A Taste of Life III - Nightmares and Dreams

Author: Jvantheterrible
Date: February 6th-10th, 2000
Rating: Hello.......NC-17 all the way.
Summary: Scully has been killed in the line of duty, and Skinner and
Mulder 
are left to try and piece themselves back together.
Disclaimer: The characters of the X-Files are the sole property of
Chris 
Carter, 1013/InFront Productions, and Fox TV. No copyright
infringement is 
intended, and no monies are changing hands due to the creation OR
posting of 
this story.
Feedback: Yes please, to Rllnslvr@aol.com. I don’t like flames;
besides..... 
if you don’t like it, why are you on part 3 already? Hmmmm????? :P
Come visit amokeh and me at:
www.angelfire.com/oh3/SkinnerSanctum

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

“Mulder I’m sorry....don’t go....please,” I murmur, and I feel a hand 
stroking my scalp. That can’t be right, because Fox left just a
moment ago. 
He ran out of here and told me to leave him alone, and I’m sitting
on my 
floor crying....but there’s.....wait a minute; then I hear it.

“Sssshhhh, Walter, it’s alright, you just had a bad dream. I’m here,
it’s 
okay,” the voice soothes. What the hell is going on? My eyes open
and I look 
up into Fox Mulder’s concerned face, his hazel eyes watching me
intently. I’m 
not sitting on my floor; I’m in my bed, and Mulder is here.

“Mulder,” I whisper, and I reach up for his hand. He removes his
hand from my 
head and laces his fingers into mine.

“Yeah it’s me, I’m here. Are you alright, Walter? Jesus you scared
me. You 
were crying and I was getting worried; I couldn’t wake you up.” I
blink a few 
times, completely disoriented but happier than anything to see Mulder 
hovering over me. He didn’t leave. More importantly, I didn’t hurt
him. No, 
more importantly he’s still here. I can’t even smile at him, I just
look up 
at him and try to get lost in his eyes. I want to forget that damned
dream, 
and I feel further away from it already just watching Mulder.

“I’m glad that......Mulder, I mean, I’m happy that you’re....” I am
so 
embarassed about my feelings that I can’t even finish my sentence. I
see that 
smile return to his eyes, and I know he understands what I’m trying
to say. I 
just wish I had the balls to say it. He deserves that much, at least.

“I know, Walter. It’s alright. I wouldn’t leave you like that.” He
smiles 
down at me and comes in closer for a kiss, which I gratefully accept
and 
return, despite my shock at waking up to his presence. I was so
certain he 
had left. More frightening still is my reaction to his supposed
absence. I 
have no claim on Fox Mulder; he can leave anytime he wants. I just
hope he 
doesn’t. 

I wrap my arms around him and pull him down to me so that his head
is resting 
just beneath mine, his thin but sturdy frame covering mine
completely. It 
feels so good, this contact with him. It makes me feel alive, makes
me feel 
that I am still capable of........feeling. In fact, there’s
something of mine 
grazing his stomach right this minute, and it feels pretty damn well
alive, 
too.

“Walter,” he says, his voice muffled against my chest, his arms
wrapping 
around my waist as best as he can reach, “are you always this way
after 
you’ve had a bad dream?” He laughs against my bare chest, his tongue
sneaking 
out to steal a lick at my nipple. I shudder at his action, and
thrust my hips 
up against his.

“Not to the best of my knowledge, Mulder,” I reply, smiling. I’m
smiling. Fox 
Mulder is in my arms, thrusting his growing erection against mine,
and I’m 
smiling. Jesus Christ, this is so weird. But I love it. Oh my God. I
love 
him. There it is. And I thought I was scared at my dream. Since when
is 
reality more frightening than nightmares? Since ‘Spooky’ Mulder
insinuated 
himself into my life, that’s when. In the last forty-eight hours,
we’ve gone 
from not speaking at all to becoming lovers. Whoa. Talk about
spooky. And that
’s really not being fair to him; he’s not spooky. Not at all, as far
as I’m 
concerned....and certain parts of my anatomy might agree.

“Uuuunnnnnhhhh, that feels good,” he moans, and I thrust up against
him 
again, my flesh begging to be released from my sweats and allowed to
make 
contact with his. I hold him close, so close that I can feel his
heartbeat 
against my chest; it’s delicious. It’s life-affirming. I like it. I
could 
learn to love it. There’s that word again - the ‘L’ word. 

He reaches down for the string to undo my sweats, and I move
slightly to 
allow him better access. Within seconds he has them down around my
ankles, 
and we’re thrusting our cocks together desperately. I can feel his
flesh like 
molten steel against my own, and I am already tamping down my urge
to come. 

I pull him close to me again so I can partake of his mouth; that
pouty bottom 
lip of his is just begging to be bitten, and I inadvertently draw
blood in my 
haste. I lick him where the tiny wound has opened, and he moans into
my mouth 
as I suck the life out of him, drawing him into me further and
further; I 
want to swallow him whole. He appears to understand as he allows me
to suck 
his lower lip into my mouth and nurse and lick at it.

“So good,” I murmur to him, “You taste so fucking good, Fox, oh my
God,” and 
I’m rendered speechless as our arms pull tighter against one
another, our 
bodies slapping together convulsively.

“Unnnhhh, Walter, yessss,” is all he can manage back, and we
continue the war 
of our limbs until finally we’re as close as we can be without
actually being 
joined. I look up into his eyes, and he looks at me, and it’s
completely 
feral, wild. Something has to give here, because we are both walking
on the 
edge of ecstasy. For me, it’s been over twenty years. Not since I
was in ‘Nam 
have I let a man get this close to me. Somehow, the loss of Scully
feels like 
a war; a war that both Mulder and I were waging - and lost. In a
way, though, 
we won, because we have each other now. Right now, right this
minute. So I 
give in.

“Mulder,” I gasp, “please. I want to feel you in me. NOW,” I add for 
emphasis, and I roll over and reach into the nightstand drawer. I’m
hoping 
it’s still there...it’s been ages since I’ve used it.....voila. My
lube; used 
for Sharon on the nights when she couldn’t quite keep up with me,
and since 
her death, on the nights when I needed an extra......hand. 

“Walter, are you sure? I’m just not....I mean, I don’t -” I cut him
off in 
mid-sentence by reaching out for him and pulling him back to me,
kissing him 
passionately. Our tongues flick over and over one another, and we
begin our 
grinding actions once again. 

“Oh god, Walter, give me a minute,” he gasps, and I chuckle deep in
my throat 
as he twists the top off the tube and squeezes the gel out onto his
hand. He 
spreads a liberal amount over his index and middle fingers and just
looks at 
me. I know what I have to do, and I’m all too ready to comply. My
legs go 
easily over his shoulders, and he slides his fingers into my ass,
gently at 
first, and then more firmly as he pops through the initial tight
ring of 
muscle. 

“Fffuck,” I moan, thrusting against his fingers at the same time
that my body 
is asking me what the hell I am doing, muscles trying to tense up
even as I 
struggle to relax for him. I want to be open to him, completely and
totally, 
and within moments, I have achieved my goal. He is slowly pumping
two fingers 
in and out of me, and I am moaning his name softly, begging him for
more. He 
slides a third finger in, and I know I am not going to be any more
ready than 
I am at this moment. I want him. I need him. In me. Now.

“Nnnow, Fox, please,” I beg him, and I force my eyes to open and
look at him, 
drinking in the sight of him as he prepares me for himself. He looks
so 
beautiful, his muscles all taut and covered in a fine sheen of
sweat, worried 
only about my comfort.

“Yesss,” he gasps, and he uses his left hand to squirt more lube out
and coat 
himself thoroughly while he keeps his right hand’s fingers buried
deep inside 
of me. I watch him as he coats his cock, hurrying to get inside of
me before 
we both explode. He’s ready within seconds, and we gaze into each
others’ 
eyes for a long moment before he places the head of his cock against
my 
entrance. I nod at him, signalling him that I’m ready, and he nods
back as he 
pushes gently forward and into me. I suck my breath in -
exhilaration is the 
only word that comes to mind. He slides fully into me and I close my
eyes as 
I feel him bury himself in me to his balls. 

“Oh my God,” he moans, “oh Christ Walter, so good,” he groans as he
withdraws 
slightly and then proceeds to slide fully back into me. I can only
agree with 
him, nodding my head and whispering,”Yes,” back to him as he moves
inside of 
me. I can feel every beat of his heart inside of me, and I want to
sob with 
the intensity of it. I can only moan his name over and over as he
slides 
slowly in and out of me, my muscles clutching at him with his every
movement.

My legs are over his shoulders and his chest is pressing against
mine, we are 
so close at this moment. I open my eyes again and he’s above me,
glistening, 
beautiful, his expression radiating pure pleasure, and I realize
that I’m the 
reason he looks this way. And he’s the reason I’m feeling this way.
I can’t 
conceal my tears of joy as he thrusts into me harder now, past the
point of 
controlled movement. Our bodies are on autopilot, and there’s no
turning 
back. Our thrusts continue in tandem, and I pull him closer so I can
kiss 
him. He returns my sentiment, and our lips crush together as our
bodies thrum 
with heat and unbridled excitement.

“Oh, God, Walter, I can’t....I can’t stop....please, come......” he
moans 
into my mouth, and I feel him thrust into me fully one more time,
brushing my 
prostate, and then several tiny spasms as he spills into me. Almost
as he 
tells me to come, I’m there, and he’s managed to somehow grab my
cock in his 
hand, his fist giving me the sweet friction I need to shoot all over
both of 
us. I spurt up and over his hand, catching both of our chests as he
fills me 
from below. It’s perfectly synchronized, almost as though it’s been
practiced 
for ages, and we both attempt to catch our breath as our bodies
continue to 
spasm lightly against one another. 

I am lost in him. I want nothing more and nothing less than this
feeling, all 
the time, from now on. Forever, if possible. Fox Mulder. Gifted,
beautiful, 
intelligent, top special agent.....he is a great partner....he
always was to 
Scully...but she’s...and now he’s....Kersh’s agent....oh fucking-A.
What a 
way to come back down to earth. He senses the change in my demeanor
almost 
instantly. Is it the fact that I can’t face him any longer because I
just had 
a slight mental meltdown?

“Walter,” he gasps, still slightly out of breath, “What’s wrong,”
he’s 
looking over at me now, since I’ve turned him over onto his back and
sprawled 
out on my stomach next to him so we can both catch some oxygen, “Are
you 
alright?” I suppose pulling the pillows over my head to escape his
scrutiny 
would be an exercise in futility at this point.

I turn my head away from his, facing the wall as if that will help
me to come 
up with a logical explanation for ignoring him after the scorching
session 
we’ve just had. “I’m fine, Mulder.” Yeah, that was just sooooo 
convincing. 
Perhaps that will ease his pyschologically trained mind. NOT.

“Walter, that’s the same thing Scully used to tell me all the time.
‘I’m 
fine, Mulder’ this, ‘I’m fine, Mulder’ that. Do you know,” he stops
briefly, 
and I can almost hear the emotion building inside of him. I close my
eyes as 
he continues his little trip down memory lane, my insides feeling
like 
they’re going to explode out of me at any moment, ”She even told me
that 
after that bastard Donnie Pfaster kidnapped her. She looked up at me
and 
said, ‘I’m fine, Mulder. I’m fine.’ And then she broke down in my
arms and 
cried like a baby. She cried and she held onto me for dear life, and
I’ve 
never felt as needed by anyone as I did then. Until now.”

Oh my God. Here we go. Is he expecting me to break down in front of
him? I 
feel that there’s been quite enough of that already; I can’t let
myself be 
weak in front of him. He needs me to be strong, doesn’t he? I mean,
I AM 
Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner of the F-B-fucking-I after
all.......I 
am the rock, am I not? No, not now. At the moment I want to take him
into my 
arms and cry against his soft black hair; I want to hold him until
this all 
just goes away. But I can’t. And I won’t. And I don’t. Instead, I do
the only 
thing I’ve ever done; I deny my feelings. I deny the truth, as he
would so 
eloquently put it.

“Fox, I really am fine.” A weak and ineffectual comeback to his 
heart-wrenching confession. I still can’t bring myself to look at
him. I can 
feel him staring at me; I can feel his hazel gaze burning into the
back of my 
neck, silently begging me to look at him if only for a moment, to
validate 
what he is saying - what he is pouring out to me. I don’t know if
it’s my 
guilt over Scully’s death or my foolish pride, but I refuse to look
at him. I 
can hear his breath catch, and I think he’s crying now - or very
close to it. 
Despite my undying urge to comfort him and myself, I refuse to give
in. I 
keep my back to him, and the mattress becomes lighter as he gets up
from the 
bed.

I hear his footsteps as he walks around the room to retrieve his
borrowed 
clothing; I hear him sniffle and try to contain his emotions as he
dresses, 
and I yearn to jump up and go to him. I want to hold him tightly to
me and 
tell him that everything is going to be alright. And I would, if I
truly 
believed that were possible. But I don’t. Not anymore, and I can’t
bear to 
lie to him that way. He deserves the truth for once. A real truth,
not just 
some souped up version of it, doctored and conformed to his beliefs
for his 
own benefit by people that could give a shit less about him. Goddamn
the 
Consortium for making him nothing more than a pawn, and goddamn me
for 
helping them, even if it is my neck at stake. I don’t suppose having
my life 
held in their hands is an admirable excuse, but it’s the only one
I’ve got. 
Jesus Fox, don’t go. Don’t leave me. That is what I want to shout,
to yell at 
him as I hear him preparing to go. Please don’t go. None of those
things come 
out. I lie in my bed and listen to the sound of the only person that
I give a 
good goddamn about, getting ready to walk out on me, and suddenly I
can’t 
take it anymore. 

“Fox.” One word is all it takes to stop him where he stands. He has
his back 
to me and I quickly climb out of bed and go to him, grabbing his
shoulders 
and turning him around to look at me. I keep my hands on his
shoulders in 
case he tries to bolt, but he’s just looking at me with tears
streaming down 
his face, that same broken look he wore the day we buried Scully.
Christ 
almighty. I swallow hard, hearing a clicking in my throat; that
would be the 
lump I’m trying desperately to push back down so I can attempt
something 
closely resembling speech. Amazing that he’s still standing here
after just 
‘Fox’, but here he is. Talk, Walter, talk. You do it all day at
work; you’ve 
managed just fine for 48 years, so let’s go, big man. That’s a funny
thought 
because right now I feel about an inch tall after how I’ve made
Mulder feel. 
I have to fix this. Now.

“I.....Mulder, I’m sorry. I’m not....ready to talk about....this yet
but....I 
didn’t mean to....to hurt you. I apologize,” I nearly choke it out,
and I 
close my eyes momentarily, wondering why I am unable to discuss
anything with 
this man without clenching my jaw so tightly it feels like my teeth
will 
crack. When I open my eyes, Mulder is still staring at me. He’s not
crying 
anymore, though, and his mouth is open slightly; that pouty lower
lip is just 
begging to be kissed....Jesus CHRIST when did I turn into this
insatiable 
monster for Fox Mulder of all people? I can just see the 302  form
for 
that.....’Agent Mulder requests permission to investigate a large,
horny 
beast residing in a townhome in Crystal City.’ Good God; he’s
getting to me 
in more ways than one.

My hands are still gripping his shoulders and he reaches up and
pulls them 
away. I’m not sure if he’s going to turn around and run or haul off
and punch 
me or.......he wraps his arms around my waist and holds me close to
him. I 
didn’t even know that was an option or I would’ve chosen it first.
I’m 
surprised as hell, and I don’t even return his embrace for a moment
as I try 
to take it all in. Finally, when I’m reasonably sure that it’s
alright for me 
to do so, I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his hair. He
smells 
like.....musk and.......sweat.....and sex......and Mulder. And he’s
still 
here.

Several moments later, he pulls away from me a little, just enough
so he can 
see my face. “Walter, I’d ask you if that’s your gun in your pocket,
but 
you’re not wearing any clothes,” he says with a completely straight
face. I 
feel the corners of my mouth twitch, and before I know it, I’m
grinning like 
an idiot. It feels good to smile; it’s been many many days since
I’ve had one 
of those on my face. Maybe Mulder can put a few more there, too.
Only time 
will tell. For now, I’m content to hold him and smile. For now.

End Part III - Nightmares and Dreams