Feedback!
Summary: Walter Skinner’s military training had been good for many things.
Walter Skinner’s military training had been good for many things. To this day, all these years later, he was grateful for the discipline in his life – especially given the insanity his job was rapidly becoming. It gave him a sense of routine, a sense of direction, and if it also gave him a unique insight into the rituals of male bonding, well, he didn’t mind that either.
Lately, however, it was one of those rituals that occupied his mind obsessively. It wasn’t one he’d ever been ashamed of, but he was angry with himself for letting his mind drift not to bonding with good men like Fox Mulder but instead lusting after the cocky, perverse young man with the beautiful eyes and the attitude that needed to be fucked and not beaten out of him.
He hated that he did it. He hated that his most pleasurable fantasies involved standing above Alex Krycek, jacking off onto his face, and loving that he loved every moment of it. Skinner hated that he did it but it was fuck the man or kill him and he didn’t like to think he was, by nature, abhorrently violent.
Some days they stood there in his office, Skinner leaning against his desk, fucking Krycek’s mouth. Other times they were here, in this apartment and Skinner could barely contain the glee as he came all over his sex-toy’s face.
Not lover. Not partner. Not even whore. No, this other man was his toy and this was his revenge. Military understanding of male bonding be damned, Skinner’s desires were basic, degrading revenge and it was so hot and glorious that as his hand gripped his shaft almost painfully, he realized that until it actually happened, he could never be free of the images.
But did he want it to happen? Did he want the images to go away? Didn’t he like his fantasies? Fantasies were safe. It was acting on them that pushed good men over the edge.
Harder he stroked. Tonight they were in his office and his toy was stroking himself as his mouth was fucked over and over again. Tonight, Skinner grabbed the other man and bent him face forward over the desk. Tonight the barriers were broken. Tonight he separated the cheeks of the toy’s ass and using lube only for his pleasure, dove in balls deep and started to thrust. Over and over he beat into the useless hunk of flesh on the desk, the tension building and building until he pulled out only to flip him over and come on his face. That was a favorite pastime. Tonight was no different and as his hand brought him over the edge, he realized it had to happen. He had to get it out of his system. At least once.
He wiped his hand on the paper towel he kept nearby and rolled over. Yes, the next time the weasel was within sight, he’d make his move.
His military training hadn’t been for nothing after all.