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White Glove Test

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"Walter, you once told me...," and Mulder swallowed, looked nervous. He was stretched out on Skinner's green leather couch, facing the fire. Walter dozed on the white shag rug with his back to the heat. They'd had dinner, watched a movie together but hadn't really talked or touched much this Friday evening. "You mentioned once that you were into D&S. I told you I wasn't interested, and you told me to ask if I was ever ready. I think," deep breath, "I think I want to know some more."

Skinner sat up quickly. Gave Mulder a hard look. "Why?" He itched for the chance to make his lover do what he was told, but only if Mulder was willing. Skinner tried not to bring work, in the paperwork or more figurative sense, into his apartment when Mulder's there.

Mulder's face was lit up by the slow grin that spread across his face, like a flashlight picking out the beautiful furnishings in a dim room. Skinner smiled in response; he recognized Mulder's "mischief" face. "I've been doing some reading. Some thinking. I'd like to know more about the scene, and my lover seemed like the first person to ask about sexual perversions." He quirked his mouth in the way that pleased Skinner almost as much as laughter. "And I've wanted to get on my knees in front of you since you threw that smoking bastard out of your office for me."

Skinner groaned as his cock woke up. "You just interested in conversation, boy? Or..."

"I was hoping for something a little more intense." He turned his eyes from Skinner's face, but his smirk was still visible. "Sir." The front of his jeans is tented, and the Quantico sweatshirt rose and fell a little faster.

Skinner grabbed the back of Mulder's neck and squeezed just a little more tightly than was comfortable. "Your safeword is safeword. Tonight, we're not playing with pain. If you disobey me, we stop everything and you sleep on the couch. Do you have any triggers I should know about before we start?"

Mulder's expression disappeared and his eyes raised to look at a point just over Skinner's left shoulder. Skinner made a mental note to have a long talk about this reaction. Sometime tomorrow. "No humiliation. No restraints. Don't ever call me Fox or son while we're in scene." The smile came back, although it didn't necessarily reach his eyes. He turned his head to his left and kissed the arm that held him. "Permission to speak frankly, Sir?"


"I'm your boy."

Skinner brought his head forward in a heavy kiss. Their mouths never opened, but Mulder felt like he'd been thorughly claimed. Then Skinner let him go, stood up. "Strip, boy. Fold your clothes neatly; put them on the couch. Clean yourself up, inside and out. Lie down on the rug, get yourself hard, and wait for me." He walked off in the direction of the bedroom.

Mulder stripped, washed, came back, and lay down as he had been told. As he wondered what Skinner had gone to get, he stroked the inside of one long thigh. His cock was only at half-mast, and he wanted to put on a display, in case his lover was watching. His left hand came up and casually brushed his nipples, as the other lovingly flicked at the soft, sensitive patch of skin between his asshole and his balls. His hand slowly trailed its way up the crease in his thigh, and then he dragged it through the dark brown field of his pubic hair. He fingered his belly button, and then ran his right hand firmly up and down his crotch while using his left to pinch his nipples. He heard footsteps approach, and gave his prick a few quick strokes to make sure he was as hard as possible.

He needn't have worried. He started to leak when he saw Skinner, standing at parade rest with feet to either side of his thighs, in dress uniform. Or more accurately, parts thereof. The jacket was open, and set off his perfectly defined abs. The hat was set perfectly straight upon his head. And he wore the spotless white gloves. For the rest, there were wide expanses of perfectly toned muscle, with a good deal of hair in a subtle mix of brown and silver. And a huge, hard cock pointed straight at Mulder. "On your knees, boy. Suck."

Mulder went to with the zeal becoming a Marine. Practice over the past several months had given him the ability to deep throat Skinner's monster easily. Then he pulled back to the head, while continuing to suck. Skinner's finger ran up and down the side of Mulder's face as it bobbed up and down his length. He gave Mulder no indication of his reaction, except to grab the back of his neck and pull him off. A slight downward pressure and Mulder took Skinner's balls in his mouth. Then he let them fall out, and licked each one firmly with the blade of his tongue. When he shoved his face further forward, to the tender skin just behind the balls, Skinner once again hauled him back. "Get on your hands and knees."

"Yes, sir." Mulder heard Skinner's jacket whisper against his skin as he knelt down behind. Then he felt a very slightly scratchy fabric fingering his balls. It was the most incredible sensation of his life. From the way the gloves had been folded, each digit had two distinct ridges. These caught at some of the little hairs around his asshole, and the sharp shocks of almost pain intensified the pleasurable sensations. They were driving him wild, and he began to whimper.

"Can you come from just this?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Let's find out." Skinner began to caress him in earnest. Fingers were all over his ball sac, rubbing back and forth and in little circles. The tension began to rise in his body. The wave of arousal suddenly crested, and he shot, making a mess of the carpet beneath him. He collapsed, and sighed, wondering if the game was over.

"Very good, boy. Now, get in position to do some push ups." Mulder did as he was told, but his lingering arousal was slightly cooled by the strange request. Then he felt one glove on his ass, and the other, sodden with lube, up his ass. Skinner unerringly hit his prostate, and he and his cock became very interested indeed.

After scissoring two fingers in the tight hole, Skinner eased himself inside his lover, and stretched out on top of the slimmer man's length. "Give me fifty." The command growled right next to his ear made Mulder pop up like a shot. Hitting his prostate in the process. When he hit the downstroke, the shag rug caressed his cock and balls lovingly. Then his ear was being licked and sucked on. "For every one you miss, you'll have to do another ten," groaned Skinner. Up and down he went, stimulation coming from three sources. After number forty-eight, he stopped, knowing full well he hadn't completed his task, but certain he was going to explode any second. Skinner instantly withdrew, and Mulder suffered a pang, believing his lover had guessed that the disobedience was deliberate. "That's an additional twenty, young man. But I'll go easy on you this first time." He lay down, face up on the rug next to Mulder, and pulled him over so their cocks were perfectly aligned. "Count each one aloud."

Mulder took a deep breath, and began. "One. Two. Three." He drifted into a sex-induced fugue. He thought it was possible that he said thirteen three times, but Skinner hadn't bothered to correct him. His face was flushed and contorted at this point as he tried to keep from coming. Finally, finally, Mulder said, "Twenty." They came hard simultaneously, and Mulder collapsed onto Skinner.

He lay there for a few moments, trying to remind himself how uncomfortable it would be to let the cooling pool between their bodies completely dry. "Shit," said Skinner suddenly.


He held up a white glove. It had a blue tinge from the lube, and was liberally streaked with cum. "How the hell am I going to explain this to my dry cleaner?" Mulder laughed so hard he rolled off his lover's body.