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

Another Friday at the Hoover. Excitement abounds down here in the basement.
Scully’s getting ready to leave for the weekend; I think she’s going to go
visit her mother. What that really means is that I’m on my own for two whole
days. No one to call and wake up in the middle of the night. The monsters of
this universe (and any others out there) are just going to have to wait until
Monday. Dammit. I know I should get a life outside of this place; man cannot
live by work alone......or something like that.

"Have a nice weekend, Mulder," Scully tells me before she walks out the door,
"do you have any plans?"

"Nope. Not a thing. I’ll probably just work on pulling some of those pencils
out of the ceiling, or something fun like that." She rolls her eyes at me,
and I just give her my best shit-eating grin. Then she says something that
really gets to me....I hope she doesn’t notice the blush creeping across my
face at her next words.

"Why don’t you go upstairs and ask Skinner to join you for a beer or
something after work?" She laughs, and then shakes her head as she walks to
the elevator. My cheeks are burning.

"Ha ha, Scully, VERYYYY funny," I shout at her as she steps into the lift.

"Yeah, Skinner would just love that," I say aloud to no one, tilting my chair
back to study my handiwork in the ceiling above my desk.

"What would I love, Agent Mulder?" A surly growl cuts through the air from
the doorway, and I nearly fall backwards at the sound. I barely catch myself
on the edge of my desk, pulling my chair forward as he walks into my office;
his hands are on his hips, and he appears way too interested in what I just
said. Uh-oh.

"Sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were -" he cuts me off. This is getting
worse by the second. Damn you, Scully. I now have a plan for the weekend;
think of brilliant ways to pay Scully back for this one.

"Well, Mulder, I’m waiting." Yes, that he is. The fluorescent lights are
reflecting off his wirerim lenses, and I can’t even really see his eyes,
although there is the slightest hint of a smirk on his face, if I’m not
mistaken.

"Sir, Scully was just making an off-color remark about my lack of plans for
the weekend, and I was sort of answering her." He looks around my office
briefly, raising an eyebrow as he stares back at me. Shit, I still can’t see
his eyes. Why is that bugging me so much, anyway?

"I don’t see Agent Scully anywhere, Mulder." Goddammit, why can’t he just go
back up to his office and ream someone else’s ass for a change?

"She just left, sir. Oh, gee, look at the time," I glance down at my watch,
"If you’ll excuse me, sir, I have plans for the evening. Have a nice
weekend." I stand up and shrug on my suit coat, waiting for him to leave. He
doesn’t. He’s still staring at me, and since I got up, I can finally see his
eyes. Wow. Why is he looking at me like that?

"Well, have a nice weekend, Agent Mulder. I’ll see you on Monday. You might
want to work on that report you promised me three days ago. One of these
days, we’ll get you trained. Goodbye, Agent." He turns and leaves. That was
odd, to say the least. The way he looked at me....it gave me chills. Yeah,
he’d love to know that, too. HAH! If he only knew where I was going out
tonight; I’ll bet he’d have a coronary. There’s a truth that even Scully
doesn’t know; no one does. I don’t even have it all figured out myself yet,
but I’m working on it. Home to change, and then off to work of a different
sort.

I regard it that way because it is quite a bit of work, realizing that your
sexual preferences aren’t what you thought they were. Talk about an attitude
adjustment. I don’t know if it’s due to my ever growing gay porn collection
or just a natural curiosity - God knows I have a lot of curiosity - but
lately, the sight of my boss in his dress slacks and no jacket has been
giving me a woody that leaves me thankful for the X-File folders that I’m
usually carrying around. Not to leave out those broad shoulders in the crisp
white dress shirts, the oh-so-tasteful ties perfectly knotted around that
thick muscular neck...and speaking of thick and muscular.....shit. Thank God
for my trenchcoat. I swallow hard and head for the elevator, breathing deeply
as I try to lose the erection that my inappropriate thinking has created.

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

I get home and take a hot shower, jerking off as I close my eyes and imagine
Skinner in the shower behind me, his arms enfolding me, his hand sliding up
and down my cock instead of my own. I say his name under my breath as I come,
gasping, leaning my head against the cool tile as I regain my senses. This
has been going on for months now, and it’s been absolutely unbearable. I can
hardly look the man in the eye at all, let alone speak to him. Most of our
meetings as of late have involved Scully doing most of the talking, and I
just sit and nod my head, agreeing with whatever conclusions she has come to.
I’ve caught him looking at me a few times, but I refuse to allow myself to
believe that.......anything.......
could ever be possible with him. I mean, come on. He is the straight as a
board Assistant Director, emphasis on the straight; he’s an ex-Marine with an
ex-wife. Unfortunately, he is the current object of my fantasies as well.
Tonight I’m poised and ready to go ahead with my plan to meet someone and try
to.....do....well, something about my curiosity problem. Maybe it’ll help
with my desires for my boss, as well. I hope so.

It doesn’t take me too long to get ready to go out, so I decide to lie down
for awhile. It’s only about six thirty, and the clubs don’t even begin
picking up until ten or so. Before I know it, I’m out like a light, and once
again I find myself in Skinner’s arms, his tongue sliding in and out of my
mouth, his hands caressing me wherever he can reach. I get down on my knees
in front of him and look up at him as I undo his fly. He’s not wearing any
underwear, and I smile as I take his cock completely into my mouth. I moan
and groan as I slide my lips up and down his shaft, flicking my tongue out as
he thrusts into my face. He’s saying my name, Fox, over and over, and for the
first time in my life, I love the way my name sounds. This goes on and on for
what seems like an eternity, and then he gets down on all fours in front of
me. I know what he wants me to do, but I’ve never done that and I find that
I’m afraid. He keeps telling me that it’s alright because he wants me to, he
wants ME, but I can’t do it. All of a sudden he fades away so I can’t see him
anymore and I’m in some dark room, and now I really am scared. I don’t know
why, but I feel threatened .......I can hear breathing.........and then this
low voice calls me ‘boy’. I hear the sound of a zipper, and then I wake up
screaming, sweating as though I’ve just run a ten mile marathon.

Whoa. Must be my subconscious fucking with me or something. I decide that
another shower is in order, and half an hour later, dressed in a black vinyl
top, black leather pants and boots and my hair suitably spiked, I’m out the
door. Time for this Fox to prowl, I think, smiling a little as I buckle
myself into my car and drive towards downtown. Tonight is my night. I can
feel it.

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

The club is dark and smoky, and I’m feeling a bit self-conscious. I found
this place on the Internet, and it sounded right up my alley while I was safe
in my living room, but now I’m not so sure. Most of these people are wearing
very little and what they do have on is leather or vinyl. I’m sure that if I
were here on business that I would have a field day with the profiles, but I
am here for pleasure. I’m doing my best not to look nervous, but I feel like
everyone is staring at me. Well, I thought I looked good; maybe they do too.
My suspicions are confirmed as I sidle up to the bar and order a screwdriver
on the rocks. I feel a hand on my ass and the lightest kiss is pressed to the
back of my neck as I wait for my drink. I turn around slowly and find myself
looking into the ice-blue eyes of my admirer. He is my height, slight in
build, and has long black hair that falls in waves over his shoulders. He’s
wearing a black patent vinyl vest and pants, replete with knee-high black
boots. He’s.....pretty, I admit to myself, and I smile at him ever so
slightly as I reach for my drink and pay the bartender.

"Hello." There, that wasn’t so hard.

"Mmm, hello yourself," he practically hisses back at me, "I’ve never seen you
here before." He’s staring at me like a starving man looking at a buffet.

"It’s my first time," I tell him coyly, taking a long sip of my drink. Jesus,
this is the strongest fucking screwdriver I’ve ever had...worse than that
time I tried to mix the frozen OJ right into the bottle of no-name brand
vodka.

"Ooooh, a virgin, are you?" He asks, and holds out his hand for me to shake,
"My name is Jason. Jason Fairchild. VERY pleased to meet you, Mr........" I
take my cue, and his hand, and introduce myself.

"Mulder. Just call me.........Mulder. Nice to meet you, Jason. So, do you
come here often?" I quip, and he laughs whole-heartedly at my so-called
brazenness.

"Yes, I’m afraid so," Jason tells me, his gaze never leaving mine, "I’m a
regular. I must say that you are one of the most....beautiful people I’ve
ever seen in here." He smiles at me again and for some reason, he looks like
a shark to me. I suppress a shudder and smile back at him, certain that this
is NOT the man that I came here to meet.

"Thank you, Jason. I appreciate the compliment. Are you always
this...friendly?" I ask him, and he pretends to be bashful, batting his
eyelashes at me.

"Well, not usually, but I figure that for you, I’ll make an exception. Hell,
I’d make all kinds of exceptions for you, Mr. Mulder," he finishes, leaning
towards me with his eyes closed like he’s going to kiss me. Shit, I’m not
ready for this yet. I pull away from him a little and after a moment, his
eyes open again. He looks a little hurt, and I’m wondering if the whole
evening is going to be this way. I take another long sip of my drink, and
enjoy the slight buzz that is beginning in my brain. This man is quite
attractive, but he’s hardly.....I mean......he’s no Walter Skinner, that’s
for sure. Fuck. I was hoping I would be able to keep him out of my mind
tonight; no such luck, I guess.

I think Jason has caught on that I am not into his particular brand of charm,
and he places his hand on my ass once more as he tells me, "Mr. Mulder,
remember me, and remember that I am more than willing to be your indentured
servant if you so desire. Goodbye darling," and he removes his hand, spanks
me once, and leaves, disappearing into the throngs of people on the dance
floor. Dear God, what am I getting myself into?

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

Two screwdrivers and two and a half hours later, I could give a shit less
what I’m getting myself into. I have been on the dance floor all evening,
groping (and being groped by) some of the most attractive men in DC. I’ve
noticed that the crowd has steadily increased all night, and there is
standing room only at the bar, on the dance floor...hell, the entire place is
jam-packed from wall to wall. I start to feel a little dizzy, the heat and
smoke and lack of oxygen finally getting to me; I head for the back of the
bar, and a flashing red ‘EXIT’ sign. They don’t usually flash, do they? I
wonder as I push the door open, and suddenly I’m in a whole new universe. The
scene I’ve left behind is nothing compared to what my eyes are drinking in
now. The Internet didn’t say a damn thing about this.

The walls are covered in blood red velvet. There are couches and chairs
finished in what appears to be the same material, all high-backed and
extremely gothic-looking. Seated upon said couches and chairs are any variety
of scantily-clad young men, necking, some of them even fucking, right out in
the open for anyone to watch. And I do watch, my mouth dropping open at the
initial sight. I’ve never seen anything like this, not even remotely. Not
even in my videos. Jesus.

I know I’m aroused, partly due to the alcohol, but mostly due to watching the
various scenes in front of me. The only thing that comes to mind
is......Walter. I wish he were here. I wish he were here with me, watching
all of this, just so I could see the expression on his face. Would it be one
of revulsion? Shock? My deepest fantasies can see him with pure hunger on his
face, and he would direct that lust at me, fully and inconsequentially. Oh my
God, have I fallen this far in my pursuit of what I believe to be my true
nature? I feel tears come to my eyes as I watch these strangers, and I wish
that only one person were here to share it all with me. He could
never.....would never.....not Walter S. Skinner.

I stand, mouth gaping, watching all the beautiful people make their deepest
dreams and fantasies come true, and the tears burn down my cheeks. I turn to
leave, but suddenly, strong arms close around me. I bury my face in the
stocky shoulder, hurrying to hide my grief, even as a huge hand strokes my
hair. I hear a deep whisper in my ear, "It’s alright. I’ll take care of you.
I know what you need, boy." It can’t be him. There’s no way he could be here,
of all places. No way he could know how much I want him, how much I need him
tonight.

"Follow me," the large man tells me, taking my hand in his, leading me past th
e couches and the couples. I still haven’t looked up at his face, even as he
stops at the bar briefly and orders me another screwdriver. I don’t know who
this is, but he’s taking care of me as though he knows me intimately. I have
no idea how he knows what I’ve been drinking, or what I want, but he knows.
And at this moment, I can no more tell him no than if I were to come face to
face with my darkest fantasy. And I’m afraid I have.

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

The room is dark, and I can’t see a goddamn thing. I only know that I have a
fresh drink and I nurse it until I can’t drink anymore. I place it on the
floor, and try to focus on just where I am. No such luck. It’s so dark that I
can’t see my own hand in front of my face. FUCK. How did I get here, and how
in the hell do I get out? Somehow, I feel that that is no longer an option at
my disposal.

"It’s alright, boy," he growls at me from what sounds like across the room,
"I’m going to give you just what you need. This is what you want, isn’t it?"
He asks in that commanding voice, and I can’t even answer him, I’m so fucking
petrified. "This is why you came here tonight, isn’t it, boy?" His voice is
booming in my head, and I can’t seem to grasp my bearings. In my dreams with
Skinner, this always gave me a raging hard-on; now it only turns me off
beyond any hope of rejuvenation. It’s the wrong voice, the wrong place, the
wrong everything.

"No," I whisper, and I hear an evil laugh, one that sounds as if it has no
mercy, and I’m willing to bet that I’m right.

"Wrong answer, boy," the stranger says, and within seconds, I feel a hand on
my chest, and another on my ass. Squeezing, caressing, pinching. I
want......I want.....Walter. Oh God, what am I doing? I’m with a total
stranger, and he’s calling me ‘boy’, just like in my dream, and.........I
wanted to explore this side of myself, but not like this. Not
without.......not without Walter. I reach up to push him away, and he grabs
my hands.

"Wait," I gasp, and I hear another horrible laugh, and I know now that all of
my choices have been taken away from me. I never should have come into the
red velvet room. I never should have come here at all. I should have done
what Scully said, and asked Skinner out for a drink. Fucking A, it would have
been better than this; anything would be better than this. He pushes me down
into a metal chair of some sort, cuffing my hands behind the back of it.
Suddenly, a candle lights in the room, and I can see my "friend"; he is
wearing a black leather hood that is unzipped across his mouth. I can’t see
anything but his eyes, his nose, and his lips. He is a very large man, built,
bulging muscles.....Skinner, I scream in my mind, oh God, this isn’t what I
wanted....I wanted you.....not......this. Not like this.

The stranger is wearing a leather vest that laces around his chest, and tight
leather pants that show off just how happy he is to have me in his company. I
feel nauseous. He grins at me as I struggle against the cuffs, then he kneels
down and ties my ankles to the front legs of the chair with a length of rope
that he has procured.

"Please," I gasp, my drunkenness slurring my words slightly, "I...this
isn’t...I mean, I didn’t mean to....." and I can’t say anything else because
he’s gagged me. A wooden bar is in between my teeth, fastened to what feels
like rubber wrapped around the back of my head. I start to gag, then swallow
it back down. My eyes are betraying me, tears running down my cheeks in
silent refusal. The stranger could care less. His eyes....I can see his dark
eyes in that mask, and I want to scream. He is not human; he can’t be. He’s
licking his lips, his tongue sticking out a little from the hood he’s wearing
as he gazes down at me. My nightmare has come true.

"You’re so fucking beautiful," he sneers at me, and I begin to cry in
earnest. "Oh baby, don’t cry," he says gently, "I’m going to take such good
care of you," he promises, and I have no doubt that he’s telling the truth.
His hands venture underneath my leather top, pinching my nipples as he bites a
t my neck from behind his hood. I squirm a bit, and he steps back to look at
me.

I close my eyes as he moves towards me once more, this time reaching for my
crotch. I can feel his hand move over my leather-clad cock, and I try to cry
out, but no sound is forthcoming. His fingers dig cruelly into my flesh,
brushing against my scrotum and clutching at my flaccid penis, trying to coax
me to life. There is no reward for him, not there or anywhere else, and I
hear him curse as he steps back from me. For a moment, I think I’ve been
granted a reprieve of sorts. Seconds later, I’m proven miserably incorrect.

"Well boy, it seems that you are suffering from a case of the jitters," he
says, smiling again from beneath that horrible fucking mask. "I do have ways
of fixing that, you know," he says, and he kneels down in front of me. He
unzips my pants and I close my eyes and begin to shake as I feel his hand
reach in and grasp my cock. I literally shrink at his touch, and he lets out
a sharp laugh at my response. I feel violated already, and he’s done nothing
more than get into my pants - so far. He leans forward and his tongue slides
into my ear, the mask’s zipper digging into the side of my face as he
attempts to make me hard.

My shaking turns into trembling and I can feel myself heading towards a major
panic attack when the door to the room is suddenly flung open with a loud
bang. The masked man is on his feet in a heartbeat, at the ready with his
fists up, "Who the fuck are YOU," my captor shouts, walking quickly towards
the now open door, "This is a private party, asshole. Go get your own bitch,"
he yells, and I close my eyes, the realization of what I’ve become all too
clear now. The door is behind me and I can’t see anything; I decide to close
my eyes and hope for the best.......and then I hear the voice. That voice;
the one from my dreams. This can’t be real.

"Excuse me," the deep voice says; it can’t be him. There is no way it could
be him. Not in a million years. Still; I know that voice. Years of hearing it
directed at me make it unmistakeable to my ears, and I feel tears again, only
this time they’re tears of relief.

"This IS my bitch," the new intruder snarls back, and I hear the sound of
flesh hitting flesh, then the sound of a large body hitting the floor, and
then....nothing. I’m immobilized by fear and my bonds, and I can’t turn to
see my savior, whoever he may be; whoever the man is that’s saved me, I’m
his, no doubt about it. Even if it’s not.........

"Mulder," I hear in my ear, and I freeze instantly. It can’t
be...............but it is. It’s............Skinner. "Mulder, can you hear
me? Are you alright?" Holy shit. I shake my head because I can’t speak, and
Skinner cuts the gag off of me within a matter of seconds. He drops it to the
floor and kicks it away with a grunt of disgust. "Are you alright?" He asks
again, and I can’t believe that it’s him, even as I look up at him and my
mouth drops open at his attire. He’s wearing a sheer black mesh tee-shirt
that clings to his gorgeous torso, and black leather pants similar to mine
that put his work suit to shame. He looks completely different without his
glasses, and his dark brown eyes burn into my soul so hotly that I can’t look
at him any longer. I'm so consumed by his gaze that I hardly notice him
removing my cuffs. He asks me again if I'm all right. My only response to
him is to zip up my pants and try to hide the erection I’ve gotten just
from hearing his voice, not to mention taking in his....fashion statement.
I’m humiliated beyond words - and just what IS he doing here, anyway? I
can’t meet his concerned gaze, not moving or looking at him even when he
undoes my cuffs and frees my feet.

"Mulder?" he says, but I can only shake my head, still refusing to look at
him, still refusing to accept that he’s here. My fantasy. The object of my
affections has just saved my proverbial ass, and I can’t even grace him with
the courtesy of eye contact. It fucking figures.

"Come on," he says, holding his hand out to me, "I’m taking you home, Mulder.
We can talk about this later. Or not, if you don’t want to. But let me take
you home." I reach out blindly and take his hand, still not meeting his eyes.
He lets out a sigh of relief and I feel his arm close around my shoulders as
he helps me step over the man in leather, down for the count on the hard tile
floor. I shiver as we exit the room, and he murmurs into my ear that
everything is alright, no one is going to hurt me now. I nod my head and
allow the man of my dreams to lead me out the REAL exit door to his car, and
we sit there for several moments in silence before I finally look over at
him.

"Thank you," I manage to whisper, and he just stares at me, that gaze boring
right through me once again. "I......I didn’t......" I can’t even finish a
sentence right now, and he puts his hand on my thigh to comfort me. All I
feel is a flash of heat from his touch that goes straight to my already
straining cock, and I nearly come in my pants. I jump a little at the contact
and he slowly removes his hand, his eyes never leaving my face. "I found this
place on the Internet," I tell him, looking away from him, out the windshield
at the brick building we’ve just left, "And I thought it would be...fun," I
say, my voice choking with emotion. "I didn’t know, sir, I had no idea
what.....I just wanted......" I stop in frustration and turn back to face
Skinner.

"Call me Walter," he says simply, and then he starts the car and pulls away
from the club, turning in the direction of my apartment.

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

We don’t speak on the way back to my place. Words have failed me more than
once tonight and I have no intention of further alienating myself from
Skinner. Walter. Christ, I just can’t see....ME....calling him ‘Walter’.
Well, up until a half hour ago, I couldn’t see him in that club, either; talk
about bringing in the cavalry. When we do get back to my apartment, he pulls
up to the curb and turns the car off. I look over at him and I swear I feel
myself blush when his eyes meet mine.

"Mulder, do you want to talk about.....anything?" He asks solemnly. He has to
know how I feel about him now. He has to know that I’ve been trying to cover
up a hard-on for him for the last several months, if not the last several
years. There are so many things that I want to say to him, but I can’t. I
don’t know how to do this...this whole....feelings thing. I know that all of
these emotions are playing across my face, and he can see it, because his
look is nothing less than compassionate. God, I want to kiss him. I don’t
want to talk, Walter, but let’s go upstairs and get it on....I’ll call you
Daddy, or I’ll BE your Daddy, if you want me to, I promise. And hey, thanks
for saving my ass before that guy swallowed me whole, by the way. SHIT - pull
yourself together, Fox.

"Um, no, not really, ss--Walter," I stutter, and he just nods at me.

"I understand. Good night then, Mulder." That’s it? He’s just going to let me
go upstairs by myself after all that just happened? I don’t want to be alone!
Please, Walter, read my mind. You must be able to do that; isn’t it a
prerequisite for making Assistant Director?

"Good night," I mutter disappointedly, and I get out and go up the stairs to
my building’s entrance, stopping to watch him pull away and drive into the
night. My knight in shining black leather just rode off into the dark -
alone. Dammit. I go inside and take the elevator up, cursing myself the whole
way to my door as I realize that I didn’t even fucking thank him for storming
in to save my sorry ass, not to mention asking him how in the hell he knew
where to fine me. Sorry indeed - too busy thinking about myself, as usual.

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

I can’t sleep. I wonder idly if it’s the fact that my couch is black leather,
and every time I move it makes a soft swishing sound, just like Skinner’s
pants did as we walked out of the club and got into his car. I close my eyes
and I can only see him, gazing at me with that look on his face, the one that
says, ‘you can trust me, Mulder’. I realize that he’s busted just as much as
I am, showing up at that place. He must have been there before.....how else
would he possibly know how to find me? Jesus, this isn’t helping. My clock
reads 2:30 am, and I am no closer to dozing off now than I was an hour ago
when I walked in. I’m too wound up, too many questions swirling around in my
head. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m up and dressed in jeans and a black
henley. I grab my keys and take the elevator down to my car. I have to see
him; I have to find out the truth, once and for all. The truth about him,
about how he found me, and hopefully, how he feels about me. As I get into my
car, I pray to myself that he doesn’t kill me when I show up at his door in
the middle of the night with a million questions.....and a hard-on. Shit.

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

I’m standing outside his door getting ready to knock twenty minutes later.
God, don’t let him kill me - and please don’t let me get an erection when he
opens the door. I don’t know what would be worse at this point, and then I
decide that the first one would be easier. Okay, here goes. I ring the
doorbell and stand back so he can see me in the peephole. I shove my hands
deep into my pockets, and put on my best forlorn look; I am a master at that
one for sure.

The door opens, and there he is. Whoa. No glasses, no shirt, blue jeans, bare
feet. Even his feet are sexy........think cold thoughts, Mulder, think cold
thoughts - my new mantra is not working, and I feel like running as fast as I
can to get as far away from here as possible. But I don’t. I stand my ground.
Oddly enough, he doesn’t look pissed or surprised to see me.

"Mulder," he murmurs, "I had a feeling you might show up here. Come in," he
grumbles, stepping aside so I can enter his condo.

"Uh, I’m sorry to bother you so late, sir. I.....um....I couldn’t sleep." How
lame can I possibly sound? I won’t blame him if he shoots me, I really won’t.

"S’alright, Mulder. Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee or something?" He
asks as though I’ve dropped by in the middle of the day. I watch his muscles
ripple as he lifts his right arm to rub the top of his scalp, nearly losing
what little control I’ve managed thus far - as far as my hormones are
concerned, that is.

"If it’s no trouble, sir, sure, I’ll take some coffee." He nods and heads
into the kitchen grumbling something that I don’t quite catch. I get up and
go into the kitchen, asking him, "Sir, I didn’t hear what you said as you
left the room."

"I said don’t call me sir, Mulder. You’re here in the middle of the night
because you need someone to talk to. It’s Walter. Please," he finishes, and I
nod at him, mouthing the name that I’ve never been asked to use before now.

"Alright, Walter. Um, I was wondering how....I mean, when.....how did you
know where to find me tonight?" Dear Lord, that was blatant. He turns around,
crosses his arms, and leans back against the counter as the coffee starts to
brew itself noisily. He’s staring at me so intensely that I’m getting that
fight or flight response again. Panicking. Dammit. Deep breaths man, deep
breaths.

"Is that all you want to know, Mulder? How I found you tonight? Not why?"

"Um," is all I manage, and he just shakes his head at me.

"I........went into your office and checked your computer. It was bookmarked
in the toolbar, and I figured it would be.....wise....for me to check up on
you this evening. I’ve had this feeling lately, Mulder. You’ve been acting
sort of....strange around me. Is this why?"

"Is what why, sir - I mean Walter?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I
will not admit to him that I have a crush on him. I can’t possibly tell him
that I’ve been having erotic fantasies about him. He’s my boss, my
confidante, my friend. I suddenly feel like I’m not even in my body anymore,
but floating above the room, hovering as I watch me make a complete and total
ass of myself.

"Mulder, you know damn well what I mean," he says firmly, and he moves away
from the counter and comes closer to where I’m standing. I back up a few
steps, mindful of my encounter earlier this evening, and I instantly curse
myself for being so skittish; it’s not like Skinner’s a stranger to me. Well,
okay, this part of him is, but he’d still never hurt me, of that much I’m
certain.

"Easy, Mulder, I’m just going to get a couple of mugs. Jesus, is there
something else you wanted to discuss?"

"Are you gay, Walter?" I blurt out, and I instantly put my hands over my
mouth and shake my head, wishing that I could take it back immediately. His
eyes widen as he sets the cups down on the counter, turning back to look at
me, folding his arms over his chest again.

"I believe the correct term is homosexual, and no, Mulder, but I have had
certain...curiosities, and I do consider myself at this point in my life to
be decidedly.....bi-curious. And you?" He asks, not so much as surprised at
my question.

I take my hands away from my mouth, which is still gaping, and try to
explain, "I.....I.......I have to go. I’m sorry, sir...I mean, Walter, I
didn’t mean to....I need to go." I turn and bolt from the kitchen, tears in
my eyes at my sheer cowardice and fear of dealing with my own feelings. I
reach for the front door, but a strong hand pushes it closed again. Oh God,
he’s right behind me, and I can feel his heat, and I can smell him, and it’s
better than anything I’ve dreamt or imagined. I’m terrified to turn around; I
can hear his breathing in my ear, and I’m fucking petrified and aroused all
at once. My cock is harder than ever, and I can just barely feel his hip
against mine, and I swear to God if he doesn’t get away from me I’m going to
lose it where I stand.

"Mulder," he says quietly, and I turn around slowly to face him, our noses no
more than a foot apart.

"I’ve been having dreams," I begin shakily, averting my gaze to the floor,
and he places the hand that was on the door on my shoulder, that blaze of
heat going through me again, making me shiver a few times. "I didn’t know
what to do," I say as the tears run down my face, "I thought that if I went
to that club, that I’d be able to...find something.....someone....who would
understand. But that didn’t happen, and I got too hot and drunk, and I saw
that exit sign. I wanted some air, and I thought I’d just step outside, but
it wasn’t......well, you know." I am barely maintaining my dignity as I begin
to cry harder, "And I felt these strong arms around me, and I thought it
was.....I thought it was......." I can’t finish, but I don’t need to.

"You thought it was me," Skinner finishes it for me, and I nod my head at him
as I wipe at my face with the backs of my hands. "Mulder," he says, and he
puts those big muscular arms around me, and I am no longer on this planet.
I’ve never felt so safe and protected as I do at this moment. I don’t want it
to end - not now, not ever - screw anyone who says this is wrong.

"I’m so sorry," I sob against his chest, "I know it’s wrong, but I can’t....I
can’t help it, Walter. I’ve truh-truh-tried, and I can’t stop it." I snivel
and sniffle for several more minutes, and the only thing Walter does is hold
me, stroke my hair, and whisper that it’s all going to be alright. Funny, I
don’t see how anything is possibly going to be alright ever again, but he
seems so....at ease with all of this.

I pull away from him finally, wiping my face off on my sleeve. He snorts at
me, shaking his head as he goes to the kitchen to get our coffee. He comes
back with two mugs, and motions for me to join him on his couch, which I do.
He sits next to me and hands me a cup, smiling at me as he takes a sip.

"Mulder, only you would have me up at three a.m. drinking coffee of all
things." He laughs a little, and I try to smile back, managing something that
(I hope) resembles a grin. He puts his mug down on the coffee table and leans
back against the overstuffed pillows behind him. I take a long drag of my
coffee and set it down next to his, and then I turn to look at him. He’s
absolutely beautiful, golden brown skin, deep brown eyes focused so intently
on me. His chest is rising and falling slowly with each breath he takes, and
I suddenly long to touch him......and before I realize that I’m doing it, I
do lean down and kiss his chest. I feel him stiffen slightly beneath me, and
I flick my tongue out and over his left nipple, then place a gentle kiss
there before I pull back a little to gauge his reaction.

I look up at his face and his eyes are closed, his chest moving a little
faster now. He looks pleased, so I lean towards him once more, this time
moving in to nuzzle at his neck. He groans deep in his throat; I would’ve
missed it entirely if I weren’t right there to hear it, and I begin to kiss
his neck, using my tongue and teeth to nip at the soft flesh. I stay there
for several minutes, working my way up and down his neck, then move around to
his throat, finally ending up in his lap as I attempt to reach the other
side. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer to him; I look into his
face and he opens his eyes as he moves in to kiss me. I nearly faint from
bliss when his lips touch mine, tenatively at first, our eyes still locked
until he deepens the kiss, and I close my eyes and surrender totally to him.

I can feel his erection making a very big impression on my ass, and I smile in
to his mouth at the sensation; my dreams were never this fucking good. He
thrusts up a little from beneath me, and I return the favor by carefully
grinding my ass down into his lap harder, making him gasp with the
pleasurable friction. I give in to my lust by straddling his lap, wrapping my
arms around him fully, our lips and tongues never separating in the process.
We thrust against one another until we’re right on the verge of coming, and
then he pushes me away a little bit, his eyes hooded with desire.

"Mulder," he gasps, "We should take this upstairs."

"Okay, let’s go. NOW," I growl, hopping off of his lap so he can get up. He
chases me up the steps and catches me just as we enter the bedroom, tackling
me onto the king-sized bed, both of us laughing, then we begin making out
again like horny teenagers. Within seconds, he has my shirt off and is
attacking my chest to make up for what I did to him earlier. It feels so
exquisite, his weight resting entirely on me as he ravishes me with his teeth
and tongue. I moan loudly and thrust up against him, struggling to undo my
jeans at the same time. He pushes my hands away and unzips them for me, my
cock springing free immediately. He looks back up to my face to make sure I’m
alright, and I just smile at him and nod - I’ve never felt more alright in my
life. He pulls my jeans off and tosses them on the floor, quickly followed by
his. He looks like a god of some kind, crouched in front of me, his
massive blood-engorged shaft pointing right at me. He crawls back towards me
on all fours, straddling my whole body with his, lowering himself gently on
top of me once we’re face to face, hard cock to hard cock.

"Fox," he whispers, and I don’t even flinch at the sound of my name. It’s
never sounded so good to me before now, and I wrap my arms around him and
whisper, "Walter," into his ear before we start to thrash around together,
hot flesh smacking against hot flesh. He finds my mouth first, and I moan
into him as I feel his prick grazing against mine. The friction is almost too
much, and I gasp at him to slow down; I’m going to come before we even get
started. He listens, slowing down to a delicious continual rub against me.

"Jesus, Walter," I groan, "You feel so fucking good," I tell him, in between
kissing and nipping his lips and neck.

"Yeah," he whispers, "I’ve been waiting for this, Fox, I - unnnhhhh," he
stops in mid-confession as I thrust against him once, hard.

"Fffuck," he hisses, pulling me even closer to him, "harder, do it harder,"
he urges, and I respond by reaching down and taking both of us into my hand,
stroking lightly up and down both of our cocks while I grind into him with
all of my strength. I have no idea where my proficiency in this department
has come from, I’m just doing what feels good, and apparently it’s working
wonders for him as well. His hands slide into my hair and he grabs two
fistfuls of it, thrusting his tongue into my mouth fully as he increases the
friction by moving faster and harder with his hips.

"Ggggod," I stutter, releasing our cocks and allowing Walter to grab my ass
and pull me closer still. I take his buttocks in my hands, amazed at the
firmness there; it turns me on more, if it’s possible. I can feel the
pressure building in my balls, and I whisper in his ear, "I’m gonna come,
Walter, do it harder, faster, please, come on, make ussssss...." I trail off
with a loud moan, and that eggs him on even more.

"Fuck," he gasps against my neck, "Ffffucking yessss," he whispers, and he
thrusts twice more against me, so hard that it almost hurts, but it feels so
fucking good at the same time that the pleasure wins.

"Uuuuunnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhh," he shouts as he shoots, and I’m right behind him.

"Walt," I cry out, coming so hard that I swear the bed is shaking from the
spasms in my cock alone. We grind against each other gently for several more
minutes, catching our breath and revelling in the after-spasms and twitching
until it finally subsides altogether.

"Thank you," I murmur to him, and he smiles and lifts his head from my chest
to look me in the eyes.

"Thank YOU," he replies, and we kiss slowly and thoroughly until we both doze
off from exhaustion. A few hours later, he wakes me up and tells me that we
should shower, which we do. We lie back down and fall asleep in each other’s
arms, sleeping half of the day away, and trying out our oral skills once we
wake up; that pretty much blows the rest of the afternoon, pun definitely
intended.

We don’t discuss Friday night again; I’m pretty sure it’s mostly due to our
mutual attraction, and there’s really nothing more to be said about it. I
feel an inner peace that I haven’t felt in years, and I’m so at ease with
Walter that it makes all of my fears from before seem trivial at best. We
agree that our roles at work will remain unchanged; no quarter drawn, none
given as far as special treatment is concerned. As far as our personal lives
go, though, I think that Walter and I are going to be seeing quite a lot of
each other.

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

Monday morning, Scully comes into the basement office cheerily, brandishing
coffee and muffins for both of us. She hangs up her coat and sits down across
from me, chattering all about her weekend with her mother and how much fun
they had shopping together, and all that girl stuff that mothers and
daughters do.

"So, Mulder, how was your weekend? Did you take my suggestion?" She snorts,
and I miraculously keep a straight face as I reply.

"It was great, Scully. As a matter of fact, I did take your advice. Thank
you. It was a good idea - the surly one and I have come to
an.....understanding of sorts." I laugh out loud as she loses all semblance
of dignity and spits her coffee across her desk. I think to myself how I hope
that the AD and I will be ‘coming’ to all kinds of understandings very, very
soon.



The End.