Speed Trap

Notes: This is for Jvantheterrible, because I said I would.  And to my sis SB the dominatrix for the encouragement.

"Damn." Walter Skinner looked at the flashing lights in the rearviewmirror. He clenched the steering wheel in frustration and eased thecar over to the shoulder of the highway. Just what I need, hethought. A ticket. Damn Mulder and his disregard for authority. If Mulder would just once do what he was told, I wouldn't be drivingdown the Highway to Loserville, in the middle of Nowhere, WestVirginia
.
He watched as the police cruiser pulled up behind him and
the officer got out. Great. I'll probably end up shot in the back ofthe head and left for dead. I'm going to kill Mulder, he thought.Slowly and painfully.

He watched the man look over his car and walk
toward him.

He was the typical small town law enforcement type, in a tan uniform, complete with macho swagger and mirrored sunglasses. He sauntered to Skinner's car and leaned on the window frame. "Is there a fire somewhere that I should know about?"

Great, a comedian. "No, sir. How fast was I going?"

"I clocked you at about ninety-eight as you came over the hill," he said. "Give me your license and registration."

"Ninety-eight?" Skinner said, passing the man his identification and registration papers. Surely he wasn't going that fast. "Kilometers?"

The officer straightened and tilted his head to the side. "Miles per hour. Are you saying that I'm wrong?"

"Not at all, Officer...?" He squinted at the nameplate on the man's chest. "Johnson. I was just...the car has been giving me trouble lately and I wondered if it wouldn't fall apart if I was really going that fast." No need to antagonize, he thought. Nice and easy. No harm, no foul. Take the ticket and go.

"It's Sheriff Johnson. And yes, you were going awful fast, Mr..." He looked at the ID in his hand. "Skinner." He chuckled. "Sergei?"

Skinner shrugged. "Beats Vladimir."

"Are you Russian?"

"No. American through and through."

"Then you must be one of those commie guys. You renounce your citizenship?"

"My mother had an affinity for that name. I have no idea why." He sighed in exasperation. "Are you going to give me the ticket or not?"

The sheriff frowned. "I don't like your attitude, Mr. Skinner. Coming down here, throwing around fancy words and such. Affinity." He snorted. "I may not have your fancy education, Sergei, but I am the law here.

"I'm sorry, Sheriff Johnson. I'm an Assistant Director with the FBI and I was in a hurry to get to my destination."

"FBI, huh? Breaking the law? I'm sure your superiors won't be too happy when they find out about this."

Skinner shrugged. "It's just a speeding ticket. I wasn't planning on including it in my weekly report."

The sheriff looked at him, letting his eyes roam lasciviously from head to toe. "In some towns it's just a speeding ticket, Mr. Skinner. In this town, it's a night in jail."

"Jail?" Skinner roared. "For a goddamned speeding ticket that I actually do not deserve? This is ridiculous. It's extortion.
It's...illegal, I'm sure." To hell with this, he thought, reaching
for his cellular phone. There has to be an 800 number for reporting insane sheriffs. He froze when he heard a gun cock by his ear.

"Easy does it, Mr. Skinner. Now, you just get out of the car slowly.We'll do this nice and easy." He opened the car door. "Turn off the engine."

Skinner looked around. Shit. This has got to be the most deserted road in America. Where the hell is everybody in this godforsaken town? Obviously not coming to my rescue, he thought with a sigh. He turned off the engine. "You're the boss."

"That's right." The sheriff snapped his fingers impatiently. "Now
give me the keys."

"But..." Skinner trailed off. Better to obey this madman than to risk getting shot on a lonely stretch of highway. "Fine." He handed the keys to the sheriff.

"Now get out, and keep your hands where I can see them. You're FBI, you know the drill."

Skinner slid out of the car slowly, his hands in the air. "Look,
Sheriff, I know that you have a job to do, but couldn't you
just...give me a ticket and let me go? I really have to get to this
crime scene."

The Sheriff laughed. "Let you go? What, so you can go and tell all your FBI buddies that they can just speed through Handyville, West Virginia, breaking laws at will, and I'll just let them go? Oh, no, siree. I'm going to make you an example of how it's done down here." He gestured at the car. "Now up against the car and spread your legs."

Defeated, Skinner turned and braced himself against the car. He'd been frisked before, but not like this. This was more of a sensual massage than a search for weapons. The sheriff started at his legs and slowly made his way up, patting along Skinner's long legs to his waist. He patted Skinner's crotch area, lingering as though he thought he might have discovered a weapon. Skinner grunted and the hands moved on. To his chest, smoothing across the hard planes with practiced ease, down his arms, pausing to squeeze at the muscled biceps. Then down his back, and across his ass, squeezing each cheek
lightly. Someone is going to pay for this, he thought, gritting his
teeth.

The sheriff moved his hands away reluctantly. "Nice body for an FBI agent. You work out a lot?"

What the hell? Skinner thought wildly. Oh, god. I've stumbled into an episode of America's Most Perverted Sheriffs. And there were still no cars in sight. If he tried to run, the sheriff would catch him. Damn, damn, damn. "Uh, yeah, I work out a little."

The sheriff smiled wolfishly and turned Skinner to face him. "Just a little? You look like an Ironman to me. I didn't think that Assistant Directors would be so...fit. The last FBI man I got down here had a gut like a hippo."

The last...oh god, kill me now. "I...look, Sheriff, is this leading
to me be released so that I can do my job? Lives are at stake."

The sheriff took off his glasses, folded them and put them in his
breast pocket. He squinted at the sudden brightness, and took a step closer to Skinner. "I...could be persuaded to let the law go this once." He ran a hand over Skinner's chest and down to his waist. "You, ah, do something for me...and I'll let you go."

Skinner looked at the man as though he were crazy. And he probably is. Great. On a deserted stretch of road with a horny small town sheriff. "I'll take the jail time, thank you."

"Oh, is that so? Well, I can keep you in jail up to a week, Mr.
Skinner," he leered. "And no one will find you. Hell, I can keep you as long as I want. We ain't exactly on the map, you know."

"Don't I know it," Skinner groused. "You can't keep me here, Sheriff Johnson. It's kidnapping and in case you didn't know, that's a federal crime."

"Can't press charges if no one ever finds you," the sheriff said. He slid his hands down Skinner's chest and chuckled when he felt the other man tense. He grabbed Skinner's wrists and snapped on a pair of handcuffs, pulling them tight. "Come on." He turned and pushed him over to the police cruiser.

"Where in the hell are you taking me?" Skinner demanded.

"To jail," Sheriff Johnson replied. He opened the back door. "Get in."

Skinner stiffened. He didn't want to spend an eternity in some
hellhole jail cell with Sheriff Horny as his keeper. "Wait."

The sheriff grinned. "Changed your mind?"

"Just considering my...options." It wasn't like the sheriff was all
that bad looking. Tall, with dark hair, and eyes that appeared almost pale brown in the bright sunlight. Nice, lean body, and kind of good looking in the uniform, Skinner admitted grudgingly.

The sheriff met his gaze, his eyes twinkling. "Like what you see, Sergei?" He ran a hand down his own chest slowly.

Skinner shrugged. "What do you want?"

"I want you to suck me."

"Just suck?"

"Yep. You got a problem with that?"

Skinner shook his head slowly. "About a thousand problems, but you're the law here. Uncuff me, and let's do this."

Sheriff Johnson laughed. "You're used to being in charge, eh, Sergei? Well, I'm the law. I'm not uncuffing you. I want you just like this." He grabbed Skinner's arm and dragged him to the other side of the police cruiser. He opened the door, and unbuckled his belt. He looked at Skinner, smiled, and let the uniform pants slide down to his ankles.

"I guess your need to have hapless motorists blow you negates your need for underwear," Skinner remarked.

The sheriff thought for a moment, then he smiled, as Skinner's
meaning became clear to him. "Yep, I guess you could say that." He sat down in the back seat and moved backward until he was laying flat, his hips in the doorway. "Do your thing, Sergei," he said, panting. "And no teeth, or I really will lock you up."

Skinner repressed a shudder and moved forward. The side of the road was blanketed with thick grass, but still Skinner was hesitant to get on his knees. He looked at the sheriff, laying there, rubbing his long fingers from chest to abdomen. He did have a nice body. Firm stomach...nice long, thick...shit, what am I thinking? He looked around wildly. I could try to run, but how far would I get? And when he caught me, I'd really be fucked.

"Come on, Sergei," the sheriff said softly. "Stop thinking, and start doing."

Skinner groaned and knelt on the grass. "Do you have a condom?"

"Wha-oh, yeah. In my front pocket."

Skinner dug the condom out of the man's pocket, and looked at it. At least it wasn't expired, he thought. The sheriff was already erect, thank god; so all he had to do was...he ripped open the foil packet and slid the condom on.

"Now that felt good, Sergei," the sheriff groaned. "Touch me some." He arched his hips up invitingly.

"You didn't say anything about touching, Sheriff," Skinner
complained. "You can't change the rules in the middle."

"We aren't even at the start yet," the sheriff said. "This can be
easy or hard." He smiled at his own pun. "Make me come, Sergei. And I'll let you go."

"Fine. You come and I go." He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and tentatively licked the latex wrapped penis. "Yuck."

The sheriff frowned at him. "That ain't gonna get us anywhere,
Sergei. Suck me."

Skinner fought not to clamp his teeth down on the sheriff's cock. Just do it, he told himself, and you can get the hell out of here. Okay...He took another deep breath, and in one fluid motion, gulped the sheriff's cock down to the back of his throat.

"Damn!" The sheriff howled, thrusting his hips up.

Skinner pulled back. "Look, sheriff. I'm handcuffed here. You can't move like that if I can't hold your goddamned hips. Now be still and let me finish."

"Surly bastard." He gestured to his waist. "Go ahead."

Bracing himself again, Skinner began a slow, torturous flicking of his tongue up and down the length of the sheriff's cock. He swirled his tongue across the head and around to the veiny underside, reveling in the fact that the sheriff had begun moaning loudly. He took the length in his mouth again, sucking hard while rubbing his tongue back and forth.

"Oh god, that's good," the sheriff moaned. "So good, so good!"

Again, Skinner released the pulsing cock from his mouth. Moving in for the kill, he lapped at the sheriff's balls, which were drawn up in anticipation. He took each sac into his mouth and suckled gently, causing the sheriff to howl in pleasure. He moved back up, and began licking the pulsing shaft in swift broad strokes.

The sheriff started moving his hips upward in short thrusts. "Suck me, suck me," he chanted.

This ought to be it, Skinner thought, his eyes dancing. He took a deep breath and took the thick cock into the back of his throat. He relaxed a moment and when he was sure he wouldn't gag, he sucked him as hard as he could.

"Ohgodogodogod," the sheriff screamed, tossing his head back and forth on the seat. His cock felt like it was trapped in a whirlwind. He grabbed the head in his lap and moved his hips in and out of Skinner's mouth. "Shit," he gasped at the suction the other man created. "Oh god, yes, ooooh," he yelled. And with that he came, bucking his hips wildly.

Skinner could barely hold on as the sheriff rode out his climax. He gave him a few extra sucks, milking him as the thrusting began to slow and the sheriff's groans became whimpers. He pulled back and sat back on his heels. "Well?"

The sheriff lay panting, sparks of light shooting behind his closed eyes. "That was damned good, Sergei. I might just keep you in jail as a perk." He groaned and sat up, looking at the man kneeling before him. "I guess you can go."

"Finally." He held up his hands. "Where's the key to the handcuffs?"

The sheriff shrugged. "Don't need a key. Just move your wrists out and they'll come off."

"Breakaway handcuffs? Why am I not surprised?" He moved his hands outward with a jerk and the handcuffs snapped free. He shook his head and tossed them into the sheriff's lap. "I should have led you on a high speed chase when I had the chance." He looked down at his knees and frowned. "Grass stains. Goddamn you, Mulder! These pants will cost a fortune to clean!"

Mulder looked at him dispassionately. "Fuck you, Walter. It cost a fortune to rent this damned uniform."

"It was your fantasy, Mulder," Skinner argued. "Where'd you get the cruiser?" He shook his head before his lover could reply. "No, don't tell me. The less I know, the better. One day, this is all going to come back and haunt me. FBI AD and Subordinate in Bizarre Role-Playing Scandal. Clean out your desk, Skinner. You're fired. Do not pass Go, do not collect your pension."

Mulder sighed, rolled the condom off and tossed it into the
plastic bag at his feet. "Every time we do this, you find something to complain about. The last time, you bitched about the clown makeup."

"You try explaining to the dry cleaner about your lover's circus
fantasies," Skinner grumbled. "They laugh every time I come in."

"Spoil sport." He cleaned himself with a Kleenex and chuckled. "In spite of the condom, that really was something, Walter." He yawned.  "You get to drive us back to the hotel. I'm too sleepy."

"You are such a hedonist. And speaking of the condom, what happened to the mint one?"

"It didn't seem realistic for a small town sheriff to be carrying
around mint flavored condoms, Walter."

Skinner rolled his eyes. The man couldn't fill out an expense report to save his life, but his fantasies had to be right down to the letter. "Realistically, a small town sheriff wouldn't be getting blow jobs on the side of the highway, Mulder."

"You don't know the small town sheriffs I know."

"And what about the cruiser?"

"The...owner told me to leave it here and he'd be along to pick it up later." He scooted out of the car and tugged his pants up. "This really is a deserted stretch of highway. I haven't seen a car come by yet."

"Good thing." Skinner snorted and looked at Mulder. He really was good looking in the uniform. "With the exception of the grass stains...and the Sergei thing, this went pretty well."

Mulder looked at him. Though Skinner complained every time Mulder proposed something outrageous, it didn't stop him from throwing himself into his assigned role with gusto. This was just about the best one yet. He smiled and tugged Skinner against him. "Who knew, Walter?"

Skinner sighed at the question. "I didn't, that's for sure. Can we go now? I'm all hot and sticky."

Mulder kissed him quick and hard. "I'll take care of that at the
hotel. Thanks, Sergei," he said in his sheriff accent. "You sure do know how to suck a man."

Skinner looked at his lover. Mulder was sated and absolutely
happy. "Anytime, Sheriff."