Title: Warm Thoughts

Author: Grey

Fandom XF

Pairing: Mulder/Skinner

Spoilers: Tunguska

Rating: NC-17, only a little kinky, but enough

Date: May 1, 1999

Website: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dimension/3837/index2.html

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I treat them better than CC does.

Summary: Mulder brings Skinner presents to celebrate his boss's new apartment.


Warm Thoughts
by Grey

Leaning back against the headboard, Walter Skinner closed the file and set it on the bedside table with the others. He squeezed his eyes shut and lifted his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose to clear his thinking. Weariness sanded his eyes, his muscles strained from going through every little detail of the latest forms, each fine point a possible grenade to the X-files. Who needed sleep anyway? He shifted under the covers, drawing his legs up, his body screaming for rest, his mind fuzzy, but too stubborn to give in.

Watchdog Skinner long ago became his title and his full time profession. He could complain all he wanted, rant at Mulder and Scully, terrorize their
budget, harass their devious reporting, but it didn't matter. He'd still guard their safety with his life if need be. He couldn't help it, not anymore, not when he no longer owned his own heart.

The unexpected knock grabbed his attention. Sitting up straight, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his pants still draped over the chair. Bare-chested, he headed downstairs, busy zipping as the annoying banging persisted.

"Who is it?"

A familiar voice sounded through the door. "I need to speak with you, sir."

Shaking his head, he sighed and thought about their agreement not to take any more chances for awhile. So much for Mulder's self-restraint. Swinging the door open, he steeled himself to be both serious and resistant to any persuasive advances. Staring at the handsome young man in his hallway, dressed in a long black coat, his smooth dark hair careless and inviting, he knew damn well it wouldn't be easy. "What do you want, Agent Mulder?"

"I need your authorization to provide a safe house."

Puzzled, nervous at the new game, he asked, "A safe house for whom?"

Keeping his face neutral, Mulder reached over and jerked Krycek by his collar into the doorway. The pale face shadowed by the baseball cap chanced looking up only in quick peeks, the fear obvious.

"This man has information about extreme right wing militia that could save the lives of innocent Americans."

For the first time, the Russian glanced up, his green eyes meeting Skinner's. Damn. His gut tightened with anticipation, the scent of retribution wild and thrilling as his back and arms tensed. It'd been a long time coming, but there he was, the man who'd caused so much grief and damage, the ratbitch Krycek.

"He'll be safe here."

Mulder shoved the smaller man into the darkened apartment, the creak of leather the only sound besides heavy breathing. As he closed the door behind them, Walter tracked the body, using stealth to his advantage. Moving quickly from the side, he threw one solid punch right to the unprepared stomach. The grunt and collapse forward delighted him. The vision of his own ambush, his helplessness and frantic frustration when Krycek stole the MJ tape, played over in his mind. Snatching up the falling form by the collar, his words growled with pure menace, the force powerful behind each word. "Relatively safe." His face right next to the grimacing agent's, he hissed, "We're not even yet, *boy*. That's a start."

He shook the body while he barked to Mulder. "Give me your keys."

Cold metal slapped his open hand as he dragged Krycek outside, the bite of winter bracing his own bare skin. The adrenaline rush warmed him as he threw the body next to the balcony banister and jerked even harder to cuff the right wrist to the top rail.

His voice angry and shaking, Krycek pleaded, "You can't, you can't leave me here. I'll freeze to death." Yanking the arm several times brought Skinner crouching down, face to face, his stare an icy spike.

Seeing the angelic face, the visage so different from the malicious soul of the man he knew as Krycek, Walter taunted with a grim smile. "Just think warm thoughts."

As he stood to leave, he saw Mulder watching the whole interchange from just inside the glass door, his face hungry. Anger shifted to arousal and he stepped inside, leaving the prisoner clanging noisily behind him.

"I thought you'd like that." The self-satisfied tone warmed him as he pulled Mulder closer, their bodies held tightly together.

"What?"

"My house-warming gift. When he showed up at the warehouse tonight, Scully wouldn't let me shoot his ass, so I thought I'd bring him to you." Leaning against him, the sleek body drew all the heat to his crotch, the rage channeled to passion.

"Very thoughtful. Thanks." He buried his face to the side of his neck, right at the shoulder, the strong sweat of the day clouding his thoughts as he locked his hands at the small of Mulder's back. He licked along the skin, salty and rich, so familiar and teasing.

"And that's not all." The sensual voice tickled his ear, alluring like clear water trailing through dust.

"No?"

"No. The second part needs unwrapping." Standing up and moving a few steps away, Mulder took off his coat and tossed it to the side chair, all the time using his other hand to undo his tie. Quickly, Walter joined in the game of stripping Mulder, honing his skills already gained from earlier stolen nights together.

Both men stood in front of the balcony window, naked from the waist up, embracing. Mulder looked over his shoulder and whispered in his ear. "He's watching."

Glancing around, Walter noted the glower from the prisoner, pure hate aimed in his direction. "Son of a bitch."

As he started to close the drapes, Mulder stopped him. "No. Don't."

"What?"

"I want him to watch, to see you fuck me."

His whole body shuddered from the husky words, the passion a flame to his cock, alert and twitching. Breathing harder, his own desire growing, he ran his hand up the younger man's arm, resting on his shoulder. "But why?"

"Because he needs to see who I belong to."

Skimming his cheek against Mulder's, intoxicated by the closeness, he drank in the sweet burn of whisker as he muttered, "And you belong to me? Is that what you're saying, Mulder?"

"You know I do." The whispered promise locked his heart, chained him forever to the man in his arms, the man he loved more than his own life.

He kissed him hard, swallowing the words down quickly. Hard with possession, he hissed as he bit down into tendon, the word barely escaping. "Mine." The raspy sound scraped the air, heavy with passion.

"And I want the son of a bitch to know that."

"I don't understand."

"Ratbitch wants me, always has. He's been sniffing around my ass since he killed Duane Barry. He's the one who's been sending me the receipts for the terrorists."

"No shit?"

"No shit." Mulder rubbed his face back against Walter's, and then dipped his mouth down to lick the side of his neck. The deep shiver tingled his spine as he moaned and exposed more skin to his eager partner. "Like that, sir?"

"Oh, yeah." After a few more moments, he raised his head again and let Mulder take off his glasses, putting them on the nearby table. Walter put his hand on the younger man's chest to hold him off for just a moment. "But I still don't see why you want to do it in front of Krycek."

He took a deep breath and whispered, "To let the poor bastard know what he's up against."

"Ahhh. I get it."

"You most certainly will."

Smiling, he lightly touched his lips to Mulder's again, his tongue braving into the slickness. Tightening his hold behind his neck, he drove forward into his lover, plunging deeper, the mixture of coffee and chocolate washing into his throat. Pulling back, he studied the hazel eyes watching him, the pupils large in the low light. Both humbled and praised by those eyes, he spoke softly, his voice hushed and full of promise. "What do you want, Mulder?"

"I want what I always want. You. Any way you want. As much as you want. Right here. Right now. No lies between us." He shoved his groin into Walter's aching erection, his own arousal hard and bulging. "I want you in me."

"God."

"Yeah, prayers are good, but action works faster."

"Blasphemous bastard."

Tugging at Walter, Mulder sat down on the back of the sofa, his legs spread "I've got stuff in my coat pocket. Get it."

"Who's the boss here?"

"You are, sir. Now go get the stuff before we get too old to use it. It's been fucking ages since you made me promise to behave."

"And a lot of good it did, too." Smiling to himself, Walter turned from the pouting, but unrepentant face, suddenly in a hurry.

"It's been two damn weeks since you moved in, Walter. How the hell long was I supposed to wait?"

"I told you, we need to be more careful."

"Yeah, right. Mulder and careful. That fits."

Before he could turn and argue, his lover begged harder. "Hurry up, Walter. I've missed you so much. Now stop screwing around with my coat pocket and get back over here."

Chuckling to himself, always energized by Mulder's enthusiasm and neediness, he stepped between his thighs, materials in hand. As his lover reached out to unzip him, his hands fumbling, he complained, "God, Mulder, slow down."

"No, sir. I'm on a mission."

"A mission?"

"To uncover the best kept secret in the bureau." The greedy hand enclosed and stroked him through the opening, sending electric surges through his belly. His erection jutted out while Mulder petted and played with it, fondling the balls, holding him like a trophy won after hard competition. "You've got the best cock in the world, Walter. It's fucking gorgeous."

Bending down, Mulder kissed the tip, the heat and slip of tongue over the crown nearly bringing the AD to his knees. Bracing himself the best he could, he groaned as Mulder straightened and supported his body. One hand caressed his face while the other stroked back over his scalp, simple words melting all self-control. "I love you, Walter."

"Jesus, Mulder. You're going to give me a heart attack doing shit like that." Taking a deep breath, meeting the waiting eyes, he smiled back. "I love you, too, Mulder."

"Then show me." With one hand, Mulder drew his belt from Walter's waist and looped it around his neck. Tugging the end through the buckle, he tightened the leather, a black collar of submission, their secret signal. He handed the loose strap over and whispered, "Show me, Walter. You know what I want."

Yes, he knew what his lover wanted, knew from experience the belt meant he wanted it rough, with no tenderness, no words of endearment. Plain fucking, hard and messy. God, and sometimes, against his better judgment, Walter needed that, too. His legs trembled with his own struggle, the battle to control the darkness that he barely leashed inside him.

"Mulder, let's go upstairs. I don't want to hurt you."

"No. Here. I want him to see who owns me, who I trust." He jerked the belt harder, the noose around his neck even more taut, the skin more red. "Please. You know I hate to beg, but I will."

Staring at the starved eyes, Walter shook his head. Holding the belt end in one hand, he caressed the side of his lover's face with the other, his open palm burned from the bristled touch. "You don't have to beg, Fox, ever."

Placing his hand over Walter's, Mulder turned his head and licked his thumb, drew it into his mouth, and then bit down, hard. The pain fired through his hand and he saw the wicked gleam, the invitation undeniable. "Don't call me Fox."

And so it started. "Fox."

"I'm warning you."

"Stop talking and get those pants off. You want me to fuck you, to do it hard, Fox? I can do that, but don't tell me how to do it."

"Sir...," Walter snapped the belt tighter around his neck, cutting off any words of protest.

"No more talking. Get naked. Now."

And the game began as always. Mulder kept his eyes locked with his as he stripped off, his pants draped on the sofa's back. His cock stood up, cut and gleaming, already leaking, his balls heavy in the dark nest of curls. Black pupils got blacker as the younger man stood there, waiting, his face stoney rebellion, but his eyes voracious.

"On your knees, Fox. Do it."

"And if I don't?"

"You want to test me?"

"Maybe. Maybe I want you to do what you did earlier."

Suddenly puzzled, Walter shook his head. "Earlier? What are you talking about?"

"Pretend I'm Krycek. You want to even the score." Before he could argue, Mulder lowered his head. "Hit me, and when I go down, I'll stay down. Even the score, Walter. Fuck me like you own me. Make me pay for ever doubting that, ever thinking that Krycek might have a chance."

"Jesus, Mulder. Are you fucking serious?"

Glancing up again, hazel eyes met his. "You promised I'd never have to explain myself when we played. Don't change the rules now, Walter. I need this."

"Shit."

And before he could stop himself, before he could think too long or too hard about the twisted reasons, Walter delivered the blow to his lover's gut. Dropping to his hands and knees with a loud whoosh of air and a groan, Mulder stayed there, his face down, his ass high and inviting.

"Damn you, Fox."

"I know. Just do it and stop bitching like an old man."

"Fuck you, Mulder."

"I keep trying."

The ache grew heavier, his cock even harder as he kneeled behind the man taunting him, the man who knew how to push every button. Already slick with sweat, he positioned himself, close, but not too close, kneading the globes of his ass, the muscles rounded and firm. Leaning forward, he kissed the skin, nipping and sucking, and moving his tongue to the crease, the earthiness of his action a head rush. Sitting back on his haunches, he added gel to his finger, and then shoved it in the tight hole, the tender ring clenching down at the invasion. "Relax, Fox."

"Can't. Do it harder."

"Shut up and just feel it."

"God." The hiss came as the second finger moved in, the piston action steady, his lover's body rocking counter to his movements. One hand rolled and teased balls and cock while the other pushed digits in harder and harder, soon adding that third finger, the opening wider, but still tense. Breathing in quick pants, Mulder pleaded, "Jesus, please, just do it, before I lose it here."

With his lover's moans as music, Walter grabbed the packet and tore it open, rolling the rubber on efficiently before adding more lubricant. Spooning himself up and over the lean back, he held his cock in place as he eased the crown into the prepared pucker, the flame washing up and through his middle as he entered with a quick shove. Unexpected whimpers came with each firm thrust as Mulder met every motion with a shove back. Pure heat seared his gut, his spine a flash fire, each pump into the narrow channel a squeeze to pleasure, a twist to closer release. Every muscle gripped bone to bending as he reached around to fist his lover's cock, each stroke winding the coil through his middle. Spine bent, brain expanding, his very skull pulsed with thunder, the pounding rhythm even and then uneven, shifting to prolong the pressure. Arching back suddenly, the man in his arms shook, the spasms convulsing his whole body, a hot spill across Walter's hand. Strong arms held the collapsing man up long enough to drive his cock deeper, the flash behind his lids timed with the tapping of every delight, every nerve in his belly and ass firing at once, his own seizures arresting all breathing.

Falling forward, still inside his lover and his arms still embracing Mulder, he rested his sweat-soaked chest on his back.

The words drifted up as his lover mumbled, the complaint slow and easy. "Damn, that hurt so good, Walter."

Kissing the damp neck, he whispered, "God, I love you, you crazy bastard."

"I know."

Untangling himself a little, he lifted his hips enough to move his hand between them. Pulling out slowly, while holding the edge of the condom, he took it off and tied the end before tossing it to the trash. Sighing, his whole body relaxed, he settled down between the spread legs, his weight heavy against the lean figure lying beneath him.

"We've made a mess on your new carpet, Walter."

"Guess it's been christened then." Nuzzling the neck, he enjoyed the calm moment between them.

"Thank you."

He nodded, his brain tired, but still working. "You're welcome, but you know we need to talk about this."

"I know. But not now, and not with the bitch watching."

"Shit." Turning his head, he glanced out to see Krycek's eyes staring at him, full of hatred, his hand finishing the last struggle to push his limp cock back behind the zipper of his tight jeans. "Son of a bitch jerked off."

"Yeah, well, who could blame him?"

"I could. Rotten bastard." The anger swelled his chest, settling in, tainting the satisfaction free floating through him earlier.

The quick laughter surprised him. Mulder twisted and turned over, his body still flushed with excitement and pushed against his own. "Don't think about him. Let's go upstairs and take a shower together."

Kissing the full lips, Walter nodded. "You staying the night?"

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"I've got this hardass for an AD. Besides, I don't want Scully to get suspicious."

Hugging him again, he remained still awhile longer. "Stay, Mulder. At least until morning. I've still got a couple of your suits upstairs. I had them cleaned. She'd never know you didn't go to your place."

"Thanks, but you know I can't. We can't. You know that." The sudden irritation in the voice halted his next words, his invitation to make his new place Mulder's home, too. He hated the reason, hated himself for being too much of a coward to go against common sense.

"I know. I wish it were different."

"Me, too, but for now warm thoughts and hot action will just have to do for the both of us."

And sadly, Walter bent down and kissed the truth, the flesh chalice of his faith warm and consuming, swallowing up his very soul for benediction.



The End