From: Agent Hollman <diandrahollman@yahoo.com>
Date: 9 Jun 2004 08:55:35 -0700
Subject: [all-xf] New fic! (Mener par...)
Source: atxc

Title: Mener par le Bout du Nez
Author: Diandra Hollman
E-Mail: diandrahollman@yahoo.com
Website: http://diandrahollman.tripod.com/index.html
Rating: As NC-17 as I can make it. ;D
Classification: S R
Keywords: Mulder/Doggett romance, SLASH, PWP, mild BDSM
Spoilers: spoilers spoilers...what are those again? Oh, yeah, 
         *those*! Um...no. ;P
Disclaimer: Agents Mulder and Doggett don't belong to me. They 
         belong to each other. No, wait...that's not right...    
         oh, you know what I mean! ;)
Archive: I'll take care of XFMU, Gossamer, Mulder slash and 
         Doggett slash. Anywhere else, just e-mail me! :)
Summary: "I could feel his eyes on me. I also felt a sense of 
         dread. The kind a child feels when he knows he's done 
         something wrong and is going to be punished."
Author's Notes: With apologies to Steven Soderberg I will use 
         his description of "Full Frontal" and call this story 
         a 'karmic sequel' to "Le Puceau". ;) All credit for 
         that goes to him. Please don't sue me.

         There is really no plot to this, it's pure smutty 
         fluff. Questions like "How the heck did this 
         relationship start?" will not be answered here. Just 
         go with it. ;) Neither Scully or Reyes will make an 
         appearance in this story. 

         Oh, yeah, and this story deals with consensual Ds 
         stuff, so if that offends you...well, then what the 
         heck are you doing here? Hit the "back" button! ;P


Mener par le Bout du Nez
By Diandra Hollman

I'm not sure how I got here. A year ago, if someone had told 
me this would happen I would have laughed in their face. Hell, 
I can hardly believe *now* that I'm doing this.

A few months ago, I started a relationship with Fox Mulder. I 
would say I fell in love with him, but to be honest I'm not 
completely certain that that's what it is. I've never been in 
love with a man before. Come to think of it, I'm not sure if 
I've ever been in love with a woman either... 

What is it about this man that makes everyone around him want 
to question their own sanity?

Maybe it was pure lust. Ever since that first night he took me 
into his bed I haven't been able to sleep alone without 
craving the feel of his body beside mine.

I guess it started with him pinning my arms down during sex. I 
think he was afraid he would scare me off at first with his 
little display of domination. But there was something about 
being held immobile while he drove me insane with pleasure 
that I was surprised to find very thrilling. 

He became more and more bold in his little games. Last time, 
he bound my hands to the headboard with one of his ties. But 
somehow I knew he was holding back. I told him I didn't want 
him to do that and made him promise that he would not hold 
anything back this time. 

When he opened the door tonight wearing black leather pants 
and a black T-shirt and looked at me with a gaze more intense 
then I had ever seen on him I knew that he would be making 
good on his promise...

I started to wonder if maybe I shouldn't have encouraged him 
when I found myself kneeling on the bathroom floor ten minutes 
later - my cheek to the ground and my ass in the air - as he 
gave me an enema. At least he left the room while I flushed 
the liquid out...

I was only two steps into the bedroom when Mulder seemed to 
come out of nowhere behind me. He wrapped his left arm around 
my waist while his right hand came up to cup my chin, his 
thumb brushing lightly against the corner of my lips. He 
buried his face in my neck, sucking and biting at the 
sensitive skin. I cleared my throat nervously.

"Aren't you a little overdressed, Mulder," I asked.

I gasped as he let go of my chin and his hand connected with 
my ass with a resounding smack. 

"You will address me as 'sir' tonight, John. Do you 
understand?"

I nodded and was rewarded with another blow.

"Answer me," he demanded. His voice remained low, but his tone 
left no room for protest.

"Yes," I whispered.

I winced as my response earned me an even more forceful slap.

"Yes, what? And speak up!"

"Y...yes, sir." I should have been used to the address - I 
*was* in the Marines, for crying out loud - it just felt 
strange to use it on *Mulder*.

"Go stand at the foot of the bed."

I hesitated only a moment before complying. Mulder followed me 
and we stood face to face. I caught a faint gleam in his eye 
that I was sure I had never seen before.

"Turn around."

I looked at him quizzically.

"Do it," he snapped.

I turned quickly. I felt him step closer until he was almost 
touching me, then he reached around me to place a blindfold 
over my eyes.

"You might want to start obeying me, John," he murmured as he 
tied the scrap of cloth gently but securely. "Next time I 
won't be so easy on you." He brushed his hand over my ass. I 
could still feel the faint tingling of warmth where his hand 
had made its impression on my skin.

"Yes, sir."

"Now bend over and grab on to the rail."

I groped the air in front of me until my hand clamped around 
the smooth wooden bar of the footboard. I held on, hands 
shoulder-width apart, and braced myself for the punishment I 
expected to receive for my last breech of command. Instead, I 
felt more scraps of cloth - I could only guess they were 
neckties - being wrapped around my wrists.

He tied them like handcuffs. One end was tied securely to my 
wrist, and the other was tied to the rail. My hands were 
separated by at least a foot. I would not be able to escape. I 
tugged against them anyway, testing them.

Then I heard him leave the room. After about a minute I began 
to worry. The thought kept running through my mind that he 
planned to leave me like that until morning. Don't get me 
wrong, I trusted him, but I - like everybody else that has 
ever known Mulder, I'm sure - had no idea what was going on in 
his head. I guess I could call that a blessing in disguise. 

"Sir," I asked carefully, listening for signs of movement. But 
the room remained still; empty. "Mulder?"

After about five minutes, I was getting angry. I was *sure* he 
was planning to leave me like that overnight. I could just 
picture the smirk on his face at the thought that he had 
gotten me to fall for his little prank.

"Mulder," I called warningly as I tugged against the knots 
holding me to the bed frame. I cursed under my breath as I 
tried to free myself. "Mulder, you goddamn sonofabitch answer 
me!"

"Agent Doggett!" I gasped as his voice thundered across the 
room - originating from somewhere behind me. 

He moved across the room, dumping something onto the bedside 
table. Then there was an uncomfortable silence. I could feel 
his eyes on me. I also felt a sense of dread. The kind a child 
feels when he knows he's done something wrong and is going to 
be punished. /Nice going, John.../

"What the hell was that about," Mulder asked, his voice 
returning to a low hiss.

"I thought you left," I said defensively.

"Where the hell did you get an idea like that," he demanded. I 
felt a blush rise to my cheeks. 

He then picked up an item from the table. From the sounds it 
was making, there was no mistaking what it was. The rasp of 
leather; the familiar clink of a metal buckle...it was a belt. 
I began to panic.

"Oh, come on, Mulder, I-" 

My protest was cut off with a startled gasp as the leather 
connected with my ass.

"What did you call me?" His voice was nearly a growl. 

"I..." Shit. /What the hell do I do now?/

The belt hit me again and I gave a sharp cry. "I'm sorry, 
sir," I gasped. "Please...stop."

He sighed heavily. "I don't think you understand who's in 
charge here." He snapped the belt in the air once, causing me 
to flinch. "Thirty strokes oughtta do it."

I fought the urge to scream and fight him, knowing that it 
would only worsen my situation.

"I want you to count every stroke. If you lose track, I will 
start over from the beginning. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," I whimpered.

"Good. Now take a couple steps back."

I obeyed, of course. With my hands tied the way they were, I 
was forced to bend even further forward, making my backside 
more vulnerable. I braced myself for the first blow and 
waited...and waited. After a while my muscles began to tire of 
the strain and automatically relaxed. *That* was when he 
finally began. 

I sucked in air through clenched teeth and hissed "one."

I focused on the whistling noise the belt made as it sliced 
through the air again and again, concentrating on keeping 
count. By five my ass felt like it was on fire and my eyes 
stung with tears of pain. By ten it was all I could do to gasp 
out the numbers between sobs. I was sure I would never make it 
through all thirty. By fifteen I was begging for mercy, 
anything that would stop the abuse. 

Then something happened. The pain began to turn bizarrely into 
pleasure. Every stroke sent a bolt of lightning directly from 
my ass to the tip of my penis, which grew rapidly thick, full 
and uncomfortably hot. I was lost, half-mad with the combined 
sensations. 

I spread my legs further apart and pushed my hips backwards. 
Mulder responded by directing the next blow between my cheeks, 
brushing pure fire against my anus. I screamed, barely 
remembering to gasp "twenty-five" with what little breath I 
had left. I wondered feverishly if I could come from this 
alone.

By the time he finished I was panting wildly, my entire body 
flushed with arousal. My blindfold was soaked with my 
forgotten tears, and the ones that had escaped were drying on 
my cheeks. I was hypersensitive. Just the slightest touch on 
my erection and I would explode...

"Please," I breathed, my hips twitching desperately. "Please, 
sir...I-" my plea broke off into a moan as his fingers wrapped 
around the head of my penis lightly and moved steadily down to 
the root. Then he squeezed...hard. I howled in betrayal. 

"You will not come until I allow you to," Mulder murmured 
softly. "*If* I decide to allow you to at all. This is not 
about your pleasure."

Ah, yes...it was all for his benefit. Of the few facts I had 
picked up on these kind of rituals, the one thing I remembered 
is that it was the job of the "submissive" to please the 
"master". Anything else was of little importance. I nodded, 
biting my lip in frustration.

"I don't want to put a cock ring on you if I don't have to 
though. Can you hold off on your own?"

I nodded. 

"You're sure? You realize that if you don't, you will be 
punished."

I shifted nervously. /Heck, I can control myself,/ I thought. 
I nodded firmly.

"Good," he mumbled happily. He patted me on the hip lightly 
and dropped the belt back on the table. 

I heard him pick up another item and shifted nervously. I felt 
something cold drip into the cleft of my ass and gasped, 
shivering, partially from the shock and partially from the 
anticipation the familiar sensation always brought. He spread 
the moisture around and into the small puckered opening that 
ached to be filled by him. I moaned helplessly as his 
practiced fingers carefully stretched me open and bit my 
tongue to keep from begging him to just fuck me already.

Then his fingers left me and I felt a large, blunt object 
demand entrance. I concentrated on relaxing my muscles and 
sighed as it slid deep inside me in one smooth glide.

Mulder untied the knots securing me to the bed - leaving the 
ones holding the cloths around my wrists intact - and brought 
my arms behind my back, tying them together firmly. I swayed a 
bit at the change in my center of balance. I tensed my legs to 
prevent myself from falling forward and grunted quietly as the 
action caused my rectum to clamp down on what I now recognized 
as a plug. Like I said, I did a little bit of research...

"Stand up straight," Mulder ordered.

I hesitated. "But..."

"Are you disobeying me again?"

I winced at the threatening tone in his voice. "N...no, sir. 
I'm just afraid the plug will fall out."

He chuckled softly and ran a hand over the throbbing hot skin 
of my rear end. I gasped, unsure if the sensation was painful 
or pleasurable. "It has a flared end. It's not going 
anywhere."

I stood without any further argument and whimpered as the 
movement jostled the plug, sending tingling repercussions 
through my body.

"Now kneel down," he commanded and I obeyed quickly. I felt 
his hand pet my hair. "Good boy," he murmured. 

I heard a rustling as he finally stripped off his clothes and 
returned to stand in front of me. He ran both hands through my 
hair, seeming to enjoy the feel of it between his fingers. He 
toyed with my ears briefly before cupping my face in both 
palms, brushing one thumb against my lower lip.

"I wanna be in your mouth," he said softly. It almost sounded 
like a polite request, but I knew it wasn't. 

I nodded and opened my mouth. I felt the tip of his penis bump 
gently against my lips. "Make it good," he said before he 
pushed the head inside. His hands moved to cup the back of my 
neck as he waited for me to start.

I took a deep breath and pushed forward until I felt him hit 
the back of my throat, knowing that I was only halfway there. 
I wouldn't say Mulder was hung like a horse, but he was 
certainly well endowed - a fact that never failed to please me 
as his lover. I applied a steady suction and bobbed my head a 
couple of times, letting my teeth scrape his skin gently and 
pausing only to swirl my tongue around the head. I was 
encouraged by a low moan and a twitch of his hips.

I took several deep breaths through my nose and forced my 
throat muscles to relax until I was able to slide him all the 
way in. I tried to ignore the overwhelming urge to gag as my 
body attempted to reject the intrusion. Tears began forming in 
my eyes and I was sure my nose would start running at any 
moment. 

"Hold still," he whispered, sounding only slightly out of 
breath. "Let me fuck your mouth."

I was sure he would choke me if I let him do that, but I knew 
I had no choice. So, I held as still as possible, focused on 
keeping my throat relaxed and prayed he would not go too hard 
on me. 

Amazingly, he seemed to understand. While his thrusts were 
deep enough to push him into my throat every time, they were 
controlled and not as forceful as I had feared. I swallowed 
once in an effort to keep from drooling too much and heard a 
soft gasp from him. It took all my available willpower to keep 
myself from smiling. 

He pulled out abruptly, leaving me gasping, my mouth gaping 
open.

"Stand up," he said a bit shakily. 

I stood and awaited my next command. He spun me around and 
untied my hands - once again leaving the knots around my 
wrists.

"Lay down on the bed."

I reached my hands up to remove the blindfold. He caught my 
arms and brought them back down to my sides, making a 
discouraging noise.

Through a lot of awkward maneuvering I managed to lay down in 
what I estimated to be the middle of the bed. With every inch 
I moved, I felt the plug shift inside me until I thought I 
would scream with the pleasure I knew was not likely to be 
fulfilled. 

His hands encircled my wrists gently, guiding my arms over my 
head where he tied them firmly nearly to opposite ends of the 
headboard.

"Lift your hips," he ordered. When I did he slid a pillow 
underneath me. "Spread your legs, but keep your feet flat on 
the bed." I shifted my knees shoulder-width apart. "Wider." 

I spread my legs as wide as I could comfortably and cleared my 
throat. "I can't go any further, sir."

His response was to grip my lower legs firmly and push them up 
and out until I was sure my muscles would snap from the 
strain. I yelped and tried to pull myself further up on the 
bed - anything that would ease the pressure in my thighs. But 
I had nowhere to go. 

Finally, with a monumental effort, I was able to force my 
muscles to relax. It wasn't as bad as I expected. 
Uncomfortable? Yes. Did I think I might not be able to walk 
again for at least twenty-four hours? Yes, but it wasn't 
*painful*

"Keep them there," Mulder said. "If you move your feet, I'll 
stop. If you try to close your legs, I'll stop. Do you 
understand?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

So now here I am. Tied to the headboard of Mulder's bed, my 
legs forced to maintain this awkward position while I wait for 
Mulder to make his next move. God help me.

*********
MULDER

I can't believe I'm doing this. No, strike that. I can't 
believe *Doggett* is doing this. 

From the moment I met him I have thought he was a man who 
didn't give up control easily. I wonder if I'm the only person 
he's allowed to see him like this; helpless, willingly placed 
at someone else's mercy. That thought alone makes my already 
almost painful erection swell further.

I pick up a single, delicate feather from the table and return 
to the bed. I lie at John's side, propped up on my left elbow. 
Before I begin thought, I press my lips to his. It's not a 
gentle loving kiss; it is harsh and dominating, with my tongue 
plunging into his mouth roughly and my teeth biting his lips 
hard enough to make him whimper but not so hard as to break 
the skin. I finally release him, allowing him to breathe.

I take a moment to look at him. His face is flushed, his lips 
wet, swollen and slightly parted with his deep, shaky breaths. 
He's beautiful.

I draw the feather across those lips, just barely touching 
them. He gasps and goes stone still. I brush it across his 
cheeks one at a time and then down over his chin. He makes a 
small sound in the back of the throat that tells me that his 
practical, logical mind has figured out what the object is - 
and probably all possible things I could do to him with it. 

I drag the feather down his neck and draw random, lazy 
patterns over his chest. I make sure to pay special attention 
to his nipples, which I have found to be especially sensitive 
in past explorations.

He bites his lip, trying to hold back his moans of pleasure. 
His head turns to one side. I take the opportunity to trace 
the delicate shell of his ear - another sensitive spot. This 
time, he can't stop the loud moan from escaping. 

Back to his nipples. This time his hips move in an almost 
imperceptible rhythm as the feather strokes the hardened buds. 
I'm certain he is not even aware he is doing it. I bend to 
take the right nipple in my mouth while I continue to play the 
feather over the left. I smile around the distended flesh as 
he cries out. I swirl my tongue around it slowly, savoring the 
taste. I can never get enough of the unique taste of his skin. 
Sweet and yet earthy. Pure. As if offering yet more proof that 
there is nothing unnatural, artificial or dishonest about this 
man.

I release him and he winces as the cool air hits his now over-
sensitive nipple. I blow on it gently, enjoying the resulting 
whine that comes from the back of his throat. I reach for the 
clothespins I have set on the bedside table. I debate whether 
or not I should give him a warning first. I decide not to and 
carefully clip the still slightly damp nipple.

He gasps and turns his head away from me, but not before I can 
catch a glimpse of his lips pulling back to reveal tightly 
clenched teeth. I grab his chin and turn his face back towards 
mine.

"Don't," I say simply. He gives me a slight nod of compliance 
and holds his breath while I clamp a second pin to the other 
nipple. He whimpers softly. I reward his obedience with a 
kiss - softer this time, but no less a show of dominance. But 
something's not right. He's breathing too heavily; gasping. I 
can feel his body beginning to tremble.

"John? Are you okay?"

"I...y-yes, sir...I just..." He bites his lip in frustration.

"You're afraid," I murmur gently. "You're afraid I'll go too 
far."

He nods sheepishly. I sigh and press myself against him, 
bending my head closer to his. I cup his chin, turning his 
face towards me until our noses almost touch and stroke his 
cheek with my thumb. "In order for this to work you're going 
to have to trust me."

He swallows nervously. "Yes, sir," he whispers.

"And," I continue. "I'm going to have to know where to draw 
the line. You remember the safeword, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"What is it?"

"Spooky, sir."

"Good. If I do go too far, if I do anything you're not 
comfortable with, just say the word and I'll stop, okay?"

He nods slightly. "Yes, sir."

I smile, even though I know he can't see me, and kiss his 
forehead.

"Sir," he asks tentatively. "Can you take the blindfold off?"

"I thought you were going to trust me," I say half-teasingly, 
half-warningly. 

"I..." he blushes. "I do, sir, but...I wanna see you."

I pause for a moment to debate with myself. I do love to watch 
his bright blue eyes turn dark and glassy with pleasure, but I 
have to know for sure that he trusts me. Plus, in its own way 
I find it kind of erotic. He can't depend on sight to tell him 
what I'm doing. The anticipation of the next touch and the 
promise of pleasure are heightened. 

Yes, I know, I know. I said this wasn't going to be about his 
pleasure, it was about mine. But, my pleasure comes from 
giving him pleasure - from making him nearly mindless with 
desire. From obliterating any thought from his mind beyond the 
need for release. 

"You don't need to see me," I answer. He tries to be discreet 
about his displeasure at this, but I can see him shoulders sag 
in defeat. 

"Sir?"

"Yes, John," I sigh, starting to get impatient.

"What are the clips for?"

His navet brings a smile to my face. Instead of answering 
him, I show him by dragging the nearly-forgotten feather 
across one trapped nipple. He gasps, his back arching 
slightly. "It makes them more sensitive," I murmur to 
reinforce the point. 

After only the second pass of the feather over each nipple, he 
is panting audibly. It's time to move on. The clamps will 
start reducing blood flow soon, leaving the area numb. I sweep 
the feather over his stomach gently, knowing he's ticklish. He 
trembles, his belly twitching occasionally, but otherwise 
unmoving. 

/Good boy./

I skirt the feather around his straining flesh and dance it 
along the insides of his thighs. His head rolls from side to 
side as he obviously struggles to keep from making his 
frustration known. When I finally grow bored of torturing him 
with the feather, I draw it steadily, with the smallest amount 
of pressure, up the underside of his erection and tease it 
around the head. 

He gasps. I don't have to see to know that behind the 
blindfold his eyes have turned glassy and lust-stupid. "I'm 
gonna fuck you soon," I say in a low, husky rumble. "You'd 
like that, wouldn't you? My dick in your ass? I'm gonna fuck 
you so hard you won't be able to sit for a week."

Jesus. Since when do I talk like this? It seems to be having 
the right effect, though. Doggett is tugging futilely at his 
bonds and squirming, his breath coming in harsh pants.

I draw the feather further back and tease his anus where it is 
stretched around the plug. His hips thrust towards me - as 
much as they can without him having to move his feet - 
desperately trying to increase the pressure. 

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? You're just a slut for 
me, aren't you?" 

In my defense, I'm sure I would never say something like this 
under normal circumstances. Doggett whimpers, frowning 
slightly, but he is helpless to stop his frantic movements.

I remove the feather suddenly and put it back on the table. 
Doggett whines petulantly - like a child who has had his 
favorite toy taken away from him.

"No...don't..." He begins twisting his body, trying blindly to 
relieve the ache...bringing his legs together in the process.

I back away from the bed. Not because I enjoy punishing him 
like this - after all, I am denying my own pleasure too - but 
because he needs to understand that I am the one in control 
here. I made the rules. If he breaks them, he must face the 
consequences.

He freezes in place when he realizes what he has done. "No...
no, please...Please, sir," he begs frantically. "I'm sorry, 
sir, please!"

This is an exercise in control for me. I have never been able 
to deny him before when he pleads with me like this and he 
knows it. But I am determined to be strong this time.

Even though I told him I didn't want to do it, I put a cock 
ring on him; not so much to delay his release as to prevent 
him from going flaccid with the absence of a stimulus. He 
gives me a betrayed yelp. Then, because I don't entirely trust 
myself to be able to not give in to his continued pleas, I gag 
him with another one of my ties.

I sit on the end of the bed, waiting while he struggles 
against the ties, grunting angrily into the gag. I watch as 
the anger turns to frustration and then desperation. 
Eventually he stops struggling entirely. He makes a low, 
mournful sound that I can only describe as a mewl and then 
goes silent. The only sound in the room is that of his harsh 
breathing. 

I touch him then. Just the tips of my fingers against his 
ankle. He sighs - relieved, it seems, that I am not leaving 
him. I rub my thumb in gentle circles around the bony 
protrusion. 

"Are you going to be good now," I ask softly. He nods wildly. 
"You're not going to disobey me anymore?" He shakes his head. 
"Good."

I run my fingers lightly up the inside of his leg until I 
reach the plug. I pull it out of him slowly, allowing him to 
feel every millimeter of it as it leaves his body. His 
sphincter clenches around it, as if desperate to draw it back 
in. I give in - pushing the plug back in firmly. This earns me 
a choked gasp.

I set up a steady rhythm of push and pull until I've got him 
right on the edge - straining for release. Until his head 
lolls to one side, his nostrils flaring with each jagged 
breath and his thighs began to tremble in barely disguised 
restraint. Then, without giving him any sort of warning, I 
yank the plug out, kneel between his legs and plunged myself 
to the hilt inside him with one deep thrust.

He stills, his cry of surprise muffled by the gag. I lean down 
to whisper in his ear.

"Do you think you can stay quiet if I remove the gag?"

He mumbles something into the cloth.

"I can't hear you," I remind him gently. "Just nod or shake 
your head. Yes or no?"

There is a brief pause before he shakes his head cautiously, 
like he's afraid I'll stop if he gives the wrong answer. 

"All right," I murmur. "The gag stays. I'm going to take the 
blindfold off now." I begin untying the piece of cloth as I 
say this. He lifts his head to make it easier. 

He winces when the blindfold finally comes off and his eyes 
are forced to readjust to the light of the room. When they do, 
they lock onto mine and I feel my breath catch in my throat. 
His eyes are at least two shades darker and almost unnaturally 
bright with arousal, further magnifying their natural 
intensity. They also tell me everything I claimed to need 
proof of tonight. Along with his usual stubborn determination 
I can see absolute trust and, most importantly, love. He will 
let me do this to him, not because he has to or because he has 
some inherent masochistic tendencies, but because of his 
unadulterated love for me. 

But what really blows me away is the unmistakable proof of his 
complete and utter faith in me. I realize that he would 
willingly place his life in my hands if necessary, confident 
in my ability to protect him - to care for him.

I am floored by this realization. Countless thoughts are 
flying through my mind and yet I'm at a complete loss for 
words. I guess it's just as well since I don't think there are 
any words in the English language that could even remotely 
describe the things I'm feeling right now. I just have to hope 
that he already knows.

I struggle to regain control. Doggett has more power over me 
than he may think he does. Just by looking at me, he can make 
me go soft - make me want nothing more than to wrap him in my 
arms and kiss him until we're both breathless. And as 
appealing as that sounds, I am determined to finish what I 
started.

I pull out of him slowly - agonizingly. His eyes slam shut 
with a ragged moan. I stroke my hand down over his throbbing 
length to rest on the cock ring. 

"I'm going to remove this now," I whisper. "But you are still 
not to come until I give you permission. Understand?"

He hesitates for a moment before giving me a firm nod. 

My thumb finds the weak point in the ring that will release it 
and presses. Doggett gasps as it loosens, his back arching. 
His forehead creases in concentration as he focuses on keeping 
his impending orgasm at bay.

His thighs are trembling with the effort of holding them in an 
unnatural position for so long. I finally decide to take pity 
on him and encourage him to wrap his legs around my waist. He 
does this gratefully, groaning as the overworked muscles 
announce their displeasure.

I rub circles on his quivering abdomen as I wait for him to 
relax a bit before pulling back and plunging deep inside him 
again. I am rewarded with another ragged moan, deeper this 
time, even more desperate. 

"Don't come," I warn him again before starting a slow, steady 
rhythm of thrust and withdrawal.

Before long, he is babbling incoherently behind the gag and I 
am grateful that I can no longer hear him. He tends to get 
this way during sex; he's very vocal. Which is certainly not a 
bad thing, but his vocalizations are usually in the form of 
commands - harder, a little to the left, no, higher, yes, 
right there - and I am always quick to obey them. Tonight, *I* 
am the one calling the shots. And while I am quite possibly 
just as desperate for release as he is, I don't want this to 
end yet. It takes all the restraint I have in me to keep up 
the slow pace when all I want to do is let go and thrust 
myself into oblivion, but I manage. 

John's eyes have completely lost focus now, but somehow he has 
managed to keep enough control to hold off the inevitable. I'm 
not sure how much longer he can hold on, but I'd love to find 
out. 

"Not yet," I tell him gently. He groans breathlessly in 
frustration and arches his neck, pressing his head deeper into 
the pillow. I lick at the sweat beading on his throat, 
dragging more impassioned noises out of him. 

I speed up my thrusts gradually, until John is writhing 
beneath me, pulling desperately at the ties anchoring him to 
the bed, his nostrils flaring with every harsh breath, his 
muffled babbling now constant. 

And then I stop. Doggett wails into the gag, his hips pushing 
frantically into mine. I still them with a firm grip. His eyes 
search for mine through the mindless haze. If I weren't so 
aroused myself I might have laughed at the death glare he was 
shooting at me. I gently remove the clamps from his nipples 
and he gives a muffled yelp as blood is allowed to return to 
them in full force, making them hypersensitive. I dip my head 
to give each of them a broad lick. He flinches at the added 
attention to his over-stimulated flesh and I back off 
slightly. I blow on them softly and he wails. Yes, he's more 
than ready...

"Now," I say softly before I pull back slightly, change my 
angle and thrust once, hard, slamming into his prostate at 
full force. His entire body tenses, practically levitating off 
the bed, and he shouts into the gag. I gasp as I feel his 
muscles clamp down on me hard, drawing me impossibly deeper. 
His hips pulse against me and hot, sticky fluid splashes over 
both of our stomachs and chests. 

The walls of his impossibly tight channel ripple around me, 
coaxing me to come with him, and I give in to them - pouring 
myself into Doggett, shouting his name. A bright light flashes 
before my closed eyelids and I am overwhelmed by a weightless, 
blissful feeling. 

When I return to Earth, I am draped haphazardly over Doggett - 
both of us panting like we've just finished a five-hundred-
yard dash. I don't want to move. I don't want to disrupt this 
peaceful, comfortable feeling of being with him like this - my 
body cushioned by his, my softening cock still clenched deep 
inside his warmth. The only thing missing is his arms wrapped 
around me, holding me tightly...his silk-over-sandpaper voice 
in my ear.

I groan and roll myself into a sitting position on the bed 
beside him. I feel a smile tug at my lips as I look down at 
him. His hair - damp with sweat - is sticking in all 
directions at once. Semen stains his skin in abstract patterns 
from his chest to his groin, mixing with the sweat glistening 
on his entire body. His nipples stand proudly from his chest - 
bright red and most likely still painfully sensitive. His face 
is flushed and his eyes are drooping in contentment. He looks 
utterly debauched.

I lift his head gently...slowly...so I can remove the gag. He 
frowns and swallows hard when it's gone, leaving his mouth 
unusually dry. He winces slightly as he tries to work his jaw 
and I feel guilty. I kiss him as carefully and sweetly as I 
can, bringing at least a little moisture to his parched 
tongue. Then I press a trail of gentle kisses along his 
jawline - a silent apology for causing him discomfort.

"M...Mulder," he whispers tentatively. His smoky, rasping 
voice sends a delightful tingle down my spine. 

"It's okay," I whisper back reassuringly. "Just relax." From 
the look of it, that certainly wouldn't be difficult for him 
to do. In fact, I suspect that even if the building were on 
fire he wouldn't move from this bed.

I slowly untie his wrists and bring them down to rest at his 
sides. He groans as the movement brings his stiffened muscles 
back to life. He will surely be sore tomorrow, but hopefully 
he won't regret it. I murmur an apology as I massage his arms 
gently and press a soft kiss into each palm. He smiles 
gradually, his eyes looking up at me with wonder and affection 
and I know - beyond a doubt - that I love this man. That even 
though I may be rough like I was tonight, I would rather die 
than let anyone, myself included, do him harm.

I bend to lick the semen from his abdomen, slowly, reverently; 
happy to hear the tiny growling sound he makes in 
appreciation. His fingers move hesitantly to my shoulders and 
he massages gently as I work my way up to his chest, removing 
all traces of the creamy fluid and taking great pains to avoid 
putting too much pressure on his nipples.

"C'mere," he murmurs lazily when I'm finished. I move eagerly 
to lay beside him, capturing his lips in a slow, reaffirming 
kiss.

"Are you okay," I ask uncertainly. 

He smiles. "Yeah. I'm fine...Spooky."

I blow out a relieved breath and kiss him again.

"Just one thing," he mumbles between kisses.

I pull back uncertainly. "What?"

With a wicked smile he says five words that erase whatever 
doubts I might have had left.

"It's my turn next time."


THE END