Work Header

Darkness Falls

Work Text:


Darkness Falls by J.D. Rush

Hello Everyone,
I've been working on this baby since the XF episode, Three Words. Mulder and Frohike just made such a cute couple, I couldn't resist. Especially for Goddess Michele, who kept at me to do a Mulder story--hope you enjoy.

TITLE: Darkness Falls
PAIRING: Mulder/Frohike (DON'T LAUGH! I like this pair!)
ARCHIVE: The Basement; others upon request
SUMMARY: Dinner and a movie lead to something else.
RATING: Good ol NC-17 for m/m sexual situations.
DISCLAIMERS: The standard stuff. Fox Mulder and Mel Frohike belong to Chris Carter, FOX, and 1013, but damn, I wouldn't kick either one outta bed for eating crackers, if you know what I mean and I think you do.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Diana for the Skinner info, and the addy for X-Files Canon... This story takes place about three years after 'Avatar'. (And for the record, I have never seen any of these movies--I can't even vouch for their existence.)
SPECIAL THANKS: To my beta and friend, Kylara Ingress. She came through big time for me when I was struck down with a case of writer's impotence, and didn't know how to complete the 'naughty scene'. Her helpful suggestions were greatly appreciated--and I'm sure Mulder and Frohike feel the same way.
FEEDBACK: always welcome and appreciated.
VISIT OUR WEB-PAGE...IT TAKES ALL KINDS: [website address given by author no longer valid -- archivist]

Darkness Falls
By J.D. Rush

"Dancing in the dark, 'til the tune ends,
We're dancing in the dark and it soon ends,
We're waltzing in the wonder of why we're here,
Time hurries by, we're here, and we're gone." 1

The insistent knocking interrupted Special Agent Fox Mulder as he was writing up his latest report on his latest unsolved X-File. (Unsolved to Scully, maybe, but HE knew the truth she refused to see.) He removed his stylish wire-rimmed glasses and dusted off any lint clinging to his maroon turtleneck and faded black jeans. Running his left hand quickly through his hair to brush it into place (though his stubborn bangs fell right back into his face), he bounded across the room. Looking through the peephole, a smile crossed his face. THIS was just what he needed tonight. As he opened the front door to his visitor, the smile grew bigger. "Geez--Friday night already? Guess I lost track of time."

Melvin ('That's Frohike, you punk-ass!') Frohike was standing in the hallway, decked out in his standard Frohike gear: black combat pants, black combat boots, black Henley shirt, black fingerless gloves, black leather jacket. <This was one cat who would never be accused of being a slave to fashion,> thought Mulder. He held plastic take-out bags in each gloved-hand and grinned at the expectant expression on Mulder's face. "Hey, I can come back later if you've got company," he joked with a leer.

"You can't even imagine how glad I am to see your face tonight, Frohike," Mulder laughed as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Shit! If that's true, then your week must've really sucked."

Mulder sighed. "You have no idea. Now, get yer ass in here and I promise not to tell you about it!" He stepped back to allow his friend to enter, relieving him of the larger bag as he passed. Again, Mulder felt a huge smile coming on. He really enjoyed these weekly visits from Frohike, when their busy schedules would permit it. Nothing heavy, no discussions on some grand government conspiracy, no demands on either one for a change--just two old friends sharing dinner and a movie and some companionship. It gave Mulder a chance to forget his endless quest, and simply *be* for a few hours. And he had to admit that this week, after such a trying case, he was even happier than usual to see the familiar face of his close friend.

Frohike, too, enjoyed these evenings together--partly to get away from Langly's constant whining and boasting, but also to have the chance for some quiet 'down time'. (After all, being a journalistic watchdog for all of America could be a daunting task.) There was no question that Mulder was an odd bird, but they got along well together--kindred spirits sharing the same twisted paranoid view of the world. In fact, if he weren't already employed by the F.B.I., Fox Mulder would've made a perfect Gunman.

Then again, with Mulder's track record at work, it was still possible that one day he WOULD become the fourth member of the trio.

However, to Frohike, their Friday night get-togethers were more than just dinner and a movie and a chance to get away from it all. Quite frankly, he found the Fox-man to be, well, a fox, though he hid those thoughts and feelings from everyone. The last thing he wanted to do was scare away the prince by telling him that the frog had the hots for him. So he kept his trap shut, contenting himself with Mulder's friendship, and some very detailed spank fantasies involving the F.B.I.'s troublesome golden boy.

Bringing the bag into the living room, Mulder placed it on the coffee table and untied it, breathing in the spicy aroma that drifted out. "Who's got what here?"

"Kung Pao Chicken is mine. . .Szechuan shrimp is yours," came the answer from the kitchen, where Frohike was already digging two Bud Lights out of the fridge.

Mulder opened his container and inhaled deeply. "Frohike, you are a GOD!"

"So I've been told. . .did they throw in forks?"

"Nah--chopsticks. You okay with that?"

"Yeah, sure." Frohike re-entered the room, and placed the cold brews next to his opened container of Chinese; Mulder had already claimed his and was on the sofa, chowing down as if it was his last meal. He reached over and snagged one of the cans while Frohike took off his coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

"So, what'choo get?" Fox asked around a mouthful of Chinese veggies, pointing to the other take-out bag with his chopsticks.

Digging out the first video box, Frohike answered, "Let's see. . .I got **Star Trek--The Next Penetration**."

Mulder shook his head in the negative. "Saw it already."

His hand reached back in the bag. "**Apollo 13. . .Inches**."

Mulder shot a quick glance down towards his own crotch and shook his head, muttering, "Don't think so. . .that one sounds too depressing."

"It's all done with mirrors anyway," Frohike stated confidently, as he pulled out the next tape. "**The Sopornos**?"

"Hmmm. . .sounds promising," Mulder conceded, as he chewed thoughtfully on a shrimp. "Anything else?"

The last case in the bag was removed. "A classic. **Shindler's Fist**."

Mulder smirked, "You are a sick man, Frohike."

"Takes one to know one, Mulder," the other man shot back. "So, which will it be?"

"Go with **The Sopornos**. I'm curious to see how they've interpreted the character of Big Pussy."

"You got it, guy." Frohike threw the tape in the machine and took his place on the couch next to his friend. For the next hour or so, they sat and watched, ate and watched, critiqued and watched--the Siskel and Ebert of porn flicks.

When the movie came to a close, Frohike commented, "Not bad, not bad. It wasn't quite up to the level of **The Slutty Professor**, but I've seen worse." Leaning over to dig through the bag, he asked, "Okay, which one next?"

Mulder just smiled, mischievously. "Hold on to your hat--I've got a surprise." As he slid off the couch to retrieve a tape that was lying on his desk, Frohike made his way back to the kitchen to grab a couple more beers. He returned to find the tape already in the VCR, and Mulder turning off the lamp on the end table, plunging the room into darkness. Handing off one beer to his friend, Frohike took his seat on the sofa and opened his own can.

"So c'mon, Mulder. . .what is it?"

"You'll see." Bad synthesized disco music blared through the TV speakers as the credits came up. Frohike couldn't help but snicker as the title scrolled across the screen.

"**Muffy, The Vampire Layer**? Mulder, where the hell did you find this?"

"Movie of the month club." When Frohike gave him an incredulous look, he laughed, "One of my co-workers who knows my, ahh, hobby loaned it to me. Said it was a good-un."

"I'm sure he did."

"I never said it was a *he*, " Mulder corrected him, taking a gulp of his beer.

That earned an even more incredulous look. "You got this from a lady?" Frohike paused, then asked, in a low whisper, "Not the luscious Agent Scully by any chance?"

"I never reveal my sources," Mulder said with an enigmatic smile, leaving Frohike to groan in frustration--visions of his red-haired goddess viewing this same tape running through his head.

As they sat there, engrossed in the movie, they both came to the conclusion that the mysterious co-worker had not been lying. It WAS a good-un, very hot, and very dirty. During a particularly nasty scene that took place in a 'graveyard' involving Muffy, two male 'vampires' and a strategically inserted 'stake', Frohike heard Mulder gasp loudly beside him. Turning his head slightly to the left, he could barely see a slight movement as the younger man conspicuously began masturbating through his pants.

Frohike was taken aback. Although not uncommon for either of them to get turned on watching these flicks, they always excused themselves to relieve their pent-up energy in the privacy of the bathroom. This was the first time Frohike could ever remember Mulder doing something so obvious in front of him, and it excited him more than the movie ever would. "You'd have more fun if you let the little guy run free," he suggested.

"Huh?" Mulder seemed startled, then, realizing he had been caught red-handed, he began to blush. He really hadn't intended to get so carried away. It was just the tightness of his pants had gotten unbearable and he was simply trying to lessen the pressure a bit. But the movie was so hot that he just kinda forgot himself for a moment.

"Go ahead. It's just us guys," Frohike told him. "I won't say a word to anyone, and he obviously wants to come out and play."

Mulder laughed, nervously. "I haven't done anything like that since high school," but he was warming up to the idea. It'd be a better release if he could watch the film and be comfortable while he worked instead of scurrying off to the bathroom. And the room WAS pretty dark. And heck, it WAS only Frohike. He had unbuttoned his jeans, and started unzipping them when he asked, "Aren't you going to join me?"

"Nah--unlike you, I have a sense of modesty and self-control." Mulder stuck out his tongue at his friend, and finished unzipping his pants. Reaching into the fly of his boxers, he released his throbbing erection. A few strokes, and he was glad he had taken Frohike's suggestion. A few more strokes, and he had already forgotten he wasn't alone in the room.

Beside him, Frohike pretended to be really into the movie, but he was busy watching Mulder out of the corner of his eye. It was proving to be a more interesting show than the one on the screen. Man, Fox was so damned HOT--certainly better looking than any actor in the film. And nicely hung, too, Frohike couldn't help but notice with a pang of envy. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore, and offered to help his friend out. "Hey, Mulder, could you. . .ahhh. . . use a hand with that?"

Mulder was at a loss for words. Jerking off in front of his friend was one thing, but to actually have his friend jerk him off was something completely different. "Well . . ." he warbled, uncertainly.

"Then it's decided." Before he could lose his nerve, Frohike reached over and began stroking Mulder with an expert grip. Fox opened his mouth to protest, but ended up just groaning instead--loudly.

God, it felt so GOOD! How long had it been since someone touched him like this *there*? Other than himself, that is? Too long--far too long on his own. And Frohike had a nice touch and a wonderful technique, from light feathery caresses to rough, almost-painful jerks, and everything in between; the fingerless leather gloves an added and unexpected thrilling sensation to the young agent. Soon, Mulder was pumping into the talented hand, his penis harder than it had been in ages. "That feels fucking great, Fro," he growled, with feeling.

"I could make it even better, you know." Where the hell was he getting this courage tonight? He had only had two beers. Two LITE beers, for Christ's sake!

"Frohike? What do you. . .?" The rest of the question died on Mulder's lips as his friend leaned across his lap, making his intentions perfectly clear. "Ahhh. . . Frohike. . .?

The older man tilted his head up, and looked Mulder in the eye. "It's all the same in the dark," he whispered, gruffly. "Just pretend I'm Scully."


The younger man chuckled uneasily, "That'll take a LOT of imagination, Frohike. Maybe if you remove your glasses. . ." but didn't argue any further as the smaller man turned back, and began going south on his straining hard-on.

Mulder thought he had died and gone to heaven. Frohike's mouth was so hot and wet around him, teasing and plying the swollen flesh. And, as Fox quickly discovered, the older man certainly knew what he was doing--quite unlike his last male lover, who couldn't quite overcome his aversion to sucking cock and never really learned how to do it right.

No, Frohike was very adept at this, and Mulder puzzled for a moment where he had developed such a talent. But then Frohike did something funky with his tongue, running it along the underside vein and across Mulder's scrotum that drove the young man wild, and all curiosity on the origin of Frohike's oral skills went out the window.

Fox's hand fell on Mel's neck, his fingers slipping around the stubby ponytail they found there, pushing Frohike's mouth further down his engorged prick as he turned his attention back to the movie only to discover he no longer had any interest in it. He then tried to do as his friend instructed and imagine Scully's bright red full lips around his dipstick. . .but it was no use. All he could think of was the fact that one of his closest friends was sucking him off--and it was the best head he'd had in a long time. Frohike was right--it was all the same in the dark. Sex was sex. . . .

So why did it suddenly feel like so much more to Mulder?

When Frohike ran his tongue across the sensitive cock head, licking away the small drop of pre-cum that had pooled there, Mulder gave a yelp, and his hips jerked upwards, shoving himself deeper into his friend's mouth. Frohike could take a hint. Slowly, methodically, he took Mulder's cock down his throat while he gently massaged his friend's heavy balls, and Fox revised his opinion. This was the best head he had gotten--EVER! With Mulder's hand still guiding him, Frohike came up for air, then devoured the tasty treat once more down to the root. The rhythm established, Mulder lost himself in the pleasure, moaning wordlessly as Frohike drove him onwards.

With that kind of treatment, Mulder couldn't hold out for very long. Soon, all too soon, he found himself crying out, "Oh, Jesus! Cumming. . .!" Wanting to finish what he started, but understanding the dangers of doing so, Frohike reluctantly released his treasure and took Mulder in his hand instead, stroking him to completion.

To Fox, it hardly mattered. . .the warm, soft leather was every bit as wondrous as Frohike's mouth had been. Mulder's hips bucked up and down as he cried out his pleasure, his semen spraying out, and puddling on his bare tummy. Frohike caressed the tender spent organ, sure that he'd gotten everything Mulder had to give, before wiping his hand on a handy napkin and returning to his seat on the other end of the couch.

The younger man, meanwhile, crumpled bonelessly into the sofa cushions and gazed over at his friend through heavy-lidded eyes, amazed at what just happened. "God, Fro. . .wow!. . .that was just so. . .you know. . .wow!" He found himself breathless and unable to form a cohesive sentence that would fully express all that he felt. He finally gave up, and simply said, "Thanks. . .I really needed that."

Frohike sat there for a moment, reliving the last few minutes, still tasting Mulder on his tongue, still not believing that after so many years of yearning it had happened so easily. In the morning they could both blame the beer and everything would be okay. And he'd have the memories of his one night with Mulder to keep him company on the long, lonely nights to come. "Hey, glad I could help," he joked, half-heartedly.

"Guess I owe you one, huh?" Fox asked.

God, that was the last thing he wanted. . .for Mulder to think he OWED him something. It had been the most special night Frohike could remember in forever and Fox was doing his best to fuck it up. "No need, Mulder. . .my pleasure." His voice was soft and barely controlled, and he couldn't help feeling suddenly depressed, knowing how one-sided all this was.

"Nonsense. Like you said it's just us guys, right?" He reached over and placed his hand on Frohike's bulge, causing the older man to jump back.

"Mulder. Really. You don't have to." Inside he was screaming at Mulder's touch, and his nonchalant attitude. You don't know, Fox. . .oh GOD, you don't know a fucking thing.

"Hey, Frohike. . .just pretend I'm Scully, remember?" he laughed.

"I'd rather pretend that it's you," Frohike whispered softly.

The comment hung in the air between them as the grunts and screams from the fuck flick echoed in the background. Frohike was scandalized, not believing that he actually voiced his deepest secret. And Mulder. . .Mulder thought he was hearing things. "Frohike. . .?" he asked, cautiously.

Mel knew he had to get away from there before Mulder could guess any more. Standing up, he mumbled, "I better go," and reached for his coat.

Mulder grabbed his arm, and pulled him back onto the couch. "Mel. . .please tell me what's going on here, because I'm starting to think I'm missing some pages to this script."

Frohike gazed at his handsome friend, his eyes filled with despair and unrequited longing, but Mulder couldn't see any of that in the darkened room. The older man looked away, staring at his hands, not wanting to reveal any of his damning thoughts and emotions, but the young man would not be denied. A single index finger lifted Frohike's stubbled chin, and forced him to face Mulder once more. The inquisitive agent found himself leaning forward, trying to read the emotions on his old friend's face, and was stunned by all he found there.

The motions came naturally to Mulder. Sliding his other hand around Frohike's neck, he drew the unresisting man towards him, and brushed his lips lightly against the startled gunman's. Frohike whimpered at the contact, and melted into Mulder's embrace. Pulling him close, Mulder could feel the trembling of his friend's body, as Frohike continued his pointless charade of hiding his true feelings for Fox.

Without another word, Mulder deepened the kiss, probing Frohike's mouth with his tongue as he gently pushed the smaller man backwards into the couch cushions. Frohike could taste the beer and spicy shrimp on Mulder's breath, even as he wrapped his arms around the young man, and ran his hands down to his shapely ass. Mulder's hands, far from idle, managed to slip up and underneath Frohike's shirt, and were busy rubbing over the small, hardening nipples.

As he was crushed to his friend, Mulder couldn't help but feel Frohike's erection burning into his leg and knew what he had to do, what he WANTED to do. Breaking the kiss, he drew back slightly and gulped, "Oh God. . .I'll be right back." He jumped off the couch, pulled his jeans up over his slender hips, and rushed off towards the bathroom.

<Great,> Frohike thought. Figuring it was best just to cut his loses and leave, he stood up and walked over to the chair where he had dropped his coat earlier.

He had one sleeve on when he remembered that it was MULDER who had actually initiated that kiss. And Mulder certainly was the one who continued it, as he had tried to suck out Frohike's fillings. Could it be that maybe Fox felt the same way? <Is it possible that Mulder wants me, too?>

No. Of course not. What the hell was he thinking? Mulder was gorgeous, and he was--well, he was Frohike. <Take a good look in the mirror, Melvin. . .if you can find one that won't break. He'll never feel the same way about you.> No. Better to just go home and forget that he screwed up this friendship but good. He slipped on the other jacket sleeve, and began digging in his pocket for the car keys.

Meanwhile. . .Mulder had managed to wash away most of the semen that covered his belly and now had the medicine cabinet open, rummaging around, desperately trying to find a spare condom and the--AHHH! There's the lube. Damn, it had been so long since he had been with someone he didn't even know if the stuff was still good. Where the hell were the condoms? How long had it been? Not since Skinner had gone back to his wife. My God! That was over THREE years ago! Time sure flew by when you weren't getting your nuts cracked on a regular basis.

Walter. Christ, that one had crushed him. He had really thought Skinner was 'the one', even though Scully had warned him a) don't get involved with someone at work, especially your superior, and b) don't get involved with a married man.

But he was separated, Mulder had argued with her. And he was getting divorced, Mulder argued with himself. As for being his supervisor, well, he just tried not to think about that too much.

Of course, things didn't turn out quite the way Mulder anticipated. Once Sharon was in that car accident, Skinner grew more and more aloof. Guilt isn't the best aphrodisiac in the world, and Walter Skinner was wallowing in the stuff. Mulder saw it coming, knew their days were numbered, but it still hurt the morning his lover chose to go back to his wife. A pain slow to heal, if ever. Having to see him and report to him daily didn't help--all it did was pick at the scab.

<Shit, Mulder!> he reprimanded himself. <Can you get any more maudlin? There's a guy waiting for you in the next room, a guy who's gonna haul your ashes! Get yer head outta your ass and find that condom, dammit!> But he couldn't stop his mind from wandering.

He could have found someone else, he supposed, if he had been so inclined. It's just he found it so hard to connect with anyone in this fucked up world, especially someone who could not only accept his bizarre beliefs and lifestyle, but could also meet up to his stringent standards. Some people couldn't have sex with someone unless they were in love; Mulder couldn't lose himself to the pleasure unless he trusted--REALLY trusted--someone.

Having discovered he couldn't even trust his own parents, he placed more relevance, more faith in the sanctity of trust than any other aspect of a relationship. He found it very hard to trust anyone, but he knew he had to, if only to hold onto his sanity. Over and over, however, that trust was abused and broken, leaving Mulder a broken man. Still, he DID try, and had managed over the years to find a few true friends who helped alleviate the darkness in his soul for a little while.

He trusted Scully--probably would even if she wasn't his partner. She was an exceptional woman, but she had rebuffed his advances for years now. Perhaps it was for the best after all, even though he hated to admit it. They had a great partnership, and nothing could ruin it faster than a failed love affair. (Besides, dealing with one of those at the office was more than enough for him.) Though she was sexy and smart and compassionate without peer, he fought down the constant temptation, content to simply have her friendship in his life.

And he trusted Skinner. The AD could be rather gruff, and perhaps exasperating in his insistence for following the rules. But Walter was a good and fair man--one who had put his own ass on the line for his agents more times than Fox could count. When he and Mulder had become lovers, Skinner had shone another side of himself to the young man, the one that was buttoned-down, relaxed and fun--their 11 months together had been a wild ride, a ride Mulder was sorry to see end.

And he trusted himself, which explained one of the finest porn collections in the state. (Hey, if you couldn't trust your own right hand, huh?)

As for the Gunmen, he trusted all of them. Sure they were a bit left of center, and strange enough to make Mulder look fairly normal, but they were good friends and they had proven themselves invaluable to him over the years. Their information was top-rate, they were always eager to help him out--plus they did a great job of watching his back. Yup, John Byers and Ringo Langly were good eggs. But Mel?

He trusted Melvin Frohike with his life.

AH-HA! He finally found a stray condom behind a bottle of aftershave. Closing the cabinet door, he checked his appearance in the mirror, and ran his fingers through his hair. His bangs fell once more into his eyes, and he heaved a resigned sigh.

What the hell was he doing? He had never thought of Frohike as anything more than a friend. And Mel had certainly never indicated he felt anything more than that towards Mulder. . .until tonight. To his astonishment, the idea didn't freak him out as much as it should. He liked Frohike, trusted Frohike, and dammit, the guy could do some amazing things with his mouth.

<Maybe,> Mulder thought. <Maybe it was time to take a chance again?>

Mulder returned from the bathroom, a happy bounce in his step. "Hey, buddy.. . sorry it took so long." Only as he got closer did he notice Frohike pulling on his coat. "Mel. . .where are you going?"

"I better be heading home," Frohike answered, wearily. "Seeing as you're not feeling well."

"I feel fine. I just couldn't find this." Mulder threw the tube at his startled friend. "I'm assuming you know what to do with it?"

The older man caught the tube on the fly, and stared at it as if it came from another planet. Twirling it between his fingers distractedly, he understood what Mulder was proposing, and it sickened him that his feelings were being made light of. "I'm not into pity fucks, Mulder," he muttered. "Thanks, but no thanks."


By now, the young agent had plopped himself back on the couch and was busy pulling of his sneakers. "Then have pity for *me*. I haven't been laid in over three years."

"So, I'm a convenient means of getting your rocks off now, huh?" Frohike said, with more than a hint of bitterness.

Yanking his jeans off and tossing them on the floor, Mulder answered softly, "If you think that, then you don't know me at all." He leaned back, arms over his head, and sprawled across the couch. His eyes burning into Frohike's, he added, "I trust you, Mel."

A shiver ran through Frohike, as much from looking upon the half-naked image of his sexy friend that was afforded him by the flickering of the TV screen as by Mulder's words. Mel knew how much trust meant to Mulder, and for him to say those words at that moment told Frohike all he needed to know. Two lonely men, bound together by friendship--looking for a little bit of comfort in the dark.

This is what Frohike had wanted for so long, and Mulder was just offering himself up to him. The young man threw his right leg over the back of the couch, opening himself wide as a playful smirk appeared on his attractive face. "Why don't you take off your jacket and stay awhile?" he teased. "And get yer pants, while you're at it."

"Smart ass," Frohike mumbled, but did as requested, shrugging out of his jacket and throwing it back on the chair in the corner. Looking down at Mulder again, stretched out in all his naked glory, Frohike was struck with a sudden attack of self-consciousness. Did he really want to expose his puny body to this man, this ideal man?

"Do you want me to help?" The question wasn't asked sarcastically but tenderly, almost as if Mulder could read Frohike's apprehension. Caring green eyes watched Frohike through long dark lashes, the smirk transforming into a sympathetic smile.

<He wants you, dummy! What the hell are you waiting for?> What indeed! Steeling his nerves, Frohike unfastened his pants and slid them--along with his boxers--over his hips and down to his knees. He never got the chance to remove them, though, as Mulder grabbed a fistful of shirt and pulled him down on top of the couch. Warm lips claimed his as Mulder stole a kiss that stole Frohike's soul.

Frohike luxuriated in the kiss, reveling in all the sensations flowing through him, through Mulder. He took his time, sucking first at his friend's pouty lower lip--indulging in a fantasy he had harbored for as long as he'd known the rogue agent. He grazed it lightly with his teeth, causing some very inhuman-like sounds to issue from the younger man. After a few moments of this sweet torture, Mulder couldn't stand it any longer, and drew Frohike in for another full-contact sloppy tongue kiss.

As the lip-lock continued, the passion between the two men grew. Busy hands were everywhere, and they broke apart just long enough to strip Mulder out of his turtleneck, which went flying across the room. When he had finally divested Frohike of his shirt as well, Fox gave a half-chuckle, half-sigh at the sight that greeted him. "Jesus, Fro--you're a hairy bastard, ain't ya?"

"Complaining?" the other man asked, piqued.

"Not at all." Mulder ran a hand though the silky pelt and sighed deeply. "Mmmm. . .nice," he purred, and crushed Frohike to him, his subsequent kiss taking both their breaths away.

They parted reluctantly, knowing that if they didn't move on, the evening was going to end a lot sooner than either man wanted. Frohike took a minute to remove his pants and boots as Mulder made good use of a small throw pillow, wedging it under his hips to make himself more accessible. Mulder then bent forward to gingerly remove Frohike's glasses and placed them on the end table. It took a couple of minutes for Mel's eyesight to adjust--when it did, he found Mulder looking up at him through half-closed eyes, his face flushed with anticipation and arousal.

Frohike almost lost it on the spot.

Somehow Mel managed to regain his self-control, and quickly got back to the task at hand. He squeezed out a bit of lubricant and warmed it between his fingers. Mulder sighed as Frohike's greased digits skimmed past his anus, one slipping into him painlessly. He moaned low and soft as the single finger stroked him masterly, massaging and stretching him tenderly.

Oh, shit! It had been so long! How had he lived without this? He shifted his hips slightly, urging the finger deeper. Convinced Mulder was enjoying it, Frohike added a second finger, and continued gently preparing Fox for their joining. When he was certain that Mulder was ready--the tip-off being Fox yelling for him to 'stop the bullshit, Melvin, and fuck me already'--Frohike slipped on the condom and coated it with a liberal amount of gel. Leaning in, he placed his cockhead at the dilated entrance, and carefully breached Mulder.

The pain of penetration after so long an absence jolted Mulder; he'd forgotten how agonizing those first few moments could be. But as he felt Frohike's hardness sink deep within him, felt his balls come to rest against his ass, felt his tongue plunder his mouth once more, the whole situation totally overwhelmed the Mulder, and the pain was soon forgotten.

When he was sheathed entirely, Frohike leaned down and began nuzzling Mulder's neck. His stubbly cheek tickled Mulder's skin, and his lips were hot against the young man's shoulder. Fox closed his eyes and sighed as he melted into the sensation, his fingers scraping lazy patterns along Frohike's back. Once Mulder had adjusted to the bulk within him, he wrapped his long legs around Mel's waist and they started to fuck.

Frohike took his time, wanting to enjoy this for as long as possible. He gently rocked in and out, his hips rotating and pistoning, slowly, expertly, sending Fox into a tailspin. So long. So good. Never this good. And as their pleasure mounted, Mulder discovered once again the truth of Frohike's earlier words--in the dark, with his eyes closed, Frohike could be any man Fox wanted him to be. He could be Skinner. He could be Sean Connery or Harrison Ford or even Tom Cruise. He could be any one of a dozen pro athletes that Mulder had drooled over in the past. And yet, as the minutes passed, Mulder came to realize something. . . .

Once more he was envisioning Frohike.

He looked up to see Mel staring down at him, his unbespectacled hazel eyes raking up and down Fox's body, taking in every inch of him. Mulder couldn't help but feel special under the intense scrutiny. And sexy. And desirable. Reaching up, he cupped Frohike's face, and with a smile, pulled him in for a sensual French kiss.

It was all too much for Fox Mulder, as he let himself be carried away by the sensations sweeping over him. Between the beard stubble, the abundantly hairy chest, the smell of beer breath and faded aftershave, Mulder knew he was getting fucked by a real man. It made him even harder, if that was possible, and he bucked himself against Frohike, trying to drive even more of Mel's cock deep within him. Strong hands, encased in supple kidskin, gripped tightly to Mulder's hips to hold the squirming man still as Frohike plunged into him. Fox groaned deliriously, awash in a wave of desire and lust unlike any he had felt in a year of Sundays; arching his back, he tried to increase the contact, wanting more, needing more of Frohike.

With his subtle message not getting through, Mulder decided it was time to be more direct. Sliding his legs along Frohike's back, he was able to nudge Mel in the ass with his feet. "C'mon, Fro, give me all ya got!" he commanded, breathlessly.

Well, Melvin Frohike was not the type of man who needed to be told twice. The kiss had nearly brought him over the edge, and seeing the object of his desire lying there so wantonly--open, needing, trusting--made him wonder if this was really happening, or just some porn-induced dream.

Whatever it was, Frohike wanted to make it good--for them both. Clenching his eyes tightly, he concentrated on giving Fox Mulder the ride of a lifetime. He thrust in deep, deep, as hard and as deep as he could go, slamming Mulder into the couch cushions with the force. Fox just growled as a result, and uttered a strangled, "Oh, God--like that! So good! Mo-o-o-r-r-e!" making Frohike try even harder to reach that place. And when he did, skyrockets went off, and Mulder hit a high C.

They were both nearing the end. The rhythmic thrusting, the head of Frohike's prick battering Mulder's prostate with regularity, the erotic sounds of lusty moans and skin slapping on slick skin, the smell of sex filling the room, soon had Fox's orgasm starting in the center of his body, a spark glowing white hot and gaining momentum as it passed through every fiber of his being. He began panting helplessly and writhing under Frohike, pushing his hips up to meet the increasingly frantic thrusts.

Mulder was so close--just needed a little extra boost. He allowed his right hand to creep down, and grasped himself, a sob of agonized pleasure spilling from his lips. Hearing the sound, Frohike's eyes flew open, panicked that he had hurt Mulder somehow. But nothing was wrong--Fox's head was thrown back on the arm of the couch, his cries of passion echoing in the room as his hand pumped his cock in quick, frenzied strokes.

The sight was the final straw for Frohike, and with one last thrust, his orgasm hit. Mulder, all but sobbing in his need, watched his friend in the throes of ecstasy; knowing he was the one responsible for Frohike's pleasure, he gave one last tug on his cock and came in his own a burst of glory. A few more grunts and it was over as Frohike collapsed on top of the sated young man. Mulder relished the feel of lying beneath Frohike's sweaty spent body as they both tried to regain their bearings, and he wrapped his arms contentedly around the smaller man.

But the afterglow couldn't last forever--there were things that needed to be done. After just a few moments of bliss, Frohike pulled back and silently withdrew from his willing partner--much to Mulder's disappointment. Fox knew it was pointless to wear a condom otherwise, but it was still a loss he hated to experience. Noticing how messy and sticky he himself was, Mulder rolled over and grabbed a few napkins from the coffee table to try to clean up a bit.

As Frohike leaned over to throw away the condom in a nearby trashcan, he couldn't help but think about what he had said earlier, and knew that he had lied. It WASN'T all the same in the dark. Even now, as they approached that awkward 'after sex' stage where they had to have 'the talk' of what this all meant (if anything), he could still see Mulder in his mind's eye as he willingly gave up his body, his emotions, his trust. Endless lonely nights with just his vivid imagination for company, and now his favorite fantasy had come true.

It was rather overwhelming for Frohike, a man who wasn't used to getting what he wanted in life. He had wanted Mulder for so long--had ALWAYS wanted Mulder--and now, he was really here, and Frohike began to tremble, his insides like jelly, his world upside down.

Mulder gazed at the other man on the couch through sex-dazed eyes waiting for Frohike to join him for some after sex snuggles, but Mel continued to sit by himself, staring into space. Even in the faint light of the TV static--the forgotten movie having long since run out--he could see the pensive look on his friend's face. It was possible that Frohike was regretting what happened, but Mulder doubted that. After all, Mel was the one who began the seduction with his incredible blowjob--all Mulder did was finish what his friend had started.

He waited another minute before deciding that the mountain was going to have to go to Muhammad this time around. After shutting down the TV (the static was starting to give him a headache) he inched his way along the couch until he reached Frohike and slumped against his still over-heated body. "You know, it's not polite to fuck and run, Melvin," he scolded playfully, and wrapped his arms around the startled man. "I require a minimum of 15 minutes post-coital cuddling."

Mulder's joshing did the trick, and got Frohike chuckling, easing the discomfort that had descended around them. "I'll remember that," he replied, wrapping his own arms around Fox and holding him tight.

"See that you do," Mulder murmured, planting a kiss on Frohike's shoulder. "I don't want to have to remind you next time."

"Next time?" Frohike asked, cautiously.

Bright green eyes pierced the semi-darkness as Mulder beseeched, "Please tell me there's going to be a next time, Mel. Or I may be forced to hurt you." Squeezing Frohike's softened member just enough to get his message across, he added with a teasing growl, "And I know how to hide the body. Just remember that."

Oh God, this was too good to be true, more than Frohike could have ever dreamed. Not only was Mulder here, snuggling against him after the best sex he had had in years (heck, maybe ever), but the man of his dreams was actually demanding a repeat performance. If this was some porn-induced hallucination, Frohike hoped he'd never wake up. "Are you sure?" he whispered, uncertainly.

Mulder shifted a bit in Frohike's grasp, trying to get even closer than the laws of physics allowed, and explained, "Well, I'm sure I liked what happened here tonight. And I'm pretty sure we can't go back to just being friends again. And I'm VERY sure that I'd like to try this with the lights on."

"You really ARE kinky, Mulder," Frohike commented with a nervous chuckle. Darkness was his friend--it hid a multitude of sins.

Mulder sensed the sudden tension in his friend's body, and knew he had to defuse it. Placing a tender baby kiss on Frohike's lips, Mulder crooned, "What can I say? Kinky is my middle name."

"I thought it was William," Frohike corrected.

"Nope. I lied on my F.B.I. application," Mulder deadpanned.

By now, Frohike's hand had landed in Mulder's hair, his fingers unconsciously running through the silky strands as he murmured, "Fox Kinky Mulder. It's got a nice ring to it."

Mulder all but melted into Frohike's caresses. Laying a path of kisses along Frohike's collarbone, Fox asked, quietly, "So--same time? Next week? I'll even spring for the pizza."

Frohike smirked. "Anchovies?"

Mulder tilted his head upwards, his smiling lips almost touching Frohike's, and whispered, huskily, "Anything you want, Mel."

Tempting fate, Frohike sighed, "It's a date, Fox," before surrendering to Mulder's demanding kisses.

"Looking for the light of a new love, To brighten up the night, I have you love, And we can face the music together, Dancing in the dark" 1

The End

Song-ology: 1) Dancing in the Dark by Dietz and Schwartz; performed by Frank Sinatra.

Archived: August 25, 2001