Wed, 27 May 1998 23:00:22 EDT

CLASSIFICATION: XRH (Mulder/Skinner) 17+

SUMMARY: Mulder and Skinner deal with the consequences of Mulder's pursuit of
the ultimate pleasure.

THE STANDARD DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and the characters of Fox Mulder, Walter
Skinner, and Dana Scully are all the property of Fox Television and Ten
Thirteen Productions. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is
being made from their use.

WARNINGS:  This story contains explicit scenes of non-consensual sex between
two men.  If this sort of thing offends you or if you are under 18 years of
age, go back now. There is a slight spoiler for the US season 3 episode "Clyde
Bruckman's Final Repose"


Comments/feedback can be sent to Shockwave c/o TAUGUNY@aol.com Thanks to Djinn
and Palinurus for beta and for encouraging this sequel.  Special thanks for
additional beta provided by Joe G. and the other long-suffering members of my
writer's group.  There Are No Gods But Mulder and Skinner and Ethan Nelson is
Their Prophet.

AFTERMATH
by Shockwave
<TAUGUNY@aol.com>

7:08 PM.  Fox Mulder edged further backward into the shadows of the parking
garage.  He kept both eyes on the doors to the passenger elevator, waiting for
his quarry to appear.  For the hundredth time, he wished Scully were here to
back him up.  Absently, he brushed the fingers of one hand against the butt of
his gun.  He didn't want to have to use his firearm, but he would if he had to.

Walter Skinner had been avoiding him for several days.  After breaking down
Mulder's apartment door as Fox was about to inadvertently choke himself to
death during a dangerous and drunken fling with auto-erotic asphyxiation,
Skinner had fucked him to within an inch of his life, almost choking him again
in the process.  When it was over, their eyes had locked for what seemed an
interminable time.

Fox had stared transfixed into Skinner's eyes, with the stunning feeling that
he had left his body and was falling upward into them away from all previous
bounds.  Somehow the long tempestuous voyage of his life had finally run
aground on some unknown shore, and he a voyager that had been too long at sea,
suddenly finding himself at home in a distant land.  He sensed a whole new
world of possibilities, and of hope.  All in Skinner's eyes.

And looking back at him, Skinner was regarding him like a man transformed, one
nameless emotion after another chasing across his startled face until at last
the terrifying truth was revealed.  Then without warning Skinner had jumped up,
thrown on his clothes and stormed out of Mulder's apartment without a word. 
Fox had been left sprawled on his back, both throat and ass raw and sore,
amazed to still be alive and wondering dazedly what the hell had just happened.

That had been three days ago.  Three days in which Skinner had repeatedly
refused his calls and his requests for a meeting.  Three days in which his
sense of newfound wonder slowly became frustration and finally desperation. 
Three days in which Scully had begun to question him about his odd behavior, at
first tentatively and then unceasingly.

Finally, this afternoon Mulder and Scully had met with the Assistant Director
to wrap up their involvement in the erotic asphyxiation homicide case which had
started the whole matter.  Skinner had stared resolutely down at their report,
refusing to meet Mulder's eyes as Fox summarized his profile of the killer.

"Fine," Skinner ground out as Mulder finished, closing the report folder and
opening another from the stacks of paperwork on his desk. "You're dismissed."

Mulder and Scully shared a startled glance.  Skinner had never let them off the
hook after a report so easily.  As they stood to leave, Fox stepped closer to
Skinner's desk.  "Could I speak privately with you for a moment, sir?"

Not looking up from the next report, Skinner replied curtly, "Agent Mulder, now
is not a good time."  He waved one hand at the piled report folders covering
his desk.

"I understand that sir," Mulder answered, "I won't take more than a moment of
your time, but it's very important."  * Oh god, Walter, don't make me beg * he
thought.  Out of the corner of his eye he could see Scully staring at him in
surprise and consternation.  His hands clutched uselessly at his sides.

Skinner's voice was gruff.  "Agent Mulder, I really don't have the time for
this right now."

"Mulder..."  Scully whispered insistently.  Out of sight of the AD, she was
plucking at his sleeve.

Mulder took a deep breath.  "P-please, Sir.  Please."  His voice cracked
slightly on the last word.

At last, Skinner looked right at him.  His face was like stone.  "I said *not
now*, Agent Mulder."

Mulder spun on his heel and strode out of the room, trying desperately to
control his frustration from bursting forth, heedless of the stunned expression
on Scully's face.

She caught up with him in the hall.  "Mulder, what the hell was that all
about?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he muttered, feeling the full weight of Skinner's rejection settle
on him.

"Nothing?" she burst out incredulously.  "Nothing?  What's going on with you,
Mulder?  You've been impossible the last three days.  First you come in so high
I want to ask if you've been investigating ritual plant hallucinogens again,
and the next thing I know you're so irritable and touchy I start to think the
Consortium is poisoning your water again.

"For that matter, what's wrong with Skinner?  Since when does he fail to grill
us about any of our reports, even a simple profile?  All he wanted to do back
there was get rid of us as fast as possible."

Mulder swallowed the tears that seemed to be trying to well up in his throat,
and forced himself to answer lightly.  "Maybe Skinner's just tired of reaming
us out every time we give him a report.

"I'm all right, Scully.  Really," he added, rallying enough to give her a
halfhearted grin.  "I think I'm just a little tired, that's all.  My behavior
can't have been any more 'spooky' than usual."

She shook her head in frustration.  "Oh please, Mulder, you've been moping
around like some kind of lovesick teen."  Suddenly her eyes widened.  "Mulder?"
she asked cautiously, "Is there something going on that you aren't telling me?"

When he didn't answer her she pressed him, "Did something happen between you
and Skinner?  Something you're not telling me?"

He unconsciously scuffed one of his shoes across the floor, not meeting
Scully's eyes as he answered her.  "No ... No."

She regarded him skeptically.  "I'm your partner, Mulder; I know when you're
lying."

"I'm not lying to you, Scully," he said, meeting her eyes at last.  "I'm just
not sure what happened yet."

But what Mulder did know was that long timeless moment with Skinner had changed
something deep within him.  He knew what he'd seen in Skinner's eyes.  And he
was going to get the AD to admit it, one way or another.

The pinging of the bell for the garage elevator brought him back to the
present.  * Right on time * he thought.  As the door slid open Skinner stepped
out carrying a briefcase, wearing his tan trenchcoat and a world-weary
expression.

As the AD walked past him, Mulder slid out from the shadowed alcove he had been
hiding in.

"Working late again, sir?" he asked as Skinner spun to face him, reaching
instinctively for his gun.

"Mulder," Skinner ground out, straightening reluctantly.  He seemed to compose
himself for a moment.  "What the hell are you doing here?"

Mulder schooled himself to an icy calmness, not letting any of the desperation
he felt slip through.  "We need to talk, sir."

Skinner turned on his heel and began to walk away.  "I have nothing to say to
you, Agent Mulder."

Mulder pulled his gun from his holster and aimed it at the AD's head.  His
voice was soft, almost fanatically calm, revealing nothing of his inner
turmoil.  "Don't make me use this, sir."

The sound of the safety being slipped off on Mulder's gun echoed loudly in the
silence of the parking garage.  Skinner's broad back halted.  "Pulling a
firearm on your superior isn't the best career move, Mulder."

"It wouldn't be the first time, sir.  And I'm afraid I'm more than a little
desperate.  So are we going to have that discussion or not?"

Skinner was silent a moment, and then his shoulders shrugged in acquiescence. 
"Put the gun away, Agent Mulder," he commanded without turning. "We'll talk. 
But not here."

"Fine," said Mulder.  "The Memorial.  You drive."

Fifteen minutes and a stonily silent car ride later they stood together on the
nearly deserted steps of the Lincoln Memorial, looking out across the
reflecting pool as the darkness of early evening overtook the city.  After a
few moments Mulder spoke into the quietness.

"Do you know what almost happened to me the other night, sir?"

"I think I have some idea, yes," Skinner answered sardonically.

"No sir, I don't think you do," Mulder replied firmly.  "I should have died
that night."

"You mean you could have died," Skinner answered.

"No, sir.  I mean I *should* have died."  To Skinner's shocked silence, Mulder
explained about the prescient life insurance salesman Clyde Bruckman and his
off-handed prediction of Mulder's death:  "There are worse ways to go, but I
can't think of a more undignified one than auto-erotic asphyxiation."

Skinner was staring at him incredulously.  "Come on, Mulder, some corny two-bit
psychic feeds you a line like that and you think..."

Fox cut him off, his voice raising slightly.  "You fail to point out, sir, that
this 'two-bit psychic' accurately predicted a number of murders which ..." he
cut himself off with an effort.  "That's not the point."  He added simply: 
"You saved my life, sir."

"I don't want your gratitude, Mulder," Skinner grated.  He turned his broad
shoulders away from Mulder.

Mulder waited.  Skinner wasn't going to make this easy for him, was he?

"You fail to consider what happened afterwards," Skinner ground out at last.

"I haven't failed to consider it at all," Mulder said calmly.

"Christ, Mulder, you know that what I did to you was nonconsensual, to say the
least," Skinner burst out.  "You'd be fully justified in bringing charges
against me."

"And afterwards?" Mulder asked.

"What?"

"And afterwards?  What happened then?" Fox insisted.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Agent Mulder," Skinner muttered.

Fox stepped forward into the larger man's personal space as Skinner began to
turn away again, and let his pent-up frustration spill forth. "Look at me,
dammit.  Don't you dare, don't you dare turn away from me!

"Afterwards," he persisted.  "When you looked into my eyes, and I looked into
yours.  I felt you.  Inside me."  He placed one palm against his chest. 
"Changing me.  Changing who I am.  I'm not sure of anything anymore but I do
know one thing; I know I want to be with you."  Fox had promised himself he
wouldn't beg, but his control was beginning to slip in the face of Skinner's
stony expression.  "Don't do this.  Don't shut me out like this."

"You say you want me but you don't know who I am, Mulder," Skinner said,
stepping back from him and looking away.  "The things I've seen.  The things
I've done."  He didn't add the unspoken words they both knew were true:  *Some
of them I've done for you * .

"I know who you are," Mulder told him, causing Skinner's eyes to meet his in
shock.  "You're the only one who could deny me like this.  You're the only one
who could change me like this."  He paused, and then made himself use the name,
the one he'd used only in his private thoughts.  "The only one, Walter."

When at last he replied, Skinner's voice was low and defeated.  "What is it you
want from me?"

Hope flared in Fox's chest.  For a moment he stood there as silent as Skinner
but then began to blurt out the thoughts that had consumed him for three days. 
"I want you to be with me, Walter," he insisted.  "I want you to stop shutting
me out as if I'm nobody to you and ... " he stumbled over the words, "And ...
and I want you to love me!"  He grabbed Skinner by his lapels, not caring at
this moment who might be watching them.  "Goddammit Walter, love me!"

As he stared up into the other man's startled eyes, Mulder saw again the
shifting of emotions he had seen that night.  The final piece fell into place
as he saw the naked truth revealed on Skinner's face.

"All along," Fox said incredulously to him.  "You've felt that way about me all
along.  Haven't you?"  Skinner wrenched himself out of Mulder's grasp, stepping
back and turning to stare out across the lights of the city but Mulder was
relentless.  "Haven't you?"

After a pause Skinner spoke quietly, sounding as if the admission was costing
him ten years of his life.  "Yes. Since the beginning.  Since the first time
you came into my office with that damn cocky attitude of yours and that damn
mix of innocence and recklessness.  I've had to stand by and watch you throw
yourself into trouble time and again.  Never once did I say how I felt, I just
knew I had to protect you.   And seeing you facing me with that damn trusting
stare of yours, you never knowing what I was feeling locked deep inside about
you all that time and now ..."  He ran down at last.  His shoulders sagged. 
"Now I don't know what to do."

At Skinner's words, Mulder felt all of his frustration streaming out of him,
leaving him feeling buoyant and electrified with the certain knowledge that
Skinner did indeed want him.  He laid one hand lightly on Skinner's sleeve. 
"I'll tell you what you're going to do, Walter." He smiled almost shyly,
feeling a growing almost desperate desire welling up in place of his absent
frustration.  "You're going to come home with me."

***********************************************************

Walter Skinner's knuckles were white on the steering wheel all through the long
drive to Mulder's apartment.  He kept glancing over at Mulder, each time
finding the other man staring back with a focused, predatory grin.  He was
watching Skinner with a rapt, almost animal intensity.

"Knock it off, Mulder," he growled.  "Don't push it."

"Knock off what?" Mulder asked with a guilty smirk.  But he did turn away,
gazing absently out the window for the remainder of the trip.  This did
surprisingly little to alleviate Skinner's state of mind.  He found himself
looking over at the younger man again and again, drawn irresistibly to him and
mesmerized by the smooth curve of his neck and the delicate yet strong profile.
 He perversely found himself wishing that Fox would look back at him again so
that he could see his eyes.

He could stop this now, he realized, kick Mulder out of the car, throw cab fare
at him and pretend that what was now between them had never happened.  But he
was lost now, lost since he'd made his admission back at the memorial.  He'd
been lost since he'd looked deeply into Fox's eyes as their bodies were joined.
 He supposed he'd been lost ever since he first set eyes on Fox Mulder.

At last the interminable ride ended, to be replaced with an equally
interminable trip up to Fox's apartment.  Skinner couldn't help glancing again
and again at the younger man as they rode up in the dilapidated elevator, but
now Mulder seemed to be studiously ignoring him.  As the doors opened Mulder
strode purposefully towards his apartment door; Skinner followed almost despite
himself as if he were a leaf in Mulder's wake.  His hands bunched uselessly in
the pockets of his trenchcoat.

Mulder unlocked the door and motioned for Skinner to enter before him, still
not meeting his eyes.  As he heard the door lock behind him, Skinner stripped
off his trenchcoat and tossed it onto the sofa.  Letting out a long sigh, he
began to turn to ask Mulder, "Have you got a beer?" when he was suddenly
blindsided by Mulder's arms coming around him, the weight of Mulder's body
slamming him against the wall.

He began to struggle, but then without warning Mulder's lips met his with
bruising force and his mind went blank under the onslaught.  Mulder was kissing
him deeply, hungrily, as if he were trying to devour Skinner's mouth.  His
tongue was alternately shoving deep into Walter's mouth and then retreating as
he sucked deeply, drawing Skinner's tongue deep into his own mouth.  And all
the while his hands were roving endlessly over Skinner's shoulders, his arms,
clutching at his ass through the fabric of his dress trousers.

And then Mulder's lips broke from his and slid down across his cheek to plant
themselves firmly on his neck.  Skinner gasped with the intensity of the
sensation as Fox began to suck and nibble at the corded muscles of his neck,
his tension making them stand out even more strongly and making them yet more
vulnerable to Mulder's tongue.  Mulder pulled back for a moment, allowing
Skinner to draw a shuddering breath, and then pounced again as his hands shot
unerringly into Skinner's groin to grasp at his cock through the layers of
rough clothing.

Walter let out a moan as he felt Mulder grasp his hardness, feeling himself go
even more rock hard as Mulder kneaded his crotch repeatedly, insistently. 
Mulder's tongue traced rough circles around Walter's adam's apple, and then he
reached up and with one hand shoved Skinner's head hard against the wall to
expose the other side of his neck. Walter's breath went out in another gust of
pleasure as Mulder resumed his relentless tonguing.  Mulder's fingers roamed
sightlessly and awkwardly over Skinner's face until they found his glasses,
tearing them from his face and throwing them aside.

After what seemed an eternity, Mulder's assault let up at last.  He pulled his
hands from Walter's crotch and his mouth from Walter's neck, and began to claw
desperately at the tie of the older man's suit.

"Jesus, Fox, slow down!" Walter gasped, trying desperately to get his hands up
between them.

Mulder's only reply was an inarticulate growl as he shoved Walter's hands aside
and continued to strip the tie from him.  He tossed it aside as he attacked the
collar of Skinner's dress shirt, exposing a triangle of tanned flesh covered
with straggling black hairs.  Mulder's mouth dove unhesitatingly for the spot,
the intensity of sensation sending Walter into a new frenzy of excitement as
Mulder's hands insistently tore open button after button, the warmth of his
mouth following and leaving a trail of fire down the center of Walter's chest.

When at last Mulder had opened the entire front of Skinner's shirt, he rose
from his knees where he had been tonguing Skinner's navel, pulled the shirt off
Skinner's shoulders and began to draw it down over his arms.   As the shirt
reached his wrists, Mulder drew it tight into a bunched tangle of cloth,
leaving Walter's arms pinned inside the shirt cuffs behind him and thrusting
his chest forward.  With one fluid motion, Mulder rose to his feet and planted
his mouth firmly on Skinner's right nipple.

Walter let loose a moan, his back arching in ecstasy as Mulder tongued and
sucked at his nipple.  He writhed futilely under the mastery of Mulder's touch,
his hands trapped behind him by the tangle of shirt.  While Mulder's left hand
held the shirt tight around Skinner's captive wrists, his right pulled and
stretched the skin of Skinner's chest, making the nipple even more sensitive to
the ravages of his insistent tongue.  Suddenly, Mulder pulled his mouth off
Walter's chest with a wet snap, looked up into his face and smiled insanely for
a moment, then attacked Skinner's left nipple with even more vigor, shoving
Walter hard against the wall again in his desperate insistence.  Walter let
loose another low moan as Mulder's right hand slid down into his crotch to
grasp at the hardness there.  Pinned to the wall by the force of Mulder's
attack, he moaned louder as he was bathed in sensation.

Mulder pulled his mouth off Walter's chest again, and feinted towards the other
nipple, a slight grin crossing his face as Walter flinched in anticipation. 
Pivoting smoothly, Fox swung around on the balls of his feet and all but threw
Walter onto the couch.  Walter stumbled and half-fell onto the couch, out of
balance and awkward with his hands caught behind him.  And then Fox was on him
again, stripping his clothes from him roughly faster than Walter's own hands
could move, working with a feverish and panting insistence.  When Skinner was
stripped bare, Mulder stood and quickly stripped his own clothes off as
smoothly as a seal, revealing the pale, lithe body underneath.

"Fox," Skinner breathed, reaching up to bring the younger man into his arms. 
But Mulder instead pushed him roughly back onto the couch.  "Fox, please,"
Skinner insisted, his hands grasping futilely at Mulder's arms as he attempted
to take control of the situation and defuse some of the frenzied lust of the
younger man.  But Mulder pushed his hands aside again, shoving Walter's legs
wide and diving into his crotch.

"Oh my god!" Walter shouted despite himself, his legs involuntary pushing his
crotch up off the couch to meet the spot where the warmth of Fox's mouth had
planted itself directly beneath his balls.  Fox's tongue began to move in
large, lazy, insistent circles like the lapping of some great cat as it bathed
the whole of the area beneath his balls.  Walter felt the hot slickness slide
up into the crease between thigh and pelvis and then down to rasp against the
inside of his inner thigh.  Then it moved downward once more, beneath his balls
and up onto the other side.

As Fox's tongue slid over his balls, Walter began trembling and could not stop.
 Soon Mulder's entire mouth enveloped them, sucking first one and then the
other into his mouth, Walter twitching with the sensation each time.  He tried
to speak but could only moan with rasping breath.  When Mulder drew both into
his mouth - his tongue corkscrewing lazy warm circles around them - Walter
almost threw his hips up off the couch, only to find his thighs pinned by
Mulder's hands with an almost superhuman strength.

When at last Fox released his balls and moved upward, Walter could only lift
his head to stare in stunned disbelief as Fox's mouth slid up the length of his
shaft and over the head of his cock.  His head fell back, arms outstretched and
trailing over the end of the couch, as Fox's mouth enveloped his cock in
velvety warmth.  He was gasping with the pleasure of it as Fox slowly increased
his pace, drawing harder and harder until he was brutally sucking Walter's cock
down his throat with each stroke.  Walter feebly attempted to move his hips
upward, to thrust himself deeper into Mulder's waiting warmness, but they were
held tight by Mulder as if clamped in an iron vise.  Mulder began to move
faster and even faster and Walter could feel his engorged cock brutally ramming
against the back of Mulder's warm throat again and again.  Held helpless,
Walter convulsed with each stroke of Mulder's mouth until he was twitching in
helpless ecstasy, almost unable to draw a breath.  His limbs spasmed uselessly
and he distantly wondered if he was going to have a heart attack.

Just when he was sure he couldn't take another moment of the insane pleasure,
Mulder drew himself smoothly off Walter's cock and climbed to his feet.  Walter
could only lie there insensate, staring stupidly at Mulder as Fox grabbed him
by the wrists and began pulling him to his feet.

"Bedroom.  Now." Fox muttered curtly, dragging Walter towards the bedroom him
on legs that could barely stand.

Walter had a only a second's blurred impression of the rumpled disorder of the
room before Fox shoved him onto the bed and was on him again.  He found himself
on his back, Fox atop him and covering his chest with licks and bites. Fox's
demanding hands suddenly shoved Walter's hands down into the fierce hardness of
Fox's own crotch and around to grasp the smooth roundness of his ass.  Walter
gasped as Fox nimbly slid upward on the bed to shove his chest into Walter's
face and then grabbed him by the back of his neck with one insistent hand,
shoving Walter's mouth tight against one nipple.  Skinner began to tongue the
nipple and Mulder's head arched backward, exposing the slender curve of his
neck as a low feral moan escaped his lips.  He was panting now, his chest
heaving in great gasping pants as he drew Walter's mouth away from his nipple
and planted their lips together, rolling over so that Walter found himself on
top with Mulder in his arms.  And all the while Mulder's frantic hands were
roving desperately over Walter's body as if they meant to sculpt the shape of
it out of clay, the hardness of his biceps, the long muscles of his back and
the tightness of his loins.

Fox kissed him as hungrily as he had when they began, sucking hard to draw
Walter's tongue deep into him.  He grabbed Walter's broad shoulders and lifted
himself off the bed to press their mouths still closer.  Walter broke the kiss
to gasp for air, only to have Mulder grab him by the neck and seal them
together once more until they were both giddy from lack of breath, and Mulder
tore his mouth away.

"Fuck me Walter," he rasped.

At that, all of Walter's misgivings suddenly came to the fore and he drew back
to look Fox in the eye. But all he saw there was a desperate wildness.

"Fuck, me Walter," Fox repeated.  He wrapped his arms tightly around Walter's
neck and clamped his mouth to Walter's ear.

"Come on, Walter," he whispered desperately in a voice like an animal, "fuck
me!  I want to feel you deep inside me.  I want you to take me. Come on, do it.
 Do it."

At the sound of Mulder's throaty voice describing his deepest desires, the last
of Walter's hesitation was drowned by the impossible reality of Fox Mulder here
in his arms and desperately hungry for his touch.  He lowered his lips to
Mulder's and claimed the younger man's mouth as Mulder sucked on his tongue
like a starving man.

With a gasp Mulder broke the kiss and threw one arm out onto the bedside table,
fumbling the top drawer open.  Walter looked inside, blinking back a moment of
startlement at what was sprawled inside the drawer, then hesitantly reached in
to withdraw a simple bottle of lubricant.  He spread a little on one hand,
slipped it between Mulder's legs and then gently but firmly laid it against
Mulder's ass, sliding one finger along the opening.

"Come on, come on," Mulder muttered, his head rolling from side to side, his
body arching up to meet Skinner's hand.  He grabbed Skinner's finger and slid
it all the way into himself with one firm thrust.  He let out a load moan as he
began to shove first the one and then two of Walter's fingers inside himself
repeatedly, impaling himself frantically on Walter's hand.  As Fox's breathing
grew ever ragged and his moans loader, Walter at last extricated his hand from
the vise grip Mulder had on his wrist.  Grabbing the bottle again, he hastily
smeared more lube on his cock which was by now straining towards Mulder's ass
almost of its own accord.

Mulder was thrashing around violently, his hands insistent on Walter's hips as
he tried to thrust Walter into him.  "Shhh," Walter crooned, trying to calm the
younger man with his hands.

That's when Mulder slapped him across the face.  Hard.

"Come on, Walter, fuck me!" Fox demanded.

As Walter stared at him in astonishment, Mulder slapped him again.  The shock
of it swept through Walter, the force of it calling up some answering violent
impulse in himself.  The third blow never landed, as Walter caught Fox's wrist
in mid-strike and pinned it to the bed.

"Yesss," Mulder hissed in satisfaction, as Walter forcefully threw both of
Mulder's legs over his shoulders and roughly pressed him down onto the mattress
with the weight of his body.  When at last Skinner's cock was tight against his
ass, Mulder seemed to relax for a moment, and then suddenly bucked upward
violently, impaling himself on Skinner's hardness.

Walter groaned aloud as he felt himself drawn into the tight warmth of Mulder's
body.  Almost despite himself his body began to move, drawn by some primal
instinct to thrust itself deep into that of the younger man beneath him.  At
first he moved slowly, almost languidly, pushing the full length of himself
slowly and carefully in and out of Fox's willing ass.

Then Fox grabbed Walter behind the neck with both hands and kissed him again
with a savage hunger that surpassed anything Walter had yet experienced, and
all his doubts about hurting the younger man were swept away in the urgent need
to possess the body beneath him.  He began to hammer his cock into Mulder
wildly, bruisingly, his muscles straining as he pummeled his way into Fox's ass
over and over.

Grinning evilly, Fox grabbed Walter's hands and tried to wrap them around his
own throat, causing Walter's full weight to fall on Fox's chest and shoving his
cock in even deeper.  Shaking his head in violent abnegation, Walter instead
pinned Fox's hands to the bed on either side of his head, holding them immobile
which only made Fox's grin get wider.  The sight of Fox Mulder, writhing in
ecstasy like some fallen angel pinned vulnerable and wantonly willing beneath
Walter's hands felt twisted and exciting all at the same time, and in response
he hunkered down and slammed into the younger man's body with a vengeance. Fox
was thrusting his own body upward as he struggled to meet Walter's pelvis with
his own with bruising force again and again and again.

Walter began to growl low in his throat as he felt his orgasm building.  Each
slamming thrust of himself deep into Fox brought him closer to the brink until
at last it washed out of him in a great roaring wave as his hot seed blasted
into the body beneath him, marking it as his own.  Beneath him Mulder thrashed
violently as his own orgasm took him, all restraint gone as he screamed aloud,
his erupting cock showering them both with hot cum.

All at once Skinner became aware of the sweat that coated both their bodies,
and the leaden trembling of muscular exhaustion in his arms and legs.  He slid
himself out of Mulder smoothly, and then rolled off the other man with a groan
and collapsed onto his side, panting heavily.  He stared at Mulder with
something like shock on his face.  At last he found his breath.  "You are one
sick fuck, Mulder, did you know that?"

Mulder rolled over so that they were face to face.  He was indecently relaxed,
indolently stretching his sweat-covered body.  "That's right, Walter."  He
smiled lazily.  "And next time you get your pick of what's in the drawer."


The End