From clsw@erols.com Sat May 10 11:29:49 1997 Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "The Ultimate Aphrodisiac" 1/2 NC-17 SLASH From: lettucehead -------- Title: "The Ultimate Aphrodisiac" Author: cathy lee Rating: NC-17 Classification: SR Spoilers: Only your appetite. Keywords: slash, Cancerman, Skinner. Summary: Assistant FBI Director Skinner discovers that his cigarette smoking nemesis ain't so bad after all. Disclaimer: I disclaim ownership or rights to these characters. They belong to 1013 Productions. I'm only using them to produce this beautiful piece of sleaze for the free enjoyment of sleaze-loving "X-Files" fans the whole world over. Yes, please archive anywhere. Well, here it is folks, the story you've all been waiting for. The story of the forbidden love which caused a chorus of retching to be heard across the Internet. Dedicated to my fellow pervertresses, Sunny "D" and Kemuri. NC-17 slash, natch! No minors or sleaze disparagers. "The Ultimate Aphrodisiac" part 1/2 by cathy lee It had been almost a year since he'd moved out of the plush MacLean, Virginia house he and Sharon had shared for ten years. Now he lived in a too-large luxurious high-rise condo in Crystal City, while his estranged wife stayed in their home until it sold. He missed coming home to Sharon's cheerfulness. Just having another person in the house made the biggest difference in the world. Even after the terrible fights had begun, it had always been reassuring to know another person was around. Now the only thing he had to look forward to was the nightly procession of "Lean Cuisine" and "Budget Gourmet" frozen dinners. The life of a bachelor certainly wasn't agreeing with him. Every evening he stopped at the corner bar for forty minutes or so, just to delay having to face his lonely, almost empty, apartment. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually turned on the oven or stove and cooked himself a real meal. Nightly he ate his frozen entrees while sitting in front of the television, watching the History Channel or reading over reports completed by his agents. Long after dumping his mushroom lasagna carton into the trash, there was a quiet knock at the door. He glanced at his watch: 10:47. No one ever dropped by to see him, nor could anyone get into the building without being buzzed in. It had to be one of the neighbors on the hall to whom he'd never bothered to introduce himself. But what the hell would anyone want at this hour? Without looking through the view hole, he unbolted and opened the door. "Good evening Mr. Skinner, may I come in?" It wasn't anyone he ever would have expected. Before him stood his very own personal envoy from the evil shadow government. The man whose name he didn't even know. The man whom, for lack of anything else to call him, was nicknamed "Cancerman." He was astounded, and he stood back with a shocked look on his face. The sixtyish-looking man stood there, wearing a neat beige trench coat. Almost nervously he ran his fingers through the sides of his fine grayish hair while waiting for a response from the balding man in front of him. "What in the hell do you want?" Skinner stood fully within the doorway, defying his enemy to make a move past him. "Let me come in and I'll explain," the older man answered nervously. Skinner continued to block the door, glaring with disbelief. Yet him coming here like this, at this relatively late hour, seemed to imbue the older man with a curious vulnerability that Skinner had never noticed before. "I've come to warn you of a possible threat to the safety of Agents Scully and Mulder. They're about to begin investigating a case involving a number of bodies found in the Los Angeles area, with the reproductive organs removed." "Yes, the case was classified as an X-file because, according to the preliminary report I received this morning from Agent Mulder, the bodies show no indication of surgery, as if they never had reproductive organs in the first place." He paused to menacingly stare down the man standing in his doorway, suddenly resentful that he'd been provoked into volunteering any information. "What's the threat to my agents' safety?" he growled. "Let me come in and I'll explain." Reluctantly Skinner stepped aside and allowed his old enemy to pass. Cancerman glanced around the apartment before taking a seat on the most uncomfortable chair on the furthest side of the coffee table. On the television in the background, General Pauling was mutely surrendering the remainder of the German Sixth Army at Stalingrad. The older man continued speaking, "You know there's only so much I can tell you Mr. Skinner. I've crossed a line by coming here this evening. But I don't think my associates fully realize the possible repercussions if anything bad were to happen to Scully or Mulder." "So you're saying that these bodies are a byproduct of one of your organization's little projects?" "No, not exactly, Mr. Skinner." "Well then, what exactly? I think I have a right to know, considering my agents' safety may be on the line." "Let's put it this way: if things are left alone, no more bodies will be found. No one else will be killed in this manner." He began removing a cigarette from the pack in his inside pocket. He tapped on the table a few times, glancing around for an ashtray. Seeing none, he pulled Skinner's empty coffee cup over to himself. Skinner watched, incredulous, as his nemesis lit up and began flicking ashes into the cup. He made a mental note to throw the cup away as soon as the man left. "So what the hell are you suggesting? Did your little group have anything to do with what happened to these people?" "No, on the contrary, my group was successful in negotiating a cessation of these killings. Part of our side of the bargain is that no law enforcement agency will investigate the deaths. Let's put it this way, Mr. Skinner, my organization went to great lengths to concoct logical stories and fabricate medical records for each one of the eleven victims so that no one in law enforcement would find it necessary to investigate any further. I feel I can be frank with you. Keep Agents Mulder and Scully off the case for their own safety. It's of paramount importance that my group uphold its side of the bargain. Members of the consortium will go to any lengths to see that they do." Skinner didn't know what to say. He was flabbergasted. Cancerman took out a blank card and printed an address on it, before handing it to Skinner, "If you'll agree to meet with me, I'll have more information for you tomorrow evening." Then he nodded curtly, arose and stepped through the front door. "Casa D'Angello, 7:00?" "Yes, you'll be my guest for diner. It's the least I can do, Mr. Skinner, for taking up your valuable time and causing you so much alarm this evening." Before he could object or agree, Cancerman stepped through the doorway and turned toward the elevator. "All right Mr. Skinner, I'll be seeing you tomorrow then...." "Tomorrow then...." Skinner echoed to the retreating figure. He closed the door and thought for a moment over everything that had transpired over the last fifteen minutes. There was no way in hell he could trust this man, no matter what he had said or who he claimed to represent. He closed and bolted his front door and placed the card on the top of his computer monitor. A few minutes later he was on the phone with Fox Mulder, informing him that his trip to Los Angeles was canceled. "I'm sorry Agent Mulder. I've been reviewing your preliminary report. You neglected to tell me that over the last ten years, at least four of the female victims had radical hysterectomies. How many other of the victims have had their reproductive organs removed for perfectly legitimate medical reasons? I can only chalk this up to sloppy investigating." Mulder argued briefly with him on the other end of the line. "No, my decision is final. I think you and Scully have enough to do without running out to Los Angeles for a snipe hunt. Besides, you're already way over budget for travel expenses this quarter." He listened to his agent's remonstrations on the other end of the line. "Agent Mulder, I'm tired and I don't have anything else to say to you this evening. I would, however, like to see a summary of your entire travel expense account for this fiscal year. Have it on my desk by one, Agent Mulder. Goodnight." He really couldn't take any chances. The safety of his agents was his number one priority. Even before solving cases, he owed it to those underneath him a safe environment for conducting their investigations. The next day Mulder's budget report arrived on his desk via interoffice mail. He tossed it aside, having no real interest in reviewing it. Besides, it was important for him to hurry through his work as quickly as possible in order to run several errands before his appointment at seven that evening. At three that afternoon he exited his office and informed Kimberly that he was leaving for the day. He had a lot to do over the next four hours. That evening, he arrived at the restaurant a little before seven and waited at the bar with a beer until the smoking man arrived. Exactly on the hour the familiar figure strode into the bar. Wearing the same trench coat and another well-cut suit, Cancerman approached him as he gulped the dregs of the beverage. "Mr. Skinner, the table I reserved is ready and waiting if you'd care to proceed to the dining room." He smiled invitingly and casually deposited his cigarette into Skinner's empty beer bottle, where it extinguished with a sizzle. The dinner conversation revolved around the restaurant, the food on the menu and other Washington area restaurants they enjoyed. They talked about places they had both been on vacation --Florida, Montana and Mexico. The meal wasn't quite the ordeal Skinner had envisioned. There was a sufficient array of safe and mundane topics to keep the awkwardness at bay. Finally, towards the end of the meal, Skinner's as yet unnamed dinner companion brought up the case of the mysterious deaths in Los Angeles. "You did the right thing, Mr. Skinner, in taking your agents off the case. The LAPD closed the case months ago, and except for some grieving families, no one is any longer interested in reopening it." "I need to know exactly who you're talking about, just who you and your group were able to negotiate a deal with, concerning the deaths." "Mr. Skinner, there are certain parties who are operating, not just in this country, but around the world. These parties have absolutely no regard for our laws, our governments or even our most basic sense of human morality. The group that I work for has, for the last fifty or sixty years, attempted to exercise some control over these parties. We use whatever means we have available to accomplish this aim." Skinner knew this was just the type of thing he wanted to hear, and he'd spent half the afternoon shopping at Radio Shack and wiring his living room in order to get it all on tape. "I really don't think we should talk about it here." He made a show of glancing around the restaurant with feigned paranoia. "My apartment is only a few minutes away. Let's go back there and then you can fill me in on the details of the case." Driving separate cars, they both arrived at the Crystal City building at approximately the same time. Skinner found himself holding open the door to the main entrance of his building, allowing his enemy to pass through. He unlocked the door to his apartment and both men entered. Skinner indicated for his guest to have a seat on the couch. "Would you like a cup of coffee or tea? How about if I hang your coat up for you?" "That's all right, Mr. Skinner. The remaining details of this case won't take long to convey. From his briefcase he withdrew a file folder and passed it over to the man across from him. "What's this?" "Medical records of the eleven victims in Los Angeles. This is exactly the same set of records collected by Detective Kevin Kim of the LAPD. The records will show that all the victims are missing their reproductive organs for perfectly legitimate medical reasons. As for the lack of scarring in the surgical cases, some of the victims went to a plastic surgeon and had the scars removed. It's all in there." He withdrew and lit up a cigarette. "Others just didn't scar, its not unheard of. The causes of death are also explained. Some had heart attacks, others died of aneurysms and other assorted sudden illnesses. I think this is all you need to know in order to prove to your agents that the case is worthless to pursue." "No, there's a lot more I need to know. I need to know the details of the deal you negotiated with the people who were responsible for these deaths." "People?" the Cancerman began to laugh. "What do you mean by that?" Cancerman dragged heavily on his cigarette and began glancing around the coffee table for something suitable as an ashtray, before flicking his ashes into the side of a terra-cotta flowerpot. For a brief moment, Skinner thought to himself that if there was anyone he'd ever seen who made smoking look glamorous and sexy, this man could. Cancerman slowly sucked on the tip, almost closing his eyes as the smoke traveled down into his lungs. Then he exhaled, pushing the smoke into a rapidly moving gray column, never once taking his eyes away from it as it dispersed in the air. He always smiled an pleasantly at this. It wasn't in the least an unattractive smile, and it made him seem particularly human and vulnerable. "I can't answer any more questions Mr. Skinner. Suffice it to say you've done the right thing by taking your agents off of this case." He ground out his cigarette and pressed his palms down to rise off the couch. "Don't leave. I'm not finished with you yet." "I really have to go unless you give me some other reason to stay." The smoking man glanced at his watch. "Oh, I think you ought to stay. How about some wine, a cold beer, or some scotch." A wide grin played across the Cancerman's face as if a naughty thought had suddenly occurred to him. "All right, Walter. I think I would like a scotch if you'll have one with me." "I've got Pinch. Neat?" "Rocks, actually." Cancerman sat back and availed himself of another Morely. "I'll be right back." Walter went into the kitchen and poured two glasses over ice before adding a splash of water to his own. He returned to the living room and handed the whiskey to his guest, who had taken off his overcoat and slung it over the back of the couch. "If you want to get to know me better and find out all my secrets, you have to know the right buttons to push," the man said while nodding at the tumbler of brown liquid. Damn. Where had he heard that before? Of course, Sharon used to say something like that when he was getting to know her almost twenty years earlier. After relishing a few sips of scotch and taking another loving drag on the cigarette, Cancerman spoke. "You know, Walter, part of my job is to find things out about people. It's always handy to have information about your enemies --and your friends-- that they'd rather not have revealed. That's a good way to keep them on your side. But you Walter, I've never been able to find anything on you. You smoked a lot of pot laced with opium in Vietnam, but that was twenty-five years ago. Ever since then you've been squeaky clean. Every night on your way home from work, you spend about forty-five minutes in the same bar and you drink exactly two drinks. No girlfriends since your breakup with your wife... or boyfriends. No predilection for pornography, just the History Channel." Christ, he even knew what he watched on TV! Were there no secrets from this man? But what was important was to get him to talk about the shadow government, "the consortium" as he had called it. He hoped the whiskey would loosen his tongue. Skinner swallowed deeply and felt the brown liquid pleasantly burn down his throat and into his stomach. "So how long have you worked in intelligence?" The smoking man laughed. "Ever since I joined the Army in the fifties." He answered the question curtly as if he'd been asked it a hundred times before. Walter glanced at his feet, and around the room uncomfortably. He had absolutely no idea how to keep the conversation moving on the right track. He was about to say something, anything, to get the conversation going again when suddenly Cancerman slithered next to him on the couch. "One thing I know about you Walter, you *do* look at other men." Skinner shot him a look to convey that he thought his guest was out of his mind, and tried scooting away from him. The whiskey was indeed loosening the smoking man up, but not in the way Skinner had expected. "You were looking at me earlier, in the restaurant, and last night too, when I came over to talk to you. And I've often seen you look at Agent Mulder that way. I don't know if you've ever had an affair with a man before, but you must have thought about it." Walter stared at the other man in horror. This was something he had a hard time admitting even to himself. And here his sworn enemy was telling him that his secret attractions were glaringly obvious. Cancerman leaned in towards him, "I was trained to notice things. That's one of the reasons your wife left you, isn't it? She notices things too?" Walter swallowed grimly and considered the man beside him. It was true, and he was both horrified by and attracted to this man. And in the low light Cancerman actually looked rather handsome. Walter thought he would always go for the long and lanky type if he ever did get up the nerve to act upon his secret inclinations. But there was something else sexually compelling about this man, which he could just then, for the first time, admit to himself. Cancerman was the most powerful man he knew. He was more powerful than the Director of the FBI and more powerful than any of the dozen or so US Senators Skinner had met. This man could make any investigation stop or go forward. He could stop a bill in the Senate before it ever got past committee mark-up. He'd seen this man use his mysterious influence on more than a score of police departments across the country and he suspected that he had major pull at the United Nations as well. Walter sucked in his breath at the thought of it. One of the most powerful men in the world was sitting inches away from him on his couch and suggestively leaning in towards him. It made his knees go weak and his cock tighten in his pants. Nervously he cleared his throat, causing Cancerman to sit up straight against the couch cushions. Then both men simultaneously drained their scotch glasses. "Would you like another one... ?" He stopped awkwardly, staring at his guest, realizing that he had no idea what to call him. "Yes I would, and you can call me Mike." Walter picked up the glasses and turned as he headed towards the kitchen. "Okay, Mike, I like that. It suits you." Actually, he thought to himself, Maximillian or Ozymandius would have been more appropriate, but Mike was the sort of incongruously bland name that was more often the reality. In the kitchen, he filled the glasses a bit higher than the first round. He needed to get the conversation back on track. Pump the man for information while he was at his most vulnerable, well fed and a little drunk. end of part 1 From clsw@erols.com Sat May 10 11:29:53 1997 Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "The Ultimate Aphrodisiac" 2/2 NC-17 SLASH From: lettucehead -------- See part 1 for all the stuff. NC-17 slash, natch! No minors or sleaze disparagers. "The Ultimate Aphrodisiac" part 2/2 by cathy lee He returned to the living room and handed the glass back to his guest, who had crossed his legs and sprawled himself a bit more comfortably across the couch. Skinner plopped back down into the same position he had been in sitting earlier. But somehow Cancerman seemed even closer. "So Mike, how did you get involved in this group that keeps the world safe from immoral and out-of-control plots to steal people's genitals?" Both men took healthy swallows of their drinks before setting the tumblers down on the coffee table. Suddenly Mike turned towards Skinner and placed the palm of his hand on Skinner's cheek. "You know Mr. Skinner, I've always found you to be a very attractive man. You have a certain *presence* which I find quite compelling and incredibly sexy." Once again Skinner found himself uncomfortably shifting away from the man. "That's nice," he answered before picking up his scotch for another hefty swallow. All at once the smoking man's hand was over his own, grasping the glass, guiding it away from his mouth and back onto the coffee table. Skinner passively watched as their hands jointly lowered the glass before he was aware of the warm smoky breath against his face. Then Cancerman's mouth, still moistened from his last sip of the whiskey, was pressing against his lips. This was incredibly arousing. The sudden tingling he felt in his groin shot through his limbs and into his brain, essentially disconnecting any remaining sanity from his consciousness. He found himself kissing the man, passionately. Pressing his tongue inside the smoking man's mouth, tasting the mingled scotch and the cigarettes. His power was evident in every movement of his body. The confidence with which he commanded world leaders and armies manifested itself in a gentle sexual dominance. Cancerman grasped Walter's shoulders and pushed him against the couch cushions. He deepened the kiss. His tongue danced inside Walter's mouth while his hands ran over the mostly bare scalp, against the back of the muscular neck and shoulders. Finally both men came up for air. Cancerman gazed into Walter's eyes and took both of his hands in his own with a surprising tenderness. "Walter, I know we've had our rough moments in the past. We haven't always understood each other as well as we could have. But there's something I want you to know... the work I do is only for the good of this country. I know you understand what it means to be in a position where you are responsible for handling secret information. There are certain things that are best kept out of the eye of the general public. If certain things came to be known, it might cause anarchy. It could threaten the very political institutions and freedoms we treasure so highly in this country. My group has made a lot of mistakes along the way, it's true. But the biggest mistake we could ever make would be to let the American people know the kinds of threats that have been narrowly deflected over the last fifty years." "I know Mike." Walter placed his hand on Cancerman's face and caressed his scalp, his neck. "Sometimes Agent Mulder acts more like a reporter for the yellow press than an FBI agent. I know he means well, but he doesn't understand the big picture and he's not meant to. He's your agent and I know you try to protect him and to facilitate his work, but from time to time I've had to step in. I don't want that to interfere with any possible friendship we might have." "I understand completely Mike." Then they were kissing again and Skinner realized he was getting quite tipsy. He glanced over at the coffee table and noticed that his glass was completely empty while his companion's was practically full. "Walter, I know you've thought about having sexual relations with other men before. If we were to make love tonight, would I be the first?" Skinner looked down at his shoes then, feeling suddenly exposed. "No, I've never had sex with a man before." He felt the smoking man's mouth, pressed against his cheek, curl into a wide grin. Cancerman's hands began roaming freely over the younger man's chest, face neck and back. His lips kissed and tasted the skin on Skinner's face and lips. Then Cancerman thrust his tongue into the A.D.'s ear and nibbled roughly on the lobe. It was too much for Walter to bear. Involuntarily his own hands and mouth began tasting, licking, caressing. His tongue inquisitively traced over the edge of Cancerman's jaw, and into his ear. Meanwhile the older man had begun exploring the well-developed muscles under Walter's starched cotton oxford, quietly moaning with approval. Skinner, with the precociousness typical of a beginner, was the first to let his hand wander below the belt. Cautiously he fondled Cancerman's somewhat bony hip before daring to move inwards. Then he felt it... and it was large. He ran his hand over and around it, measuring it with his fingers through the trousers and underwear. It had to be bigger than any man's penis he'd ever seen in the locker room, enough to make any porn star proud. Cancerman quietly laughed with delight from the manual stimulation and at Walter's surprise. Then he moved his own hand over Walter's cock. He too, though smaller than his companion, was endowed with a nice thick piece of flesh. "Why don't we take this into the bedroom?" Cancerman huskily murmured into Skinner's ear. "That's a great idea." Walter rose, extending his hand to the other man. Together they walked down the short hall. They began undressing, laying the clothing aside one piece at a time. First Skinner took off his shoes and socks, placing the shoes in the closet and tossing his socks through the bathroom door where the hamper stood. He pulled off his tie and began slowly, lazily unbuttoning his white shirt before removing it and draping it and over a chair. He unbuckled his trousers and pulled his tee-shirt up over his head, stopping briefly to take off his watch and eyeglasses and placing them on the night stand. Then, glancing over at the other man, he began pulling his trousers down to his knees. He pulled them off and placed them over the chair. Cancerman interrupted his own disrobing to take in the sight of the beautiful body in front of him- the chiseled chest muscles with a covering of soft curly hair, the muscular legs, the strong shoulders and arms. For a brief moment Skinner stood there in his briefs, allowing his companion to take in the sight of him. He'd worked long and hard at the gym for this body and he enjoyed having it admired. Then he moved forward to help Cancerman complete his disrobing. The older man's body was slender yet well-formed. The sparse crinkly hair on his chest, like the hair on his head, was generously peppered with gray. Cancerman's body lacked the firmness of a younger man's, yet he was nicely proportioned and virtually free of extraneous fat. Overall it was a lean, sensuous body, very pleasing to look at in the low light. Both men were wearing only their underwear when Cancerman again gently grasped Walter's shoulders and buried his face in his neck, kissing and sucking on the skin there. He lightly pushed the younger man onto the mattress and sat down beside him. Fingers freely roamed over the newly exposed skin and both men fell back on the bed. Again Walter inquisitively moved his palm around Cancerman's hip in order to feel the bulging erection that was tenting out the loose boxer shorts. "I can't believe I'm doing this." Through the fabric he squeezed the thick shaft tightly in his fist. "But this is what you've always wanted, isn't it?" Cancerman gingerly lifted the edge of Skinner's briefs and inched his hand inward. He laughed with delight when his fingertips brushed the moisture leaking from the tip of the other man's cock. Then he placed his fist over the shaft and began stroking in up and down. "You're experienced at this I take it?" Walter asked before kissing and licking the somewhat loose skin under his companion's chin. "I've always been a man to open myself up to new things, to strive to experience things out of the ordinary... and you Mr. Skinner, are extraordinary." Cancerman rolled on top of the Assistant Director, gently grasping the top of his briefs, and pulled them away from his hips. He pulled off his own then, and rubbed his entire body over the length of the form beneath him. Their rigid cocks almost painfully played against one another. But Walter needed a more hands on approach. In his fist he once again grasped Cancerman's monster and began pumping it. Then Cancerman moved his own fist over both their cocks, pressing them together in his large hand. Both men, each with one hand, stroked their rods together over and over again. Skinner knew he could easily come this way but he was never a man to do things in half measures. He knew what he wanted from this man. He wanted the ultimate act to be performed on him. He was wise enough to realize that this would be a onetime fling. It was just a temporary truce worked out by the raging libidos of two otherwise mortal enemies. And even if Skinner did choose to pursue future sexual relationships with men, what was the likelihood of encountering another behemoth like the one hanging between Cancerman's legs? "I want you in me Mike. I want you to fuck me." "No, Walter, not tonight. Not for your first time." He whispered back into the younger man's ear. Walter smiled and gently took Cancerman's spare hand in his own, pulling it around to cup his asscheek. "Come on Mike, feel this ass, you know you want it." Cancerman groped the well muscled globe, smiling lasciviously to himself. To fuck Walter Skinner would be such a delectable treat, something so rich he'd almost refrain on the principal of ascetic self denial. "Believe me Walter, there's nothing I'd like better that to fill you up with my cock. But I'm concerned I might hurt you. And the last thing I want to do tonight is to hurt you." Walter hesitated as he considered the sheer size of the other man. He shivered when he thought of how intense it would be. But pain or no pain, he knew what he wanted. With quiet pleadings, kisses and tender caresses, he was finally able to convince the older man to fuck him. He had briefly considered fucking the smoking man himself. God knows it was certainly something he'd always wanted to do figuratively. But the opportunity to take that big piece of meat up his ass was too much to turn down. Both men lay on their sides, Skinner facing away and Cancerman pressed against his back. His fingers ran between the firm buttocks, lightly tracing over the tight opening. Walter gasped as his companion worked a lubricated finger into the hole. He shifted it from side to side, attempting to widen the opening as much as possible to accommodate his girth and length. Then he worked two fingers into the Assistant Director, pressing the digits in and out with a heedless roughness. Walter found himself involuntarily thrusting back against the hand, moaning and sighing with abandoned pleasure. He grasped his own cock and began jerking his fist up and down over the hard flesh. He repeatedly lubricated his palm over the seeping tip and spread the moisture over the organ with each jerk. With a painful start Walter realized three fingers were working deeply in and out of his ass. His mouth pantomimed a silent scream of pleasure, incredulous at what was happening. "I'm ready for you Mike. Do it to me, baby." Cancerman pulled his fingers out of his lover, paused and lubricated his large cock. He pressed the head against Walter's opening. "Relax and breathe." Then he began to press himself inwards. Walter's fists clutched the sheets as the first centimeter broke through the ring of muscle. He let out a little shriek at the sudden discomfort. Cancerman stopped suddenly. "Are you sure this is what you want?" 'Yes! Do it to me, please baby. I'm begging you." Walter groaned. "I want you to fuck me hard." Cancerman progressed forward gradually, stopping and withdrawing at intervals before thrusting inwards again. "Oh god, you're so tight... so hot," he murmured with his gravely, cigarette-ravaged voice. Skinner grunted in pain. "Please... oh fuck... more K-Y," he gasped. "Sure baby, whatever you want." Cancerman quickly withdrew and retrieved the tube of lubricant from the night stand. He generously slathered himself again and squirted a large dollop onto Walter's hot opening. Then he repositioned himself and pushed down. This time, with the added lubricant, the huge pillar slid easily into the taut orifice. Walter let out a cry, but more from pleasure than pain. Cancerman took his cue and began thrusting into his lover. He wrapped his thin arms tightly around Walter's chest and pumped into his body over and over. The speed picked up, and Walter found himself thrusting himself back onto the invading cock. Only then did he realize that Cancerman had restrained himself from penetrating Walter with his entire length. He had yet to taste the full size of the man who was fucking him. With a greedy frustration he tried pushing himself over the entire length of the shaft. "No baby, I want all of you. Give it to me," he moaned. Cancerman's thrusts became rougher and deeper. The entire act became a bit more raw. He reached around and placed his fist over that of his masturbating lover, directing and aiding in the bringing of pleasure. It had been years since he'd felt such physical passion. With every movement of his body, the lover beneath him was begging for more. Like a hungry animal, Walter rhythmically thrust his ass upwards over the invading flesh in such a way that Cancerman began to doubt the man's claim that he'd never before been fucked. He paused and bit his lip out of brief sympathy for his unsuspecting lover. Then Cancerman braced himself, momentarily, letting his fingertips lightly graze the hot silky skin on Walter's waist and hips, before he bore downwards, brutally and swiftly. Walter screamed, and for the first time during their coupling he lurched away from his lover. Cancerman continued his brutal barrage as deeply as possible into Walter's ass. But he still couldn't get himself all the way inside the man. It was simultaneously frustrating and exciting. He tried calming himself by reaching around his lover's hips, grasping his cock and flogging the rigid flesh up and down. Walter came first, spilling his seed over the older man's fingers and across the sheets. Cancerman pressed Walter's body flat against the bed and finished himself off with about ten desperate strokes, accompanied by urgent grunts which gradually transformed into deep moans of relief. He finally stilled and rolled away from the younger man. A few seconds later Walter felt the bony hand gingerly petting him from shoulder to ass, as if he were stroking a rare breed of cat. And he felt himself sinking into a horrible feeling of shocked shame. "Exquisite... thank you, Mr. Skinner." Cancerman leaned forward and attempted to deliver a kiss to Walter's mouth, half-hidden by the pillow pressed against his face. Walter made no effort to receive the kiss. Instead he turned coldly away. What in the hell had he just done? One of his worst enemies was lying naked in his bed, his enemy's semen was dripping from his ass. Christ, the man hadn't even worn a condom. Walter rolled onto his side away from the older man, suddenly wishing that he'd just get out. He couldn't stand the thought of having to confront his own face when he got up to look in the bathroom mirror, much less looking at his naked and satisfied enemy lying on the mattress next to him. Their libidos were gratified. Now the truce was over. Walter's sudden coolness was neither surprising nor troublesome to the smoking man. He reached into his shirt pocket, withdrew a Morely, and lit up. As he reached for his clothes, he observed his lover's tense form lying as far as possible away from him on the mattress. Looking away, he took a long satisfying drag on the cigarette, holding the smoke deeply in his lungs before blowing it out into a billowing gray column. "Well Walter, you can think of yourself as incredibly stupid or rationalize that I coerced you in some way. As for myself, well, I have no misgivings or anxieties about what we did tonight. But then again I'm not Assistant Director of the FBI." He laughed softly to himself. He knew he couldn't just lie there and pout. 'Grow up,' he said to himself, 'you're a forty-four year old man, not a goddamned teenage virgin.' He turned over and silently watched his lover/enemy dressing. First came the boxers and socks, then the starched white shirt was pulled back over his scrawny shoulders. The Morely, precariously balanced on the side of the night stand, was retrieved and savored at every available opportunity. Walter was rendered speechless. He just wanted the other man to leave as fast as possible. He had absolutely no idea what he could possibly do or say to make more bearable, these moments which seemed to last an eternity. Instead, he lay mutely against the headboard, thanking whatever gods would listen that Cancerman was dressing quickly. "Walter, don't seem shocked and upset. Remember, you wanted it as much as I did." Oh fucking Christ, why didn't he just shut up and get out. Cancerman leaned forward and ran his hand tenderly and possessively over Skinner's face and neck. This action, which would have been welcomed with moans of pleasure ten minutes earlier, now caused Skinner to bristle with revulsion. "Kiss me before I go, Walter," Cancerman smiled. Batting Cancerman's hand away, Walter jumped out of the bed and grabbed his bathrobe. He supposed that one little kiss was a small price to pay to get the man out of his apartment. "Mike..." he didn't know what to say as he walked towards the front door. Cancerman retrieved his suit jacket and trench coat with a calculated leisure. Five feet from the door where Skinner impatiently waited to show him out, he stopped and rifled through his pockets, extracting the pack of cigarettes. He withdrew one and lit up, making no further effort to depart. Skinner wondered what the hell happened to the one in the bedroom. He supposed it was still on the night stand burning through the finish. "Mr. Skinner, I think you need to have some time to yourself to think things over." He moved forward and placed his free hand around the younger man's waist. His next words came more softly, almost apologetically. "I didn't hurt you ...physically, I mean?" Somehow, and for no apparent reason, these few tender words meant a world of difference to Skinner. He felt as if he could breathe and relax a bit, almost as if he were back in control of the situation. Cancerman stroked his face again and leaned in for a kiss. Walter wasn't exactly cold, but he didn't return the kiss either. "No, you didn't hurt me, but then again I haven't tried to sit down yet." Cancerman chuckled, "Walter, I'm sorry if I was a little rough on you." "No, no... that's not it." Cancerman leaned forward to examine Skinner's expressionless eyes. "You're upset because you not only made love with a man, you made love with a man you've always regarded as your enemy. Don't be upset by that Walter, there's nothing wrong with it. How many men do you think haven't at least thought about it?" He reached around and grasped Skinner warmly and began whispering softly into his ear. "I'm not your enemy, Mr. Skinner. We work for the same government, and for the same goals." He leaned back and regarded Walter, who finally seemed a bit more relaxed. "I'd like to talk to you some more about this, but I need to go and you need some time to think this over." Cancerman raised the cigarette to his lips and dragged deeply. Skinner nervously watched the long flimsy ash that menaced the carpet. "Goodnight, Mr. Skinner." These three words gave Walter an incredible sense of relief. He stepped aside and opened the hall door for his enemy to pass. "You can see yourself out, I take it?" Cancerman stepped through the door and proceeded down the hall to the elevator, flicking his long ash as he went. "I'll stop by your office, Walter." He said almost as an after thought. Well, that could certainly be construed as a threat. Before Cancerman was even five feet down the hall Skinner shut the door and let out a sigh of relief. He walked back over to the coffee table where the glasses of scotch sat and the flowerpot was full of cigarette butts. He picked up the glasses and proceeded to the kitchen, filling his own glass with another generous shot before returning the bottle to the cabinet above the refrigerator. There inside, his sound equipment was blithely recording everything that had transpired during the evening. Oh shit, he thought, there was nothing on tape he could possibly use. With a paranoid start, he wondered if Cancerman knew what was going on and had proceeded with the seduction out of some sort of spite for having been recorded. He ripped the tape out of the recorder and held it tightly in his fist. This would always exist as the document which chronicled his own supreme stupidity. He took the cassette and crushed the casing in his hand before he returned to his bedroom. Never again would he be able to face his enemy with the same confidence and bearing. He'd let the man screw him, for god's sake. Now, no mater what his position, his legitimacy or his authority, he would always be the smoking bastard's fuck-toy. ...But he couldn't stop his cock from twitching and a traitorous grin from spreading across his face at the thought. the end