Creep

As I made my way along the hallway I slowed and listened intently to the noises that came from within the adjoining apartment. I could hear the pair of them laughing through the thin walls. I paused outside of the door and pressed my ear against it, trying to fathom their actions. The laughter subsided to silence with the odd groan and as I edged the spare key into the lock my ears took everything they could get. I pushed the door open and looked around before stepping in, and on the tips of my toes, I made my way into the lounge.

I located the noises coming from the bathroom upstairs and made my way to the kitchen, taking in the fresh smell of coffee on my way. Once inside the kitchen I took in the surroundings; they had not been here long. Skinner's jacket was hung over the kitchen door, Mulder's cell phone balanced precariously by the sink. I picked it up and looked at the display, one missed call. Above me I could hear water against flesh, against the tiles. There was no constant to the pattern, they were moving around.

I walked upstairs with a silence often beyond me, but this was different; it was a necessary evil. The bedroom door was ajar and I entered. Clothes shed in a frenzied moment were strewn over the floor and across the bed, the whereabouts of each telling the pattern of discard. I looked out the door to the bathroom door ajar and to the two naked men in the shower.

I'm a creep.

I pulled at the leather armchair by the window and rolled it into the doorway, kicking their strewn clothes behind the wheels so that it would not move once I sat down. I slid my leather jacket off and placed it on the bed then rubbed at the erection in my jeans. It had started as soon as I heard them and had taken little time to reach fullness. I unbuckled my belt and slid my jeans and boxers down. The cool surge of clammy leather on skin stole my breath momentarily, but I was quiet. I was restrained. I lifted my legs and wedged my feet on either side of the wooden doorframe; both limbs extended fully, pushing back.

Ahead of me the water drenched them both. It soaked their skin as Mulder pushed his hands against the tiles and his sumptuous cheeks back against the straining erection that probed into him. Skinner's strokes alternated between surging invasions and tender forays, and as he brought Mulder close with his hand wrapped round his cock, he would quickly remove it and slow down. He always was the control freak.

My gaze fixated upon them as I wrapped my fingers around my own cock and allowed myself slow sufficient movements, keeping in time with Skinner as his bare flesh danced before me.

I'm a weirdo.

Mulder's face was tormented; he turned his head frequently, straining a look at Skinner, each and every time he did so, Skinner slowed. Mulder urged him with those hazel eyes that have melted me so many times. But tonight was different. Tonight those eyes belonged to Skinner; they were in his control, at his beck and call. Mulder took a hand from the wall and grabbed at Skinners buttocks, pulling him in, needing him more. With each grasp, Skinner would slow teasingly, and only when Mulder's frustrations subsided would he start up again. My own rhythms matched theirs, beat for beat, and I struggled to contain myself each time I caught Mulder's profile and his hand coming back.

What the hell am I doing here?

Each muscle in Skinner's back rippled as he moved back and forth, taking breaths on each entry that were audible from where I sat. He held Mulder around the stomach with one hand, pulling his body close, accentuating each thrust, and teased him as he caressed the younger man's cock in time with his movements, then moved it to his shoulders. He never gave a warning; he worked on sense alone, feeling each movement of the body before him as it responded to his touch. I paused, and slowed down, all too aware that my chest was rising and falling with rapidity that would soon be heard. And as I did so, Mulder brought his own head back and pleaded for conclusion, only to be denied once more as Skinner slowed up.

I don't belong here.

As Mulder's body writhed with pleasure, he pushed both hands against the wall once more, his moist palms sliding against the tiles. He pushed back in an attempt to impale himself wholly on the teasing attentions that Skinner gave him. As he did so, Skinner obliged pushing hard into the bare flesh before him with a repetition that quickened progressively. He took Mulder's cock in his own hands once more, and as they worked together, I sat silently and matched them beat for beat. Their throats emitted noises that vibrated through my body and as they neared climax I closed my eyes and listened to each nuance, each movement. My muscles tightened, and as I came, the blinding flash that crossed my mind was matched by the sound of both men experiencing the same euphoria. As my breathing slowed, I opened my eyes a little and through the lashes, saw Skinner massaging Mulder's back, pushing him forward slightly as he withdrew. Their tanned flesh holding muscle against bone, each with their own defining features that I really didn't deserve to see.

You're just like an angel,
your skin makes me cry.
You float like a feather,
in a beautiful world

As they showered, they laughed and talked in quiet tones and all the while I sat motionless, my hand around my now flaccid cock, admiring their naked beauty with semen now drying on my chest and navel. And still I watched each movement in awe.

You're so fucking special.
I wish I was special.

As Skinner wrapped a towel around his waist and came out of the bathroom door, he froze when he caught sight of me astride the leather chair. Our eyes locked and I stole a smile, and as Mulder appeared behind him, I looked deep into those hazel eyes and wondered when their keeper would be mine to control again.

"Alex, you're home," Skinner smiled, and as Mulder edged past him, he pushed the chair back into the bedroom, taking me along for the ride.

"Alex," he said, " You should have joined us."

I smiled and looked down at my chest, at the evidence of my inclusion in their event.

"Alex," Mulder continued, and as he lifted me onto the bed and pushed me onto my stomach, Skinner started running his fingers along the small of my back, fleeting briefly over the tender skin at my entrance. I turned my head back in silence and smiled at them both. I knew that the evening was just beginning.

Whatever makes you happy,
Whatever you want
You're so fucking special.
I wish I was special.