Nameless
a T&A production
6/98

Disclaimers:  Skinner and Krycek most assuredly do not belong to us.  But 
Thursday's Poker Night....

Spoilers:  Nary a one.  Pre-XF.

Summary: Walter needs a little more.

Rating Note:  NC-17 just because it's our fic and would you expect anything less 
at this point?  Language and m/m relations.

Dedication:  For Kass, Mistress of Skinner blackmail (it's true, Alicia will do 
*anything* for more Training, and Te will very  kindly help her), and for Sister Blue 
because Te said so. 

Archiving Info:  Ask first. (No to Gossamer)

Authors' Note:  Thanks go to Woodinat and CiCi and Kass for helpful comments ... 
and CiCi *especially* for the mirror.

Feedback:  Welcomed and purred over at AZRKruzHol@aol.com and 
thete1@earthlink.net

Nameless (1/2)
by Alicia and Te

******

Walter walked the nighttime streets, paying little attention to his surroundings.  
Yet another fight with Sharon.   It was only a matter of time, wasn't it?  But neither of
them was ready to make that final break, no matter how much the marriage felt
like living with a corpse.

It didn't take long before introspection palled, and he finally gave a look to his
surroundings. Slightly rundown area, not really dangerous, but not exactly the 
neighborhood he usually frequented.

//Not recently, anyway.//

On the street corners, loitering in front of businesses, well-built young men.  Dressed 
in formfitting jeans of various shades, skintight T-shirts.  Boots of many shapes and 
styles.   Leather jackets slung over shoulders in the warmth of the early summer 
evening. Posing.

Walter knew he should turn around and go home -- or at least elsewhere.  But...

He was tall, had to be 6 foot even without the well-worn black engineer boots.  
Standard uniform of tight white T-shirt  and faded jeans with strategically placed holes.
Dark hair,  cropped short and dry-styled, showing off a face so innocent looking it 
would have defied belief in less seedy surroundings than these.  No jacket for this 
one -- probably just couldn't afford one, or maybe wanted to show off a little more 
of his body -- but combined with that angelic face the effect was of the one good 
boy amidst a crowd of sinners.  

Walter wondered if the image was calculated.   Probably.  This one looked young, 
but not so young he didn't know precisely what he was doing.

He shifted course without thinking, and the words were out of his mouth before he 
had a chance to stop them:  "You.  Let's  go."

Walter watched the plush-looking lips purse a bit as the younger man gave him 
the once-over.  The guarded eyes registered no surprise at his obviously tailored 
clothes, merely a bland, world-weary amusement that did nothing to raise his
estimation of the boy.

//Not that that matters.//

The younger man shifted a little, letting the harsh glare of the streetlight catch him 
to what was, arguably, his best advantage before speaking.  "What do you want?"

There was no slur, no cheap accent to the words, and for a moment Walter froze,
eyes narrowing in suspicion, but then the boy spoke again.

"C'mon, sir... we don't have all night.  Or, do we?"  A slow dip and lift of thick lashes,
and a voice whose education had suddenly been well and truly coated with sex. 

Walter raised a hand to the smooth cheek, gratified when the lips parted just a bit, 
the sharp, pink tongue sweeping briefly over the mouth.  He let his fingers drift over 
the other man's face before allowing them to settle on an ear.  A brush of a thumb 
over the curiously unpierced lobe, an experimental tug.   "Assume we have all 
night."

A sharp intake of breath was quickly masked by the sultrily professional words.  
"Three hundred.  Kinks extra.  Money on the nightstand."

"Done."  He turned and began to walk away, not looking to see if  the boy would 
follow.

"Uh...  Sir...  the motel --"

Without breaking stride:  "We won't be staying there."

"B-but--"

It was good to hear the note of uncertainty in the little rentboy's voice ... good to 
have that confirmation of control.   He turned in the middle of the deserted street, 
watched the younger man hesitate.  "I have no great love for fleas, boy.   We'll be 
staying at *my* hotel."  He made as if to continue  walking.  "Is there a problem?"

He paused fractionally, then shrugged.  "No, *sir*."  He  caught up to Walter just 
as they reached the main  thoroughfare.  "For the record, sir, you can call me--"

Walter snorted in amusement as a cab rolled up in response to  his hail.  "For 
the record --  for the *night* -- I can and  will call you anything I want."

******

The cab ride passed silently.  Alex surmised, correctly, that the older man would 
not want to provide the driver with any more gossip than necessary, and although 
in some circumstances he  would have found it amusing to do something 
outrageous just to  see what kind of response he could provoke from his companion, 
he judged discretion would be the better course this time.

In less than five minutes they were pulling up in front of a  middle-of-the-road chain hotel.  Alex hung back in the lobby as  the older man checked them in, then followed him into the  elevator.  Arriving at the room, Alex walked in and paused.   "So, what do you want?"

"Get in the shower."

"Hey, I'm clean, you don't need to--"

"Who's in charge here?"  More a growl than a question, and  Alex's mouth closed on the remainder of his words.  "I said, get  in the shower."

"Yes, sir."  Subdued tone, but with a hint of something  underneath.  "... but I'd like to see the money first."

Walter felt a surge of anger at the insubordination, but  squelched it.  The boy wasn't asking for anything out of the  ordinary.  Pulling out his wallet, he yanked out three $100  bills and tossed them on the bedside table.  In a reasonable  facsimile of his normal tone he replied, "There.  Now, into the  shower."

The boy nodded, producing lube and condoms from his pocket and  placing them atop the currency as if to seal the transaction  before seating himself on the bed and beginning to tug at his  boots.  He looked up through the curtain of his lashes and  asked, "Will you be joining me?"

The seductive pose *had* to be practiced, but Walter couldn't  deny that it worked.  If a small portion of his mind had begun  to clamor for attention, calling out that this was an incredibly  stupid thing to be doing, that he could still walk away and go  home with some semblance of honor--well, those calls faded away  to inaudibility when he met wide, faux-innocent green eyes, when  he let his own vision roam over smooth muscles, now being bared  for his enjoyment.

But there was a script to this ... rhythms and motions made no  less traditional for their tawdriness.  Walter leaned back  against the dresser opposite the bed, bored his gaze into the  other man's, crossed his arms over his chest.  "No."

"Anything you say, sir."  And with that he stood, boots and  socks finally toed off, and positively wriggled out of the T- shirt.  Walter shifted his pose, watched the play of dim  lamplight over the lean muscles while he knew the fabric would  be concealing him from the other man's view.  He then shifted  his gaze just to the side, affecting a pretense of boredom while  he studied the play of the boy's shadow on the beige wall.   Simple movements, gracefully executed.  Walter wondered how much  he charged to dance.

"Did you want me to ... do anything in particular, sir?"

Caught in his reverie.  Walter felt the heat of the younger man  at his side, detected the scent of some surprisingly subtle  cologne.  The older man sighed, briefly regretting the order to  shower.  But as he turned to meet those eyes, strangely olive in  this dim light, he stood firm.  As ... cheap ... as this all  was, the last thing he wanted was the taste of some other lonely  man on his prize. 

"Just get yourself clean."

Thought slammed home with the click of the bathroom door.   Something about that sound, that assumption of privacy by his  (albeit temporary) property, bothered him deeply even as he  moved to sit on the bed. 

//This isn't the way it's supposed to go....//

Crow screech in tinder starlight.  Motel so bare of amenities it  felt like home ... like the barracks a 

//safe//

full 30 miles in the other direction.  Lithe and sexy this one  was ... a sway, a seduction on legs and when he'd walked--no,  sauntered-- into the bar Walter had swallowed hard and wished  for his 

//You an Indian, sugar?//

black hair back to hide the flush he'd known he sported.  Cheap  beer down a dry throat, awkward proposition coyly accepted.  He  remembered gentle fingers working him to a frenzy, a laugh  hovering in the still air, chirping in just that range of  indeterminacy that frightened him deeply and made him ache to  fuck.  And a slender hand on his chest pushing him back.   Confusion, fear ... but the man had smiled over his shoulder  before gliding to the bathroom.  And closing the door.  A flood  of relief as he realized he wouldn't be left like this but the  closed door was maddening.  Walter had found himself battering  it open again, faced with the image of the man wiping eyeliner  away with damp tissue.  A brief frown followed by an indulgent  smile ...

"Mais bien sur, sugar. The customer is always right."

The snick of the bathroom door recalled him from his memories  and in dripped the rentboy, naked, grinning, and holding the  towel out to him.

"Thought you might want to dry me ... sir."

This boy had a little too much attitude.  Was this the vogue  nowadays?  No matter, he'd make it clear who was in charge--but  then again, looking at the hard body positioned before him,  waves of moist heat bringing him the scent of hotel soap and  still a hint of that cologne, could he really complain?

//He couldn't charge extra to dance.  He does it just by  breathing.//

"No, I think you can dry yourself."  Hold those green eyes,  don't waver.  "Right here."

The mouth that had begun to form a pout at his first words now  relaxed into a knowing smile.

//Have to think of something appropriate to show him he doesn't  know everything.//

"Whatever you want ... sir."  That voice again, musical and all  male, sending the blood surging through him even before the boy  raised the towel and began his performance.

Well-muscled arms raised the towel, covered the face just long  enough to blot the larger drops from his cheeks, then moved the  cloth gracefully down over chest and shoulders, one arm and then  the other.  No overt posturing, but nonetheless clearly a  conscious display of a body that no onlooker could fail to  admire.  Slip the prop behind the back, flex the shoulders and  hips.  Then he bent to dry one slim foot and ankle, stroke  upwards over a lightly-furred calf and thigh, and Walter had to  bite back a groan.  He managed to hold himself still while the  boy repeated the moves with the other leg, but when the towel  came up higher, the white material highlighting the ruddy sac  and half-erect penis, he couldn't wait any longer.

"That's enough."  Voice a little too hoarse, and the look in the  boy's eyes showed he'd noticed.  No help for it, though; just  keep going.  "Over here."

****** An unreadable glance, so quick he thought he might have imagined  it, and then the boy was kneeling between his legs, efficiently  unfastening his belt and opening his trousers.  "Pants off, or  on?"

Walter grabbed the younger man's hands, took a moment to savor  the sensation of soft flesh sliding over bone and muscle.  "Off.   Shoes and socks first."

Alex sat back on his heels and kept his eyes down as he unlaced  first one shoe, then the other.  Walter couldn't restrain the  shudder that racked his form as a slender finger traced the arch  of his foot.  When the socks had been removed, Alex planted a  kiss on the bone of each ankle before resting the feet  comfortably on his thighs.  Walter felt the tickle of sparse  hair, flesh warm and damp from the shower and budding arousal.   He indulged himself by kneading the firm muscles for a time,  catching the brief grunts and rolls of his companion as a toe  skidded close and 

candy falling from the sky it felt like rain hard and oily ...  bittersalt tang in the air and explosions were rocking Walter's  frame mercury gumdrops and sugarsweet bullets catching here and  there as 

he watched the boy struggle and strain from his awkward position  for more contact.  Walter felt drunk on this languid debauch,  cool cool canned air so dangerous crackling with ozone as  thunder raged outside.  He wondered if this strange little foot  massage counted as a kink....  It would almost be worth it for  this.  The young man was a natural, never moving off his knees,  arms at his sides, using only his torso and pelvis to strain  toward the skidding, taunting feet ... but no.  Walter abruptly  removed his feet, planted them to either side of the younger  man's thighs, and stood. 

The boy looked briefly stunned, but recovered quickly to kneel  up and finish the work of removing Walter's trousers.  As soon  as he had stepped out of them, he settled back on the bed,  spreading his legs.  The young man wasted no time, sliding up  the nubbled coverlet using only leanly muscled arms to pull him  the distance, a gesture both playful and sensuous ... impossible  to observe without imagining the pull of rough cotton and  polyester across hard nipples, dipping ticklishly into the  navel, dragging, loose threads catching and tugging....  The  first touch of tongue to his thigh made him shiver.

Walter reached down to try to grip the boy's short hair, but it  simply flowed like sharp water through his fingers and he  settled for cupping the base of the skull.  A guiding tug and  the tongue moved to his balls, sucking and rolling them within  wet heat....  It was eminently clear that this boy was  determined to earn his money.  Walter relaxed as much as  possible, throwing one arm behind his head as he ran his fingers  down the boy's neck and shoulder. 

There were hands on his thighs, lips on his cock ... tiny  sucking kisses more reminiscent of a succubus than anything  else.  Walter closed his eyes, losing himself in the fantasy of  some invisible demon of smoke and lust.  He allowed his hips the  freedom to separate themselves from his roving mind, leaving it  to the boy to steady them, if he could.  But he was growing  impatient....

"Suck me.  Now."

A pause, an increase in pressure on his thighs, and then he was  swallowed whole.  Thoughts raced and flitted through his mind  but the sensation chased everything away.  There was nothing but  his cock and this wonderfully obliging hole, rough little tongue  working hard against the underside, throat contracting on the  head.  Walter could hear deep groans, knew on some level that  they were his own.

//Too soon.//

The older man grabbed hold of his self and *pulled*, dragging  his consciousness beyond the white noise while literally  dragging the younger man's mouth off his cock.

"Wh-what?  Did I do something wrong?"

Breathless and flushed, lips swollen.  A beautiful boy, really.   Walter eased the pressure on the younger man's hair, smoothed  his knuckles down the soft cheek without being fully aware of  what he was doing. 

"This isn't everything I want from you."

Green eyes focused smilingly on his own.  "Of course, sir.  How  do you want it?"

"Hands and knees."

Walter watched the boy arrange himself off to the side;  languidly ran a finger across the lightly tanned shoulder, down  the rib cage before pinching the nearest nipple lightly.  The  ensuing gasp sent a renewed spike of arousal through his own  body and the older man took a deep breath before reaching over  for the supplies.  The brush of shirttails over bare thighs as  he positioned himself reminded him abruptly of his questionable  state of attire, but he really couldn't bring himself to care.   He rolled on a condom and tossed the lube onto the bed,  cataloging the utter stillness of the younger man with a  mixture of approval and disappointment.

It occurred to him that it was entirely possible no one had ever  stopped the boy mid-blowjob before.  Walter smirked inwardly at  the thought of a hustler with performance anxiety, letting the  cold humor bring him back to some semblance of control before  allowing himself to caress the downy cheeks.  Toyed with the  idea of peeling off another hundred for the right to beat that  pretty little ass raw; squeezed hard instead.  The boy pressed  back into the touch, wriggling a bit in encouragement, and  Walter had to swallow hard not to go with the impulse.

//This isn't going to last very long.//

Walter grabbed the tube and slicked his fingers, not bothering  to take the time to try to warm the gel.  A cool finger down the  crack and the boy jumped a bit.

"Hold still."

Walter heard the teeth click together; had another moment of  dissonance as he wondered just who had taught this boy how to  behave.  Speculation dissolved quickly at the boy's small hiss  when he pierced the ring of muscle.  Walter found himself deeply  fascinated by the sight of his finger disappearing and  reappearing; amused himself by adjusting pressure and speed  while adding digits.  The boy began to moan steadily, working  himself back against Walter's hand and muttering almost  incomprehensibly under his breath.

"Please...."

The older man looked up to see the hustler tossing his head  slightly, fingers gripping the tangled coverlet in time with his  thrusts, whole body damp with sweat ... it was beautiful. He  raked the internal gland one last time before slipping out  gently and slathering lube on his cock.  Walter groaned at his  own touch, wondered how the steady ratchet of his own arousal  had gone unnoticed.  An interminable, excruciating slow rock and  he was buried to the hilt, panting and flexing, struggling to  hold on.

So good so good slick and tight and this boy must not have been  on the streets very long ... firm buttocks pale under his hands  and he backthrust harshly, watching the boy's head snap back in  reaction and relishing the accompanying groan.  Then sliding,  slowly, losing himself yeah this is what I wanted within the  heat and pressure and friction and there really was nothing else  was there, nothing other than this and now and here and more....

Walter braced himself on the headboard and began slamming into  the younger man in earnest.  Small whimpers from below sending  him higher and higher.  Suddenly he felt muscles bear down on  him hard ... and that was all it took to drive him over the  edge. 

Moments, minutes later he found himself crushing the  uncomplaining man into the mattress and he rolled off gently,  discarding the condom with a small moue of distaste.  After a  while his companion rolled onto his back, made preparatory  movements to stand.  He was still rock hard.  The sight dashed  cold water on Walter's afterglow.  It was an unwelcome reminder  of the cheapness of this act, a niggling snark about his  performance.  He grabbed the younger man by the shoulder.

"Where are *you* going?"

Alex froze briefly at the question, then turned and raised an  eyebrow.  

Walter slid a hand down the damp torso, tugged a bit at the  treasure trail before stroking the younger man's cock idly.  "I  paid for the whole night."  A flip of his thumb over the head; a  truly gratifying buck.  "I expect the whole night."

A stifled chuckle.  "Yes, sir."

Walter squeezed and the chuckle was strangled off.  "Come with  me."

Wide-eyed confusion ... the desire to kiss the younger man was  wholly inappropriate but impossible to deny.  Walter contented  himself by diving at the vaguely golden throat and sucking hard,  tasting salt and heat and man.  He could feel the moan tremble  against his lips and forced himself to pull off.  He stood and  shed the rumpled dress shirt, finally.  Brief concern over how  to explain its

//scent//

condition was hastily quashed.  The way the boy was staring at  his chest made his cock twitch far, far too soon.  Walter  crooked a finger and walked to the closet door, sensing the  younger man hesitate a moment before following.  There was a  mirror here ... and this was a lesson the hustler needed to  learn.

"Stand in front of me."

The younger man complied, and Walter slipped his hands under the  leanly powerful arms and began to massage the muscles of the  chest and belly, watching the reaction in the mirror.  A brief  pinch of the nipples made the boy groan and, as Walter expected,  blush and look away.

"What are you ashamed of?"

One hand left the chest to wander southward, begin a rough  rhythm of strokes.

"Sir?"

"Look at yourself."

Walter waited until he was meeting the green eyes in the mirror  again before removing the stroking hand to rake short nails up  the boy's belly.  The muscles twitched and jumped under his  fingers, and hips thrust helplessly, flush rising and spreading.   Walter rewarded the response by slipping his hand back down to  cup his companion's balls, using his other arm to pull the boy  closer as he tugged and teased.

It wasn't especially fair to ask difficult questions, but  something about the feel of that blush-hot ear against his lips  made him speak without thinking.  "Who are you, really?"

Green eyes widened in alarm, and the body under his hands  stiffened almost imperceptibly.

"No, you don't have to answer."  His hand moved back to the  weeping cock; the gorgeous moans began again.  "It's not  especially important.  But it's become clear to me that you  haven't been trained correctly."

Some animal sound that might have been a question, and Walter  began to stroke faster.

"It's true.  You have a little too much shame for this.  Not  that I mean to critique.  Hardly.  I'm enjoying myself  immensely."  He glanced up to find that the eyes had closed; the  young man had braced himself against Walter and was bucking  mindlessly into his fist.  He pulled his hand off and the eyes  shot open again.  Walter let his hand hover over the bobbing  cock; watched the anger, the confusion flash through the other  man's eyes, the chest heave with pants, and smiled internally.   "Paying attention?"  A nod.  "Good."  He let the other man  settle himself again; welcomed the hand on his supporting arm  with a lick at the ear. 

"Now, where was I?"  The boy thrust helpfully at the empty air,  and Walter laughed quietly.  He circled the cock again; felt  fingers tighten on his arm.  The eyes stayed open this time.   "We, your ... employers ... are looking for a quick, easy fuck.   That much is true--but that's not all."  He let his hardening  cock slip between the still-slick cheeks and rocked.

"Oh, God..."

"For any number of reasons our worlds lack something.  We pay  you not only to take the edge off, but to share a little of  yourself with us....  It's not so much to ask, is it?"

"Yes ... no...."

Walter chuckled again and shifted, rubbing himself in the hot  little haven, stroking faster.  "So I ask you to look at  yourself right now, as I see you.  Flushed, panting ... sweating  and hard.  For me, now.  Or maybe just for yourself?"  The boy  had bitten his own lip hard enough to draw a tiny bit of blood.   It was too much; he pulled the younger man's head back and to  the side for an awkward, utterly forbidden kiss, forcibly  stilling his own hips so he could feel the insistent bucks of  the other man.  "There's a ... long and noble tradition in this,  my Narcissus.  We all need a little beauty in our lives...."

There were going to be bruises on his arm tomorrow but he  didn't, couldn't care.  This wildness in his arms, this raw  animal of muscle and sex....  "Come for me."

A moment's hesitation, again, but then, just as Walter was  beginning to wonder whether the boy's abandon was merely another  part of his act (and the earlier hesitation, too?), the body in  his arms shuddered violently, then erupted in spasm upon spasm  of orgasm, the young man wrenching and groaning as his come  spattered his chest, Walter's hand, the mirror and the floor  before them.

Walter braced his feet as the boy slumped back against him for a  moment.  Very nice.  When the long lashes fluttered and those  glowing eyes began to refocus, he gently urged the young man  back to the bed.  Time for round two.

******

As the beginnings of daylight began to filter in through the  edges of the curtains, Alex slipped out of bed and began to pull  on his clothes.  Overexerted muscles, stiffened after an hour or  so's sleep, protested mildly, but he knew he'd be fine after a  shower and some time in the gym.

Pocketing the cash and one unused condom, he looked closely at  the older man, gauging the depth of his unconsciousness.  They'd  both gotten a good workout over the past hours, and the man had  to be at least 10 years his senior, but Alex knew better than to  assume an opponent was helpless.  Still, as he listened to the  deep, steady breathing, he judged it was worth the risk.   Reaching quietly into the pocket of the other man's discarded  trousers, he pulled out the wallet and flipped it open.  His  eyes momentarily widened, then crinkled in amusement.

//Well, isn't that interesting.  Walter Skinner, FBI.  You do  meet the most intriguing people in this line of work.//

No wonder the guy had gotten off so well on his little innocent  act.  Power play written all over him, and now Alex had a better  idea why.  He replaced the wallet carefully and quickly, then  glanced around to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. 

//Well, Mr. Skinner, *A.D.* Skinner, it certainly has been a  pleasure.  Until we meet again ... which may be sooner than you  think.//

He made sure the door closed quietly behind him as he left.

******

End