tied up so long, he stumbled to the door, unlatched the lock and let himself out.
    He looked back at the closed door, blew a kiss in its direction. This is not over, not by a long shot. Next time, next time, Walter S Skinner, you'll be the one who's moaning. He smiled, straightened up and walked toward the elevator.

email Riticulan

To be Continued in The Boys of Autumn