I hate running in bare feet. More importantly, I hate running naked in bare feet. Why did they take my fucking clothes away? Well, that one doctor had a field day when Mulder and Scully insisted I be anally searched for contraband, in their presence no less. "Inability to maintain accountability of suspect custody" my open ass. Apparently. I don't know if it was dumb luck or dumb FBI agents, but I was out of there like a shot from a Glock.

It's now four in the morning, and I don't remember what day it is. They sorta blend into each other. But I do know it's a weekday. After sprinting through a small wooded area that bordered the north and west sides of the hospital, I found myself entering upon a nice, suburban Virginia neighborhood. There wasn't a soul to be seen. This was good for me. Even the streetlights seemed to dim a little more than usual for a family-oriented neighborhood. No one needed to
see my swinging dick as I trotted down the sidewalk.

I recognize this place. I know this neighborhood. It takes a moment to come back to me as I look around. Oh shit. Down Elm, around the right to Cherry and up Willow. And right there, in the middle of Pine stood the split-level domicile of one Walter Sergei Skinner, Assistant Director for the Federal Bureau of Investigations. What did that mean? It meant clothes and a car. And money. And a beer for the road.

Around the back and under the ceramic frog hides the key to the back door. Yes, thank you, Mr. Predictable. Sharon always hid the key there when they were still married, when she was alive. He?d moved in a few months ago, after he left her, but there are still boxes everywhere. You'd think he'd have opened up *some* of them. Nope. Every anally labeled box, with "dishes" and "books-history" and "bathroom decorations" are just fucking sitting there. Asshole.

I pad quietly up the stairs and into the large bedroom and I hear it. Yep, he still snores. When is he gonna move out of the suburbs and into the city? The pollen is killing him. He would sneeze ten times in a row when he and I would meet under the cherry trees on the Mall. I stepped completely into the bedroom and saw him lying there, wrapped in his sheet, but the window was wide open, a breeze blowing his curtains.

The snoring stops immediately. He pretends to roll over and I'm not buying it. Walter, you should know that I know your sleeping habits better than you do. I stayed awake all those nights listening to him, watching him sleep, watching him roll over, mid-snore. No, Walter, I know you're awake. And I know where he keeps his carry weapon, and his service weapon. Neither is close enough to me to make it to them before he would have me pinned, and at least a broken limb in his wake, if I tried. I don't. I just wait. Then he scares the shit out of me.

"Why are you here, Alex?" he grumbles, eyes still closed.

"I need clothes, shoes and a car. And some money."

His hand comes up from under the pillow with the SIG pointed straight at me. Fuck. I'm dead. I know it. He knows it. So why is my cock swelling?

The phone interrupts us. He reaches for his cell that's beside the bed and grumbles, "Skinner. What did you think I was doing at four in the morning, Agent Mulder? Escaped? Where do you think he went? Naked? He can't have gotten far. I want hourly updates. I'll be in my office by seven."

He clicks off the phone. But he doesn't lower the gun. He sits up straight and says, "Why did you escape my agents, Alex?"

I wish I could sigh with relief to show him I know why he called me Alex and not Krycek, but I know I can't. I drop my head. "They made me get an anal exam in front of them. Thinking I was 'obscuring contraband' or some such shit."

"And for that, you ran four miles naked? To me?"

I look back up at him, hoping he can see a gleam in my eye in the dark bedroom. "I came for help. I know you'll help me."

"Why should I?" He stands from the bed and he's completely naked, as I knew he'd be. The gun is still pointed at me.

"What do you want? I'll do anything for you, you know that, don't you?" He stops right in front of me and points the gun at the carpet.

I kneel before him and look up slowly, wetting my lips and leaving them parted as I look up his body. His cock twitches. It's become ingrained in my memory like breathing. Take his cock in my hands, stroke it a bit until he's half hard, then bring it fully erect with my lips and tongue. He stands there, groaning and swaying. He loves this. This is what I am to him, his respite from reality, his secret blowjob. That's all it's ever been, me on my knees sucking him, jerking myself off. I never dared to ask him to take care of me.

My hand slides down to touch myself, but he pulls away from me. His cock slips free with a wet slurp and I just sit and wait, looking up at him. I can feel that my lips are swollen. "Get on the bed," he rasps and points to his bed with his gun.

I don't have to be told twice. I scramble onto the bed and turn to him to see what he wants next.

"Hands and knees." I get up and wait for him, burying my face in his pillow. He smells incredible. God, my cock is ready for anything, whatever he wants. However, it's not my cock he's interested in. I hear the bedside table drawer open and close and the wrapper of a condom is torn open. There's the unmistakable squirt of lube and he's pressing on my ass. He doesn't waste any time.

I try to relax, let him in but it's been so long since I've done this. I'm not a regular slut, not in my line of work. I feel the cold steel on my neck, pressing into my flesh. He flicks off the safety. "Let me in, Alex," is all he says and he slides in to his balls. Oh, God, full, burn, full, like he's trying to make it twice the size. Never had a man this big in me. Oh, and this is the man I've always wanted in me.

He moves quickly, pressing the gun harder into my skin and I don't even notice it. What I do notice is that he leans over me and grabs my cock to stroke it. His mouth latches onto the other side of my neck and he nibbles and sucks. I'll have a mark, right at the seam of my neck. The mark will show when I take my jacket off.

Oh, that hand is so big and strong and warm. He strokes me faster, getting me there, getting me close. I want to hold off for him, let him come first. He thinks of everything. "Come, boy, or I'll blow a hole in your shoulder."

One last thrust in me and I come on the comforter below me, whimpering and whining. He comes right after me, grunting and slamming into me until he completely collapses on me. I hear the thunk of the gun on the carpet and breathe a sigh of relief. I feel his rumble of laughter above me. "Come on, boy, let's go clean up in the bathroom."

He leads me into a very masculine white bathroom with navy accents everywhere. He removes his condom and washes himself, offering me my own washcloth. I clean up and look up at him. His hand caresses my face and he kisses me. Oh, he's only done this once before, kissed me. I kiss him enthusiastically and he pulls away.

"Relax, Alex." I follow him out of the bathroom back to his bed and he goes to his closet. I wait. He goes into a box and pulls out suspiciously familiar clothes. "These are the things you left at your apartment when you cleared out so quickly." He hands me jeans, a t-shirt, shorts, socks and then pulls out my old boots. I smile.

"Get dressed quickly. Knowing Mulder and Scully, they'll be here soon, knocking on my door. You can take Sharon's old car. "

I toss the clothes on the bed and begin to slip into everything. As I'm tying my boots, he hands me a thick envelope. "There's five thousand in small bills there. I've kept it for you. Get going."

Not even a kiss, nor a look back as he walks to his bed and sits on the edge, facing away from me. I turn and go quickly, trying the key in the Lincoln first, then finding it fits into the Taurus. Figures. Well, a car is a car. I check the glove box. A brand new Glock with the numbers filed off. Two extra clips. I love you, Walter.

As I speed away, I keep thinking about the risk Walter took fucking...making love to me. Yeah, that's what it was. At a red light, I check my neck. The hickey is deep purple and huge. I touch it. Thank you, Walter. I'll try and return the favor soon. Thanks for the clean drawers, too.