Unofficial Channels
by Louise Wu
"Sir?" Scully's voice. "I'm sorry to come unannounced, sir, but your assistant
wasn't at her desk."
"What is it, Scully?"
"May we speak off the record, sir?"
Fuck. Not again. "About?"
"Agent Mulder."
Of course. I close the door, lamenting my certain
knowledge that this does not ensure our privacy.
"He's gone."
"Where?"
"I don't know. I was hoping that you could tell me or help me to find out."
"When I spoke to Agent Mulder the day before yesterday, he said he was going to
take some time off after what he'd been through."
"He told me the same thing, but I don't think this matter with his sister is
settled." I can hear near panic in her shaky breathing. Mulder must be in
serious trouble. "Sir, is there any way that you can reach him through
unofficial channels?"
Dammit. The conversations those two try to launch in my probably bugged office!
I have to brush her off. "I can't help you, Scully."
"Please?" Dana Scully is not the sort of woman who begs. Her tone is so sharp
that it's difficult to blow her off.
"Agent Scully, you and I both have a greater responsibility to consider and
that is to the F.B.I. Agent Mulder's actions in this case are in violation of
his duties, his oath of trust and Bureau protocol. He's risked my position,
your life..."
"Agent Mulder has saved my life!"
"If he wanted or expected you to do the same, he would have told you where he
was going." I return to my desk. In case she didn't grasp that the meeting was
over, I offer a terse, "Please close the door on your way out, Agent Scully."
My jaw is clenched. My head starts to throb even before I hear her shut the
door. I slam my pen onto the desk. Dammit, Mulder! What have you gotten into
now?
The man is infuriating. After each aggravating Mulder
situation I tell myself that I will endure no more. But like a brilliant
artist,
he continues to be worth the frustration. My respect for him always wins out.
If
I'm honest with myself, it's more than that. I genuinely like the neurotic
little bastard.
Mulder's Apartment Building
I need to talk to Scully and I know that I'll find her here.
There is an 'x' taped on Mulder's window, with a light shining behind it.
Scully has attempted contact with Mulder's informant, an action that is
dangerous for her, as well as for the man Mulder calls Mr. X.
In the building lobby, I push the call button. The panel overhead tells me the
elevator is paused on the fourth floor. Then the numbers begin to drop as the
elevator groans its descent. I anticipate Scully, but the door opens revealing
a handsome and well-dressed black man.
The tension in his eyes and shoulders give him away. Mulder's informant.
"Excuse me," he says in a scratchy voice.
I'm blocking his path intentionally. "Did you tell her what she needed to
know?"
Mr. X's eyes narrow with suspicion. I see his hand shift to reach for a gun.
I grab him by his trench coat and slam him against the back wall of the
elevator. X is a big man; the elevator paneling nearly collapses under his
weight. "How hard do you want to make this?"
"No harder than it has to be." His cool retort tells me that he's a confident
man. I'm close enough to sense his physical power. Simple intimidation won't
produce the results I'm seeking.
As if to prove my point, Mr. X gives me an excruciating head butt. I'm seeing
stars and a fist coming at me. A burst of pain in my jaw and I'm thrown
backwards. He reaches for his gun, so I launch myself at him, shoving him into
the wall. I connect solidly to his gut. Blood rushes in my veins with the pure
pleasure of pounding another man's flesh. My own head butt leaves him reeling
and I throw him to the floor. Before I can get a good grip on his lapels, his
handgun is in my face.
Coffee-colored eyes burn into mine. "I've killed men for far less."
I'll bet you have, you son of a bitch. "You pull that trigger, you'll be
killing two men. Now I want to know where Mulder is."
"You're in no position to negotiate, Mr. Skinner." He stretches and rises,
carefully keeping the weapon pointed at me. "I have the information you want
and the gun."
I examine the man. He might be a few years younger than I am. His face shows
intelligence, but it's a harsh face. If he kills me, he won't lose sleep over
it tonight.
"So what'll it take to get you to tell me?"
I watch him suppress an odd little half smile. Those dark eyes glide down my
body and back up again. Mulder's life is at risk and the fucker wants to get
laid. That's low, but I can play.
I return the glance, eying his muscular body with appreciation. My cock,
usually half-hard during a good fight, gives a twitch in response. I have just
offered to whore myself for Agent Mulder.
X's eyebrow quirks.
"What'll it take?" I repeat.
"If I'm going to risk my life again, I want something in return."
"Name it."
"Your ass, Mr. Skinner."
It's shocking to hear it out loud. My eyes widen before I can regain control of
my face.
For me, sex with men is rough and brief. Rutting. I take what I want and don't
bother with the niceties. The handsome and violent Mr. X promises to deliver
just what I like, except, this time, I'll be on the bottom. No reason I can't
enjoy that, too.
I tell myself that Mulder's going to owe me big time... but my dick is ready
and willing. A curt nod is my assent.
Mr. X pushes the close door and emergency stop buttons. "Drop your pants, Mr.
Skinner," he commands in a low voice.
Unaccustomed to taking orders of that kind, I hesitate despite my body's
desire. I find myself fixating on X's mouth, framed by his neatly trimmed
beard.
His lips move. "Well?"
Shrugging off my overcoat and suit coat, I reach for my trousers, which I open
with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Without lube this is going to
hurt.
The weight of the belt buckle drags my pants to my ankles. I pull down my
briefs, exposing my butt to the cool air blowing from the vent overhead.
Bracing myself on one forearm against the elevator wall, I keep my right hand
free for my own cock.
As I part my thighs I wonder if I've done it as provocatively as other men have
offered themselves to me. I struggle not to feel the submission inevitable in
the act. I am a human animal who will enjoy this act. And I am not ashamed.
My body's tension settles in my shoulders. A trickle of blood slides down my
face as I offer my ass to this dangerous stranger.
At the sound of a zipper, I prepare myself for painful penetration, but X
surprises me. A warm hand slides under my shirttails finding my ass, kneading
it briefly. Two brown fingers appear before my face. I give them a cursory
licking. He tastes clean with a hint of sweat. His hand withdrawn, X slides one
thick finger inside me, followed quickly by another, opening me up impatiently.
I struggle to make my ass relax around the probing digits. I don't do this
often enough to be practiced at it. I'm tempted to twist my neck to check out
his equipment, but remind myself that I might be more relaxed if I don't.
The fingers are suddenly withdrawn. I hear him spit and then his moist cock
head finds my anus. He grips my hips with his hands, holding tight enough to
bruise. I hear a hitch in his breath as he pushes his dick inside me. The
initial burn is quite painful, but the glide of his thick cock as it fills me
is raw pleasure.
I wrap my fingers around my erection and begin to stroke. Rarely the bottom
myself, I've forgotten how fucking good it can feel to have a hard cock sliding
across my prostate. There is a little pain, but I can't bring myself to care.
His balls slap mine and then he pulls back with a grunt and begins to thrust
into me. As I anticipated, he gives it to me hard, not overly concerned about
my comfort. That's just how I want it. I jerk myself off with the same rough
treatment. Both my cock and my ass are throbbing with appreciation.
His chin comes to rest on my shoulder. I enjoy the harsh sounds of his
breathing as they record his loss of control.
Sweat stings my bloody face. The cock inside me feels smoother with each
thrust. The pain of penetration is subsumed by the pure pleasure of being
impaled on that hot, demanding dick.
"Enjoying yourself, Skinner?" he rasps arrogantly into my ear.
"Fuck, yes," I reply as I struggle to delay my own climax.
His thrusts begin to get clumsy. One of his arms slides up my chest and presses
our bodies tightly together. A groan begins deep in his torso and rises to a
painful volume. X's hips jerk as he shoots his release into me. With a final
growl of satisfaction, his heavy body slumps into mine and he falls silent.
I pump my cock furiously. My own orgasm explodes just as his softening cock
slides out of me. The quaking of my shoulders shakes off the body on top of me.
My semen stains the elevator wall. Crouched on the wall, I allow myself a
moment to recover my breath.
I pull on my underwear and pants. Fastening the belt, I retrieve my coats from
the floor and turn to face him.
Fully dressed, X stands across from me, offering me a smug glare.
I glare right back at the man, waiting for the answers I've just sold myself to
obtain.
I don't expect his next move. He grabs me by my shirtfront and shoves me hard
into the elevator siding. He presses his muscular body into mine, chest to
chest. His lips come so close that I can taste his hot breath. Just when I
think the bastard will kiss me he whispers into my ear.
When he has given me the information we need to locate Mulder, he backs away
and presses buttons on the elevator panel.
His eyes meet mine again. He clears his throat and emits a muffled chuckle
before he exits the elevator.
I jab the button for the fourth floor. After the door closes, I sigh and slump
back against the elevator wall. What's done is done. No need to revisit what
happened here tonight.
I straighten my shoulders, briefly contemplating my state. After fighting and
fucking I probably look like hell, but my body feels invigorated.
Scully is obviously shocked by my appearance as she greets me at Mulder's door.
"Agent Mulder took a commercial flight to Tacoma, Washington. From there, he
caught a military plane to Deadhorse, Alaska."
She steps aside as I enter. I am Assistant Director Skinner again.
"He used his F.B.I. credentials to charter a Rollagon all-terrain vehicle." I
locate a table. "It's still a ten-mile hike across the ice." I write down the
coordinates X gave me. "These are the coordinates of his final destination."
I hand her the paper.
"How did you get this?"
"Unofficial channels," I reply, holding back a smirk.
It's tempting to think that Mulder now owes me what I
have just given Mr. X.
27 March 2000 With only about six people interested in this pairing, I need to hear
from
those of you who actually read this darned thing. Even (flame-free)
criticism is welcome.
Outstanding Skinner/other story (honour)
Assistant Director Walter Skinner's Office
FBI Headquarters
Washington, D.C.
Alexandria, Virginia
