Title: Red
Author: Loren Q,  Email Me
Website: http://slashfactory.com/
Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: Scully/Skinner, Skinner/Other Male
Archive: Please ask first.
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content - Male/Male sex depicted in this story
Warning: BDSM, including fisting.
Spoilers: Uh, none... I think.
Summary: Pretty much a PWP. Scully and Skinner run into each other... unexpectedly.
Beta Thanks: Louise Wu, Zoe T. and Lyrical Soul.
     I disregarded a lot of good beta advice, so don't blame them--it's all me.
Disclaimer: Scully, Skinner, Mulder and other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No infringement of rights is intended.

Note: Yeah, I'm a slasher, but my muse got this Scully/Skinner thing in her head and wouldn't leave me alone. Here it is, hope you like it.

BDSM glossary:
Keys, or other items worn on the left mean you're a top. On the right, you're a bottom.
Red hankie signifies fisting. On the left you fist, on the right means you want to get fisted.

Thursday Lunch Time
Le Bistro Cafe

"Gotta tell ya Scully, if Kersh gives me one more background check... Ahh. So what's the butt-wipe got you doing?"

I shake my head at Mulder, a slight smile coming to my lips. I know he hasn't finished his rant.

"Another thing," he continues, "Kersh made sure I can't get on the X-Files email alias..."

He pauses as the waiter serves our lunch, then starts again. "And Spender... he's less than useless. At least Fowley--"

I bristle hearing her name. "Mulder, please, enough." I pick up my fork and start in on my salad.

He looks at me, surprised. I so rarely cut him off. He nods and digs into his sandwich. I watch him as he looks around the restaurant, then stops and focuses on something behind me.

"Hey, Scully. Looks like you have an admirer," he says, motioning his head.

I turn around and my eyes widen as I see a face from my past. Vincent Garcia. I watch as his expression moves from inquisitive to smiling.

Surprising myself, I motion him over. Turning to Mulder, I ask, "You don't mind, do you?"

With a quick grin, he responds, "Oh no, this is interesting."

Vincent sits and takes my hand. "Dana, I thought that was you. This is so exciting ."

I catch Mulder waggling his eyebrows at me.

"Oh, Vincent, this is Fox Mulder. My partner at the FBI."

Vincent tears his gaze away from me and offers his hand to Mulder. "Ah yes, the FBI. I'm Vincent Garcia. I knew Dana when she was in med school."

The twinkle in Mulder's eye is unmistakable. "And, uh, just how did you know her?"

I could kill him, but before I react Vincent smoothly intercedes. "She and my lover, Damon, were classmates. Before their internships prevented them from having a life, we would socialize together."

Vincent turns to me again. "I have to leave now, but Damon and I are in D.C. for the week. We have to get together. Dinner maybe? We could reminisce about old times."

Mulder breaks in, "Yeah, two doctors and you don't have to make an appointment."

Vincent smiles at the lame remark as we exchange numbers with the promise of meeting soon. Then he leaves.

"Scully, are you blushing?" Mulder's voice has more than a hint of humor.

I shake my head at him and return to my salad, my mind in other places.


Thursday Early Evening
Scully's Apartment

I haven't been able to get Vincent and Damon out of my head. Luckily, I didn't have a lot to do at the office. Except for fielding emails... primarily Mulder's.

He's in bulldog mode. Wanting to know every detail about my relationship with Vincent and Damon. Relationship... interesting word.

I did tell Mulder the truth. Damon and I were at the head of our class. We had a friendly competition going. A competition that grew into respect and eventually a friendship.

He and Vincent were // still are? // 'out' gay men. In part because they don't fit any gay stereotype. Damon's a big man, with pleasant features, self described as 'your average Midwest rugby player.' Vincent is small, dark, handsome and masculine without that 'short man' complex.

Their openness allowed me to tell them about own my bisexuality...

The phone startles me, and I pick up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Scully, it's me." In the background, I hear boarding announcements. "Look, I gotta leave for a few days. Cover for me, 'kay?" A 'click,' then nothing but silence.

I drop my head and rub the bridge of my nose. Oh, Mulder...


Friday Afternoon
FBI Headquarters
Washington, D.C.

"Agent Scully?"

I look up from my desk into the pinched face of A.D. Kersh. "Yes, sir?"

"Have you seen Agent Mulder?"

"Uh, we had lunch. Oh, he did mention something about a doctor's appointment." Okay, that isn't too far from the truth.

Kersh pivots on his heel, muttering something about proctology. I turn back to my paperwork. Damn, I hate when he does this to me.

My phone rings. "Scully."

"Dana, it's Damon. How the heck are you?"

I feel my face break into a smile at the sound of his voice. "Damon, it's so good to hear from you. God, it's been... too long."

We agree to meet for dinner at my place.


Friday Evening
Scully's Apartment

"And the look on your face when they said you couldn't go in with 'open-toed shoes.'" Vincent's voice, full of mirth, re-telling the story.

We're in my living room. I'm at one end of the sofa, Vincent at the other, and Damon on his knees next to Vincent.

I shake my head, remembering. "And that was after producing three ID's. They just didn't want me in the club."

Damon joins in, "That's 'cause they knew you were a better fag than most of the guys in there." His cornflower blue eyes twinkle. He still looks like an Iowa farm boy. Tall and husky, with hair so blonde it's almost white. A sprinkle of freckles across his nose and cheeks. All that's needed is a wheat stalk sticking out of his mouth.

Vincent sips his wine, and absently strokes Damon's hair. Watching them, I remember their admission... when they told me the nature of their relationship. Dominant/submissive, the smaller man controlling // owning? // the larger man. The power dynamic established, but not by size. I feel myself blush as I remember my curiosity, my excitement, my... my what?

Handing his glass to Damon, Vincent looks at me carefully and asks, "Do you still play?"

What a loaded question. Play, scene, roles. Words and images tumble in my head. "No, I... no."

A sad smile crosses Vincent's face. "Does this," his head nods toward Damon, "disturb you?"

I shake my head. "No, I just... I was just remembering."

After their admission, it took weeks for me to gain the courage to ask them about it. I remember approaching them, asking them, haltingly, how... what they do. They invited me to a play party at their home. I remember asking, inanely, what I should wear.

The party itself was eye-opening. Vincent greeted me at the door and escorted me, the only female, to the basement. I had been to their home several times, but never knew about the rooms beneath.

There were a dozen gay men, some in full leather, some in T-shirts and jeans, and a few in various stages of undress.

A hand waving snaps me out of my reverie. "Dana, are you in there?"

Vincent's concerned look causes me to smile at him. "I'm okay, just..."

"You looked a million miles away."

"No, just ten years."

Damon looks imploringly at Vincent. I'm amazed at how connected they still are; they have whole conversations with only a look.

Vincent clears his throat, then says, "We're invited to a play party tomorrow evening. A very discreet affair. Would you be interested in joining us?" His tone of voice lets me know I don't have to feel obligated.

Damon's eyes take on a puppy-dog look. The same one Mulder uses when he tries to talk me into something. My mind forms several very good reasons not to attend, but I respond with, "Yes, I think I'd like that."

Oh Christ, what the hell did I just do?


Saturday Evening
Scully's Apartment

"I can't believe I'm going to do this," I mutter to myself as I toss another blouse at the growing pile on the bed.

Panic didn't settle in until after I made arrangements with Vincent and Damon. Pick them up at their hotel at 7:30. Have a cocktail, a leisurely dinner, then go to the play party.

Pushing clothes away, I sit on edge of the bed, my head in my hands. What was I thinking? The allure of the scene, Vincent and Damon... It's been a long time since I've been to a play party.

I remember the first few parties I went to. I was strictly a voyeur, with Vincent as a guide, pointing out subtleties and techniques. He became my mentor, helping me choose my scene-name 'Red.' I loved the irony of that... turning a hated nickname into something I own. I remember Vincent saying, "That Dana, is the essence of power exchange."

He showed me how to use a flogger--where it's safe to strike and where it's not. How to tie quick release knots. How to use a straight razor. How to curl my fingers when my hand is up someone's ass. How to care for a bottom. How to be a top. I learned quickly and began to make a name for myself in Vincent's circle.

When I decided to join the FBI, I also chose to leave the scene. Not that there aren't law enforcement officers into BDSM, just that I didn't want to worry about being discreet. I already knew I would be singled out--small, female, not the typical agent. Why add to that?

Leaving the scene wasn't difficult. I didn't have a lover, play partner or fuck buddy holding me back. Damon was upset, but he understood. By the time I left for Quantico, I stopped going to play parties. Red was no more.

I jump at the ringing of the phone. "Scully."

"Dana, it's Vincent." His voice sounds tentative, unusual for him.

"Oh, hi. Is there anything wrong?"

"I wanted to make sure you don't feel pressured to accompany us. I know Damon turned on the charm. He's so excited to see you. But you said yourself you don't play anymore. I don't want you to come with us because you feel obligated."

Looking at the pile of clothes on the bed, I heave a big sigh. He's given me a graceful out. "Vincent, I appreciate your calling. I have been going back and forth over this, but... I don't know." I pause, for a moment. "I don't know why, but I think I need to go." I'm stunned by my own words, and somehow having said them, I'm convinced they're true.

"All right, Dana. I trust you to make the right decision. We'll see you in an hour. Bye now."

"Bye." An hour? Shit! What am I going to wear?

Pacing the room, I begin murmuring, "Top space, top space. Think top space." I open my closet and, from the back, pull out my Wellington riding boots. It's been years since I've worn these. They're still beautiful, I think, as I wipe the dust off them. Not the near-glass shine they used to have, but still the soft glow of fine leather. Reaching into the boot, I pull out a six-inch leather scabbard that houses a straight razor. A gift from Vincent and Damon.

Now for the rest of the ensemble.

Tight black jeans, perfect for tucking into the boots. What about a blouse? I stare at the bed, looking at the previous discards with a new eye. I spy a white cotton Poet's shirt. Soft collar, billowy sleeves... the type of shirt I imagine Heathcliff wearing as he walks the moors.

I dress myself repeating, "I don't have to play. I can just watch." But laugh at myself when I check the weight of my belts. Okay, no belt.

One last thing, whether spectator or participant, I do need to flag. // It doesn't hurt to advertise. //

I clip the scabbard to my pants, on my left, and in lieu of a bandana, tuck a red silk handkerchief into my back left pocket.



Omni Hotel
Washington, D.C.

Damon answers the door. He's barefoot and shirtless, wearing Levi 501's, his usual mode of attire when at home. He's been keeping himself in good shape. Muscular and toned without being overdone. His torso, covered in soft blonde fur that trails down his firm abs.

Taking my coat, he nods his approval. "Looking good, Dana." His eyes fixate on my boots and he automatically licks his lips.

"Dana, would you care for a drink? Pellegrino perhaps?" Vincent calls out to me. He wears an immaculately tailored leather uniform.

"Yes, thank you."

As Vincent returns with my drink, he motions for me to sit. "Dana, you are ravishing." His eyebrow arches when he sees the scabbard and hankie. "Hmm, for show? Or are you considering..."

"Frankly, I don't know. But I should just watch. It's been so long since I've played, I'm not sure I would be safe."

Vincent nods. "Dana... always conscientious. But I'm sure we can find a way. If you wish to..."

Before I can answer, Damon is on his knees at Vincent's feet. "May I polish her boots, sir?" Vincent's low chuckle is directed at me. "See?"


A house in Annapolis

We're greeted at the door by a well built, middle-aged man. "Vincent, Damon. I'm so glad you could make it. Please come in. Is this the friend you told me about?"

Vincent smoothly takes the lead. "James, this is... Red." He looks at me for confirmation, and smiles when I acknowledge with a slight nod.

James extends his hand. I shake it and smile. He lifts my hand to examine it. I can almost hear his thoughts, 'No rings. Nails short, but not quite short enough. Would fit snuggly.'

Vincent coughs and James releases my hand, almost in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry... Vincent's mentioned you, and... I..."

I smile and pat his arm. "It's all right. Where can I leave my coat?"

"The first room at the top of the stairs. But before you go, let me tell you the layout." James' enthusiasm is, well, cute. He explains how the basement is the public play space--with slings, tables, whipping posts and so on. This floor is more for conversation, or service play, with a full buffet in the dining room. Upstairs has five rooms that can be used for private play.

Damon takes our coats and returns barefoot and shirtless.

James leads us to the buffet. It's fairly crowded, but we make our way in. Chatting with Vincent, I reach for a bottle of Evian. My hand closes over flesh, rather than plastic. "Excuse me," I say looking up into the eyes of Assistant Director Walter Skinner.



Dana Scully. Shit!

Her eyes widen, startled for a moment, then return to calm. I clear my throat. Giving her a curt nod and what feels like a grim smile, I reach for a different bottle of water.

Do I speak to her? If so, what the hell would I say?


Oh, shit. Now what? I take a deep breath and look away from Skinner. Remember scene etiquette... Don't react to meeting someone you know in 'straight' life.

James catches our little interplay. "Oh, have you two met?"

Skinner's jaw muscles clench, but before he can say anything, James proceeds to introduce us. "Sergei this is Red. Red, I'd like you to meet Sergei."

A gruff, "Red" from Skinner is followed by my equally terse, "Sergei."

"Red." Vincent breaks the moment, thank god. "Let's head downstairs. Oh, did I interrupt?"

Skinner and I stumble over each other to assure Vincent. I look directly at Skinner and give a slow nod before I leave with Vincent and Damon.

Downstairs, standing by myself, leaning against a wall, I allow my thoughts to fly. I've always thought Walter Skinner a handsome man. Now that the initial panic has passed, I replay the meeting, focused on what I saw, not felt. Sergei wearing black jeans tucked into engineer boots. A flogger hanging from his belt loop // on the left, of course. // His shirt, tight across the chest, is a white cotton, heavy-twill, uniform shirt without insignia. I don't want to feel the warmth in my crotch... but at the same time, I want // need? // the excitement.

I see Damon speaking to Vincent. Vincent shakes his head; Damon looks at him imploringly. I've seen this before. Vincent may be the dominant partner, but every now and then, Damon tops from the bottom.

Vincent makes his way over to me. "Dana, how are you doing?" Concern in his voice.

"I'm doing fine. Better than I thought, actually."

"Good, good." Vincent pauses, looking a little uncomfortable. "Hmmm, I'd like to... I mean, if you're... Oh, I'm making a botch of this." He takes a deep breath, then continues, "Damon wants to start the evening as your boy, like the old days. Are you interested in playing with him again? I'll understand if the answer is no."

I smile at Vincent. I know by his discomfort just how hard that was for him.

But, to the point. Do I want to play tonight? If I'm honest with myself, the answer is yes. I had forgotten how enthralling top space is. How alluring the scene can be. Even out of practice, playing with Damon will be safe. I look around the room, watching scenes unfold. Boot licking, whipping, one man on his knees with a thick cock down his throat.

The only thing holding me back is knowing Walter Skinner is in this house. But a loud slap, followed by a reverent, "Thank you, sir," decides for me.

"I'll play."

He raises his eyebrows and nods. "Very well. I'm pleased. Shall we start?"


"Sergei, are you all right?" James' voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Yes, I'm fine."

James smiles, then disappears.

How long have I been sitting here, staring off into space? Thinking about Scully.

Dana Scully... the last person I would've expected to see here. Mulder, I could understand. I've even imagined how to handle seeing him at this kind of...event. But Scully ?

I know I should get out of here, leave well enough alone. But I can't. Dana Scully, a woman who's worked for me. A woman I'm attracted to. It's not just her looks, although she is beautiful. She's smart, capable and independent... somehow that makes her all the more desirable.

The shock of seeing her here didn't derail my attraction. If anything, I'm more interested. Red. Interesting name, provocative. I wonder if it's for the color of her hair or her handkerchief.

Instead of leaving, I head downstairs, knowing that's where she went.

Walking the floor, I finally spot her. She's sitting comfortably, a good-looking blonde man is on his knees at her feet, holding her hand in both of his.

It takes a moment, but I realize the blonde isn't holding her hand, he's filing her nails. He stops, inspects his work, then rests his forehead on the tip of her boot. She looks at her fingernails then brushes them against her cheek with a smile. She reaches down and pulls the blonde's head up by his hair.

My cock twitches as I watch her. She's so sure of herself. Her lead is subtle, captivating. His submission, complete.

She looks up, spotting me just as I'm reaching down to adjust my erection. My hand freezes as her eyebrow quirks up. A slow smile crosses her face and I see // feel // the tip of her tongue run along her upper lip. The blood pounds in my cock as she pulls the blonde's head back and takes his mouth with her own.

I'm left breathless when she breaks their kiss. She turns his head toward me and leans down to whisper in his ear. His eyes go wide and I see him hesitate before nodding.

He crawls over and kneels before me, his head tilted down. "Sir, my top would like your company. I am to extend her invitation and wait for your response."

I look back to Dana. What does she want? What will this mean? Do I want to do this?


Damon's looking directly at Skinner's crotch. Can't blame him.

Skinner looks at me contemplatively, and I see him mouth the words, "I accept."

Damon leads Skinner... no, Sergei, back to me.

I stand when they arrive Damon plants himself by my side. I hold my hand out, Sergei takes it and I marvel at the heat of his grip. I give his hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.

We sit, almost facing each other. His warm brown eyes gaze into mine as he begins speaking. "I watched that moment with your boy." He motions his head toward Damon. "He's very well trained. You must have spent a lot of time with him."

His statement is subtle--questions wrapped in complements. I absently stroke Damon's hair as I respond. "I'd like to take the credit, but I can't. He's mine for as long as I want him tonight, but I don't own him."

Sergei looks at Damon and growls, "You're a lucky man."

"You bet I am," Damon replies, then adds a belated, "Sir."

I curl my fingers in his hair and pull his head up. "Damon." At my tone of voice, Damon's demeanor immediately changes. I release his hair and he shuffles on his knees to Sergei's feet.

Damon sits back and drops his head. "Sir, I have not shown you the proper respect. Please punish me as you see fit. My... Red will tell you my limits."

Sergei looks at Damon, then approvingly, back at me. "I'll keep it in mind. Why don't you get us something to drink? Water."

Damon rushes away.

After a moment, Sergei leans forward, hands together, elbows on knees. "I don't want to punish your boy."

I lean forward, matching his posture. "You don't have to. He needed to offer, you don't need to accept."

Sergei's eyebrows rise. "You have an incredible style. I almost envy your--" He cuts himself off, eyes widening in surprise.

I'm just as surprised. Envy my what? My style? My boy? To stave off anything more intimate, I thank him.

Damon returns with two bottles of water. He hands one to me, then one to Sergei, and returns to my side.

"Sergei, I'd like you to help me." I say in a low tone of voice.

He nods, and I sense Damon's body tensing.

I continue. "I'd like to play tonight, but it's been some time since I've handled... toys. I'd appreciate it if you could work Damon with me."

"I'd be glad to," he replies, looking simultaneously pleased... and shocked.


Dana... Red, orchestrates the scene. She has Damon strip down to a jockstrap. With single words and gestures, she positions Damon between two posts, facing her, his feet shoulder width apart, his fingers laced behind his head, his eyes following her every move.

She puts a finger to her lips as she looks over her handiwork. "Sergei, could you pull one of the chains toward Damon?" She points to the posts where long chains, secured at the top, dangle freely.

I move to one of the posts and pick up the end of a chain, drawing it to Damon. I feel her hand on my back and I turn to her. She captures my gaze. In my peripheral vision, I see her tap Damon's arm and he extends it. I touch the chain to his hand and he grasps it.

She places her hand on my chest // can she feel my heart pounding? // before stepping back. "Now the other one." Her head motions to the other post. Damon and I move in concert. I pull the chain, he extends his arm, and I place the chain in his hand.

I'm still facing Damon, when she steps behind him. She locks my eyes in her gaze. I'm lost, not knowing what will happen next... not caring.

Placing her hand on Damon's shoulder, she says softly, "Damon, thank him."

He looks at me, eyes gentle, with just a hint of... jealously? "Sir, may I thank you with a kiss?"

I place my hand behind his head and draw him in. My tongue invades his mouth and he greedily sucks it. Pulling his hair, I break the kiss and look for Red.


I grow warm and excited watching them kiss. The image of these two men, so close in size, both broad and strong, makes me catch my breath.

I circle them as Sergei pulls away, leaving Damon open mouthed and breathless.

Now at Damon's side, I put my left hand on his hip and stroke his ass with the right. I feel his body twitch at my touch. I draw back my right hand and deliver a stinging slap to his ass. He hisses at the suddenness of the blow.

I let go of Damon and hear him whimper. Rooting around in his toy bag, I lift a paddle. Smooth stiff leather with holes punched through. Looking at Sergei, asking a silent question. His brief nod acknowledging me.

Sergei, now next to me, watches as my handprint on Damon's ass begins to fade. I hand him the paddle. "Start slow, work him up."

He runs the smooth leather against Damon's ass. I give an appreciative nod when Sergei draws back and strikes--the blow not hard enough to obliterate my handprint.

Moving so I'm facing Sergei with Damon between us, I watch as Sergei paddles Damon's ass. He varies the speed and intensity of the blows, interspersing gentle strokes with hard strikes.

I slip my hand into Damon's jock strap and begin to stroke him. Damon throws his head back, a guttural moan escaping him.

Sergei watches me stroke Damon as I watch him wield the paddle.

"Puh- please. Ah, ah... I'm going ta..." Damon's voice, high pitched and shaking. As if on cue, I stop stroking just as Sergei delivers one last powerful blow. We both step away from Damon.

Together, we watch his face. Pain and frustration finally gives way to calm. His hands are white-knuckled from gripping the chains.

I walk over to Damon and put my hands on his shoulders. "Bring them down." He releases the chains and lets his arms fall. I apply a little pressure to his shoulders and he drops to his knees.

Placing my hands on either side of his head, I tilt it up and kiss him. I devour his lips, then force my tongue into his mouth. He wraps his arms lightly around me as I break the kiss long enough to suck, then bite his lower lip. His soft moan spurs me on, and I attack his mouth again, stopping when I taste the metallic tang of blood.

I leave Damon swaying on his knees and return to where Sergei has been standing... watching.


Red walks over to me, reaches up to touch my chin. I realize my mouth is open and I snap my jaw shut. She moves her fingers up, caressing my lips. I automatically kiss them, closing my eyes, savoring the moment.

I feel her other hand on my left wrist. I open my eyes and look at her, lost in the deep blue of her eyes.

She puts my hand on my flogger and asks, "Will you let this be mine tonight?"

I know what she's asking; I know how I want to respond. A voice in my head questions my next move. I tell it to shut up.


Sergei's eyes, dark and warm, take on a glow as he nods his assent. I feel his hand move under mine, unhooking his flogger. He looks down and hooks it to my jeans.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Damon intently watching what's unfolding. Shadowed in the background, Vincent watches us.

I look at Vincent until he senses my gaze. I raise an eyebrow in silent question, he responds with a nod and a smile.

Turning back to Sergei, I find his head tilted down, hands behind his back. A submissive pose, in the way a bodyguard is submissive. It suits him. With my fingers under his chin, I raise his head so he's looking at me. "Damon will be our plaything."

His eyes dart to where Damon kneels. "Yes, ma'am," he says, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice.

"You'll play him as I direct. I'll play both of you as I see fit." I watch as he blinks, taking this in.

A slight shift in his hips causes me to look down. His erection strains against his Levi's. I reach out and stroke the bulge. A low groan escapes his lips. I look at his face. Eyes closed, lips parted. I squeeze his cock and watch his eyes fly open as he gasps.

I step away from him and back to Damon. Leaning down, I lick the blood still on his lip. I turn his head so he's looking directly at Sergei. Bringing my mouth close to his ear, I lick the outer shell, feeling him shiver.

Keeping close to him, I point at Sergei and whisper, "You see his cock?" Damon nods. "Do you want to suck his cock?" Damon moans and nods. "Do you want him to fuck you?" Damon's breathing increases and he nods vigorously. "Do you want his cock to loosen your ass for my fist?"

"OH, YES MA'AM!" he cries out.


Red motions me closer, an enigmatic smile on her face. My erection hasn't wavered since I gave her my flogger // my power. //

I stand in front of her, and she begins to unbutton my shirt. Her hands reach in and lightly touch my chest, sending jolts through my body.

"I want to see your body at work." Her voice urges me on. I unbutton and remove my shirt as fast as I can. Resuming my parade rest when I'm done.

She looks around, surveying the room, then smiles. "Damon, strip, get your toybag and meet us there." She motions to an area against the far wall.

Damon scrambles to his feet, stumbling as he pulls off his jock. He grabs a black leather satchel and rushes to catch up with us.

We stop in front of a short padded bench, about three feet off the ground. She positions Damon face up on it. The length is just enough to support his upper body. She stands between his legs and has him bring them up to his chest... knees apart. His ass, just off the edge of the bench. His cock, straining.

Standing next to her, I look down at Damon. Prime meat, ready... his cock, deep red, twitching in anticipation.

She reaches out to him, a single finger gliding down the underside of his cock. He shudders in response. I look up and find her looking directly at me. She gives me a bottle of Astroglide and has me apply a liberal amount of lube to her fingers.

I'm fixated by the sight of her slowly pushing a finger into Damon's ass. He tenses for a moment, then relaxes, getting used to her pumping into him.

She pulls out almost all the way, then puts two fingers together, pushing into him again. Damon's moan is a low growl, and he pumps back against her hand. She squeezes his balls with her left hand and he immediately ceases all movement.

I watch as she pushes her fingers all the way in, the tendons in her forearm tensing. He cries out and I imagine that she's stroking his prostate. My own ass clenches, and I feel my cock throb in my jeans.

She fingers him faster and harder. I can hear the slick sound of fingers working his ass. His moans--guttural, primal... animal.

"GOD, NO!" he cries as she pulls out of him. I gasp, realizing I've been holding my breath.

She turns to me and, with one pull, opens my fly. I'm not wearing anything underneath and my dick pushes out of its confines.

Her head motions to my jeans. "Push them down... just past your hips."

I comply, and my cock swings freely, no longer trapped by denim. Her hand // so hot // encircles my cock and I fight to stifle a groan. A quick stroke, then nothing more. My eyes close, and I struggle to control my breathing.

Her fingers again... playing... no. I open my eyes as she rolls a condom on me. She goes to the black satchel and returns with a leather cock ring. Lifting my balls, she secures the cock ring around me. I wince at the bite.

Squeezing lube into her palm, she coats my cock. Through the latex, I feel the cool of the lube and the warmth of her hand. A sound... sub-vocal, escapes me.

She positions me between Damon's legs and pulls my cock to his ass, brushing the head against his anus. His thighs twitch at the contact.

With one hand on my cock and the other at my back, she pushes me gently, guiding me into him. I feel resistance at his sphincter, but my slow progression doesn't stop. I hear the hiss of his inward breath as my cockhead eases past the tight ring of muscle.

I'm completely buried in Damon's ass. Her hands move to my hips, gripping me, holding me still. I feel her body pressed against my bare back, fingers digging into my hips as she slowly pulls me back.

Her hands guide me, painfully slowly, in and out of Damon's ass. It feels as if hours have passed, my balls constricted, my cock so hard it hurts. Her hands, keeping contact with me, reach up to stroke my chest.

I instinctively start pumping faster.

"Sergei, do not move without my order." The tempo of her words... measured, precise. Her voice, pitched lower than I've ever heard it, seems to resonate in my body.

"Yes, ma'am. I won't move." My own voice, strained.

"Put your hands behind your head, lace your fingers." That voice again, compelling me to do her bidding... whatever she wants.

Damon is affected by her voice, too. His ass clenches at the cadence of her words.

She moves away from me, walking to the other end of the bench... to where Damon's head is.


I bend down and brush my lips against Damon's. He opens his mouth willingly, begging me to take it...but I won't. Keeping my lips close to his, I ask, "Do you like his cock in your ass?"

"Oh yes, ma'am." His breathy response is followed by his tongue snaking out to lick my lips. I pull back and deliver an admonishing slap to his cheek.

Standing up, I look at Sk... Sergei. His eyes, dazed with an edge of... desire. His hands behind his head, biceps bunched, pumped... barely contained strength. Our eyes lock and his gaze clears, desire and longing etched on his strong face.

My hand drifts to Damon's mouth, his lips kissing my fingers as they caress him. Pitching my voice low, I address Damon. "Slowly, very slowly, milk his cock, pump against him."

Sergei's eyes widen and his mouth falls open at Damon's movement. Stepping back, I have both men in view. I see Damon trembling, struggling to maintain his slow pace, as Sergei fights to keep still, to follow the last command I gave him.

Both sets of eyes lock on me, waiting, wanting. Damon, closer to me, licks his lips and moves faster. My gaze shifts to Sergei, as he mouths the word, "Please." I nod and he begins slowly pumping. Damon's eyes close, his low growl increases with each thrust.

I return my focus to Sergei, his eyes also closed, head tilted back against his hands, the only movement coming from his hips. Keeping my eyes on him, I make my way back. Until I can see his cock slide in and out of Damon's ass. I'm close enough to hear Sergei's labored breathing.

He starts pumping faster. I want to see him fuck Damon hard, but not as much as I want to continue playing with these men. I put my hand on Sergei, directly above his cock and fist his pubic hair to stop his motion. His eyes fly open. "Enough, step away," I tell him.

Sergei swallows hard and blinks back his distress. "Yes, ma'am." His voice, shaky as he complies with my order. A quickly cut off cry from Damon as Sergei's cock abandons him.

I look at them both. Strong men... my men. The thought sends electric jolts through me.

"Sergei, arms down, relax."

He closes his eyes, nodding his assent.


My cock burns... the cock ring tight, cutting into me. I open my eyes and look down--my dick dark through the condom, throbbing, harder than it's ever been. How does she do this? How...

A 'snap' breaks me from my thoughts. Looking at Red, I watch as she smoothes on a latex glove. She picks up the lube and applies it to her entire hand. She inspects it, slick and glistening, a small smile coming to her mouth.


Damon's ass, loosened by Sergei's cock opens easily for me. I slip three fingers into him and feel his body melt around me. I curl my fingers to stroke his prostate and feel his ass tighten. His moans become deeper, lower as I start pumping into him.

I feel Sergei's gaze burning into me. I look at him, legs apart, hands behind his back, in parade rest. His cock... twitching.

Pulling almost all the way out of Damon, I bring all four fingers together, my thumb tucked in the pocket of my palm. Sergei's eyes widen and I hear his audible swallow.

Slowly, I move into Damon's ass, feeling him tense as my knuckles push against his sphincter. With gentle pressure, I rotate my hand. I can see beads of sweat forming on Damon's torso and watch his throat work as he breathes and swallows. I ease past the last resistance until my entire hand is in him.

I still my hand, giving Damon time to get used to it. I look at his face. Eyelids half-closed, mouth slack. I begin to curl my fingers over my thumb and his eyes fly open. Despite the fucking, the tightness of his ass draws this out. Halfway curled, I brush his prostate, and his hips jerk up. I stop all movement but keep pressure against the gland.

Again, I look at his face, drawn into a grimace, trapped between pain and pleasure. I watch and wait until he relaxes enough for me to continue. His eyes clear and he looks at me. I see his lips move... another man mouthing, "Please," to me.

I continue pulling my fingers over my thumb until finally my hand is in a fist. I pull back, then push in, deeper.

Damon's head falls back. "Oh, god," repeated over and over in a guttural voice.


I can't help but watch Sc... Red as she pumps her fist into Damon. I've seen men fisted before, but never with such care, such...

My cock throbs at the tempo of her thrusts. It takes all of my will power to keep my hands at bay. I want desperately to come... to have her let me come.

Her left hand comes up and squeezes his cock. I want that hand around mine, stroking me, pulling at me. "No, please... mine." She looks at me and I'm shocked when I realize I've spoken out loud.

"Soon enough." Her promise fills my head as she removes her hand from his cock.


I move my hand so my curled fingers are against Damon's prostate. I rotate left to right and feel his ass clench as my knuckles massage his gland.

Gasps and moans, his head rolling from side to side, matching the movement of my fist. "Uhh, I'm guh, guh..." Barely audible, barely human.

Stopping my motion to prevent him from orgasming, he whimpers and stills himself. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

As slowly as I made the fist, I uncurl my fingers and gently work my way out of him.


I hold my breath as I watch her hand slowly emerge from his ass. I breathe again as she snaps off the glove.

She steps away and motions for me to take her place. My knees shake as I make my way back between Damon's legs.

Again, she guides my cock into his ass. Looser than before, but tight enough to make me shudder.

Her hand slides to the base of my cock, squeezing me. I groan and my head falls forward. She unsnaps the cock ring. I hiss at the bite of the blood rush burn, squeezing my eyes shut.

When I can open my eyes again, I see her, standing back, leaning against a post.


I feel both men looking at me. From my vantage point, I see Sergei, buried deep in Damon.

Damon's eyes, glittering with an endorphin rush. Sergei's waiting, pleading.

"I want to see you fuck. You both have permission to come... just not too soon."

Sergei nods and starts pumping into Damon. Damon's arms tremble, his hands gripping and slipping on his sweaty legs.

The sight of these two men, the power they've given me... my own heat, my own desire overwhelms me. I work the buttons on my pants. Sergei's eyes flicker to my hands. He watches as I unbutton my jeans and reach in to touch myself.

Hot, wet... my fingers stroke and rub my clit to the rhythm of their fucking. Sergei's eyes seek mine and we both lick our lips. His eyes flit down to my crotch, then back up. He whispers urgently, "Please, ma'am. Let me."

"You are."

His eyes widen, unsure for a moment, then knowing. He nods. "Yes, ma'am."

I watch as Sergei thrusts faster and deeper. Pulling almost out of Damon, then ramming in hard.

"Please, oh god, please, sir, ma'am. Please," Damon cries out. Sergei starts jacking Damon off. His hand pumping at the tempo of his thrusts. My hand, matching.

Their movements become more frenzied and I stroke myself faster. I'm so close... Sergei's eyes meet mine and he mouths, "For you."

Sergei roars as he slams into Damon. Damon cries out, his cum jetting over Sergei's fingers. The sight and sounds from my men send me over, and I'm caught in my own orgasm, sudden, almost violent. Blood rushing, pounding in my head, my cunt.

Leaning against the post, I squeeze the last pulsing spasm of my orgasm.


I explode in Damon's ass, all thought, all reason gone while my orgasm rocks me. I take a ragged breath as I start to come back to my senses. Damon's ass, still pulsing, slowly pushes out my softening cock. I take a staggering step back, my legs weak, but still supporting me.

Shaking my head, I slow my breathing. Finally, steady enough to maintain, I open my eyes. Damon, legs down, is struggling to sit. I reach a hand to him--his cum still on my fingers--and help him up.

She comes back to us and stands next to Damon. Reaching out, fingers glistening, she runs one along his lips. He takes her finger and sucks it. I lick my lips in anticipation. She pulls her finger back, until just the tip touches his lower lip. She bends and whispers to him, then gives him a long, gentle kiss.

When she breaks the kiss, I see that Damon's eyes are glistening. He nods at her and a wistful smile crosses face. He stands and picks up his black satchel. Before stepping away, he looks at her. "I love you too, Dana," he says softly, then leaves.

Turning to me, she motions and I sit on the bench. She brings her hand to my mouth and I take her fingers, licking, sucking until she pulls them away. Cupping my face in her hands, she kisses me. Her tongue gently plays with mine, her lips, full and soft against me.


I pull away from him. His eyes are warm but puzzled. My own feelings... conflicted.

"The scene is over, Ser--"

He puts his finger to my lips. "Walter," he says quietly.

"No. This can't... I can't." I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "I won't forget what happened tonight. But it has to be just tonight."

My words reach him. And take him back to the life we live every day. Special Agent Dana Scully and Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the FBI.

That is the life we have chosen. Tonight, remembered and cherished, but history.


She reaches for my flogger on her hip. I place my hand over hers. "Please, keep it."

A sad smile, a slow nod, and she steps away into the shadows.

20 February 2001

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