BRACE (Part 3) by Tess
Disclaimer:  They don't belong to me; I just like to make them suffer.  
Rating: NC-17
Key words: Mulder/Skinner/Others, consensual and non-consensual m/m sex.
Spoilers: None
Feedback: tdog@dog.com
Archive: Feel free to archive anywhere - just let me know where.
Summary: With Brace in prison both Mulder and Skinner find their own 
ways of coping, both with past events and their new feelings for each 
other.
Warning: Contains graphic sexual content from the outset and throughout.




Candlelight flickered softly, casting intricate shadow patterns on the 
flocked walls and lending a subtle glow to the room where Mulder knelt 
breathlessly on hands and knees, thighs spread and muscles tensed in 
anticipation.  He shuddered as cool hands swept over his flesh, kneading 
his buttocks and sliding over his thighs, tensing as eager fingers 
slipped beneath his quivering hips and grasped his stiff erection.  He 
groaned wetly, eyes tightly closed, teeth biting down on his lower lip, 
anticipating the assault on his anus which he knew would soon follow.

'That's it, Fox,' crooned the owner of the velvety hands, which now 
began to probe between his buttocks with wet slippery fingers, coating 
his anus with carefully warmed lubricant.  'Relax baby. I ain't gonna 
hurt ya Foxy, I ain't gonna hurt my boy.'  

Despite the tender reassurances of the silken voice, Mulder stiffened as 
he felt his anus being probed by what could only be the tip of a large, 
hard penis.  It was hot and slippery, and now firmly pressed against his 
lubricated hole.  The pressure began to build as the cock pressed 
harder, inching forward, forcing its entry, stretching his anus wider 
and wider until it had no choice but to welcome the invader, relaxing, 
accepting its length and width as it drove more deeply into his bowels.

As his rectum relaxed and stretched, Mulder rotated his wrists within 
the cuffs which bound his hands together.  He tugged on the ropes at his 
ankles, feeling a delicious thrill as their roughness chafed at his 
tender skin.  He strained against them, inching his thighs further 
apart, a necessary manoeuvre in order to accommodate the width of the 
rigid penis which was still advancing slowly into the slick heat of his 
sensitised rectum.

Once buried completely within him, the cock began to thrust gently, tiny 
rocking movements at first, then gradually stroking harder and deeper, 
long, slow, deep thrusts that made his own cock bulge and weep.  He 
clenched his fists, gritted his teeth and concentrated on the voice as 
the owner of the cock continued to fuck him. 

'Oh baby, that feels so good,' he heard the voice moan.  'My cock in 
your ass, Fox, fucking you baby, fucking you.  Gonna make you come, 
baby, gonna fill your ass when I come.'

Mulder had to admit the words were good.  In fact the words were so well 
rehearsed and delivered he himself needed to make very little effort for 
it to seem real.  

'He's fucking me,' he moaned softly.  'Brace is fucking me.' 

He felt a hand groping once more for his cock, jerking involuntarily as 
its dripping head was tightly gripped and pumped in rhythm with the cock 
thrusting deeply in and out of his ass.  

'Yes,' he cried, pressing into the skilful hand.  'I want it, give it to 
me Brace, fuck me, fuck me hard, harder, make me come, please.'  With 
his orgasm tantalisingly within reach he was only dimly aware that the 
man behind him, the man pounding into his ass, the man reciting a 
carefully learned script whilst fucking him so hard it hurt, wasn't 
actually Albert Brace at all.

'I'll give it to you baby,' panted the voice.  'I'll fuck you so hard.  
Give it up for me Fox, come for me baby.'

Suddenly Mulder was coming, his leaking cock now spurting all over the 
eager hand that milked him.  The muscles within his bowels contracted 
with the strength of his orgasm and he heard a low grunting near his ear 
as the cock thrusting deep inside him began to contract and spurt too.
Panting loudly, Mulder managed to maintain his crouched position on 
elbows and knees for only a few seconds more before slumping heavily to 
the surface of the rumpled bed.  The man behind him continued to pump 
gently, still savouring his own climax before sinking gently down onto 
Mulder's back, stroking his silky thighs tenderly and whispering 
comforting words in his ear.  

The two men lay together for a while, limbs entwined and bathed in the 
gentle light of the flickering candle.  Eventually, Mulder's partner 
carefully withdrew his penis, holding tightly onto the condom as he slid 
out.  He said nothing, just quietly slid off the man beneath him to 
stand firmly beside the bed on the carpeted floor.  Quickly removing and 
disposing of the used condom, he knew only too well what would happen 
next, and he hated to still be in the room when it started.  He gathered 
his possessions hurriedly, although after he'd dressed, he couldn't help 
lingering a while.  He watched anxiously as the dark-haired man still 
lying face down on the bed buried his face in the pillow and wept.

'You okay?' he enquired softly.  'Can I get you anything?'  But as usual 
there was no reply other than the stifled sobbing, so after untying the 
cords and releasing the catches on the handcuffs, the young man gathered 
his things quickly, stuffed the money on the dresser into his back 
pocket and quietly slipped out of the room.

***

Mulder let himself into his apartment, slammed the door behind him and 
threw his keys down onto the coffee table.  He'd gone out early nearly 
every day so far this week, attempting to run, even following some of 
his old routes, but his heart just wasn't in it.  Well, at least Scully 
will be pleased I'm having a go, he thought grimly, as he tried to 
stretch some of the kinks out of his aching body.  After weeks of her 
gentle but insistent lecturing about how the health of body and mind 
were inextricably linked, he'd woken up one morning, looked in the 
mirror and actually been frightened by the haunted eyes and bony frame 
he saw reflected there.  His attempts at running this week, however, had 
proved his fitness to be at an all time low and he'd limped home every 
day.  He swung open the refrigerator door, glanced disinterestedly at 
the milk, yoghurt and fruit juice Scully had placed there, then slammed 
it shut and reached for the coffee pot instead.

Slumped on the sofa and cradling the hot mug in two hands, he considered 
his week so far.  Three pathetic attempts at morning runs; two anxious 
phone calls from Scully who, both exhausted and frustrated by his 'slow 
progress' and general refusal to co-operate with her attempts to 
rehabilitate him, had finally given up, at least for a couple of weeks, 
and had gone to stay with her mother.  

And of course, there'd been another visit to Stevie. 

Mulder's groin was suddenly as warm as the coffee mug he held in his 
hands at the thought.  He squeezed his buttocks together and thrust his 
hips forward involuntarily, remembering the way he'd gasped as he'd been 
penetrated.  His hand crept towards his crotch and he massaged the bulge 
that nestled there with the flat of his palm whilst he considered the 
irony of it all: all these years he'd had trouble maintaining a 
erection, couldn't even get one at all without his trusty porn 
collection, yet now he was continually rampant.  Somewhere in the back 
of his mind was the knowledge that this obsession of his was in danger 
of seriously damaging his health, that by anybody's books, never mind 
Scully's, he was morbidly obsessed with what had happened to him, but he 
pushed the troubling thoughts firmly away as he made his way to the 
bathroom, stripping off his sweaty clothes as he went.

By the time he climbed into the shower, Mulder was not only naked but 
sporting a solid erection.  At first he made an effort to ignore it and 
concentrated instead on carefully washing his hair and soaping his upper 
body, but as his slippery hand slithered down towards his aching groin 
he could resist no longer.  He splayed his legs evenly, tipped his face 
up to the gushing water and slowly began to stroke his straining cock 
with a firm hand, eyes tightly closed as the thudding water sluiced his 
body, his tormented mind still willingly in Brace's unclenching grip.  
By the time he was pumping his come into his own unforgiving hand 
though, the tears were again flowing freely, mingling with the shower's 
spray as the now cold water coursed over his body.  He slowly held his 
hand out under the fall of the water, uncurling his fist and watching as 
the milky fluid washed itself away, swirling down into the drain with 
the rest of the soapy scum.  He then leaned his forehead against the 
cold tiling and wept. 

When he'd begun to shiver uncontrollably he'd finally managed to stir 
himself enough to leave the shower and was half-heartedly rubbing 
himself with a towel when he heard a sharp tap at the door.  Wrapping 
the towel about his waist he padded over and peered apprehensively 
through the spy-hole.

'Shit!'  He stepped back in shock, reeling as if he'd been slapped in 
the face.  

'Mulder?  You in there?  Open the door,' barked an instantly 
recognisable voice.  It was definitely Skinner.

Mulder pulled the towel more firmly about himself before unlocking and 
opening the door, then he reluctantly raised his gaze to stare wide-eyed 
and unblinking into the face that screamed every night in his 
nightmares.  His eyes were drawn irresistibly to the support bandage 
Skinner still wore on his left hand and he found himself unable to drag 
his eyes back to what surely had to be an accusing face.  He just stood 
there without speaking, staring at Skinner's hand, his heart racing in 
his chest.

'You gonna let me in, Mulder?' Skinner demanded brusquely.

'Wh-what do you want?'

'I need to talk to you, let me in.'  Skinner shouldered his way in, 
leaving Mulder to reluctantly close the door behind him.  Suddenly 
conscious of his nakedness, he pulled the towel more tightly around 
himself.  He also realised that he was chewing his bottom lip almost to 
the point of bloodying it and he forced himself to stop.

'Er, I - I'll just go get some clothes on,' he stuttered, his cheeks hot 
with embarrassment. 'I won't be a minute.  Have a seat.'  Unsmiling, 
Skinner nodded curtly and took a place on the couch, looking about the 
room in discomfort as the semi-naked Mulder scuttled through the door.

In his bedroom, Mulder dressed hurriedly in T-shirt and sweat pants, 
then took several deep breaths to try to calm himself, smoothing down 
his damp hair and un-ironed clothes as best he could before moving 
through back into the lounge.  He sat down in a way which he hoped 
looked casual, but from the way his left eye was twitching Skinner could 
see that he was extremely nervous.  There was a painful silence in which 
Mulder found himself unable to meet Skinner's forthright gaze, and he 
squirmed uncomfortably.  His eyes skittered nervously, resting on 
everything and anything but Skinner's stony face.

'Are you okay, Mulder?' Skinner offered at last, somewhat grudgingly.  
He'd noticed Mulder's red eyes as soon as the door had opened.

'Yeah, I'm fine,' Mulder lied, chewing his thumbnail, always an 
indication to anyone who knew him that he was actually very far from 
fine. 'How about you?  Your hand...?'  His voice trailed off as the spit 
dried in his throat.

Skinner, much more on edge than he'd realised, inhaled sharply before 
replying. 'Not too bad,' he said quietly.  'The doctors say I may 
eventually get the full use of my fingers back.  I hope they're right.'  
He turned the bandaged hand over in the air, inspecting it as he spoke.

'I hope so too.'

'Do you?'

'Of course I do!' Mulder exclaimed indignantly, suddenly angry.  He 
hated the way Skinner's presence in his apartment was making him feel 
and anger was clearly a convenient method of masking his fear. 'Look, 
what the hell do you want anyway?' he demanded suddenly.  'You haven't 
come around here so's we can exchange pleasantries, have you?'

'No,' Skinner conceded, fighting to keep his own feelings tightly under 
control.  'Actually there's a problem I need to talk to you about.'

'What kind of a problem?'

Skinner took a deep breath.  'There's no easy way to say this, Mulder, 
so I'll get straight to the point, okay?  There's a club downtown you've 
been visiting quite frequently over the past month or so.  I have some 
photographs to prove it but I'm sure you already know what I'm referring 
to.'

Mulder swallowed nervously.  His heart began to pound and he suddenly 
felt quite faint.  'I'm not sure what you're getting at,' he lied.

'Oh, you do.  It's a thinly disguised brothel, Mulder, for homosexuals. 
You do know what I mean.'  Skinner dug into his inside jacket pocket and 
withdrew a manila folder which he held out to Mulder who accepted it 
with shaking hands.

'What's this?' he whispered, suddenly afraid.

'Open it.'  

Obediently he lifted the cover to reveal a pair of photographs pinned to 
the first page.  The first picture showed a three storey building from 
the outside, the second a startlingly crisp image of a handsome young 
man with piercing blue eyes.  Mulder stared down at the photos in his 
trembling hands, both captivated and horrified.

'We've been surveilling this building for a number of weeks, Mulder.  
We've seen you arrive and leave at various times and I'm sure you can 
imagine what my people thought but I've tried my best to protect you. 
I've managed to convince the rest of the team that you're actually 
working for me under cover.'

'Team?' Mulder echoed faintly.  'Surveilling the house?  What for?'

'It's a murder investigation.  We've been trying to catch this 
particular killer for quite some time and we were given a tip-off that 
he was operating in this area.  He likes to rape, torture and murder 
homosexual prostitutes.'  He paused then went on, 'We believe he's 
killed at least six men within a forty mile radius in the last two 
months.'

Mulder hardly dared ask the question.  'Brace?' he whispered fearfully.

'No, no Mulder, Brace is still locked up, you don't need to worry about 
that. But unfortunately our killer was active last night.' Skinner's 
voice softened.  'That man in the picture there is dead,' he said 
quietly.  'He was murdered last night.  Forensics put the time of death 
at around 11pm.  It's a good job you weren't there yourself last night 
or you'd have been a suspect.'

His eyes widening in shock and fear, Mulder stared down at the picture 
in his hands. It was Stevie smiling up at him, the young man whom he'd 
visited on several occasions in the last few weeks. 

'No,' he breathed.  He flipped through the sheaf of pages in the file, 
stopping when he found the rest of the photographs.  Two of them showed 
Stevie sprawled over a bed, his neck unnaturally twisted and clearly 
broken, his body stabbed and showered with blood, dead eyes wide and 
staring accusingly up at him out of the photograph.

Skinner watched him coolly through his spectacles.  He noticed how 
Mulder's hands trembled, observed the fine beads of sweat which 
glistened on his upper lip, but found he was mostly devoid of sympathy.  
He prised the file from Mulder's numb fingers, flicking several pages 
further on before returning the file to his shaking hands. 

'Like I said, I've managed to convince the rest of the team of your 
genuine involvement so far, but in order to maintain this pretence, 
Mulder, I'm going to have to ask you to come in on the case for real.'

Mulder eyed him suspiciously.  'And do what?'  He looked down in the 
file at a picture of a different building, one he didn't recognise.  The 
caption beneath it read 'Joey's Gym.'

'Enter this building as part of an undercover operation.  It's one of 
four targeted establishments.  We need someone on the inside who can do 
a convincing job.'

'As what?'

'Possibly a male prostitute.'

Mulder smiled bitterly.  'Oh, I get it now, this is your way of 
punishing me.'

Skinner laughed, a harsh grate in the stillness of the shadowy 
apartment. 'From what I can gather you've been punishing yourself 
plenty, Mulder.  You don't need me to do it for you.  Anyway, it makes 
sense.  If you don't do it, the surveillance team working this case will 
put two and two together and then where will you be?  I'd already been 
asked to recommend someone for this assignment and this provides the 
perfect solution for both of us.'
  
'Why me?' Mulder asked tonelessly.  He knew he was defeated.  'Because 
you think I'm gay?'

'Are you?'

Mulder felt himself shrivelling as Skinner's eyes blazed into him.  He 
shook his head.  'I really don't know,' he admitted honestly. He dropped 
his gaze as the flush of humiliation spread over his face and neck.  
'I'm pretty confused right now.'

Skinner nodded.  It was the answer he had expected.  There was another 
long silence.  The sun disappeared behind a cloud, leaving Skinner's 
face wreathed in dark shadow.

Mulder stood up suddenly, his heart thumping wildly.  'Can you please 
leave now?  I need to think.  I need to get my head round all of this.'  
When Skinner didn't move he said in a louder voice,  'I want you to go 
now.'  To Skinner he sounded rather like a spoilt little boy.  

'Not yet.  Sit down, Mulder.  There's something else we need to 
discuss.'  Skinner's deep voice was quiet yet commanding, and he watched 
as Mulder reluctantly obeyed, perching stiffly on the edge of the sofa.  
Their eyes met briefly and Skinner flinched as saw his own fear and hurt 
mirrored in his subordinate's.

'Why didn't you tell the police the whole truth?' he asked quietly.  
'About Brace I mean.'	

Mulder shrugged. 'I guess you didn't either,' he replied, evading the 
question.

'I didn't see any reason to,' Skinner said softly.  'It was a bad enough 
scenario as it was, without everybody knowing the extra details about 
what you did to me.'

'What he MADE me do to you,' Mulder corrected.  'I'm grateful you didn't 
tell them though.  Thanks for that.'

Skinner snorted.  'I didn't keep quiet for your sake, Mulder,' he 
rasped.  'Like I say, it was bad enough as it was.  For me at least.'

'And what's that supposed to mean?' 

'I,' Skinner said emphatically, tapping his chest with his fingers, 'I 
was raped, Mulder.  Twice.  But you  - you were having the time of your 
life.' 

Mulder glanced at the door nervously, as though afraid someone might 
overhear.  'I didn't rape you,' he hissed.  'It was him. He made me do 
it.  He had a gun in my ribs in case you didn't notice.'

'No, I didn't notice actually.  I was too busy bleeding all over my own 
bed.'

'But you told me to do it.  Begged me to do it.  You said you wouldn't 
blame me.'

'Maybe I did, Mulder, but I hardly think I was capable of rational 
thought at the time, do you?'

'And I was?  He was going to kill you if I didn't do it.  The way I look 
at it, I saved your life!'

'Yeah?'  Skinner laughed, a hollow bitter sound that seemed to choke 
him.  'Well, I just remember you didn't put up much of a fight, that's 
all.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  Maybe in some twisted way you did 
save my life but I certainly didn't expect you to enjoy it so damn much.  
You told me to shut up, for Christ's sake.  Oh, you remember that, do 
you?  How you told me to shut up so you could concentrate on raping me?'

Skinner realised then that he'd wanted to spark some reaction in Mulder, 
anger definitely, hell, maybe he'd even come for a fight, but he hadn't 
come for this.  Mulder's chin had dropped in defeat and tears were 
suddenly splashing onto his lap.

Skinner sighed and closed his eyes.  'Jesus,' he muttered under his 
breath.  He stretched his spine upwards, studying the ceiling, feeling 
the tendons and bones grinding in his neck.  When he looked back at 
Mulder what he saw made a stark image - a broken man who was hiding his 
face in hands that were wet with tears.  His resolve softened. 

'Look, Mulder,' he said gently. 'I really didn't come here just to upset 
you.'  

'No,' Mulder sniffed, scrubbing his fingers over his eyes.  'You came to 
rub my nose in it.  Maybe I should just resign from the Bureau 
altogether, then that way you wouldn't have to ever see me again.'

Skinner tutted and shook his head.  He just couldn't escape the feeling 
that he was dealing with a petulant child. 'So that would solve 
everything?' he asked quietly with forced patience. 'Make it all just go 
away?'

'Well, I don't know,' Mulder glowered.  'Maybe I'm not having much fun 
either.  Ever think of that?'
      
Skinner cleared his throat.  'It doesn't seem that way to me, Mulder.  
It seems you're having way too much fun.'  He huffed resentfully.  
'Scully thinks we should feel sorry for you, that you're wracked with 
guilt.'

'What?  Have you told Scully about all this?' 

'No.  She only knows what you've told her.  But she seems to think you 
blame yourself unnecessarily for what Brace did to me.  If only she knew 
the truth, huh?'

'Are you threatening me?  Are you saying you're going to tell her?' 

'No, of course not.  What you tell Scully is your business.  She only 
talked to me out of concern for you anyway.'  Skinner stood up, suddenly 
brisk and business-like.  'Look, there's a team meeting in my office at 
ten on Wednesday morning. I'll leave you to study the file and if you 
can let me know your answer before then I'll make arrangements for you 
to attend the meeting.  Although Mulder, I have to say, if you choose 
not to co-operate I can't promise to keep this pretence up for much 
longer.  My colleagues on this case have been pressuring me for 
information about your involvement in the next phase for some days now.'

'I don't think I have a choice then, do you?' Mulder asked resentfully.

'I suppose not.'  He laid the file on the table.  'I'll see myself out.  
Bye Mulder.'  He hurried towards the door, desperate to be out of the  
stifling atmosphere in the apartment.

Mulder didn't respond until Skinner was half way through the door.  
'Before you go...'  he suddenly blurted out.

Skinner turned, his hand still on the door knob. 'What?'

'Please promise me that this has nothing to do with Brace. He is still 
locked up, right?  You were telling the truth?'

'Yes, Mulder.  Brace is still locked up.  He will be for a very long 
time.'

Mulder nodded, then once more buried his face in his hands, remaining 
that way long after Skinner's footsteps had faded away.

***

'Are you sure you're up to this, Mulder?' Skinner questioned after the 
meeting.  Now that he had Mulder in his office and he was dressed in 
more formal clothing instead of baggy sweats, Skinner could see how 
slender he'd grown.  He'd noticed the bony shoulders when Mulder had 
answered the door to his apartment wrapped only in a towel but somehow 
the dark suit he was now wearing accentuated the effect. There were 
black shadows under his eyes too, and that twitch was back.  However, 
when Mulder nodded his reply to Skinner's question he meant it.  He'd 
actually been surprised at how much he'd enjoyed studying the case files 
over the last few days and had been pleased to add a number of his own 
points to the killer's profile.  Maybe Scully was wrong.  Maybe he was 
fit to go back to work after all. 

Although this most recent murder had been a terrible personal shock to 
him, he comforted himself with the knowledge that despite the fact that 
he had been coerced into it, he was actually doing something positive in 
helping to catch Stevie's killer.  He'd almost forgotten what it was 
like to bury himself in a case, to exercise his brain in a way that he'd 
had little chance to since that fateful day when he'd walked unwittingly 
into Brace's cunning trap in Scully's apartment. He'd been gratified to 
find he still enjoyed it. 

When he'd arrived for the briefing at Skinner's office that morning, 
fighting the urge to run back home and hide, Mulder had been only too 
aware of the looks the other members of the team were giving him.  They 
listened politely enough as he outlined the adjustments he'd made to the 
killer's profile, but he'd caught one or two smirks from some people as 
he rode down in the elevator afterwards.   He decided though that he 
didn't care what they thought as they'd always considered him weird 
anyway.  One more crooked string to his bow wouldn't make any 
difference.  

Skinner was an entirely different matter, however.  Mulder's tangled 
emotions swirled sickeningly as he now sat alone in his apartment only 
an hour after the meeting had ended, trying to unravel his confusion.  
He'd always respected the Assistant Director and he'd always believed 
that respect to be reciprocated, but after Brace things had drastically 
and irreversibly changed.  Now he felt despised and reviled by a man 
whose friendship and approval he'd always secretly prized.  It was 
obvious that Skinner held him responsible for what Brace had made him 
do, but he really hadn't wanted to do it, surely Skinner knew that.  He 
couldn't help the way his body had reacted.  Why hadn't he told Scully 
about what had happened with Skinner though?  She'd be able to explain 
it all away with her medical terminology and scientific detachment, 
wouldn't she?  Oh, but he knew why he hadn't told her and he felt his 
skin crawl at the very thought.  

'He won't ever forgive me,' he thought mournfully.  'He won't ever 
forgive me at all.'

***

At the end of a third day spent studying the case files, Mulder decided 
he needed a break as well as a fresh take on the situation.  He'd 
thought he really ought to do some research before taking up his 
undercover position in a few day's time so after showering and dressing 
in an outfit that Scully would probably label 'casual but smart' he 
braved the rain-swept night to mingle with the crowd in the smoke-filled 
party atmosphere of one of the gay clubs in town.  He'd remained alert 
for most of the evening, drinking diet cokes whilst covertly eyeing the 
clientele and memorising faces.  A few guys had propositioned him, but 
he was able to gently refuse their amorous advances and extricate 
himself from their drunken fumbling embraces without too much effort.  

As the evening wore on, however, depression draped itself around him 
like a dark cloud, and he'd abandoned the cola and switched to bourbon, 
hoping a little liquor might chase away the nightmares when he 
eventually reached home.  Now, an hour and a half and a number of 
refills later, he was feeling a little the worse for wear, although the 
warmth in his belly was unusually pleasant and the edges of reality 
comfortingly fuzzy.  He was sitting at the bar, swilling the dregs of 
his drink around the bottom of the glass and thinking about heading for 
home, when he felt the skin prickle at the nape of his neck with the 
sudden feeling that he was being watched.  He turned his head slowly to 
see Skinner perched uncomfortably at the other end of the bar, eyes 
coldly staring at him through his spectacles.  He closed one eye, trying 
to focus clearly, not sure at first if he was seeing things.  

'What the hell are you doing here?' he slurred at last, positive now 
that the burly man dressed in suit pants and open-necked work shirt was 
really who he thought it was.

'I could ask you the same thing.'

Mulder laughed bitterly into his glass.  'I'm out getting some 
'experience' for your damn job.  You should pay me overtime.'  He swayed 
on his stool, almost losing his balance before adjusting his position 
and steadying himself on the bar-rail.  Skinner had lurched towards him 
as he rolled and now stood close with his arm lightly brushing against 
his own. Mulder glanced down at it in irritation and pulled away 
slightly before meeting Skinner's disapproving glare.  

'You're drunk, Mulder.'

'Ten out of ten for observation.'

'Aren't you still on medication?'

'So?'

'You shouldn't mix pills and booze y'know.'  

'It's none of your damn business, actually.'

'I don't like seeing you like this.'

'Well take a hike then.'  

Skinner tutted in exasperation as Mulder turned his back on him and 
began trying in vain to gain the attention of the busy bar-tender. 
'Mulder,' he said patiently after a pause, 'I think you should go home.  
In fact I think you should come with me right now and I'll take you 
home.'  

Mulder felt a tug on his sleeve and as he turned to face Skinner 
something in the older man's placid expression made him snap  'Fuck 
you,' he snapped, jerking his arm away.  'I don't need you taking care 
of me.  I don't need anyone.'  He again turned back to his drink 
sulkily, annoyed to see the glass still empty.  'Barman,' he called, 
lifting and slamming the glass back down onto the bar.  'Fill her up.'

'Mulder!'

'What?'

'Why are you doing this to yourself?  This isn't like you at all.  Come 
on, get your coat.  I'll take you home.  You need to sober up.'

'Why do you care so much all of a sudden?  You hate me.'

Skinner shook his head and said quietly, as if he were placating a tiny 
child, 'I don't hate you Mulder.  I feel sorry for you.'

Mulder laughed, though his bitter laughter was more like a sob. 'Oh 
that's just fucking great,' he sneered.  'Pity!  I'd rather take the 
hate thanks.'  He turned away and suddenly made direct eye contact with 
a man who'd already tried to catch his attention several times during 
the evening, and who was now slowly making his way over.  Mulder watched 
his approach, blanking Skinner who hovered beside him.

'Hi there gorgeous, can I buy you a drink?'

Mulder was inwardly a little panicked, but although he felt the man was 
almost sickeningly slick, he switched on a charming smile as he faced 
his new companion full on, deliberately turning his back on an 
exasperated Skinner.

'Yes thanks, that'd be great.'  He heard Skinner's disgusted tut behind 
him but ignored it, instead concentrating on sitting up a little 
straighter and on not slurring his words.  He requested the same again, 
impressed when the man managed to get served straight away.  The two men 
clinked glasses, both watching each other carefully as they sipped their 
drinks.  

Mulder's new companion was tall and fairly well-built, and he looked as 
if he were approaching middle-age, with thinning hair greying at the 
temples.  His blue eyes greedily travelled the length of Mulder's lithe 
body.  'I'm Gary by the way,' he said, leaning towards Mulder so that 
their thighs were almost touching.  'And you are...?

'Fox.  Pleased to meet you, Gary.'

'Likewise.' The man took Mulder's proffered hand and grinned at him, 
revealing a neat row of perfectly formed straight white teeth.

'You come here often?'

Mulder laughed.  What a chat-up line!  'No, not often,'  he replied, 
amused.  

'Me neither.  I'm in town for a business conference and I thought I'd 
give the local nightlife a try.'

'So what do you think?'

'Oh, I think the night just became a whole lot more interesting.'  Gary 
smiled as he laid his hand over Mulder's.  The man's grin reminded him 
of a shark's mouth and he noticed a gold wedding band which winked at 
him accusingly in the dim light.  'Wanna dance?'

Mulder glanced at the crowded dance floor then peered over his shoulder, 
suddenly realising that Skinner was no longer there.  'No,' he said, 
shaking his head and frowning.  His eyes scanned the room but there was 
no sign of the Assistant Director. 'It's heaving.' 

'Okay,' said Gary briskly.  'If dancing's out let's get straight down to 
business, shall we?  Am I gonna suck your dick, or do you want to suck 
mine?'  He laughed nervously, a high-pitched shriek which screeched 
above the music's heavy beat, jarring Mulder's ears.  

Making a split-second decision Mulder smiled, then said much more calmly 
than he felt, 'If you've got a condom on you Gary, you can fuck me 
instead.'  He met the other man's eyes boldly, although his heart was 
pounding and his mouth had gone dry.

Gary spluttered into his drink.  'Gee, you don't waste much time, do 
you?'

'No, I don't, do you?'  

Gary grinned and slid quickly off his stool.  'Come with me,' he purred.  
He grasped Mulder's elbow tightly as they threaded through the packed 
bar, steering him eagerly towards the men's room.  As they pushed their 
way into the white-tiled room, Gary turned quickly and as Mulder opened 
his mouth to protest he found himself crushed between the wall and the 
other man's broad chest.  The music's muffled beat thudded in his brain 
and he felt as though the walls were sliding away from him as Gary's hot 
tongue fiercely probed his mouth.  He closed his eyes, groaning as he 
felt the other man's hand slide against his erection and press it hard 
with the heel of his hand.  He staggered a little, his balance impaired 
by the alcohol he'd consumed and the heat of Gary's breathless kisses, 
his legs suddenly rubbery as Gary spun him around and pushed him towards 
the centre cubicle. He leaned forward as he crashed through the door, 
grabbing at the cistern in a bid to steady himself, before sagging a 
little as Gary's hand once more pressed against his crotch.  Soon strong 
eager fingers hurriedly fumbled with his belt and zipper, and he was 
shocked when he looked down at himself moments later to find his jeans 
and boxer shorts already half way down his thighs.

'Jesus, Gary,' he moaned, flinching as he felt Gary's fingers probing 
between his buttocks.  He peered over his shoulder squinting at the 
harsh glare of the fluorescent lighting, realising with a mounting sense 
of shame that the cubicle door was wide open and his naked ass was on 
display for everyone to see.  'Not here,' he begged.  'Anybody could 
walk in.'  

As if to prove a point, the door suddenly swung open and both men looked 
up as the music's beat briefly swelled.  Mulder glanced over at the 
yawning opening, his head spinning dizzily, trying to focus on the dark 
figure standing there.  'Gary,' he groaned again, 'please stop.  Not 
here.  Not in public.' 

Skinner stood frozen in the doorway, horrified by the sight of Mulder as 
he bent forward over the cracked toilet cistern, eyes heavy-lidded and 
struggling to focus, sweaty hair falling across his face and jeans half 
way to his ankles, blatantly being fondled by the man who was pressed up 
hard against the backs of his thighs.

'For God's sake,' he exclaimed.  'Mulder, what the hell's going on?'

'You can see what's going on,' Gary told him tersely.  'Go piss off and 
find your own fuck.  This baby's mine tonight.'

'Mulder?'

Mulder hesitated, his face hot with shame.  'You heard him,' he slurred 
after a moment, turning his face away.  He heard the restroom door swing 
shut, again muffling the steady throb of the dance music in the bar, and 
he gritted his teeth as Gary began to lick and suckle his neck.  He 
bucked as a rigid finger slipped wetly inside his anus, struggling to 
stand up with Gary's fist pushed hard between his shoulder blades, 
holding him down.

'Take no notice of him,' Gary begged.  'C'mon baby, I wanna fuck you.'

'Not here, Gary.'  Mulder squirmed a little as his hand was grabbed and 
pressed against the other man's erection and he tried to pull away.  
Gary, as if sensing the moment had been sabotaged, released his hand 
reluctantly.  'Well okay,' he agreed, 'but let's at least go somewhere a 
bit more private.'  Mulder stared at him for a second then nodded his 
agreement.  

'Okay then.  I'll just pick up my jacket,' he said, hastily pulling his 
jeans back up. 'I'll meet you out front in ten.'

As Mulder queued somewhat dazed, ticket in hand to collect his leather 
jacket, his heart thumping wildly at the thought of what he was about to 
do, a hand suddenly shot out of the shadows and grasped his wrist.  
Mulder jumped in fright and whirled round.

'Fuck!' he exclaimed into Skinner's bespectacled face, which loomed at 
him out of the darkness like a rising moon.  'You scared me!'  He turned 
away, handing his ticket in to the clerk and waiting for his coat.

'Just what the hell do you think you're playing at, Mulder?' Skinner 
hissed.  'Who is that guy?'

'Gary.  He's a friend of mine.'

Skinner snorted in derision.  'You've only just met him, for Christ's 
sake.  He could be anybody.  Or is that how you interact with all your 
friends nowadays then?  By dropping your pants for them?' 

Mulder eyed Skinner sharply and gave him a little push on the shoulder.  
'What is all this?' he slurred, the alcohol making him bold.  'What are 
you doing spying on me anyway?  I know you think you own me but I don't 
start the job for another three days, you know.'

'I know that,' Skinner snapped back waspishly.  He saw a mocking glint 
in Mulder's eyes and found it instantly infuriating.  'What is it?' he 
demanded.  'What are you smirking at?'  The younger man's knowing 
expression totally enraged him and he found himself fighting a sudden 
urge to punch Mulder in the face.

'Checking out the talent were we?' Mulder sneered drunkenly.  'Maybe I'm 
not the only one around here with an identity crisis.'  he turned his 
back, almost immediately biting down hard on his lip, not quite 
believing what had just come out of his own mouth.

Jesus, I want to hit him, thought Skinner. I want to hit him so badly.
He breathed deeply, attempting to suppress his anger.  'Don't be so 
ridiculous Mulder,' he retorted.  'How much have you had to drink, 
anyway?'  

Mulder tutted, keeping his face averted and shaking his head.  He 
accepted his jacket from the clerk and shrugged it on over his 
shoulders, then began to climb the steep steps to the street.  

'Hey, where are you going?'  Skinner demanded.  'I haven't finished with 
you yet.  Don't you dare walk away from me!  You're making a big 
mistake, you know that?'  

'Oh yeah, like you'd know.'

'I know you're acting like a filthy whore.'

'I need the practice,'  Mulder called over his shoulder as he stamped up 
the staircase.  He stalked off without a backward glance, then was gone, 
the glinting chrome and glass door to the club sweeping firmly shut 
behind him.
***


He knew he'd made a mistake the moment he climbed into the car.  As Gary 
clambered in beside him the driver turned and leered at Mulder, dark 
eyes scanning his body, taking in his long legs and handsome features 
with an approving grin.

'About fucking time Gary,' he remarked, tapping the face of his watch 
with an impatient finger.  'Nice piece of meat though.  I suppose you've 
fucked it already?'  

Gary smirked as he settled himself into the car.  'Well, you know me 
Jules,' he replied.  'I did try but he wouldn't let me.'

'You never let that stop you before.'

Mulder was staring at Gary, his mouth suddenly dry and his heart 
beginning to thud painfully in his chest.  'What's going on Gary?' he 
demanded.  'Who's this guy?'  He saw a dangerous glint in Gary's dark 
eyes and swallowed nervously.

'Don't tell me you're not up for it, Fox,' Gary growled.  He turned to 
face him, taking Mulder's hand in his own and gripping it firmly.   As 
the car pulled smoothly away from the kerb he continued, 'Nice, fresh 
piece of ass like you?  You're gagging for it, you know you are.'  

Mulder shook his head, shrinking back against the door and twisting his 
hand out of Gary's grasp.  'I thought it was just gonna be me and you,' 
he complained.  'I don't want any trouble.'

'Trouble?  There ain't gonna be no trouble.'  It was the driver's gruff 
voice and Mulder reluctantly met the burly man's eyes in the rear view 
mirror.  'You ain't gonna give us no trouble boy, are ya?' the driver 
demanded.

'Listen' Mulder began, groping for the door handle. 'I've changed my 
mind about all this Gary.  Please get him to stop the car, I want to get 
out.'

'Oh no you don't, not before you get over here and suck my dick.  I want 
to see if those luscious lips feel as good as they look.'

Mulder began scrabbling at the door but Gary quickly seized his wrist, 
gripping it tightly.  He saw the flash of a steel blade in the darkness 
and suddenly its sharp coldness was digging into his neck. 'Gary,' he 
spluttered, his eyes rolling in panic.  'What the hell's going on?  I 
wasn't expecting anything like this.  This wasn't part of our deal.'

'Shut it,' Gary warned him.  'Behave yourself and it won't be too bad.'

Mulder's eyes swivelled from Gary's stern glare to the window behind 
him.  The car was speeding smoothly into blackness now, the reassuring 
lights of the city fading into the distance.  He shrank further back 
against the door but suddenly felt Gary's firm hand curling around his 
neck as his head was pulled down towards the other man's crotch.  He 
heard a zipper going down, then the blade of the knife scraped at the 
stubble on his throat and he gagged as his mouth was forced down onto 
Gary's swollen cock head.

'Bite me and I'll slit your fucking throat,' he was warned.  The tip of 
the blade was twisting insistently against his neck.  There seemed no 
point in struggling so he did what he could in the circumstances.  He 
wasn't practised, but Gary's gratified moans seemed to indicate that he 
was at least meeting satisfactory standards.  

After several minutes the car swung into a winding road, and eventually 
the tyres crunched over mud and gravel as they swerved to a halt in the 
dark, narrow lane. 

'This'll do,' the driver announced.  He turned round, grinning at Gary's 
closed eyes and ecstatic expression, enjoying the wet sucking and 
slapping sounds of oral sex now that the engine was merely ticking over.  
'Gaz! We're here, man.' 

Reluctantly Gary tapped Mulder on the back of the head.  'Leave it,' he 
ordered before pushing Mulder away from him.  'Get him ready,' he said 
gruffly, 'but leave the engine running.  You know how I like it.'  

The driver nodded in agreement and slid quietly out of the car before 
approaching Mulder's side. He wrenched the door open.  'Get out,' he 
commanded.  Reluctantly Mulder slowly clambered out, wiping the taste of 
Gary's cock onto the back of his hand.  As he straightened up, the 
driver, without warning, dealt him a vicious blow to the face and he 
reeled backwards against the car, crying out in pain and shock.  

'Dirty slut,' the driver hissed at him, grabbing hold of his jacket and 
yanking him to his feet.  He too wielded a blade and gave him a push, 
and as he lurched forward Mulder looked around to see Gary grinning at 
him, his skin a sickly yellow in the frosted glow from the car's 
headlights.  He then took a second surprise punch on the jaw and felt 
his neck rocket back with a crunch.  Pain exploded at the base of his 
skull as he hit the car once more before falling in a crumpled heap to 
the floor.  He felt rough hands dragging him upwards and then he was 
staggering forward as the driver half pulled, half pushed him forwards 
over the hood of the car.

As blood oozed from his cut mouth and battered nose, he fully embraced 
his fear.  He cursed himself for having been so reckless, so 
unbelievably stupid, although the fact that they were probably going to 
kill him bothered him less than the fact that his profile had been 
totally wrong, that Skinner's team should have been hunting two killers 
all along.  Unless of course this had absolutely nothing whatsoever to 
do with the case and it was all just some terrible co-incidence.  

Somehow he doubted it.

The driver snarled at him, ordering him to slide his jeans and underwear 
down which he did without question and after only a moment's hesitation.  
The knife was large and sharp and he didn't doubt either his attacker's 
ability or his intention to use it.  He was told to lean forward and 
spread his arms over the hood of the car, and he obediently pressed his 
cheek to the warm metal, feeling the vibrations of the engine pulsing 
beneath him like the beating of a gigantic heart.

He tensed as cold hands peeled his buttocks apart, grimacing as Gary's 
well lubricated condom-covered cock slid between his cheeks, hearing the 
older man grunt with pleasure as he roughly entered him and begin to 
fuck him with deep, hard strokes. He gritted his teeth and pressed down 
against the juddering car with his palms, knees scraping the grille in 
an effort to maintain his balance as the intruder pumped into him again 
and again.  The cuts on his face hurt, his ass was burning, and he 
yelped as Gary's teeth sank into his shoulder, biting him hard.  It 
seemed like he was hurting all over but strangely he found he almost 
liked the pain.  He needed it and he accepted it gratefully.  It made 
his cock hard and gave him a desperate ache deep in his balls. 

'I'm bad,' he thought unhappily, as Gary's rough thrusting continually 
pitched him back and forth.  'I deserve this.'  He realised his vision 
was blurry with tears, but he closed his eyes, trying to blot out 
everything except for the insistent pounding of the cock in his ass.

Gary banged into him, harder, harder, faster, faster, eventually making 
him so hard that he felt himself ready to explode.  He cried out as he 
spurted thick milky jets of semen onto the paintwork beneath him, with 
Gary's climax following his own only seconds later.  As Gary slid off 
his sweat-slicked back he saw the dark forest swimming around him and he 
closed his eyes wearily, only to jerk them open as a hand slapped down 
into his face.

'Hey, wake up boy.  C'mon, I want you moaning and groaning for me like 
that when I fuck that juicy ass of yours.'  

Had he been moaning and groaning?  If he had, he hadn't been aware of 
it.  He felt his thighs being roughly forced apart and then he was being 
penetrated once more as the hefty driver bore into him with enthusiastic 
precision.  He tried to struggle as the heavier man mounted him but he 
was held firmly down as his attacker forced his way into the velvety 
heat within and began to thrust slowly with deep and powerful strokes.  
He could hear the man's soft laugh as he struggled.  His bowels were 
full, his anus fully stretched around the thick thrusting cock.  There 
was no actual pain, but no real sense of pleasure now either, just the 
feeling that he was a worthless object being used, certain to be 
discarded later like a cheap and broken toy. 

Once his rectum had been pumped full of come he lay exhausted and 
defeated beneath the weight of the heavier man.  He stared blankly into 
the darkness, not even reacting when he felt soft rain gently caressing 
his cheek.  He was so tired, his limbs leaden and heavy, he didn't 
actually care what they did to him now.  

Eventually the driver grudgingly released him and he heard Gary's voice 
yelling at him to get up.  He pushed himself up with some difficulty, 
his face streaked with blood and muscles aching.  He could hear the 
driver moving about in the brush, and as he steadied himself against the 
car he watched Gary cleaning himself with tissues and zipping himself 
back up, he realised he had been holding his breath.  Suddenly there was 
a sour burn at the back of his throat and then he was vomiting onto the 
patch of grass at his feet.  When he looked up it was to see Gary 
watching him.  What was that he saw festering in the other man's 
expression?  Surely it wasn't shame? 

'You okay?' Gary asked.  

Mulder stared at him blankly.

Gary pulled one of the rear doors open.  'Get in the car,' he 
instructed.  When Mulder didn't move he spoke more loudly.  'C'mon.  You 
heard me.  Get back in the car.'

'Where are we going?'

'Back into town.  Or would you rather we left you here, out in the 
middle of nowhere?'

Unsure of Gary's sincerity, Mulder nevertheless felt his way unsteadily 
around the car and climbed in, settling down onto the leather seat 
gingerly.  He sat silently, with head bowed and fingers to his nose, 
trying to prevent the thin trickle of blood from dripping onto his 
shirt.

'Here.'  

He looked up to see Gary's offer of a clean tissue and hesitated before 
taking it and pressing it to his swollen nose, carefully blotting at the 
blood.  He looked across at Gary warily.  What was all this building up 
to?  No way were they just going to let him go.  Jules took up the 
driver's seat once more and the car quickly sped off into the black 
night.  All three men sat in silence as they journeyed back into the 
lights of the city.

Eventually Gary asked Jules to pull over and the car ground to a halt.   

'Here's your money,' Gary said abruptly, thrusting a handful of paper 
notes into Mulder's face.  'Take it and get out.'

Mulder stared up at him in confusion.  'I-I'm sorry?'  

'You heard.'

'Y - you think I'm a prostitute?' Mulder stammered. He shook his head in 
disbelief. 'I can't believe you think I'm a prostitute!'  

Gary faltered momentarily but then his eyes hardened again.  'Leave the 
money, then,' he sneered.  'But get out all the same.'

'I thought you were going to kill me,' Mulder whispered, his cheeks 
burning with humiliation.  He exited the car slowly, tears of both shame 
and relief pricking his eyes.

'Bastards,' he muttered as he slammed the door shut behind him.  
Exhausted, he stumbled along the sidewalk and into the damp chill of the 
night, with the cackling laughter of the two men ringing derisively in 
his ears.  

***

At last Mulder leaned against the inside of his apartment door, glad to 
have locked it safely behind him.  In the back of the taxi on the 
journey home from Gary's motel he'd leant his hot cheek against the cool 
window glass and vowed fervently to bring all of this madness to an end.  
The cab driver who'd picked him up on the main road, at first alarmed by 
Mulder's bloody face and obvious pain, listened sympathetically and 
accepted his story that he'd been mugged and had wanted to drive him to 
the police but he'd insisted on being taken straight home.  Now in the 
familiar surroundings of his apartment he heard Skinner's words echoing 
in his head and his shoulders slumped in shame.  

'You're acting like a whore,' Skinner had said.  

'A filthy whore' actually. 

'What the hell have I been doing? he asked himself.  He promised himself 
he'd call Scully in the morning, and ask her to fix him an appointment 
with that therapist she kept banging on about.  Right now, more than 
anything he wanted to shower the stink of sweat and come off his body. 
Feeling light-headed and dizzy, he groped in the darkness for the light 
switch and flicked it thankfully.

Nothing happened.  

Momentarily panicked, he groped blindly in the darkness for something to 
steady himself on.  His heart thudded painfully in his chest, the blood 
pounding in his ears as he whirled into the blackness, feeling 
desperately for something solid to regain his bearings.  Unable to find 
anything in the darkness he sank to his knees, recognising the sudden 
onset of a panic attack and trying to breathe his way through it, the 
way Scully had tried to teach him.  Christ knows, he thought, I've had 
enough practice at it over the last few months.

Suddenly he caught a movement in the shadows.

'Who's there?' he called out fearfully, his querulous voice sounding 
timid even to his own ears.  Had those bastards followed him home?  He 
struggled once more to his feet and stumbled weakly back against the 
door, staring wildly into the inky, empty space of the apartment.  

A deep voice growled at him out of the darkness in a throaty snarl.  'If 
you love it so much you can be my fucking whore.'

Mulder almost screamed.  His heart lurched as he recognised the owner of 
the voice and he turned and fumbled frantically at the door, trying to 
release the bolts in the darkness.  But the door was completely and 
securely locked, and where only a few moments ago it had made him feel 
safe, effectively he was trapped by it.     

'You just love it, don't you?' Skinner's sinister voice accused. 'How 
much do you charge for a blow-job then, whore?' 

Mulder, his eyes now a little more accustomed to the darkness, took a 
faltering step sideways, alarmed by the violent undertones rippling 
through Skinner's growl as his superior advanced menacingly towards him, 
fear gripping him at the thought that Skinner had seen him with his 
mouth on Gary's cock.  He tried to scramble away, but even one-handed 
Skinner caught him easily.  He squeezed Mulder's neck, then roughly 
grasped his hair, forcing his dark head downwards.  He struggled and 
almost got away, but Skinner brought the flat of his hand down, slapping 
Mulder hard across the mouth, momentarily stunning him and not for the 
first time that night he tasted blood in his mouth as he staggered 
backwards against the wall before crumpling to his knees.  As he tried 
to rise Skinner's strong hand again smacked him hard, this time on the 
cheekbone.  The pain exploded in his face, then he was seized by the 
scruff of his neck and propelled towards his desk before hitting it hard 
face down, knocking books, papers and his favourite coffee mug to the 
floor with a smash.  

'What if I did it to you now?' Skinner demanded angrily.  Mulder's left 
arm was pinned beneath him, the other twisted painfully behind his back.  
'Huh, Mulder?  What if I did it to you?  I could rape you now, couldn't 
I?  Stick my dick into you, hurt you, abuse you, like you did to me.'

Mulder protested, his voice muffled against the desk top.  'Get off me,' 
he begged.  'Please, you're hurting me.'  Suddenly he felt the pressure 
ease slightly.  His arm was freed as Skinner's weight lifted off him of 
a little and he dragged it round thankfully, cradling it against his 
chest and whimpering in pain and fear.  His relief was short-lived, 
however.

'Drop your jeans,' Skinner's steely voice ordered out of the dark 
shadows.  'Drop them now.'

'What?  Sir, please...'  

Skinner pulled his gun from its holster and Mulder heard a threatening 
click.  'I mean it Mulder.'

'Sir...'

'Do it!'

'Okay, okay.'

Mulder raised his hips an inch off the surface of the desk and reached 
awkwardly down to his waist.  With shaking hands he unbuckled his belt, 
then released the stud and fly on his jeans before pushing them down as 
far as his knees.

'What are you going to do?' he sobbed.  'Please don't hurt me.'

'Take down your shorts as well,' Skinner barked, ignoring him.

With a groan of humiliation Mulder slid his boxer shorts down over his 
thighs, horribly conscious of the sticky come still congealing between 
his buttocks.

'Put your hands behind your back.'

Trembling with fear and shame, Mulder did as he was told.  His earlier 
panic had left him weak and now he flopped back down against the messy 
surface of his desk in defeat.  He flinched as he felt Skinner's strong 
grip on his wrists followed by the coldness of steel as his hands were 
cuffed together and he groaned as Skinner's weight flattened against his 
back once more, effectively pinning him down.  Rough material skimmed 
the bare backs of his thighs as Skinner kneed his legs further apart and 
settled his crotch against Mulder's buttocks, beginning to mock-thrust 
against him.  Each thrust sent a screaming pain through Mulder's twisted 
shoulders and he felt certain the joints would pop at any moment.  

'Would you like me to fuck you?' Skinner demanded angrily.  'Would you?'  
He roughly thrust his hips against Mulder's naked buttocks.  'How would 
you take it, huh?  Would you scream and cry for mercy, or would you just 
moan like the slut you are, like you did for that bastard Brace and that 
animal you picked up tonight?' 

'Let me go,' Mulder begged, unable to move with Skinner's muscular body 
slamming him painfully against the desk.  'Please, you don't know what's 
happened. You're hurting me.'

'What if I raped you now, Mulder?' Skinner demanded, ignoring his 
victim's pleading and banging his hips against Mulder's buttocks, his 
head swimming with power and the smell of Mulder's fear.  'What if I 
fucked you till you couldn't walk, huh?  Would you like that?'

'Please,' he heard Mulder sob.  He felt the younger man trembling 
beneath him, heard his voice squeeze out in a ragged choke.  'Sir, 
please... please, let me go.'  His voice sounded desperate, muffled 
where his cheek was pressed hard against the desk-top.  

'You're just a fucking whore, Mulder,' Skinner told him angrily through 
gritted teeth.  'What's wrong?  This is what you like, isn't it?  Come 
on, man, you know you love it.'  He continued to grind his hips against 
Mulder's buttocks, pummelling him with his thighs, then suddenly he 
caught sight of himself, a ghostly image reflected in the darkened 
window and he hardly recognised the twisted snarl of his own face. He 
suddenly became aware of the way his cock was straining stiff and hard 
against his pants where they rubbed over Mulder's naked backside, and he 
released his captive's wrists and pushed away from him in disgust.    

'Do you really think I'd do it?' he hissed, grabbing his gun and shoving 
it back into its holster.  'You really think I could ever rape you?  
Jesus Christ, I couldn't rape anybody.'  He fumbled with the handcuffs 
briefly, releasing Mulder's wrists before turning away in disgust and 
shame.  Mulder stood shakily, grasping for his underwear and jeans and 
pulling them up hurriedly to hide his nakedness. 

'Just look on it as a training session,' Skinner said curtly.  'You said 
you needed some experience.  Team meeting in my office tomorrow 
afternoon, two o'clock sharp.  Don't be late.' 

As soon as he'd gone, Mulder scrambled over to the open door, locked and 
bolted it once more, then crouched on his haunches on the floor, 
snivelling and wiping blood, tears and mucus onto the sleeves of his 
favourite blue shirt.  He sobbed long and hard until eventually the 
tears dried and all he was left with were a few dry hiccups.  

At last he gathered enough strength to pull himself into the shower, 
where he scrubbed furiously at himself, desperate to remove all traces 
of the dried semen crusted in his pubic hair and on his inner thighs, 
feeling as if he were at least washing away some of the hurt, if not the 
shame. Then, with hair still wet and body aching, he crawled into bed 
where he curled himself up into a tight ball and eventually drifted off 
into fitful but thankfully dreamless sleep.

End Brace III