Title: Veteran's Day Melancholy
Email address: Peach1250@hotmail.com
Warnings: This story contains explicit m/m sex. If these things bother you *GO AWAY NOW*
Master/slave relationship. Contains punishment - well kind of punishment. If you don't like that kind of story please don't read this and then write me nasty notes.
Archive: DitB, RatB, SKSA, WWOMB. Others just ask.
Disclaimer: The characters of Skinner, Krycek and the X-Files belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and the Fox Network. No copyright Infringement is intended no money is being made.
Summary: Alex helps his lover atone, grieve and heal.
NOTES: This is part of the His Master's Voice universe. This is for Egotuus AKA Anika, Happy Birthday. Thanks to beautiful Jose for the beta.
I was late getting home. The house was dark but Walter's car was in the garage. I just figured he'd be waiting in bed for me, that's where I usually found him when I was late. I took the steps two at a time anxious to see him after the long day.
The bedroom was empty, the bed still made perfectly as he had left it that morning. I called his name and received no answer, so I went searching. I found him sitting in the den next to a small fire. The bottle of scotch almost empty.
"Walter, what's going on?"
He waved vaguely toward a letter lying on the table, while reaching for the bottle. I intercepted his hand, moving the bottle out of reach. That stubborn little boy look appeared on his face and he started to rise from his chair.
"Sit down, slave!"
He turned toward me trying to focus and having little success. I growled deep in my throat and he dropped his butt back in the chair. I picked up the letter and turned toward the firelight to read it. At least now I had an idea of why my lover was sitting in the den shit faced when he should have been in bed ready for me.
"So, you honour his memory by getting drunk? Or are you trying to join him? Is that how it works, Walter?"
"You don't understand. I should have been there. I should have done something."
"You did all you could. He refused your help. I was there, remember? You can't help people when they don't want it."
"I should have tried harder. He might still be alive."
We had been together long enough by this time for me to know when words wouldn't work. Walter still had survivor guilt and now a friend since boot camp had managed to drink himself to death. I could tell Walter that it wasn't his fault just as surviving his platoon hadn't been his fault but he wouldn't hear me tonight.
I wasn't about to lose *him* in a bottle, or any other way when I could do something to stop it.
"Slave go down stairs and prepare yourself for me. Put on your leather collar and your harness."
He looked up at me all bleary eyed and I pointed toward the door. I made no move to help him as he staggered to his feet and left the room. It had been a long time since he had needed to be punished for his imagined sins. I had hoped we were past that but it seemed we weren't.
I knew in his drunken state it would take him some time to get ready for me so I headed upstairs to shower. By the time I got down stairs he was naked except for the collar and harness. He was lying on the table with his legs pulled up.
I positioned the bag and inserted the nozzle. When he moaned I stopped the flow, sliding the tube from his body and pulling him to lie on his back. I moved my hand over his stomach in slow easy circles, waiting for the cramps to kick in. When he whimpered "Please", I sent him off to the bathroom.
I got everything ready while he was gone, knowing it would need to be a hard session. Good thing we both had the day off tomorrow. When he came back he was walking a little steadier. No words from either of us, he came to the cross and I bound him, using the chains as well.
I warmed him up with the flogger bringing his body to that beautiful colour I love on him. Then I picked up the heavy paddle. I had only used this on him once. I knew the bruises would last for a week or more.
I brought it down hard on his left cheek. His grunt told me that the alcohol hadn't deadened all his nerve endings. I worked up and down both cheeks for several long minutes before the grunts changed.
"Why are you being punished, slave?"
"For letting my friend down. For not helping him."
I swung the paddle harder than before connecting dead centre.
"Try again, slave. That's not the reason."
He sobbed with the blow and I gave him time to catch his breath before prompting him for an answer with another swat.
"If it isn't for that, I don't know!"
I moved in close to him, reaching to cup his head. He turned toward me and I kissed him gently. Stepping back, I swatted him again.
"Think, slave. I want an answer. Why am I doing this?"
"Because I was drunk and I should have called you."
"Yes, you should have. I would have come home to be with you. I would never have let you go through those hours of grief alone. As for being drunk, you should know how I would feel finding you that way. Is there anything else?"
"Because I need it. I need to atone."
"Walter, you've done nothing to atone for. Why can't I make you understand that? He wasn't happy and he couldn't take a more direct route out of this world. There was nothing you could do."
His voice was so ragged with his pain my heart broke for him. It suddenly dawned on me that it was after midnight. It was now Veteran's Day. God! That was it. He always needed a session on Veteran's Day and the death of his friend made him need it even more.
I stepped back and gave my lover what he needed. By the time he used his safe word my arm was numb. I walked away from him and rotated my arm several times while the small bucket filled. I rinsed the sweat from his body and released him.
He clung to me as I led him toward the stairs, his hand already massaging my shoulder. We helped each other up the stairs and fell into the bed holding each other tightly.
I don't know how long we slept before he woke me with his warm tongue swirling around the head of my cock. I tugged on his ear and he crawled up to kiss me. His kisses frantic, making my need for him override all else.
"Get the lube." I croaked through my kiss-swollen lips.
He turned toward the table to grab it and I watched as he coated me thickly, then he was straddling me and dropping onto me. I moaned as he gave himself no time to adjust. His movements hard and fast on me. Lifting high and dropping again and again.
His head was thrown back, his breathing loud, one hand stroking his cock as the other rubbed over my chest and stomach. I reached up, pinching his nipple with almost bruising force. He screamed my name as he shot. His come raining down on me.
My own cock responded to his muscles clamping down on me. My come shooting high inside him. He fell forward using his arms to support most of his weight. His kisses slow and soft this time.
When my cock softened to the point that his muscles pushed me out, he rolled over to lie next to me. His low groan telling me that his ass was indeed as sore as I had intended for it to be.
I climbed out of bed and went to fill the tub. He came into the room just as I was pouring his favourite musk into the water. I settled into the water, sinking low enough for the hot water to cover my sore shoulder. He stepped in and settled between my thighs, his head back against my other shoulder.
"Thank you, Master."
"For what, slave?"
"For loving me. For giving me what I need even when it makes your shoulder sore. For not giving up on me. Most men would have by now."
"How could I give up on someone I've loved for thousands of years? I will never give up on you, just as you will never give up on me."
When the water cooled, I took him back to bed and made love to him slowly and gently. Trying to show him how cherished he truly is.
Holding him as he slept later I wondered if we would ever have a life together that was normal. Is there such a thing?
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