by Josan
Not just passably drunk, but deeply, incredibly drunk.
He had gone out with a couple of buddies from the Marines and had matched
them story for story, beer for beer, memory for memory,
scotch for scotch. He had left standing upright on his two legs, was poured out
of the taxi at 3 a.m. barely sensible.
Not wanting to wake anyone, he laboriously unlocked the front door, quietly
took his shoes off, tiptoed in. He had some trouble hanging
up his jacket; he couldn't seem to be able to hook the hanger back onto the
rack, so he let both fall to the floor of the closet.
Out of consideration, he was careful not to turn on any light, remembered to
pass over the creaking seventh step. Once in the hallway he
pretended he was a cat and walked "on little cat feet" to the bedroom.
So the fact that the light came on before he got there confused him a bit.
Then the sight of Mulder at one bedroom door, and Krycek at the
other only served to surprise him.
"Hi, guys. Are you having problems sleeping?"
Now, Skinner drunk was a bipolar personality. On one hand, he usually only
got quieter and quieter until he either fell asleep or, if the right
button was pushed at the wrong time, could empty out a bar. On the other, very
rare, hand, he got happy. Very happy. Exuberantly happy.
Like tonight.
Mulder and Krycek exchanged glances. The quiet drunk Skinner was easy enough
to handle. You either let him sleep it off where ever it
was he'd fallen asleep, or you dragged him out of the bar, carefully avoiding
his fists. He was always very apologetic the next day if he hit
you. Not that it helped much with the pain, but it was the thought that
counted.
But a happy drunk Skinner was a problem. He didn't want to sleep. He didn't
want to fight. He just didn't want to do anything you wanted
him to. It was very wearing dealing with him in this mood.
"A bit hard to sleep through all the noise," muttered Krycek. He had been
awakened by the sound of Skinner saying goodnight to his pals
who were still in the cab on their way back to their hotel. True, he was a
light sleeper, but he was sure there were going to be some dark
looks from the neighbours in the morning. He had grabbed his sweats while
trying to remember how they had handled Skinner last time he
had gotten "happy".
Mulder had dozed off while reading. He was always worried about Skinner
whenever he and his Nam buddies got together. Usually he
was depressed for the next couple of days. But the mutterings and curses (most
of them thankfully in the Russian he had picked up from
Krycek, in pursuit of his roots) had roused Mulder up quickly enough. Like
Krycek, he too was wondering how to deal with this Skinner
persona. He'd fallen asleep wearing his shorts and t shirt, so he had lain
there in bed, wondering if maybe hitting Skinner over the head
would be an acceptable way of dealing with him.
The sound of first one boot then the other hitting the hallway wall told him
that acceptable or not, it would certainly make things a lot
easier. The door slamming shut got him out of bed. "Damn! Shit!" he growled.
Krycek was already at the door of his bedroom when Mulder appeared at the
door of the room he shared with Skinner. Krycek preferred
sleeping alone most of the time. He often had nightmares and would rather deal
with them by himself. If they got too bad, he would slip
into bed next to Skinner who would pull him against his chest, comforting him.
The two men shared sighs as they listened to Skinner's mutterings about the
closet that wouldn't stop weaving long enough for him to hang
up his jacket. "Well, then," boomed a voice, "if that's the way you want to be
about it, see if I give a shit!"
Krycek scratched his stomach listening to Skinner make his way up the
stairs, lurching into the railing, bumping into the wall. Loudly
counting the stairs so that he wouldn't put his weight on the seventh and "wake
everyone up."
Mulder gave a small groan. Wondered why Skinner had suddenly begun "meowing"
as he made his way across the hall.
"Did you have a good time, Walter?" he asked, hoping that maybe by talking
about the evening, Skinner would unwind.
Skinner smiled, a great big happy smile. "Yes. Thank you for asking."
"Where did you go?" Krycek was willing to try anything. If Mulder thought
making him talk was going to help, he was all for it.
"To a bar. A really nice bar." Skinner was so pleased that his boys were
interested in his evening. Usually they didn't ask him much about
his get—togethers with his war buddies. "Way at the other end of town." He
accompanied this with a gesture of the hand that nearly
toppled him back down the stairs. Both of his "boys" made a grab for him.
"Ah," he beamed at them, "I missed you too." And grabbed both of them in a
bear hug.
Having only one arm actually saved Krycek from the sense of being crushed.
While Mulder tried to squirm, breathless, out of Skinner's
loving grasp, Krycek had slipped out of it because he had no left arm by which
Skinner could grab him.
Still, now Mulder needed rescuing. "Do you need to go to the bathroom,
Walt?"
Thinking about that, Skinner released his hold on Mulder enough for him to
escape. "No. Thank you. I went at the bar. Did I tell you
about the bar?" Krycek pulled Mulder out of Skinner's reach, was pounding him
on the back to help him catch his breath.
"No, you didn't. What kind of bar was it, Walter?" Maybe with a bit of luck
they could get him into the bedroom and into bed. Once he fell
asleep, he would be out for the count.
To their astonishment Skinner turned beet red and...giggled?
"What?" Krycek ignored Mulder who was finally breathing normally. "Walt?
Just where did you and your pals go tonight?"
Skinner's face got a silly grin. He looked almost shyly at them, as if
partly embarrassed, partly pleased with himself.
Mulder and Krycek exchanged raised eyebrows. What the hell had he been up
to?
Mulder carefully approached Skinner, ready to jump back at any sign of
affection from the bigger man. "Walter." He used the tone of
voice his mother used whenever she wanted him to confess to something. "Do you
have something you would like to tell us?"
Skinner rocked on the balls of his feet, the sappy grin still on his face.
He began humming loudly to himself.
Krycek tried to get Skinner to talk. He used his very best menacing tone.
"Walt. Where. Did. You. Go."
"We went to a strip joint."
Mulder knew that this was not the whole story. "And?" His mother would have
been proud of him. He had the parental inquisition tone
down pat.
"Turned out it was women's night." He continued rocking back and forth on
his feet. Smiling in a pleased way.
Krycek caught on first. "They had male strippers."
Mulder was stunned to find he was shocked. Their Skinner had gone to a male
strip club? With a couple of other Marines? Shit! You let
the man go out for an evening of military reminisces and a bunch of Marines end
up at a male strip show? Just what the hell was going on?
Krycek relaxed against the banister newel. "So, it was a good show? You guys
had a good time?"
"Well, the guys didn't want to stay but we couldn't get out, it was so
packed. And then the women began buying us drinks, so the guys
decided to stay. The show was great. All those women whooping and hollering.
The guys up on stage were pretty good."
Mulder was not pleased, either with Skinner's obvious enjoyment of the
evening's entertainment or with his own reaction. Shit, he was not
Skinner's parent so why did he feel he should be scolding him?
Krycek's grin was almost as wide as Skinner's. "So, Walt, did you learn
anything?"
Skinner cocked his head to one side, took his lower lip between his teeth
and thought a moment. "Yes. Would you like to see?"
Krycek's "Sure." collided with Mulder's "What!"
"Why don't we do this in the bedroom?" offered Krycek, narrowing his eyes at
Mulder who quickly agreed. He was going to have to
discuss this disapproving-parent routine with Mulder in the morning.
Considering their unorthodox family arrangement, there was no need
for any negativity in this relationship.
Skinner was quite content with Krycek's suggestion. "Why don't you and Fox
get comfortable on the bed, and I'll show you."
Krycek shoved Mulder into the bedroom and towards the bed. "Sounds good to
me." He glared at Mulder who, finally getting the
message, smiled sheepishly at Krycek.
"Sorry, don't know what came over me," he whispered as he and Krycek piled
pillows up against the headboard. They settled next to each
other on the big bed.
Skinner stood looking at his two lovers, realizing just how lucky he was to
have found two men who were willing to take the chance of
loving him, of satisfying his need to protect, to care, to comfort. And when
they shared his bed, well...
In his mind he heard the music from the show, a bluesy number that he began
humming and sort of vocalizing aloud. He closed his eyes,
trying to remember how the stripper had begun his dance.
On the bed, Krycek grinned at Mulder as they watched Skinner, eyes closed,
lost in his own world, begin first grumbling then humming in
a fairly tuneful baritone.
Slowly, his body picked up the rhythm. Swayed a bit back and forth.
Skinner slowly began stroking up and down the side of his body. Those big
hands spread out to come around the front, slowly work their
way up to his upper chest, and back down to his hips. All the time, he was
quietly humming a tune, more and more confidently until he felt
that he had remembered it properly and began vocalizing more loudly.
A big grin spread across Skinner's face. He was on stage and was ready to
show "what he had learned."
He stood, his two feet a bit more than shoulder width apart, shifting first
onto one foot, a double beat, then onto the other foot. Swaying, his
hands roving, caressing his body through his clothes.
His hands went to his belt. Unbuckled it and slowly drew it out of the
loops, one hand holding the buckle, the other against the clasp of his
jeans, letting the leather slip sensuously over the palm.
Childhood living is easy to do
He made a loop with the belt and slowly drew it up along his other arm,
across his chest. Tossed it over his head. It landed on top of one of
the dressers, knocking over something with a small "crash".
Mulder swallowed a snicker, avoided looking at the grinning Krycek who had
recognized the tune if not the words. Skinner was no Mick,
but he certainly had some of the moves.
The things you wanted
Eyes still closed, hips swaying, Skinner began playing with the buttons on
his shirt, slowly opening them, one by one.
I got them for you
To the beat, he pulled the shirt out of his jeans. Caressing his body with
whichever hand was free at the time. He seemed to remember a
move the dancer had used to shrug the shirt off his shoulders, a sort of
thrust. So he tried to duplicate it. A pushing out with his chest at the
same time as his shoulders snapped back.
It might have been more successful had he not been so drunk. The shirt did
slip off his shoulders, but he had forgotten to unbutton the
cuffs so that now the shirt was caught at his wrists.
Mulder slouched more against the pillows, head close to Krycek's shoulder,
getting into the spirit of the event. Krycek's grin grew so that
he resembled a raunchy angel. Both men avoided each other's eyes. Laughing out
loud might bring Skinner out of his world and this show
was too good to miss.
Graceless lady you know who I am
Hands still bond by sleeves moved to caress Skinner's chest. They crossed
over his collarbone, fingertips stroking down to nipples.
Fingers spayed over pecs while middle and ring fingers teased the nubs to
hardness, nails gently scratching. Up to collarbone again, and
back down to now erect nipples.
You know I can't let you
Just the tip of his fingers traced his pecs, raked through the greying chest
hair, following that trail down to navel. Skimming across
abdomen to make muscles twitch.
slide through my hands
Skinner became aware of the weight that caught at his wrists. He opened his
eyes enough to realize the cause. He gave a bit of a tug, trying
to pull the sleeves off, but the cuffs stayed the material. This had not
happened to the dancer. He had to do something about this.
He brought one wrist up to his mouth and bit at the button, spat it out. It
barely missed Krycek's head. He did the same to the other cuff.
Mulder ducked just in time. Skinner whipped the shirt off, twirled it once over
his head and let it go. It landed on the laughing men.
Unencumbered, Skinner's hands mapped the front of his body, his ribs, as
hips began gyrating in a more definite manner.
Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Now, both Mulder and Krycek knew the words and added their voices to
Skinner's. He smiled at the men, happy they were enjoying
themselves.
Wild horses couldn't drag me away
But Skinner added a bit more to the chorus. "From you." And looked at both
his lovers as he sang it. Then he closed his eyes and went on.
But the younger men faltered, suddenly more aware of each other and the man
standing at the foot of the bed, doing his own strip show,
just for them. Their smiles became more tender, less amused.
Skinner was having trouble remembering the words to the second verse. He
filled those lapses with a variety of dum-dums, dahs.
I watched you dum-dum a dum-dum dah pain
His hands went to the button fly on his jeans, opened two of them between
skimming the tight skin of his abdomen. Then he took a breath
and slipped his two hands, palms down, under the waistband of his jeans and
shorts, stroking his groin. Back and forth. As his hips moved
in time with his hands and the beat of the song.
Now you've decided
That wasn't the only thing that was moving. The bulge under the material was
slowly expanding. And the placement of his hands only drew
the watching eyes to the movement.
dum-dum dum-dum
Krycek watched the line of muscle from collarbone, down shoulder, arm work
together for the motion of those fingers caught under the
denim. It was one of his favourite lines on Skinner's body. Those muscles which
had once caused him such pain, and now offered comfort
and pleasure. Protection.
Mulder took his lower lip under his teeth. Skinner's thumbs were circling
closer and closer to his cock which was responding as expected.
So was his.
No sweeping exits or offstage lines
Skinner pulled his hands out to deal with the last of the buttons. He
slipped them under at the sides, moving back to his groin where he
teased himself a bit, then circled his hipbones before moving to his ass.
Krycek's hand found its way to Mulder's crotch, to ist own hardening bulge.
Squeezed gently. Mulder's soft "Oh!" encouraged a harder
touch.
Mulder turned his head slightly so his mouth caressed Krycek's shoulder.
Nipped the skin and then licked the slight marking.
Can make me feel bitter
Skinner was really getting into the feel of this thing. Hands gripping his
ass, he rolled his hips forward with a sharp twist; his rampant cock
jutted out of his shorts.
or treat you unkind
He leaned over, hips still counting the beat, and began pushing down his
jeans and shorts, his hands moving from back, across, to the
inside of his thighs. His head came up, also bobbing in time.
Wild horses
Skinner grinned happily at first one then the other of his lovers. All three
sang the chorus together, with Skinner's modification.
couldn't drag me away from you
Mulder rested his head against Krycek's, who turned and licked the other
man's cheekbone.
Wild horses couldn't drag me away from you
Skinner's hands had managed to drag his jeans and shorts down to his knees.
But now he was stuck. And he wasn't quite sure what to do
about it. So he just leaned over further, pushed his ass up higher in the air
and shuffled around in a tight circle. His whole body grooving
along with his
I know I dreamed you a dum and a dah
Mulder and Krycek were paying more attention to each other. Hands were
exploring, mouths beginning to get into play. Out of the corner
of his eye, Mulder realized that Skinner had gotten tangled in his jeans and
was tilting over. He pulled away from Krycek, quickly
knee-walked his way to the foot of the bed, laughing. It took Krycek a moment
to catch on before he joined him just in time before Skinner
completely lost his balance.
I have dum dum dum
They each grabbed an arm and tugged Skinner onto the bed where he landed on
his back. The motion untangled his hands from the
material and he happily lay there while the two men finished undressing him.
Mulder pulled off one sock and tossed it; Krycek, the other.
Slowly they drew down the jeans and shorts, grinning and laughing. There was a
small tug-of-war over which way they were going to be
tossed, but in silent agreement they just let go at the same time and the jeans
dropped onto the floor by the door though the shorts were
later found on the stairs.
But I don't have much time
All this time, Skinner lay on the bed, hands above his head, hips pushing
upward in rhythm with his singing. Krycek reached over him and
tugged Mulder's t shirt over his head. Mulder leaned over to make the task
easier, pulling on the drawstring of Krycek's sweats now slung
low on his hips.
Faith has been dah dah, dum dum be cried
Krycek tossed the shirt and the action caused his soft sweats to slip to his
knees, releasing his hardened cock. He ignored Mulder's "Nice,"
and tried to shove Mulder's shorts down. Mulder's erection was a hindrance.
Let's do some living, after we die
Skinner grabbed both men. Large, blunt fingers skimmed down across their
backs, then fastened in cracks, hauling the aroused men down
to him. Krycek landed on Skinner's chest, Mulder on top of him.
Wild horses, couldn't drag me away from you
The three men sang the last chorus loudly, at the top of their lungs,
laughing.
Skinner, eyes filled with the love he felt, stroked his men, his big hands
gentle on their faces. Softly he finished the song.
"Wild horses couldn't drag me away from you." He passed his mouth over
Krycek's. "Or you." He pulled Mulder down for a kiss.
There was a pause. Mulder and Krycek met each other's eyes, nodded once, and
pounced.
kinner was drunk.
Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday
