---

Tenses

Present (2/3)

Sitting in his hotel room Mulder remembered that first
meeting, surprised at the feelings of contentment it
invoked in him.  It hadn't at the time, of course, he
thought, smiling through his silent tears.  He
remembered leaving Skinner's office and literally
running to the bathroom.  He had been sure that his
buttocks would be bleeding, but checking himself over
he saw they were merely red.  He stood in the stall
breathing hard, trying to make sense of what had
happened, looking in disgust at his slightly turgid
cock.  He told himself that it was merely a natural
response to intense physical stimulus, and knew that,
of course, this could easily be the case.  But Fox
Mulder was much too honest with himself to accept that
facile explanation.  He felt he would have resisted
merely physical stimulus.  There had been an emotional
stimulus as well, a feeling of satisfaction for
suffering.  A sense that he needed to suffer for
Samantha, for Scully, for all those he'd failed to
protect.  A satisfaction that finally someone would
allow him to take responsibility for what he was
doing, but, more than that, would allow him to work
through the feelings he carried with him.

The connection he felt with Skinner helped him to
address issues he'd carried with him for 20 years.  He
hadn't been grateful, of course.  Not then.

Looking back Mulder was surprised he hadn't been more
angry then; but he hadn't, not during or even after.
It had all felt slightly unreal to him though, and on
Wednesday, sitting opposite Skinner, next to Scully,
he'd barely been able to believe it hadn't been his
imagination.  Skinner had treated him the same as all
the other agents, except, maybe, taking slightly more
interest in his cases.

He'd had to admit that following the surreal first
encounter with Skinner he was paying more attention to
details on his files  That had yielded greater
productivity, and fewer problems with other
departments, particularly accounts.  And, most
importantly, the continual fear that the X-Files would
be taken from him was stalled.

His original fears regarding their arrangement had
proved unfounded.  At the first loss of bureau
property Mulder's gut had clenched as he reported to
Skinner, but following a discussion Skinner had deemed
the loss of the firearm as unavoidable and taken no
further action.  However, Mulder had, of course, a
great deal more experience of Skinner's long ruler, of
which he was now far more wary, looking back with an
ironic snort at his initial response to what he had
supposed to be a banal instrument.  Bending over
Skinner's desk following a case in which he'd made
mistakes, endangered himself or others, became a
blessing.  Consumed with guilt or regret at another
thwarted investigation, he was able to work through
his emotions with the catharsis of physical
discipline; when his burning ass was raised for
punishment he couldn't postpone or avoid.

The initial connection he'd felt with Skinner grew
gradually.  Skinner always treated him with respect,
he never felt belittled during or after.  Skinner kept
a personal touch on his back, fully discussing the
relevant incident before hand, and meeting his eyes
with calm reassurance afterwards.

And Mulder did, gradually, become...grateful for
Skinner's involvement in his life.  A friendship,
based on mutual trust and respect grew up between
them, and suddenly the spankings became more personal.
 Mulder felt closer to Skinner than he had to anyone.
He compared it to his punishment from his parents as a
child.  By just sending him away, the disdain on their
faces, their inability to discuss or address anything
he did, they had always made him feel unworthy of
notice.  The comparison was, however, somehow
incorrect.  He respected Skinner and felt that even
with, or perhaps because of, the spankings that
Skinner respected him.  Was interested in him, helped
and guided him.  Cared about him as a person.

And there was still that strange feeling of
excitement, of arousal, *definitely* not filial.  At
the beginning the psychologist in Mulder had
rationalized it as a reaction to an alpha-male fantasy
figure.  A strong, handsome, unyielding boss; he was
sure fantasies abounded at being bent over the boss's
desk.

However, as he came to know Skinner, his emotional and
physical reactions had strengthened, based on
friendship and respect, and had grown into the
strongest relationship Mulder had ever had.

It was not acknowledged, of course.  He barely
acknowledged it personally, let alone to Skinner.  Yet
Mulder was too honest with himself to ignore the
strength of his feelings.  That's why it hurt.  God,
it hurt.

Skinner had been so angry when he came here, searching
for Samantha.  He'd never seen him so angry, and he
ached to think how disappointed Skinner would be with
him.  *His* fault.  Skinner would never take care of
him again, they'd never share personal looks, personal
moments, again.  And it was all his *fault*.

The knock at the door startled him out of his
darkening brood.  "Who, who is it?" he said, trying to
catch his breath and wipe his face.

"A.D. Skinner."

Mulder's heart contracted at the deep voice.  His
stomach felt suddenly empty.  Hope and despair battled
inside him. Hope that Skinner had come to help him
through this, despair that the break between them, if
articulated, would become irrevocable.  Breathing in
deeply, he opened the door.

***

Skinner looked closely at Mulder's ravaged face.  He'd
obviously been working himself into a state, and
cursed that he hadn't arrived sooner.

"What are you doing here, Sir?" (Do you still care
about me?) Mulder asked, his casual inquiry undermined
by his tear-stained face.

"What do you think, Agent Mulder?" he asked, to
determine the extent of the damage.

Mulder's face twisted in misery.  "To, to tell me that
you're not going to..." he searched for the word,
"support me anymore."  Mulder would have been
surprised to know that another tear had escaped down
his face.

Skinner shook his head.  "You've been sitting here
tearing this to pieces," he asked gently, "haven't
you?" (I still care about you).

Undone by the caring tone, Mulder nodded, ignoring the
fresh tears.  "I thought, I thought, you wouldn't want
to...help me any more, because I failed you, I failed
Samantha, that little girl.  My, my parents never
wanted me after, after I let Samantha..."

"Enough, Fox," Skinner said, sternly.  "You haven't
failed anybody.  There was nothing you could do for
Samantha then, and nobody could have done more for her
since.  You stopped a murderer here, when probably no
one else could.  And you didn't fail your parents,
they failed you."  He paused, before adding quietly,
"And you've never failed me, I was only so vehement
about you not going because I knew what it would do to
you.  And I'm not your Father, Fox."  Mulder looked up
and their eyes met, and what had been unspoken between
them for a long time passed between deep, brown eyes
and teary, hazel ones again, "Not by a long way."

"So...so you still," (care about me) "want to help
me?"

"Yes, Fox," neither of them had noticed when he
changed to Fox.  "But you disobeyed my direct
instructions, put yourself and others in danger, so
you must be punished.  Don't you agree?"

Skinner smiled at the mixture of relief and fear on
Mulder's face, as he met his eyes.  "Yes, Sir," he
whispered, dropping his eyes to the floor.

"I don't seem to have my ruler with me, so I think, as
it's been a tough day, a hand spanking will suffice
for now."  He watched Mulder's breath expel, "But
tomorrow, when you've rested, I feel my belt is
warranted."

Mulder gasped, his eyes shooting up to meet Skinner's,
looking for a joke, but finding only stern compassion.
 He opened his mouth to protest, but Skinner stopped
him.  "This is serious Fox.  When I give you a direct
order, you *cannot* willfully disobey me.  And when I
tell you to make sure you take care of yourself I mean
both body and soul, and you failed on both counts.
And, Fox, I know you're feeling extremely guilty about
that little girl, and I don't think a hand, or even a
ruler, will be enough for *you*."

Mulder's eyes filled with tears, as he considered the
young girl again, and how he had disappointed Skinner,
and nodded, dropping his eyes again.

Skinner looked around the room for a suitable place,
praising silently, once again, the convenience of the
office desk.  The bed was too low to be bent over, the
chairs too high backed and the tops of the bureau and
dressing table fitted too closely to the wall for
Mulder's lanky frame.  He took a deep breath.  The
personal nature of the hand spanking was deliberately
chosen to bring them closer together after Mulder's
fear of a rift between them.  Today, Skinner decided
to take that as close as possible.   He sat down on
the chair.  "Come and bend over my knee, Fox."

Mulder drew in a quick breath, but didn't protest,
coming silently over and dropping his pants before
bending over Skinner's knees.  Skinner settled them as
comfortably as possible and looked at the fine ass
presented to his view, with the thin cotton stretching
tautly over tight buttocks.

He cleared his throat.  "In order for a hand spanking
to be effective, I think it must be given on the bare,
Fox, don't you?"

Mulder's buttocks tightened instinctively, but he
whispered, "Yes, Sir," so quietly Skinner could barely
hear him.

They both took a deep breath as Skinner hooked his
fingers in Mulder's waistband and pulled down his
shorts.  Skinner evened his breathing as he stared at
Mulder's naked ass, firm, tight and flawless,
presented to him for punishment.  Mulder flushed and
shivered as the cool air wafted around his naked
cheeks, making him hyper-aware of the fact that his
bottom was so vulnerable, raised and exposed, just
waiting to be spanked.

Skinner put his hand at the small of Mulder's back
before raising the other and bringing it down hard on
the center of Mulder's bare, defenseless ass.

Mulder jumped at the first stinging slap on his naked
flesh, unconsciously clenching his buttocks in
anticipation of the next.  The hard, warm hand came
down again and again, relentlessly on his bare bottom.
 The stinging heat spread over his tender flesh, until
all his ass and the tops of his thighs were warm and
stinging.

Skinner stared, mouth dry, at the sight before him.
Mulder's ass was pink and rosy, squirming
unconsciously in response to his hand.  His own flesh
stirred and he felt Mulder's cock throbbing against
his lap.

The warm weight of Skinner's hand on his back, the
hard, strong thighs beneath him, and the relentless,
hot stinging hand on his vulnerable butt, combined
with Mulder's embarrassment and awareness of his
exposure, and the heat building in his tender bottom
caused his cock to pulse stronger than from any
previous spanking, and he was uncomfortably aware of
its contact with Skinner's thighs.

The hand continued its merciless punishment of his
throbbing, naked bottom.  It felt as though his flesh
were on fire and he squirmed, helplessly, over
Skinner's lap, trying to avoid the stinging blows.
Skinner concentrated on the tender undercurve of his
bottom and the tops of his thighs, where he sat, and
his most sensitive flesh.  He gasped as the hand
continue to make unerring contact with that sore,
tender spot.  He wriggled, but to no avail.  His
naked, upturned bottom perfectly positioned for
Skinner to punish at will.  The stinging became
painful and a sob escaped him as his bottom felt
aflame.  His legs kicked helplessly as he writhed on
Skinner's lap, his cock finding friction against his
trousers, even as he tried to escape the overwhelming
sensations.

Skinner's breathing labored as he continued to spank
Mulder's beautiful, quivering, red bottom.  He
listened to Mulder's quiet sobs and watched enthralled
as he wriggled charmingly over his knees.  He felt
Mulder's cock pulsing strongly against him, his own
responding in kind.  He stopped and rubbed the hot
curve of Mulder's red cheeks, waiting for him to catch
his breath.

"Did you deserve this spanking, Fox?" he asked gently,
when he was sure he would be heard, watching as Mulder
unconsciously continued to rub himself against
Skinner's lap, his buttocks clenching and relaxing,
trying to alleviate the sting.

"Yes, Sir," Mulder breathed, sniffing.  Skinner patted
the hot flesh affectionately.  "Good.  Now just six
more and it's all over for today."

"Oh, no, Sir!" Mulder cried in shock, "No more,
please.  I've had enough, really.  I, oh!"

He was stopped by a sharp slap on his thigh.  "I think
that's for me to say don't you?  Six more and then
it's over.  Be brave, Fox."

"Yes, Sir," he sniffed.  Skinner raised his hand again
and brought it down as hard as he could on Mulder's
waiting, trembling buttocks.

Mulder didn't try to stop his cries at each swat,
surprised at how the need to cry out was so demanding.
 While the ruler usually had him in tears, it never
got under his defenses like this.

Finally it was over, and Mulder lay panting and
trembling over Skinner's lap, reveling in the feeling
of Skinner's warm hand rubbing his quivering, tender
flesh soothingly.

Skinner finally let him up, and to his surprise held
him sitting on his lap in his arms, hugging him close.
 Usually Skinner allowed him the distance he needed to
collect himself, but today he held him near.  Mulder
was struggled for a moment, but was helpless to resist
the strong arms and collapsed into the hug, tears
starting again as the release of the day's tension hit
him.  He didn't know how long Skinner held him like
that, muttering soothing words and stroking his hair
until he calmed.  The gratitude he felt, safe in
Skinner's strong embrace, could only be expressed in
one way, and suddenly he raised his tearstained face,
his lips searching blindly for Skinner's.

He found them, Skinner's mouth opening in surprise as
their lips made sweet contact.  His lips were soft but
firm, and he tasted of every good thing Mulder had
ever known.  Skinner started in surprise as the
beautiful mouth that had been a staple of his dreams
for so long found his.  Mulder's lips were soft and
full and he tasted so sweet; the tender, open mouth
and shyly questing tongue feeling like heaven.

After a moment Skinner remembered to return the kiss,
hungrily searching for more of Mulder's sweet taste.
The tone of the kiss changed, becoming more demanding
as Skinner took control, Mulder feeling a wave of
sweet submission rolling over him.  They kissed for a
long time before Skinner became aware of Mulder's
naked erection pushing demandingly against him.  He
broke the kiss, touched to the core by the look of
shocked disappointment on Mulder's open face.  He
swiftly dropped a consoling kiss on wet, parted,
slightly swollen lips, before laying Mulder down
gently and removing his remaining clothes.  Mulder lay
still underneath him, but his flushed, tear-stained
face and deep eyes held an unmistakable invitation.

Stroking Mulder's face gently before moving away,
Skinner stood up and removed his own clothing,
watching Mulder's face as he took in every inch of
Skinner's large, muscular frame.  Their eyes met,
questions asked and answered with smiles, before
Skinner laid down beside Mulder and covered his lips
with his own again.

This time as he drank deeply from Mulder's mouth he
stroked Mulder's hard, quivering cock, swallowing the
whimpers it produced as Mulder pressed harder into his
hand.  Mulder reached for him, but Skinner pushed his
hand away before drawing back to take in the vision
before him.

Mulder's face was flushed and his smooth chest rose
and fell as he panted for air, his cock thrusting
demandingly from a nest of dark curls, pulsing and
damp, begging for attention.  Skinner smiled as he
traced his hand over Mulder's chest, smiling as his
breath hitched as fingers made rough, but fleeting,
contact with tight, sensitive nipples.

He pushed Mulder's knees up and spread them, glad to
see Mulder holding the position as he pulled back.  He
struggled for breath as he stopped to admire the
tempting view of the red curve of buttocks and the
tight entrance to Mulder's body.

He licked his fingers before finally reaching for
Mulder's desperate cock.  He pumped roughly, looking
deeply into Mulder's eyes and he was carried away on
sensation.  He switched his hand suddenly, his
fingers, wet from his mouth and Mulder's desperation,
sought and found Mulder's tight hole.  Mulder's
whimpers became more frantic and his head thrashed
from side to side as Skinner found his way into the
tight heat of his body, searching for and finding the
prostate.  An unearthly sound issued from his throat
as Mulder rode desperately on his fingers, thrusting
to get them as deep inside him as possible, before
moving back into Skinner's hand.

Skinner stroked him internally until the sensations
overwhelmed him and he came, howling his pleasure.
Skinner stroked his hair waiting for him to come back
to himself.  Their eyes met.  Mulder's voice was
hoarse, "Do you want me?" he asked (Do you love me?).

Skinner's smile was tinged with a sadness Mulder
couldn't identify, "Yes, I want you." (I love you.)

Mulder pulled his head down for a deep, wet kiss,
before turning over and spreading his thighs.
Skinner's throat constricted as he looked at the sight
offered to him.  Tight, hot, red buttocks parted for
his pleasure, and his cock pulsed insistently.  "Oh,
yes, I want you," he whispered, (I love you).

He had no lubrication so he went very slowly, taking
great pleasure from watching his fingers, lubricated
only with saliva and Mulder's release, pushing in and
out of Mulder's eager hole, between his firm, punished
cheeks.  Finally Mulder could stand it no longer, his
own cock pulsing again, and he begged Skinner to take
him.  Skinner groaned against Mulder's neck as he
pushed into his hot, tight body.  He went slowly, but
as Mulder pushed back into him his hips thrust hard of
their own accord, causing them both to moan.

He thrust into Mulder deeply, bringing them both to
the point of release with his strong, driving cock,
before reaching around him and taking Mulder's
throbbing organ in his hand.  They both came hard, and
Skinner gritted his teeth to keep forbidden words from
escaping, while Mulder's tears were soaked up by the
pillow.

They lay together naked on Mulder's bed, with every
part of their bodies they could manage in contact.
And when Mulder fell asleep, exhausted from the day,
and Skinner slipped from his body he swore he'd left a
piece of his heart behind.

 
On to Part Three of Tenses

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