Quality Time

 

Walter Skinner checked his watch, then checked his wardrobe, then he checked all the rooms in his apartment and lit some strategically placed candles in various different rooms. It was going to be a busy night but he wasn’t an Assistant Director of the FBI for nothing. He had planned his evening down to the last detail and boy, was he going to have fun. With a capital F.

 

There was a knock on his door. 7:10 p.m. Trust his most annoying agent to be late. He jogged down the stairs and opened the door, humming to himself.

 

Fox Mulder stared for a moment, opened his mouth, closed it again, stared some more.

 

“I’m sorry, sir. Did I get the wrong time? Am I too early?”
“Not at all. Come in, Agent Mulder.” Skinner opened the door wide and smiled a charming smile. Fox Mulder hesitated nervously. “I’ve just been out rollerblading.” Skinner told his agent, with another flash of that stunning grin.
“You rollerblade?” Mulder asked, trying not to look thrown. After all, he was a guy who had tracked down bile eating serial killers and big wormy type things. He wasn’t easily thrown.

 

“Yeah. Beer?” Skinner tossed a can to Mulder and opened one himself. Mulder took it with an appreciative smile and allowed his gaze to travel, none to subtly over his boss’s burly frame. He took in the bare feet – in fact they were the first thing he had noticed. Bare feet, and then the frayed denim shorts, cut off at the knee…frayed? Knee? Then the tight vest – undoubtedly from the “Die Hard” school of fashion, complete with dark sweat stains. Mulder drooled. “So, how ya doing?” Skinner took hold of the fabric of his vest and wiped it over his sweaty forehead, exposing an enormous amount of muscled midriff. Mulder staggered against the couch and fell.

 

“Fine, sir…” He muttered. “What’s all this about?”
“I’ve got something to show you. Come on.” Skinner grabbed hold of Mulder’s arm and led him up the stairs. Mulder felt the hair on the back of his neck start to stand on end. Skinner opened the door to a little room at the top of the stairs and pushed Mulder inside. It was dark. Mulder stopped. Behind him Skinner closed the door and lit a candle. Mulder gasped.

 

“Welcome to my shrine.” Skinner whispered, kissing Mulder’s neck. Mulder felt his knees go weak. There, all around him, were pictures of himself. And big mirrors. Enormous mirrors.
“Uh, where did you get all these photos from, sir?” he asked. Skinner wrapped his arms around Mulder’s shoulders and kissed his cheek.

 

“Surveillance, Mulder. You’re right – I do have you followed sometimes. But only because I’m obsessed with you.”
“Oh. Well…that’s okay then.” Mulder felt himself falling back against Skinner’s hard manly chest.

 

“You like it?” Skinner asked.

 

“Well…yeah.” Mulder felt dizzy. All these images of himself. It was weird. It was fantastic. Hell, it was erotic. He was such a good looking guy. His eyes were drawn to a photo that had a particularly vivid close-up of his bottom lip.
“Yeah, I like that one.” Skinner nuzzled at his agent’s neck. “I call it ‘the pout.’”

 

Mulder pouted, then started as the gesture was relayed all around him in the dozens of mirrors. Skinner grinned. “Look, you can see yourself from every angle,” he purred, his fingers unbuttoning Mulder’s shirt. “Don’t you look great?”
“Yeah…I guess I do…” Whichever way Mulder looked, all he could see was himself. It was such a turn-on. Skinner pushed his hand down the front of Mulder’s trousers. “You’re a damn good looking guy, Mulder.”
“Yeah…” Mulder started to hyperventilate as he saw Skinner’s hand reflected in the mirror, disappearing inside Mulder’s jeans and stroking his big, swelling cock. “Damn good looking…” Mulder murmured.

 

There was a knock on the door. Skinner looked at his watch. 8pm. Trust Scully to be on time. He straightened his tie and rearranged his shirt. He had left Mulder to amuse himself in the shrine. Somehow he thought the other man would find something to occupy him for a while.

 

“Agent Scully,” he said briskly, opening the door to let her in. “Can I take your coat?”
“Thank you, sir.” Scully handed him her long cashmere coat and he hung it up tidily. “This way, Agent Scully. I have important medical data I need analyzing.

 

“Yes, sir.” Scully’s eyes lit up. Medical data? She followed him into his study. There, on his desk, was a computer screen showing a twisting, colorful graphic display. Scully gasped.

 

“My god!” She exclaimed.

 

“Yes. A DNA mutation.” Skinner frowned. “You’ll have to explain it to me, Scully, I’ve never met a woman with your sort of scientific mind before. You’re the only person in the world who could understand this. You’re so clever and pretty and you smell nice too. I’m all brawn and no brain, a silly, dizzy beefcake of a man. I bow to your superior knowledge. Dazzle me with science, Scully!”
“Of course, sir.” Scully sat down at the desk, her fingers scrolling over the data. “It’s amazing, a whole new genetic code. Oh, sir!” Scully sat back in her chair, panting slightly. “Where on earth did you get this?”
“It’s a present, Scully. From me to you.” He smiled at her and ran his hands over her shoulders.
“A present, sir?”
“That’s right. You must be warm, Scully. Explain to me the way the genetic coding works while I just unbutton your blouse. There…” Scully sighed, her mind engaged in scientific data while her body was assaulted by the sensation of her boss running his fingers over her hard nipples. Never had she felt so fulfilled before.

 

Skinner took a quick shower and pulled on his pants just as there was a knock on the door. He didn’t have time to pull on a sweater or do up his belt. He opened the door and frowned moodily.

 

“YOU!” He snarled. The baseball-capped figure in the doorway licked his lips nervously.

 

“I got your message. What’s this about, Skinner?” Skinner grabbed hold of the man’s leather jacket and hauled him into his apartment.

 

“It’s about you and me and some unfinished business, Krycek.” He sank his fist into the young man’s stomach and then hauled him to his feet and dragged him out onto the balcony.

 

“Not the handcuffs again. Oh, man!” Krycek wailed. “I’ve run out of warm thoughts.”
“Let me provide you with some more then.” Skinner slapped the other man a couple of times and then kissed him roughly. Krycek began to overheat. Skinner unbuttoned the other man’s shirt and bit his nipples. Krycek melted.

 

Skinner glanced at his watch. 9:50. He slapped Krycek a couple more times and then abandoned him. He put his head around the study door. Scully was sitting in his chair, staring at his computer screen, her fingers furiously rubbing between her legs as she worked. Skinner smiled. Then he checked the shrine. Mulder was lying on a big cushion, staring in fascination at his own erection reflected back a hundred times all around him as he played with himself. Skinner laughed. There was a knock on the door.

 

“Holly!” The woman in the doorway looked at her boss nervously. He looked very relaxed, dressed in a pair of dark chinos and a polo neck. “Come in.” He smiled. She edged into the room. “Sit down, please, Mistress.”

 

“Uh…what?” Holly looked startled as she sat down on the couch.
“I’ve bought you a gift. Will you deign to look at it for me?” Skinner asked, pulling out a box and kneeling at her feet.

 

“I, uh, guess so!” Holly sat back. How did he know about her secret fantasy life? Shit, what did he know about her secret fantasy life? She accepted the box and opened it. Inside there were nestled a pair of tiny, exquisitely crafted, patent leather stilettos with sharp pointed heels.

 

“Would mistress try them on for me?” Skinner asked. Holly smiled and held out her foot. Skinner lovingly put first one, then the other on her tiny but adorable feet. They were a perfect fit. “Now would mistress walk all over me? Please?” Skinner tried to look small and abject. Holly grinned broadly.

 

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure, worm.” She said strictly.

 

Skinner sighed. Nearly 11. He wiped some blood absently from a puncture wound on his body and left Holly looking through his collection of 1930’s female corsetry. He took a quick shower, shrugged himself into his white coat and picked up his stethoscope.

 

“Agent Spender.” He opened the door wide and peered at his young agent through his glasses.

 

Spender stood there for a moment, transfixed.

 

“You’re uh, all dressed up, sir…” He murmured, his pupils dilating.

 

“That’s right, Spender. And I have an outfit for you too.” Skinner told the other man seductively, holding up a skimpy, mini-skirted uniform composed entirely of white rubber. “How about a nice game of doctors and nurses?”

 

Midnight. Skinner un-bandaged himself and disentangled his stethoscope from around a sensitive portion of Agent Spender’s body. There was a knock on the door. A man stood there, shrouded in smoke.

 

“I’ve brought the foodstuffs you require.” The man said, throatily. “Now perhaps you would be so good as to tell me exactly what all this is about, Mr Skinner?”
“Oh you know, guy stuff. I thought we could hang out, get to know each other more…intimately. What have you brought? Guacamole? Taramasalata? Houmous? Tzatiki? Hmmm…sounds nice doesn’t it?” Skinner unwrapped the packages and examined them. The smoking man hesitated and then gave in.

 

“Your body or mine?” He asked.

 

Skinner lay back in his bath. He found a piece of avocado in his ear and flicked it into the water. Ah, it had been such a nice evening. He was grateful now that the Deputy Director had insisted on him attending that “How to Have Successful Working Relationships” seminar. It had been a real eye opener. “Get to know the people you come across in your working life,” he had been told. “Spend some quality time with them out of the office, even if it’s just an hour or so – try to understand their little foibles. Have fun with them.” Skinner hoped that he had interpreted those instructions correctly. He had certainly tried his best. He was a by-the-book sort of guy so he had diligently taken the directive to heart and given the matter some careful thought.

 

“Um…you can stop that now, sir.” He murmured, splashing about noisily. The Deputy Director emerged from between his legs, brandishing an orange item in the shape of a carrot.
“Time for some soaping, young man!” He said. “And don’t think I’m going to spare the pumice or the loofah either.”

 

“No, sir.” Skinner closed his eyes and smiled.

 

 

Index