Friends and Lovers II: Third Wheels
Friends and Lovers II: Third Wheels
by J D Rush
Title: Friends and Lovers II: Third Wheels
Author: J.D. Rush
Feeback: yes, please! Webpage: http://itak.slashcity.net/
Pairing: Langly/Skinner; L/O; Sk/O
Rating: NC-17 for language and explicit m/m and m/m/f sexual situations
Spoiler: Takes place during the sixth season before 'Triangle' and 'SR-819'; numerous references to the first five seasons and a minor one from the movie, Fight the Future.
Disclaimer: Sorry. I refuse to write one. 1013 threw these characters away-they belong to US now.
Summary: The second of the 'Friends and Lovers Trilogy'; sequel to "It Was a Very Good Year". What was Langly doing while Frohike and Byers celebrated their anniversary?
Author's Note: Never expected this to turn into a trilogy, or else I would have paid more attention to detail in the first story. Oh, well--I've made my bed, now I have lots of people sleeping in it.
Second Author's Note: Both of the 'theories' proposed by Langly in this story were borrowed once again by Richard Belzer's fantabulous book, "JFK, UFO'S and Elvis". I've said it once, I'll say it again: READ THIS BOOK! You won't be disappointed.
Third Author's Note: The documentary the Lone Gunmen are watching is strictly a figment of my imagination. Don't try to find it. It doesn't exist. No malice or libel to Mr. Hamill is to be inferred.
Special Thanks: To Shamrock, who came through with a great beta on short notice and under very trying circumstances. I can never thank you enough, honey! And to Kylara, for loaning her beta talents for the last section of the story.
Dedication: This is a birthday gift to the one and only Goddess Michele, who's immortal phrase, "Walter coming is a beautiful thing," still causes my tummy to flutter, and will continue to inspire me for a long time.
By J.D. Rush
APRIL 19, 1997
<Oh, man. What a day! Walking into the basement office and seeing--no, get that image right out of your head, Walter. Forget you ever saw your two favorite agents, half-naked, lying across Mulder's desk. . .
You're not doing a good job of forgetting, Walt.
A drink. That's what I need. A drink. Or three. Maybe then I can forget the forbidden, tantalizing image of delicious Dana's shapely legs spread wide while Mulder--handsome, exasperating, sexy Mulder--leaned over her, his trim hips thrusting against hers, their mingled moans of ecstasy. . .
Oh, yeah--you're doing a GREAT job of forgetting that scene, you old dog.
I think there's a bar just down the end of this street. Jake's, if I recall. Yeah, there it is. I'll just park the car and grab a couple of drinks.
I could barely see when I walked into the dimly lit sports bar. It was still rather empty due to the early hour, but being Saturday night, it was a sure bet that later on the place would be hopping. Some hockey game was blaring from the dozen or so TV's situated around the room as I made my way up to the bar and put in my order--scotch, straight, on the rocks. The bartender placed my drink in front of me, and I was reaching into my pants pocket for my wallet when I heard, "Hey, Skinman--how's it hangin'?"
I almost dropped my wallet as I turned to my left, where the unexpected familiar voice had originated. "Langly, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me Skinman?" I growled.
"About as many times as you have to tell Frohike not to call you Walt," he replied with a grin. The bartender tapped the counter impatiently, so I paid him for the drink, then sat down next to Mulder's friend.
<Mulder. SHIT! I was hoping to forget about him tonight.>
Trying to make conversation, and hoping to avoid the inevitable topic of our mutual associate, I asked, "Speaking of Frohike, where is he? And Byers, for that matter?"
Langly's grin disappeared and he mumbled into his mug of beer, "Well, Byers and Frohike. . .it's their anniversary, so I had to make myself scarce."
"Oh." What could I say? I had heard that the elder members of the Gunmen were. . .involved. . .but hear Langly say it so matter-of-factly, and so--forlornly--threw me for a loop.
"What about you?" he inquired, after taking a gulp of Rolling Rock. "What are you doing in this part of town?"
"Just driving around," I answered vaguely, not wanting to admit the truth to him--or to anyone, for that matter. "No real destination. Had a bad day. Mulder and Scully. . ." I shivered at the memory of Mulder and Scully, startled out of their coupling when I barged through their office door like a bull in a china shop. I could still see their looks of horror at my finding them in such a compromising position, but I'm pretty sure my embarrassment was nothing compared to theirs. And I immediately feared that the fragile trust we had been forging these past few years had been permanently destroyed.
As they had struggled to make themselves presentable once more, I quickly assured them I would not rat them out, but also warned them to use a bit more discretion in the future. "Next time, it may not be a friend who finds out your secret, but an enemy," I reminded them, sternly. AD speech complete, I hightailed it out of there before I started to drool--or tore off my clothes and joined them.
But who could blame them, really? Two gorgeous people all alone in that dark, romantic, empty basement on a Saturday afternoon? I wouldn't have been able to keep my hands to myself, either. Hell, I wouldn't kick either one of them out of bed. And maybe that was the problem--they were together, and I was left out in the cold. With that insight, I swallowed my drink in one go and gestured for another one. Something told me I was going to need it.
"Are they okay?" Langly squeaked. "Nothing happened to them, did it?" Only then did it occur to me I never finished my thought about his friends. Poor guy must've been thinking the worse.
"No, no, they're fine," I rushed to reassure the young man. "It's just I. . .well, I. . .I caught them in a delicate situation that I really shouldn't talk about."
"Oh," was all he said, then, perhaps noticing that my cheeks, ears, Christ, even my dome had turned beet red, he repeated with clearer understanding, "OH!" It was obvious from his reaction that he hadn't known about Mulder and Scully's secretive relationship. He took another sip of his beer then groused, "Sucks when your friends are in a relationship and you're not, huh?"
"Sucks big time," I concurred. He finished his beer, and as the bartender approached with my drink, I bought him another one.
"Thanks," he said when the new beer was placed in front of him.
"You buy the next round," I told him, shrugging my overcoat off, folding it, and placing it on the stool beside me.
"Sounds like a plan." For a while that was the end of our conversation. He nursed his beer while I sipped at my drink, the edge of desperation and anxiety that I had when I first entered the bar now gone. It was a friendly kind of silence, until Langly broke it. Heaving a huge sigh, he admitted, "I'm glad for them, Skinner."
"Who, Mulder and Scully?"
"No, Fro and Byers. I'm really happy THEY'RE happy, you know? It's just when I see the two of them together I can't help feeling like, I don't know. . ."
"Like you're a third wheel," I supplied for him, knowing the feeling all too well.
He nodded his head in agreement, "Yeah, that's it exactly. I almost wish. . ."
"Like you could join in," I finished, again knowing the feeling all too well.
At that, he just stared at me with those serious owl eyes of his, an almost paranoid look on his face that I was able to read his mind. "Yeah. How did you know?" he asked, slowly.
I gave him an inscrutable smile. "I just know."
He nodded once in understanding, his lips quirking in a half-smile of his own. After that, conversation once again died out, as we sat there analyzing our own feelings and absorbing what the other had said without saying anything. Langly was into guys? I never knew. But then again, until today, I didn't know about Mulder and Scully, either. We quietly finished our drinks, and he honored our deal by asking, "What were you drinking. . .ahhh. . .?" his voice trailing off at the end, unsure how to address me.
"Scotch, straight, rocks. And it's Walter."
A big smile. Not one of Langly's sarcastic smirks but a real smile, complete with dimples. It made him look young and innocent and cute. <Cute? Did I just think THAT about Langly?> "Cool! And you can call me Ringo," he stated, and I realized that, in spite of all the time I'd known him, I didn't know his nickname--or indeed, that he even had one. He handed the money to our bartender from his old beat-up nylon wallet and turned to me, beer in hand. "A toast. To third wheels."
"May they someday find wheels of their own," I added, and clinked his glass.
I don't even know how long we stayed in the bar after that--an hour, maybe two. A couple more rounds of drinks interspersed with interesting, companionable conversation. Certainly not the way I ever imagined spending a Saturday night--sitting in a downtown bar talking to 'Ringo' Langly of all people. But it was nice. HE was nice. And funny. And smart. And so goddamn cute. Not Mulder handsome, but. . .well. . .cute. <Why the hell haven't I ever seen this side of him before?>
At some point in his theory of why NASA destroyed its own probes to Mars to hide evidence of Martian civilizations (one that almost made some of Mulder's theories sound sane) I got shoved by a guy reaching for his drink at the bar. I looked around and noticed it had gotten VERY crowded--oppressively crowded. I hate crowds. "Hey, Ringo, wanna go someplace quiet?" You know how sometimes you speak before your brain is fully in gear? Well, this was one of those times.
He stopped his rambling for a second to look around himself. "When the hell did THIS happen?" he asked, clearly as surprised as I was.
"Don't know. Probably during your rant about FEMA and their detention camps," I chuckled. The boy was just full of whacked conspiracy ideas. Now I knew where Mulder got them from!
"Sure, laugh now. But you won't be laughing when your ass is being hauled off to one of them." He drained the rest of his beer then teased, "So, your place or mine?"
<A come-on? From LANGLY? How much did he have to drink? How much did I? And why does this situation intrigue me as much as it does?> Figuring I'd play along to see what he had in mind, I commented, "Well, since your place is occupied. . ."
"Your place it is," he grinned, a twinkle in his gray-green eyes, and I discovered I liked the idea A LOT.
I polished off my drink and grabbed my car keys. "Let's go."
<How the hell did this happen? One minute I'm minding my own business, drowning my sorrows and wallowing in lonely self-pity at the first bar I could track down--shit, I had to be desperate to be in a fucking SPORTS bar!-- and the next thing I know I'm in a fancy-smancy luxury car on my way back to Walter Skinner's condo.
I literally have to pinch myself to see if I'm still awake.
Because let's face facts--Skinner is a hunk. A major fucking hunk. Old? Well, I always thought old guys were pretty cool. Bald? Who cares? He's a total stud. And I'm going back to his place for some hot sweaty sex, if everything goes right.
I pinch myself a second time, just to be sure.
This isn't exactly how I scripted the evening when Frohike kicked me out of the Warehouse earlier, and if I'm going to be honest, I'd rather be with him and John, but that isn't likely to happen anytime soon. And I'm not delusional enough to think this is anything but a one-nighter for Skinner, either. It's obvious there are some serious unresolved issues between him and Mulder and Scully. So, for the time being, we're just two 'third wheels', looking for some companionship.
And what's so bad about that?>
When we got to Skinner's condo, he opened the door and allowed me to go in first. As he closed the door behind us, he turned on the lights but kept them dim, almost romantic. Taking in the expansive living room, I couldn't stop myself from letting out a low whistle.
"Something wrong?" he asked, concerned.
"No, just admiring the place. Nice digs, big guy," I told him, quite impressed.
"Thanks. Your tax dollars at work."
"Yeah, if I PAID taxes," I snorted.
"Something tells me I don't want to know," he deadpanned, as his hand ran down my neck, casually, seductively, and I couldn't stop the little moan that escaped my throat. I turned to face him, finding his eyes dark and curious. He seemed bemused, as if this were new to him. Or maybe it was just me. I mean, I'm pretty sure this wasn't what Skinner had in mind when he walked into that bar. He reached out once more and ran his fingers gently through my hair. "This is nice," he whispered, in that rich, deep voice of his. "So silky. . . so sexy."
I liked when people appreciate my hair--maybe that's why I kept it. "Mmmm," I purred, as I melted into his caresses. "You're kinda sexy yourself," I whispered back, then shyly looked away. <Did I really just say that to Skinner? Since when do I have a death wish?>
Don't know if he liked the shy-boy act or not, but he cupped my chin tenderly and tilted my face up towards him. Next thing I knew, his lips were pressing against mine, hesitantly, as if unsure this was where the evening should be going. I quickly shattered his doubts by returning the kiss enthusiastically, pushing my tongue eagerly past his lips. His hands slide down to cup my ass through my jeans as he pulled me tightly to him, rubbing his growing erection against my own. A low groan sounded--from him? from me?--as his mouth crushed mine, hungry and demanding.
With one final squeeze of my butt cheeks, he went about making quick work of my leather jacket, even as the kiss deepened further. Getting into the swing of things, I slid Skinner's trench coat off those amazingly broad shoulders; it was soon followed by his suit jacket, both of which puddled to the floor, unnoticed. He then all but ripped my Green Day T-shirt right off me as I struggled with his tie and starched shirt. They all found their way onto the floor with the rest of the clothes. Finally, we were both bare-chested and free to continue necking in his entryway, but he took that moment to slam on the breaks and pull out of my clinch. He looked down at me, his impossibly dark brown eyes heavy-lidded with lust. <Man, is he hot!> "Wait, Ringo," he fairly begged.
"What?" <Fuck, don't even tell me he's changed his mind!>
But no, it wasn't anything as horrific as that. "Bedroom," he commanded in a low rumble. I didn't need to be told twice.
I bowed in jest. "Lead the way, Skinman." And indeed he did, grabbing my hand and practically hauling me up the stairs to his private domain.
Once there, he took a moment to carefully remove my glasses, and placed them on the nightstand; his soon joined them. That accomplished, he strode back to where I was standing, already shaking with anticipation. He grabbed me roughly around the waist with his right arm, drew me in tightly, and captured my mouth with his. I whimpered as his tongue swept past mine, stirring my blood to a fevered pitch, and my body hummed with pleasure as I rocked within his embrace.
After a wild game of tonsil hockey, I dragged my mouth away from his, and began to lay a trail of kisses down his body, his incredible, to-die-for body. Damn, this was one guy who kept himself in shape. I could hear his breathing quicken as I licked past his erect nipples, through the soft fur of his hairy chest, and down his washboard stomach. Reaching the waistband of his pants, I had no choice but to undo the belt and rid him of the bothersome things. They slid down his muscular legs, revealing snow-white Jockeys, not to mention a more than generous bulge.
Without a moment's hesitation, I looped my fingers through the elastic band of his briefs and yanked them down to join his trousers around his feet. And in that instant, I found myself gazing at. . .it. His manhood. His potent pleasure python. His mighty sex muscle. His one-eyed wonder worm. Even at half-mast it was, let's not mince words, magnificent. A penis you could quit your job for and spend the rest of your life worshipping. It was just like the man himself--big, sleek, and powerful, with a definite 'take no prisoners' attitude. I knew then I was in the presence of greatness.
Needless to say I wasted no time in getting further acquainted with his luscious lance of love--shit, he was turning me into a freaking Harlequin Romance! First I buried my nose in his crotch, getting high on his spicy musk. When I was in serious danger of coming just from inhaling his lip-smackin' Skinnerscent, I began to run my lips and tongue up and down the steely shaft, mapping out the intricate pattern of raised veins, thrilling to the feel of it twitching and lengthening under my devoted manipulation. The short little grunts and whimpers coming from Skinner were a major ego-boost, and told me I was on the right track.
Going for a change of pace, I abandoned his cock for a moment and made a quick detour to his full heavy balls. I sucked one of the fat little eggs into my hot mouth, bathing it thoroughly and lovingly, tickling it skillfully with my tongue. Huge hands suddenly clutched my head, blunt fingers brushing stray strands of hair out of my eyes. To the tune of Skinner's pleasured moans filling the room, I released that orb and started in on its twin.
Having tendered to Walt's little buddies, I made my way to his pride and joy. Wrapping my hand around the base, I started jerking his crank as I took the pulsating cockhead between my lips. I plunged the tip of my tongue into the tiny piss slit, gratified by the surprised gasp from above. "Right there, baby," he growled. "Feels so good."
<Did he just call me 'baby'? Oh, wow! Talk about heady!>
I spent some time just swirling my tongue all around the sensitive flange, lapping at the tangy pre-cum he was leaking, then slowly began to swallow him whole. I managed to take in about half of his magic wand before he hit the back of my throat. Not wanting to go into a gagging fit--which would ruin the whole evening--I backed off until I held just the cap in my mouth. As I descended on his cock once more, Skinner apparently decided he wanted to take a turn at the wheel, so to speak. The hands still clasping my head tightened fractionally, just enough to hold me still, while he started to rock his hips easily against me. I heard a moan of surrender from me, echoed by a groan of conquest from Skinner as I knelt there, permitting him to fuck my mouth. Grasping onto his brawny legs for balance, I freely turned control over to the big guy, allowing him to ravage me at will.
I was so lost in the Zen-ness of it all, it barely registered when he gently pushed me away. Concerned that I had done something wrong, I looked up at him. He must've seen the anxiety in my eyes because he just smiled and whispered, "I think it's your turn now."
With that, he helped me to my feet, then after a quick, bruising kiss, he pushed me backwards onto the bed. As I was scrambling for leverage, he dropped to his knees and quickly divested me of my jeans and boxers. "Nice," he murmured before leaning over and taking the head of my cock in his mouth. His tongue looped lazy circles around the tender glans until I was bouncing around the bed like a Mexican jumping bean. His hands, meanwhile, were busy canvassing my torso until they reached my nipples, which he pinched and manhandled to his little heart's content. I whimpered softly, but that's all I could manage. It had been so long since I felt any hands but my own on my body, I couldn't even voice how good he was making me feel.
He went down on me hard, the muscles of his throat massaging every inch of my throbbing cock. Then he pulled back, his teeth gently nipping the sensitive crown, sending little shocks of delight through my body. I was all but climbing the walls when he drew back and smiled up at me, his lips shiny and wet with my juices. "Want me to continue, Ringo?" he asked, smugly.
Hmmmmm. Difficult question. Did I want AD Walter S. Skinner to continue slobbing my knob? Geez, decisions, decisions. And just to make it more difficult, he threw in playfully, "Or. . .I have some condoms in the nightstand."
Well, I might not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but even I got the subtle hint: we could keep going with the oral play, or we could move on to the serious stuff. One look at the hunka hunka burnin' love sitting at my feet, and the question answered itself. (Not that it was much of a brainteaser in the first place!) I scooted further up onto the bed and rolled onto my stomach. Looking over at Skinner, I gave him a shit-eatin' grin and joshed, "Are they ribbed for my pleasure?"
"No, but I think they may glow in the dark, if that's your kink," he fired back, already reaching into the drawer. He threw the box of Trojans onto the bed, along with a freaking huge tube of KY.
I laughed as I picked it up. "Jesus, Skinman, I didn't know these things came super-sized!"
Have you ever seen an assistant director of the F.B.I. blush? Let me tell you, it's really fucking hot. "It. . .ahh. . .comes in handy during solo missions," he replied, awkwardly.
"Been there, done that, have the calluses to prove it," I joked, as I tossed the lube at him and crawled into position in the middle of the bed.
After making sure I was comfortable on my knees and elbows, he went about the time-consuming, but necessary, process of preparing me. His slick finger gently probed me, easing the way. With my encouraging words and nonsense sounds, he soon added a second finger, then a third. By the time I was rocking onto his hand, begging him to move along onto the main event, he figured out I was ready to go. I heard the condom wrapper tear and the sounds of rubber being unrolled and slicked down.
Reaching behind blindly, I grabbed his slippery, sheathed erection and guided it towards its mark; it found the target like a heat-seeking missile. He pushed forward carefully, stretching me wider and wider until I finally felt the head pop in, followed by inch after inch of his hard cock.
Oh, crap, it burned. It always did in those first few moments--it had been so long since my last hookup that I had forgotten how much it could hurt. The pressure of his entry kept me balanced on a fine line between pleasure and pain, but it was the good kind of pain--the kind of pain that leaves you trembling with desire and eager for more. His lips brushed through my hair and his stubbly chin rubbed against my neck as he sank into me, down to the short and curlies.
When he was entirely within me, he paused to let me get adjusted to his bulk. After a few moments I felt the pain melting away and my whole body flooding with sexual heat. Waves of ecstasy started deep in my belly and spread like wildfire throughout my body. Once I was ready, I let him know by wiggling my ass, encouraging him into acts of further debauchery. "Give it to me, Skinman," I sighed. "Gimme all you got."
I heard a rumbly chuckle at my less-than-subtle hints before he drew back slowly, carefully, and pushed back in deeper than before. "God, you are so tight, Ringo," he groaned, as he withdrew and plunged deeply once more, his cock filling me as I've never been filled before. "So tight and hot." I would've answered him, but I was totally tongue-tied, the feel of him inside of me liberating, almost more than I could withstand. I was sure I had died and gone to heaven.
Holding my hips steady, he continued to buck into me, increasing the speed of his thrusts, stretching me to the limits of my endurance and racking my body with the most intense sexual rush of my life. It was like getting fucked by a brick wall. A nice hard brick wall. There wasn't a soft spot to be found, from his chest, to his steel-like arms, down to his legs, his thighs, and his splendid cock. I was drowning in the feel of him taking me, savagely, his strength both scary and exhilarating. This was no mere roll in the hay--I was getting deep-dicked by a real he-man.
And it felt so-o-o-o-o good!
"Oh god, fuck me," I gurgled deliriously, as his cock brushed over my prostate, sending sparks down my spine, causing my own bone to vibrate. "Fuck me good, man."
Instead of commenting on my demand, he let his body do the talking. His arms tightened around my waist to steady me as he began pistoning into my body hard and fast. I gripped the bedding tightly in my fists as he drilled me, his hairy chest hot against my back, grunting with every slam into my body. I could feel the sweat pouring off him and splashing down on me, hear his animalistic growls of pleasure echoing in my ears. By this point, he was hitting my joy spot with each thrust, sending sparks of pleasure through every fiber in my body.
Without further prompting from me, he reached down and wrapped his hand around my engorged cock, stroking it deftly with his large paw. It didn't take much of that treatment before Skinner felt me tense and started pounding me even harder, as if he instinctively knew I liked it fast and rough when the end was near. (Or maybe, that's just the way he liked it, too.) We were both rocking and bucking in the throes of ecstasy, too far gone to care what the neighbors thought of the noise. I was soon shouting the names to the Holy Trinity and coming with an intensity I had never known before.
Feeling my release coating his hand, he bellowed loudly, and his strokes lost their rhythm as he finally shot off. His hips jerked once, twice, three more times before he collapsed over my spent body. He rested a moment before pushing himself up; he carefully extracted himself from me and fell over backwards onto the bed, gasping for breath.
"Aw, man, that was great," I groaned, breathlessly.
Skinner, still gasping for air beside me, panted, "It was. . .adequate."
I snorted derisively, "Fuck you, adequate. It was fanfuckingtastic and you know it."
"If you say so." And he laughed a full belly-laugh. Quite frankly, I didn't even know the AD COULD laugh like that. I liked the sound--a lot. He cleared his throat, as if to cover up his momentary undignified joviality, and announced, "I'll be back in a sec." At that, he got out of bed and made his way across the room, giving me an extended view of that great muscular ass of his in motion.
He left the bedroom for a couple of minutes. When he came back, the condom had been disposed of and he was all cleaned up. With a smile, he handed me a wet washcloth and a clean towel. <Sexy and considerate. . .what a man!> I quickly wiped myself down and was about to drop the cloths on the floor, until I caught Skinner's glare. Sheepishly, I handed the towels back to him, which he took and exited the room once more. This time when he returned, he was empty-handed, and crawled back into bed with me.
Once he was settled, he pulled me close until I was lounging flush against his rock-hard chest. With his fingers brushing through my hair again, he asked softly, "Are you going to stay here tonight?"
I didn't answer him right away, and not just because I was really enjoying the feel of him pressed against me, or the way his large hands stroked my mane. Frankly, I wasn't sure what answer he was looking for. It had been a great evening, but I didn't want to overstay my welcome. Then again, I had no way to get home--my car was still parked down at Jake's. So would it be better to inconvenience him now for a ride back to the bar, or inconvenience him by crashing here? Then again, he wouldn't have asked if he didn't want me to stay, right? Or was he just being nice? Then again. . .
"Ringo?" his voice boomed in the now quiet room. "The questions get harder as we go along, you know."
That made me smile and gave me the courage to go for broke. Glancing up at him, I asked hopefully, "Do you WANT me to stay?"
"I wouldn't be opposed to it," he replied, his dark chocolate eyes twinkling with mischief despite the less-than-enthusiastic response.
Well, two can play at that game. "Gee, you certainly know how to make a guy feel wanted," I grumbled, good-humoredly.
Nuzzling my hair he confirmed, in that delicious growl of his, "VERY wanted."
I grinned up at him. "Well, since you put it that way. . .how can I refuse?" So with a final sloppy goodnight kiss, I flipped over onto my side and snuggled down for the night. I must say I was surprised when I felt Skinner spoon up tightly behind me and throw one of his meaty arms around my waist. <The Skinman is a cuddler? This is more than I could have ever hoped for!>
Surrounded by his warm presence, his delectable aroma still clinging to me, I quickly drifted off to sleep.
I woke up the next morning to an empty bed, and some heavenly smells drifting through the room. <He cuddles AND he cooks? This could be love!> I wondered briefly if I should wait for breakfast in bed but decided it might be bad form to assume, so I quickly threw on my clothes, grabbed my glasses, and hurried downstairs.
"Ah, it's alive," Skinner teased, standing by the stove in just a short white terrycloth bathrobe. "I was starting to wonder."
"You always in such a good mood in the morning?" I grouched. Pictures of surly AD Skinner arriving at the Hoover whistling and grinning like an idiot sprang to mind and scared the hell out of me.
"I am if I got laid the night before," he answered honestly, his hand already snaking around my neck as he pulled me in for a kiss. A real good morning kiss. A real lips and tongue and teeth kiss. Morning breath? Who gives a crap? Not with a guy who kisses like that! Our tongues slow danced with each other for a long time, canvassing every nook and cranny before we came up for air. His voice was still raspy as he gestured to the fry pan and asked, "Hope scrambled eggs and sausage is okay?"
"You kiddin' me? It's usually stale donuts and day-old joe at HQ." I grabbed the pot of fresh-brewed coffee and poured us each a mug while Skinner was busy buttering a plateful of toast. A few moments later, he slid two plates piled high with hot edible food on the table; he chuckled when he heard my stomach rumble. (Hey, great sex makes you hungry, you know?) We both sat down and started to dig in.
About halfway thought our feast Skinner spoke, inquiring softly, "Have you ever told them how you feel?"
"Huh?" my brain more interested in my meal than any potential conversation.
"The guys," he clarified. "Have you ever told them how you feel about them?"
I swallowed my mouthful of egg and started to laugh. "No. How could I do that?"
Taking a sip of his coffee, he suggested, "It might be worth a try."
"You mean. . .ask if I can join them?" I said, incredulously.
"Sound like something you'd be interested in?" he proposed, spearing a piece of sausage and popping it into his mouth.
"You're pulling my leg, right?" I chuckled, nervously. "I think about it all the time."
"Then go for it."
"I can't," I all but whined.
"Why not?" he demanded.
"Because. . ."
"Because why?" and now his voice held his patented 'don't-piss-me-off' tone that I swear he must've learned at some 'How to Intimidate Peons' seminar.
The tone had its desired effect as I shrank away from him. Running my fingers through my hair, I confessed, "Because. . .Jesus, Walter, I kid them about their relationship all the time, okay?"
"SO. . .they think I'm straight, for Christ's sake!" I hissed.
"Then just tell them the truth," he said, reasonably.
I shook my head ruefully. "They'll think I'm just screwing around again."
"Not if you tell them sincerely," he insisted. "Lay it all on the line. Tell them how you feel, what they mean to you."
"But a threesome? Can it possibly work?" I mean, an occasional m,nage-a-trois is one thing, but a long-term relationship? What were the chances of it surviving?
"You don't know until you try it." With that, he stood up and retrieved the coffee pot, refilling both of our mugs before returning it to the counter.
"But there's so much to lose if it doesn't work out," I pointed out, reaching for the cream.
"There's a lot to lose if you don't at least try," he replied philosophically, taking his seat once more.
I looked down at my unfinished meal, mulling over his words before pronouncing, "It's risky."
"Life is risk. If it was easy, it wouldn't be worthwhile."
"That's pretty deep, Skinman," I chuckled.
"I have my moments," he smirked, going back to his breakfast.
Snagging another piece of toast from the communal plate, I posed, "What about you?"
"What ABOUT me?" he mumbled distractedly, busy scooping up a forkful of egg.
"Are you going to tell Mulder and Scully how YOU feel?" I spelled out.
I must've shocked the hell out of him because the fork hung suspended between the plate and his gaping mouth. "I. . .I can't," he finally stammered.
"Why not?" I challenged. "You just told me to. . ."
"That was different," he interrupted me in mid-sentence. "It's not the same. I mean, Mulder and Scully are a couple. . ."
I crossed my arms over my chest, preparing for battle. "Yeah, so are Frohike and Byers. What's your point?"
He sighed heavily as he lowered his fork and rested it on his plate. "I'm their boss, Langly," he explained, patiently. "They're my agents, my subordinates. I can't initiate a relationship with them. With EITHER of them. It wouldn't be ethical."
"But you love them," I reminded him, bluntly.
"Sometimes that's not enough," he replied glumly, as he poked at his eggs.
"It should be enough, Walter," I insisted. "It should be all that matters."
He nodded sadly, "Yes, it should be." After that, we went back to eating, all conversation coming to a halt, each of us lost in our own thoughts and cursed by our own loneliness. And somewhere in my ruminations, I couldn't help but wonder if we were both just wasting our time with all this pointless mooning over relationships that would never happen. Maybe we should change our game plan. I mean, if I couldn't have the ones I loved, and Skinner couldn't be with the ones HE loved, then maybe we could. . .
Nah. Me and Skinner? Never happen. It was a nice pipe dream, but that's all it'd ever be. Then again, who could've seen LAST NIGHT in their crystal ball?
When the meal was over, I helped him clean off the table without being asked--mom would've been proud--and even helped him wash the breakfast dishes. By then, it was nearing 10:00, and my host informed me he had to get ready for 11:00 mass. Yet one more thing I never would've guessed about Skinner, but then again, at that point, nothing should have surprised me. He disappeared upstairs and came back down around fifteen minutes later--showered, shaved, and looking resplendent in his tailored navy blue suit.
And in that moment, I envied Mulder and Scully more than you would not believe. I would've given anything to have the undying affections of this fine man. Heaving a deep sigh, I stated, "Guess this means the date's over, huh?"
Straightening his gray silk tie hall mirror, he answered regretfully, "Yeah, I suppose so. Can I drop you off back at Jake's so you can pick up your car?"
I put down the Men's Health magazine I had been leafing through and assured him, "Nah, I don't want you to be late for church. I'll just get a cab or hitchhike or something."
"A cab will cost you a fortune, and you are NOT hitchhiking," he declared, decisively. "Come on. . .I can make it back in time."
The ride back to Jake's was done in silence, the only sounds coming from the sports station Skinner had the radio set to. It wasn't really an uneasy silence, just--resigned. I think we both realized that since the night was now over we were back to our lonely reality, and our third wheel status. I barely noticed the drivel coming from the sports guys until the car came to a stop right outside the nightclub's parking lot. Surprisingly (or maybe not) my second-hand 1986 Camero--the one that's more primer than actual original auto body at this point--was still in the parking lot. Hey, it runs and it's paid off. That's all I care about.
"You gonna be okay, Ringo?" he asked softly, the use of my nickname a nice touch.
I felt my voice catch as I mumbled, "Yeah, I'll get by. You?"
He nodded, a half-smile on his handsome face, and echoed, "I'll get by." He paused before adding, "Friends, right?"
I slapped him on the shoulder affably. "Always, Skinman."
"Not if you keep calling me Skinman," he growled. Pausing again, he finally uttered the words I had been dreading: "Langly, about last night. . ."
"Yeah. . .last night. . ." I cut him off. I didn't want him to tell me it was a mistake. I just wasn't in the mood to hear it. While it had been unexpected, it had also been one of the wildest nights of my life. I couldn't bear to hear him say it was a mistake after all.
But he didn't say anything. He just leaned over and kissed me, his lips gently pressing mine for a second. And in that instant I knew--it hadn't been a mistake, for either of us. We were bonded now in a way neither of us ever could have imagined. It may have only been for one night, but that made it all the sweeter.
When I got out of his car, I didn't turn back. There wouldn't have been any point.
MAY 17, 1997
<The night with Skinner haunts me still. Oh, not the sex. Well, yeah, okay, the sex haunts me just about every single night. Many times I've picked up the phone, wanting to call him, wanting to meet him somewhere and have him ravish me again. But something holds me back--probably the knowledge that it wouldn't work out. That Saturday night was special, an once-in-a-lifetime moment that can never be duplicated. Besides, he's in love with Mulder and Scully--and I'm in love with Byers and Frohike.
So I've taken the Beatles' advice and just let it be.
No, what haunts me is the conversation we had the next morning over breakfast. Can I really tell the guys how I feel about them--that I love them, that I want to be part of their relationship, that I long to make love to my two closest friends? The want, the need to belong to them, to merge with them, is like a black hole inside of me sometimes. . .empty and yearning and so deep I can't find the end of it.
That's why tonight, it all comes to an end, one way or another.>
The guys were sitting side by side on the couch, watching a documentary on Area 51. Frohike had his arm around Byers; John had his head on his lover's shoulder and Mel was lazily running his fingers through his thick reddish-brown hair. I noticed Fro was wearing his black-leather fingerless gloves. I knew John had a serious jones for them--and he wasn't the only one. Mel may have a questionable fashion sense, but those stupid gloves were a serious turn-on.
They looked so happy sitting together, so content, that I almost cried at the beauty of their relationship, and the desire to be part of it just exploded within me. I took a deep breath and prepared to make my move.
I strolled up to them, intent on ending my torment, but I just couldn't do it. The words in my mind simply wouldn't make the trip to my mouth. I was just about to chicken out and relegate myself to a lifetime of regret when it occurred to me that maybe words weren't needed after all. We had gotten to a point in our lives where we could communicate almost telepathically. Perhaps I could get my point across without having to speak.
So I grabbed a throw-pillow off a nearby chair and sat down on the floor between the two of them. As they watched the show, utterly entranced by the lies and the conspiracies, I laid my head on Frohike's thigh, and prayed that he would understand.
<Now THIS is the life. Gorgeous man on my arm, some ice-cold brewskis, a government cover-up documentary on the boob-tube. Tell me there's a better way to spend a Saturday night.
If there's one thing--or one person--I could fault, however, it'd be Langly. He's been up and pacing all night long. I wish he'd just plant it--he's wearing me out. Actually, he's been doing that a lot the last couple of weeks. He seems jumpier than usual--super-caffinated Langly, if you will. I get the sense something's up with him, but he's also quieter than usual, too. That alone tells me something's wrong. I think I'll have a talk with him tomorrow. Maybe I can drag it outta him.
Don't think Byers has noticed our friend's condition. If he has, he's been mute on the subject. Truth be known, John's been a handful since our anniversary dinner. That silly little vibrator I got him as a gag gift has gotten quite a workout, if you get my meaning. I even joked one night that I thought John loved it more than he loved me. He just smiled and blushed that sweet blush of his.
I send up a silent 'thank you' as Langly grows tired of pacing and comes over to join us. Finally! Now maybe we can all enjoy the show together.>
When Langly came over and sat down on the floor at my feet, I took little notice of him, even when he placed his head on my thigh. Wasn't anything he hadn't done before. Sometimes the kid got in a cuddly mood. It's a part of Ringo's charm.
I started absent-mindedly stroking his long hair--again, nothing we hadn't done before--not even aware I was doing it. To be honest, I was too wrapped up in the program to notice what I was doing. But suddenly I heard a low sob of longing that I knew didn't come from me or my lover. John looked over at me, a puzzled expression on his handsome face, so he had obviously heard it, too. I was just about to comment on it when I felt something pressing against my leg. I looked down and got the shock of my life:
Ringo was kissing my left thigh, his lips burning me right through my black fatigues.
Now, cuddling was one thing. THIS was something completely different altogether. At first I couldn't believe what was happening. I immediately glanced back at John. He seemed as confused as I was, but intrigued as well. Needing more information before we could draw a conclusion, I ran a hand down Langly's cheek, caressing his baby-soft skin; he moved his head until his lips pressed themselves to my wrist. And if I still had any doubts as to his intentions, they were quickly erased when Langly's tongue began licking over my palm, my glove hardly a deterrent. Ain't no way THAT was an accident.
Again I looked at John; his big blue eyes were bigger than I ever remembered seeing them before.
<Can it be that his favorite fantasy is about to come true?>
<Ohgodohgodohgod! What the hell was I thinking? He's figured it out. No way I can bluff my way out of this. He's going to kill me. He's going to throw me out on my bony ass and toss all my stuff into the street. And that's nothing compared to what John is going to do to me. Why did I do this? Why did I listen to Skinner? Why didn't I just leave well enough alone?
And what do I do now?>
I didn't have long to wait to discover all my fears were unfounded. Before I knew what had hit me, Frohike bent down and kissed me tenderly. It was little more than a brushing of his lips against mine, but I felt the electric current run down my spine and head straight to my cock. It was sweet, sweeter than I could have ever imagined, and a low whimper tickled the back of my throat.
Only when he pulled back did I remember that we weren't alone in the room. I instantly looked up at Byers, waiting for retribution, for denunciation--or at the very least, a bitch-slap upside the head. Instead, John smiled at me before he leaned down and kissed me as well. Again, nothing more than a gentle peck, but it was even sweeter than Frohike's, if that was possible. I loved the tickly feel of his soft beard, and I felt myself growing even harder. Without conscious thought, I gripped him by the back of his neck and planted a nice wet one on him. He gave as good as he got, and when his tongue slipped between my lips, I thought I'd pass out from the thrill of it.
We kept it up until we heard an annoyed throat clearing beside us. We reluctantly pulled apart only to discover a perturbed Frohike glaring at us. "Look, I don't mind this in the least, but if I'm gonna be left out, I'm putting a stop to it right now," he announced, tersely. Not wanting it to end so quickly, I tilted my head up so I could receive his lips. I groaned loudly when his tongue looped around mine, and I swore I'd cum in my pants. Shit, no WONDER Byers loves this guy--the little shit really knew how to KISS! I would never doubt him again when he said, "Once you've had a little taste of Frohike, you'll never go back."
Now I knew what he was bragging about!
We went on like that for a while, as I alternated between smooching with Byers and Frohike, all the while Mark Hamill rambling in the background about UFO's and alien autopsies. Eventually, to make it easier on my neck, they both joined me on the floor, and we really went to town. While I was busy necking with Byers, Frohike went about stripping me down. . .I couldn't help chuckling at his surprised gasp when he realized I was goin' commando. (Hey, sue me. I had been hoping I was gonna get lucky.)
I got my chance to return the favor when Mel leaned over and took possession of John's mouth. Byers was so lost in Frohike's attentions he barely noticed as I stripped him naked. (Talk about d,j... vu! Only this time, Mulder and Skinner weren't around for the free show.) Which left only Mel. I figured Byers deserved that honor, so I kept Frohike's lips and mouth busy while John peeled off the clothing layers until Fro was gloriously naked as well. (Okay, if you're going to get technical, with all that body hair he'd NEVER be as naked as me or John, but you get the point.)
In all my dreams, everything I had ever imagined, nothing could compare to the actual reality of being with John and Mel. Hands glided over my body, a thousand of them--or at least it felt that way--petting me, caressing me, gentling me. Hands were soon joined by mouths, seemingly everywhere at once. My suggestion to move the activities to a bed only landed on deaf ears.
I can't remember everything that happened that night. Missing time, perhaps, or maybe I blacked out from all the pleasure. I know at one point, Byers had Frohike flat on his back and was giving him the blowjob of the century while I busied myself rimming John's gorgeous ass. And I seem to recall at another point, I was the one lying on his back while both John and Mel went down on me. And while I'm not sure how, somewhere along the way a funky little vibrator made an appearance. THAT was a lot of fun. The only break in the action came when Byers ran out of the room and quickly returned with condoms and lube.
Then the fun truly began.
We must've gone at it an hour at least, maybe longer. We tried just about every position and combination possible, moving together as though scripted, playing parts we had known for years. When we couldn't take any more pleasure, when the magic was reaching its crescendo, we all sat against the couch, each taking hold of the one closest to him and stroking him to orgasm--me first, Byers second, Frohike bringing up the rear. And as the last shudder ebbed and the last cry of passion died on the wind, we collapsed into a sated, giggling heap.
In fact, that's where we ended up spending the night, curled up right there on the floor--we simply didn't have enough energy to move to a bedroom. John was able to snag a couple of pillows off the couch and Frohike snatched up a blanket, and we made the best of it, just like we always do. The original Three Amigos.
As I snuggled against Frohike, who in turn was snuggled against John, I mused that maybe everything would work out after all. And with my last conscious thought before sleep claimed me, I prayed that someday Walter could conquer his fear and talk to Mulder and Scully. I so wanted him to find the same happiness and acceptance and love I had found.
He had been a third wheel for too long.
June 6, 1997
Both Mulder and Scully look up from their chairs around the solitary desk in the basement to see me standing in the doorway. "Yes, sir?" Mulder answers.
"There's a matter I'd like to discuss with you both."
"Now, sir?" Scully asks curiously, and I find myself lost once more in her dazzling ice-blue eyes.
"No, not here. The walls have ears, and this. . .is a delicate matter." I walk over to them, and lean across the desk until I'm practically in their faces. Whispering as low as I can, I tell them, "Meet me at O'Malley's after work. We can grab a bite to eat and. . .take our time with this. You DO know where O'Malley's is, don't you?"
I get two identical stunned expressions--it's very unlike me to intrude on their workspace, and even more unusual to meet them anywhere outside of work. Finally, Scully meets my gaze and stammers, "Uh, yeah. I know the place, sir."
"Excellent. I'll see you around six then. Good day, agents." I turn on my heel and make my way towards the door; as I am closing it behind me I swear I hear Mulder mutter under his breath, "Here it comes," and I chuckle to myself.
It has taken me weeks to work up the courage to follow Langly's advice, but tonight's the night. Walter Sergei Skinner is going to take a chance on love.
And Mulder and Scully aren't going to know what hit them.>
Dinner was delicious, and so was the company. Once Mulder and Scully determined I was not going to tear them each a new a-hole or reprimand them for their sexual antics in the basement a few weeks earlier, they relaxed and just went with the flow. Oh, yeah, the wine flowed easily, as well as the conversation. Both of them were wildly entertaining, and as the evening wore on, I was hard pressed to say which of them I found more tempting. I wanted them both so badly--in my arms, in my bed. In my heart.
But with each passing minute I could feel my window of opportunity closing, inch by inch. If I was going to make a move, it had to be soon--I might never get another chance like this. Finally, as Mulder was winding down yet another outrageous story about crop circles, I mustered my courage and asked, "Scully. . . would you care to dance?"
I didn't even give her an opportunity to decline. I stood up, held out my hand, and pulled her to her feet before she even had a chance to think about it. Still not sure who was more startled by my actions, although I'd have to give the funniest face award to Mulder--he was gaping just like one of his pet fish.
We made our way onto the crowded dance floor and I pulled her close to me. She felt so small in my arms, but I knew all too well the size and strength of character that was housed in that petite body. As we moved sensuously to the strains of some romantic Sinatra song, I couldn't help burying my nose into her herbal smelling hair, just breathing her in. This might be my only chance to do something so daring, so risky--but as I had told Langly, 'Life is risk'. And anything this significant was more than worth it.
Halfway through the song, I heard a quiet, "Sir? I was wonder. . ."
That's as far as she got. I placed my right index finger over her full red lips. "Shhhh," I whispered, not wanting to ruin this moment with pointless small-talk. "No words."
She just stared up at me and nodded imperceptivity. I was struck again by the depths of her eyes and how easy it was to fall into them, to lose yourself forever in them. As her gaze held mine, I felt her lips parting slightly in surprise under my finger. Before I knew what I was doing, I was running that finger gingerly over her lower lip. A soft sigh issued from her, a sound that fluttered in my stomach and all points due south.
But before things could progress further, Mulder blundered over to us with an impeccable sense of timing. "May I cut in?" he asked, politely.
Pulling away from a still-stunned Scully, I turned to her troublesome partner and smiled. "Be my guest," and with that, I grasped Mulder around the waist and spun him a couple of times before dipping him. As I planted him back on his feet, I had a good chuckle at their mirror-image befuddled looks. "Just kidding. . . Dana. . .Fox." I purposely dropped my voice to a husky whisper as I said their names, then, preparing to take my leave, I upped the ante by slapping Scully on her cute little tushie.
Reclaiming my seat at the table, I figured one of three things was going to happen: 1) they'd figure it out and invite me home; 2) they'd figure it was just the wine and ignore me; 3) I'd be up for sexual harassment charges on Monday morning so fast my head would spin.
As I took a gulp of wine, I prayed for option number 1.
<This is without a doubt the strangest night I've experienced in a long time. And you're talking to the king of strange. One minute I'm completely convinced that both Scully and I are going to be written up for conduct unbecoming--the next, our own AD is giving us lessons in conduct unbecoming that not many instructors at Quantico would think of. Just what the hell is going on here?>
"Scul, is it my imagination, or did the AD just actually call me 'Fox'?" I asked my significant other as I watched Skinner walking back to our table.
"And me 'Dana'," she answered hesitantly, clearly as confused as I was. "Is it MY imagination that he just slapped my butt?"
"No, he definitely did that," I backed up her version of the event. "Now, is it MY imagination that he's been acting weird all night?"
"No doubt about that," she readily concurred. "Could it just be MY imagination that he almost seems to be. . .flirting with us?"
"I was thinking the same thing, Scully," I sighed, glad to know I wasn't losing my mind. "At first I thought it was just you, but when he dipped me just now, I got the feeling he was making a play for me, too."
"But. . .since when is Skinner gay?" she pondered.
"He may not be," I suggested, then realizing we must look real foolish standing out in the middle of the dance floor having this discussion, I pulled her close and started to move to the music. As we swayed to some classic love song by Tony Bennett, I continued my thought, "It's possible that he swings both ways."
"But he was married," my girl pointed out.
"So? Bi means bi. Just because he was married to Sharon for 17 years doesn't mean he doesn't like taking a walk on the other side of the street once in a while."
She just looked up at me skeptically--it was a look I was more than used to. "Be that as it may, Mulder, I don't understand why he would attempt to seduce us. EITHER of us. I mean, besides the fact that he's our direct superior and it's completely unethical, surely he knows that we're a couple after walking in. . . when he walked in on us in the basement." At that, she blushed so sweetly. It had taken me all weekend to calm her down after that incident. Skinner had been really cool about the whole situation, hadn't mentioned it at all these past few weeks. Tonight I had been sure he was going to call us on the carpet for it--that was why he wanted to meet us alone. But now I was getting other, stranger vibes from our boss.
"Scully, what WE'RE doing is technically unethical," I reminded her. "And as for what happened in the basement, maybe that's the whole point." At her blank expression, I elaborated, "I think Skinner wants in."
"In on what?" she asked, confused. "The basement? You'd never be able to fit his desk down there."
"No, silly--the action," and I punctuated my words with a quick squeeze of her fanny.
Ahhh. The infamous Scully eyebrow. "You don't mean. . .are you suggesting the three of us. . .?" The sentence died out as she tittered nervously.
"He IS pretty hot," I observed. "Don't you think?"
She playfully punched me in the shoulder and exclaimed, "MULDER!"
"C'mon, Scully. We've been sitting across from him for over five years now. You can't say in all that time you've never noticed how sexy he is?"
"And you have?" she inquired.
"Yeah," I admitted. "He's a stud."
The eyebrow shot up even higher. "A stud?" she repeated, incredulously. "Mulder, I thought you said guys were in your past, that it was 'just an adolescent phase'. Whatever happened to 'you're the only one for me, Dana'?"
I shrugged. "Bi is bi, remember? And you ARE the only one for me, Scul. You're the only woman I've ever loved--ever REALLY loved. You know that."
"But that doesn't stop you from wanting to boink Skinner," she stated matter-of-factly.
<Boink? That's a new one on me.> "I want you both," I confessed. "It's been a fantasy of mine for a long time."
"Really? Why didn't you ever tell me?" she demanded.
"I was afraid you'd laugh."
"Did I laugh at the one involving the cheerleader outfit and you pretending to be the star forward for the New York Knicks?" she queried, a twinkle in her eye.
"At first you did," I grinned, remembering what an interesting night THAT had been. It had even been worth the couple of videos Frohike had demanded as 'payment' for the authentic uniforms he had managed to dig up. "C'mon, Scul--tell me that you'd kick Skinner out of bed for eating crackers. I dare you."
I saw her glance back at the table where Skinner was finishing off his glass of wine; a faraway glaze fell over her eyes as she sighed, "He's a fucking god."
Okay, now I was a bit jealous. It's one thing to say he was hot, but a 'god'? A FUCKING 'god'? Damn thing is, she was right. "So, what do we do?" I asked.
Now it was her turn to shrug. "Don't know. I mean, we're being awfully presumptuous if we're wrong."
"We're not wrong, Scully," I assured her. "He wants us."
"And it seems we both want him," she mused.
"So. . .?"
She gave me one of her rare lopsided smirks as she said, "Only if I get to watch."
I leaned down and kissed her, not caring who saw us anymore. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"
"No, but you're going to show me tonight," she promised.
We walked back to the table arm-in-arm to join our boss. . .and our imminent lover. Scully took a seat to his right; I took the chair to his left. I watched as my beautiful partner in life leaned over and brushed her lips against Skinner's cheek; as she pulled away, she whispered a simple, "Yes."
His head whipped around to look at me so fast I thought he'd snap his neck. We stared into each other's eyes, and I could see the desire, mixed with the fear of rejection, in his dazzling dark brown ones. Why did I never see it before? Why did it take us this long to get to this point? Why were we just sitting here when there were so many other things we could be doing? Naughty things? NAKED things?
Knowing he'd never take the final step, I took it for him. Leaning in, I brushed my lips against his and echoed Scully's whispered sentiment, "Yes."
I've never seen the big man move so fast in my life. It was almost comical the way he pulled his wallet out, threw a wad of bills on the table, hauled Scully up to her feet and helped her on with her coat. Then he was yanking me out of my chair and was pushing both of us out of the restaurant before we knew what was going on. Scully started giggling in that infectious way she has, the kind of laughter that gets everyone around her going. I don't get to hear it often, and from the look on Skinner's face, it was obvious he had never heard it before. When Scully saw his expression, she was off and running.
She was still laughing as he unlocked his Crown Vic and shoved us both in the back seat. I thought only briefly about the dangers of leaving my own Bureau issue car in the parking lot overnight but when I saw our boss slide into the driver's seat--and remembered what we were about to do--I could've given a flying fuck what happened to the damn Taurus. Skinner started up the car and peeled out of the parking lot.
Scully, of course, was still in near hysterics by this point, and when she gets like that, there's only one way to get her to stop. Kiss her. Hard. (Hey, how do you think we got together in the first place?) Since there was no reason to hide our feelings anymore, I pulled her tightly to me, and laid one on her. Damn, it felt so good to finally be able to be ourselves. To finally be free.
She returned my kiss eagerly. I got the distinct impression that the night's events were starting to get to her, too. Know this about my Dana--she may look all conservative, professional, and repressed in public, but in private, her good little Catholic-girl persona gets thrown in the closet and forgotten. She is a very passionate woman with a great love for living. She knows what she wants and she's not afraid to get it. There have been times her inventiveness and wiliness to experiment in the bedroom have shocked even me. I was sure Skinner was in for the surprise of his life.
I felt her moan more than I heard it, but it must've been loud enough for Skinner to pick up because he turned around to see what was going on. The only reason I knew that was by the raspy, "Oh, God," he whimpered. I opened my eyes to see the look of undisguised lust in his gaze. He quickly turned back to the road, but I could still feel the intensity of his eyes burning through me, and I felt myself growing hard.
Hot damn--this was going to be good!
<This is crazy. Crazy? Try insane! Or career suicide. That's a good term, too. I mean, a liaison with one subordinate is frowned down upon. Two subordinates is just asking for trouble. Mix in the fact one of them is a GUY? Oh yeah, OPR will have a field day with this one if it ever gets out. So, we have to make sure it never gets out.
I can't believe they're going along with it. I keep waiting for the shoe to drop, for Mulder to grin and go, "Ha-ha, we really got you that time, Skinner. What makes you think we'd sleep with you?" But I keep remembering their faces back at the restaurant, and the sincerity in their voices. And the way they've let their hair down in my presence--they must trust me, right? They surely wouldn't be so open, so free if they felt any hesitation over what we were about to do.
Well, we've come this far. . .I have no choice but to see how much further it will go.>
The three of us made it back to my condo in record time, and luckily without being stopped for speeding. The last thing I wanted to do was have to explain to my superiors how my two favorite agents got to be necking in the back seat of the car I was driving. We had barely made it through the front door when Scully grabbed me by the lapels of my suit jacket and slammed me backwards into the wall. Wow, I knew the girl was a thug, but sheesh! Before I knew what had hit me, her hands were laced behind my neck and she was pulling my head down towards her lips.
<I'm kissing her! Oh dear Lord in heaven above, I'm finally kissing Dana Scully!>
Her mouth was warm and inviting and sweeter than anything on this earth. Her lips parted beneath mine, her tongue licking at my mouth, demanding admittance. I was neither strong enough, nor stupid enough, to deny her, and I quickly found myself drowning in her ravenous kisses. My hands slid down her slim body, coming to rest on her shapely hips, drawing her closer to me.
"May I cut in?" a soft, shy voice sliced through my lust-fogged brain. Gotta hand it to Mulder--he had chutzpah out the ying-yang.
I reluctantly dragged myself away from Scully--despite her frustrated moan--and looking over her shoulder into her lover's burning hazel eyes, I echoed my earlier rejoinder, "Be my guest." A slow lazy smile crossed his handsome face as he leaned over his diminutive partner, and brushed his kissable lips over mine. I removed one hand from Scully's side to clasp Mulder behind the neck and draw him to me.
Mulder's kisses were quite different from Scully's--more focused, more exploratory, but every bit as passionate. I felt like he was trying to uncover all my secrets with his mouth, digging deep to see what made me tick, peeling back layer after layer until he discovered his precious truth. It was intimidating and scary, but I was trapped. I couldn't have stopped him if I wanted to. . .
And I didn't want to.
While Mulder was busy flossing my teeth with his tongue, Scully buried her face in my chest, her hands roaming lower. . .lower. . .until. . ."Oh, Mulder, check this out," she exclaimed, running her hand over my erection.
Her partner did as she requested, breaking our kiss and placing his hand over hers. He bugged his eyes out comically and laughed, "Seems like the AD's packing some serious heat here, Scul."
"Mmmm. . .that's what I was thinking," Scully agreed.
"Mulder, I swear if you say, 'Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?' you're sleeping on the couch," I growled.
"Gee, I was only going to ask what caliber it was," he replied, cheekily.
"You are so pushing your luck, agent," I informed him.
"Ooohh, he's just as surly out of his office," my insubordinate subordinate cooed.
Scully pressed her tiny body full against mine and ran her fingers through what's left of my hair. "I sure hope so," she cooed back. "I think our big bad burly bossman is hot."
Well, if it was a big bad bossman that they wanted, I could handle that. "Both of you. Upstairs. Bedroom. Now," I demanded in my sternest 'don't mess with me' authoritative voice, ignoring the growing weakness in my knees at what was about to commence.
"You know, sir, I think that's the first order you've ever given that I have no intention of disobeying," Mulder commented with an insolent grin. He backed away as I pulled Scully in for one last kiss, my large hands cupping that shapely ass of hers through her conservative suit skirt. She was melting into my embrace, her little pleasured hums vibrating against my lips, when suddenly Mulder grabbed her by her skirt waistband and gave an impatient tug. "You heard the man, Scul. Bedroom." And he dragged her away, another wave of her infectious giggles echoing in their wake.
I watched the two of them until they were out of sight on the stairwell, then collapsed against the wall behind me. Oh, God. They were going to kill me. I just knew it.
Definitely the only way to go.
Don't know which one was more alluring, more exciting, more desirable. I wanted them so badly, more so than anyone else in my life. And tonight, they were both mine.
After I locked up and double-checked the security system, I gave them another minute to get ready. Then, taking one final deep breath, I quickly followed in their footsteps.
As I climbed the stairs, I encountered many pieces of their discarded clothing along the way. I stopped to pick them up, then decided against it. For once in my straight-laced orderly life, I felt silly and carefree, and I celebrated my freedom by joining them, shedding my own suit and shoes as I made my way to the bedroom. By the time I approached the door, I was dressed in just my wool slacks and dress socks.
The sight that greeted me as I entered my bedroom suite was every wet dream I have had for the last five years come true. Scully and Mulder were kneeling in the middle of my huge king-size bed, engaging in one of the most erotic tongue battles I've ever witnessed. Mulder's back was to me, his glorious naked ass on full display. I couldn't see much of Scully beyond him, but assumed she was as nude as well.
I was wrong.
Big blue eyes opened and regarded me for a moment before she drew back and calmly tapped Mulder's shoulder. "I think we have company," she informed him.
" 'Bout time," Mulder grumbled. He pulled back enough to show that conservative demure Agent Scully was still in fact dressed--well, if you consider a black see-thru lacy push-up bra and panty set dressed, that is. My God, it was even sexier than if she had been stark naked, and I felt my salivary glands go into hyper overdrive as my cock instantly sprang at attention. Mulder just laughed at my obviously stunned expression, "You'd never know it under those boring man-suits she wears, huh?"
I dumbly shook my head in the negative. Words were simply beyond me. That was okay--Mulder filled up the silence for me. "Figured you'd want the pleasure of unwrapping her yourself."
"Thank. . .thank you," I finally managed to get out, and stepped forward towards the bed.
Scully put out her hand to stop me. "Not yet, Bossman," she chirped, big grin on her face. "I want to see what I'm getting first." Turning to her lover, she commanded, "Mulder? Do the honors, please?"
I saw the sparkle in Mulder's eyes--he was enjoying this every bit as much as his partner. "With pleasure, milady!" he fired back with a fairly impressive English accent. (Apparently he really did learn something at Oxford after all.) With that, he slid off the bed, and gracefully moved to where I was standing. It was my first unobstructed view of that firm lithe athletic body and proudly erect cock, and it was more splendid than I ever imagined.
He stepped within my personal space and placed his right hand on my left hip before he leaned in to kiss me. At first just his lips pressed against mine, then slowly, he introduced his tongue into the equation. Soon, I was lost within him, within his hunger, as we started devouring each other. Goddamn, his kisses were making me harder than I had been in years, and I was so wrapped up in them that I totally forgot we weren't alone--until the little lady made her presence known with a very annoyed huff.
"Mulder, I'm waiting," Scully complained from her kneeling position on the bed, hands on her hips and a stern look on her face.
Reluctantly, I pulled away from Mulder and laughed, "Better do what your partner says. We don't want her shooting you again."
"You're just worried she'll miss me and hit you instead," he kidded.
"For your information, Agent Mulder. . .I never miss," she corrected him.
Without a snappy comeback for once, Mulder dropped to his knees and unzipped my pants, letting them drop to pool around my feet--my erection jutted out and made quite a prominent lump within my briefs. Mulder snickered, "I never would've guessed Jockeys, sir," then leaned in and started nuzzling the mound through the snow-white cotton material as his hands skinned off my socks. I threw my head back and groaned deliriously.
"He IS good at that, isn't he?" Scully snickered as she climbed off the bed and approached us. I grabbed her around the waist and started kissing her madly, my mouth hungrily consuming hers. Mulder abandoned me momentarily and started nuzzling Scully through her panties. She squealed in surprise, or at least she tried to, but I swallowed the sound along with her tongue. I slid my hands down and cupped her sweet behind once more, pulling her in tighter to me.
Mulder ducked out from between us and went back to his assigned duty; with a single tug, he yanked my briefs down my legs. Once I was nude, he let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Looks like a .44 Magnum, Scul."
Scully broke the kiss and glanced down. "My. . .my. . .I think he's gonna make our day, Mulder," she retorted.
"One more bad Clint Eastwood impression from either of you and you'll BOTH sleep on the couch," I rumbled. Mulder quickly shut me up by nuzzling my now freed genitals, gently swiping his tongue along my testicles, causing me to suck in my breath between clenched teeth.
"He has a very nimble tongue," Scully announced, needlessly. "I think it's because of all those sunflower seeds he's always practicing on."
Mulder pulled away from me and I moaned in disappointment. "Do you have any way to shut her up, sir?" he whined.
"Well, I WAS thinking she's the only one still clothed," I mused aloud. "Perhaps that situation should be remedied?"
"I couldn't agree with you more, sir," Mulder commented.
"Shit, another first!" I exclaimed. "Must be an X-File!" That jibe earned two identical tongues sticking out at me.
At that point, Mulder stood up and walked over to the bed. "You don't mind if I sit here and enjoy the floor show, do you?" he asked, already reaching down to grasp his hard-on.
"Be my guest," I mumbled distractedly for the third time that evening, my entire concentration on the lovely lady standing before me. I reached out with trembling hands and unclasped the snap at the front of Scully's bra, revealing her milky-white breasts and dusky-pink nipples, already stiff and erect. My mouth watering, I leaned forward and laid a trail of kisses down her neck and over her breastbone, following the path of pale freckles. She gave a little gasp of delight as I cupped her right breast and with one last silent 'thank you' to the Powers Above, I lowered my mouth and began to suckle.
My actions caused Mulder to moan aloud from the bed, "Jesus Christ, if you only knew how hot the two of you look together."
"Better than your tapes, Mulder?" Scully's voice came out in little breathy pants as I smoothly moved over to her left breast, and gave it the same loving treatment.
"You kidding me? I wish I had brought a video camera with me. I could've made a fortune off this performance. Number one best seller."
I was barely aware of their bantering--I was too busy dropping to my knees, my mouth moving lower, kissing and licking down her stomach. I took a moment to revel in her presence, breathing her in, luxuriating in her feminine perfume and her heat. It had been so long since I had been with a woman, and I had never wanted any woman like I wanted Dana Scully.
Hooking my fingers on either side of her lacy panties, I slid them down her hips, letting them drop to a puddle at her feet. She did a little kick/flip thing that sent them flying over my shoulder and I couldn't help but smile at her playfulness. It was perhaps the one thing I never expect from Scully--this wonderfully fresh sense of humor--as if I needed another reason to adore her.
Once her undies were out of the way, I found myself trailing my gaze up along her finally nude body--from her womanly hips to her flat athletic tummy up to her firm perfect breasts and finally to her angelic face. A dream. It had to be a dream. But just in case it wasn't, I wrapped my arms around her waist; pressing my face against her belly, I murmured happily, "Oh God, I love you so much, Dana."
She gently stroked my scalp and whispered, "I love you too. We both do. Don't we, Mulder?"
At the sound of her words, Mulder slipped off the bed and came to kneel beside me. Planting a teasing kiss on the side of my head, he reaffirmed her statement, "Both of us, sir."
I turned to the handsome man next to me and kissed him back thankfully, not wanting to acknowledge the tears I could feel welling in my eyes. They wanted me. These two beautiful, unique, special people wanted me. It was almost more than I could absorb. What had I ever done to deserve this moment?
As I was kneeling there, trying to assimilate it all, I felt Mulder gently remove my glasses, then jab me in the ribs with his elbow. "She's waiting, sir," he informed me. "Go ahead. Taste her."
"Yes, lover," she moaned softly, pleading. "Taste me. Please."
<Lover. She just called me lover. Be still my heart.>
With her command ringing in my ears, I leaned forward, parted her feminine flesh, and tasted her for the first time. One sample and I was hopelessly addicted to her tangy sweetness. I lapped at her juices like a man in the desert dying of thirst. And even as she crashed through her orgasm, I continued to consume her, immersing myself in her wetness.
I simply couldn't get enough of her.
<This is all too unreal. I'm standing in AD Skinner's bedroom while my sexy boss is on his knees, giving me a tongue lashing unlike any he's ever given me in his office. God, that was a horrible pun. I apologize. My brain is elsewhere at the moment.
How did this transpire? One minute we're having a nice friendly little dinner, the next, my impetuous lover is suggesting a dangerous m,nage-a-trois. . .and I'm eagerly agreeing to it. The last time I did something so spontaneous, I ended up with a tattoo. I can only hope that this evening turns out better than that little adventure did.
And so far it has.
Walter Skinner. I can hardly believe this is happening. So many years I have sat across from him, watching those big strong hands, dreaming about what they would feel like caressing my body. I'd look at that handsome scowling face and wonder how much more handsome he would be if he'd just smiled once in a while. Sometimes I'd fantasize about what he looked like stripped out of those custom tailored suits--those big broad shoulders, that slim narrow waist. . .
That absolutely gorgeous ass.
No, it didn't take much convincing on Mulder's part to get me to go along with this escapade. It fact, it was a dream come true.>
His mouth was like the flames of Hell as his lips and tongue took turns tormenting me, an aching agony building within my body. He had already made me come once, violently, and he seemed intent on doing it again. I didn't even have time to catch my breath before I felt his tongue licking once more at my sensitive clit. I threw my head back and groaned loudly.
Was it so good because it was so taboo? So forbidden? As he slipped first one, then two of those strong fingers of his into me, I decided I didn't care.
The guy was a fucking genius!
"Holy shit," I heard Mulder moan from the bed. Oh, yeah, that's right. We had an audience. I glanced over at my lover; he was sprawled on the bed watching us through half-closed eyes, his hand slowly stroking his straining hard-on. God, he looked so good. I've always loved Mulder's cock. Not too big, not too small, not too thick or thin. Just perfect, no matter where he stuck it. And watching him play with it, I wanted nothing more than to drop to my knees and swallow it whole. Yeah, then Skinner could take me from behind. Oh, God, that would be heaven. Him and Skinner. I wanted them both in me--one in my mouth, one in my pussy. I wanted to be filled with their cocks. I wanted to drown in their come.
Fingers sliding faster, deeper. Tongue flicking over my mound, faster, faster, faster, oh God, I can't take this. He's going to kill me. No more. Please. Oh, God, yes, yes. . .
"YES!" I cried out as my second orgasm shook me to my core. I must've bucked and shuddered for a full minute as tremors continued to rack my body, forcing me to grab onto Skinner's shoulders just to remain standing.
Once I had caught my breath, I sighed, "Damn, Mulder, and I thought YOU had a talented mouth!" and collapsed into Skinner's strong arms. He caught me and hung on tightly as I sank down onto my knees, my demanding mouth latching onto his, tasting myself on his lips. I was already addicted to his kisses, not knowing how I had lived so long without them. We kissed passionately, his mouth devouring mine, his glorious naked body pressed against me. We were soon joined by Mulder, who wrapped his arms around us, kissing us both on the cheek and the ears and the neck, and anywhere else he happened to find an opening.
When we finally came up for air, Mulder was the first one to speak. Naturally. "That had to be one of the sexiest things I've ever seen," he marveled. "You two are so hot."
"You're not so bad yourself," I joshed, the image of him jerking himself off still fresh in my mind.
"Any idea what's next?" Skinner asked.
I think I shocked the living hell out of him by grabbing onto to both his and Mulder's erections and tittering, "I think that's pretty obvious, Brown Eyes."
"You first, big guy," Mulder offered.
Skinner just stared at him, then at me, then at Mulder again. "Are you sure?" he asked, hesitantly.
"Age before beauty," Mulder answered, cheekily.
"Fuck you, Mulder," Skinner snapped.
"Gee, I sure hope so," my partner fired back with a smirk.
But instead of being baited, Skinner simply requested, "Actually, I was hoping to watch the two of you..."
"You've already seen the two of us," Mulder reminded him.
Skinner blushed. Imagine! And I didn't think it was possible for him to get any cuter. "I know," he stammered, "and it was the most incredibly erotic thing I've ever seen. I'd sort of like to see it again."
"A command performance, so to speak," Mulder teased.
"Yeah. Something like that," Skinner agreed.
Mulder shrugged his shoulders and announced, "Works for me," as he grabbed my hand and tugged me to my feet, but I couldn't be had that easily.
Jerking my hand out of his grasp, I piped up, "I hate to be a bother, but don't I get a vote in this?"
"Sorry, my love," Mulder apologized, dropping to his knees once more in a mock-grovel. "Of course you get a vote, my dearest. What is your desire?"
Ignoring his more-than-sarcastic tone, I mused, "Well, actually, I sort of like Bossman's idea. It's quite. . .exciting. . .and besides," I reached out and ran my hand once more over Skinner's impressive erection, "I think I have to work up to this bad boy."
My honey flashed his infamous pout. "You really know how to hurt a guy, Scul," he griped.
"Don't pout, Mulder," I scolded, "as cute as you are with your lower lip jutting out like that." Taking a seat on the bed, I crooked my finger and called him over, "C'mon, lover, let's give Brown Eyes what he wants."
Mulder smiled at my words and, gracefully getting to his feet, he stepped forward. Leaning over me, he pushed me playfully backwards onto the bed. We rolled around for a few moments, a laughing tangle of arms and legs as my lover plundered my mouth with his. I finally got him just where I wanted him--flat on his back, his erection standing proud and tall. Without a second though, I straddled his hips, and lowered myself down on his cock until he was completely encased within me.
We didn't bother with condoms. Thanks to the experiments done on me, we had no concerns about unexpected pregnancies. And the way Mulder and I looked at it, if all the shit we've been exposed to over the years hasn't killed us by now, an STD was the least of our worries.
With my knees folded on either side of his waist, I lifted myself off his body without letting go of the tip of his cock, then let myself slide down again with a slow deliberate movement. I felt the whole shaft slide deep inside of me, where I loved it best and I let out a long low moan of ecstasy as I rocked back and forth. Inside my body he was pressing all the right places; it still amazed me how well we fit together. He filled me perfectly--yet I couldn't help but wonder what Skinner would feel like inside of me. I swear I almost came again just from the thought.
Skinner. I still couldn't believe he was here with us. Friend. Foe. Colleague. Adversary. Co-conspirator. Traitor. So many facets to this man, to our relationship. A kaleidoscope. Constantly changing. For a long time, I never knew what to make of him, didn't know whose side he was on. It took many years before I believed we could trust him, that no matter how duplicitous his actions or motives appeared, he was doing only what he had to do to keep us safe. To keep us alive--even if it meant selling his own soul to the devil.
He doesn't know I know about him and Smoking Man. Mulder figured it out and let it slip one night, how Skinner cut a deal with the black-lunged bastard to find a cure for my cancer. . .a deal he had refused to let Mulder make. He had put his life and his career in jeopardy for me.
After that, I never doubted his loyalty again.
I glanced over at the chair where our host had made himself comfortable, watching me and my partner pleasure each other. Unlike Mulder, he had more modesty--or self-control--to keep his hands off the family jewels. But his impressive cock was definitely interested. My God, he looked so stunning sitting there, just like a Greek statue--all muscle covered with soft, warm, tanned skin and fuzzy graying hair. There was only one word for him: hot. Very, very hot.
The only things that marred his perfection were a smattering of pale scars along his torso from his tour of duty in Vietnam, almost white now with the passage of time. And then there was the other one, an all-too visible recent scar across his stomach. That one was a souvenir of his run-in with Luis Cardinal, the son-of-a-bitch who killed my sister. The man who almost killed Skinner when he wouldn't drop the investigation into her death. . .a position he was forced into because of me, because I wouldn't let it go. Yet again, he had acted in the name of love, to prove how much I meant to him, to show the extremes he would go to for me.
And I never saw it. Never acknowledged it. Never accepted it.
But that was going to change. As I continued to make love to Mulder, I beckoned Skinner to join us, to be part of us, to complete our circle. Where he belonged.
At first, he didn't budge, seemingly too shocked to move. I cocked my head and gestured towards the bed, but still he sat, eyes wide, mouth gaping. Mulder, who noticed what I was trying to do, flashed me a big smile before turning his head to face our boss and playfully chiding, "Hey, Brown Eyes, it's not nice to keep the little lady waiting."
The look on Skinner's face at Mulder's use of my newly designated pet name for him was priceless, but it seemed to do the trick. Having received permission to be included, a slow smile crossed his face. (I was right, by the way--he's much more handsome when he smiles.) Getting up out of his chair, he walked over to the bed, his stiff cock bobbing up and down. I couldn't wait to wrap my lips around it; judging by the longing looks Mulder kept throwing at it, I'm sure he was thinking the same thing.
I felt the mattress dip behind me as he joined us on the bed. I don't know what I was expecting him to do, but it certainly wasn't what he did. He murmured a heartfelt, "Magnificent," a split-second before his lips touched my lower back. I jumped at his touch, landing hard against Mulder, who gasped in half-pain, half-ecstasy. I nearly jumped again when I felt Skinner's tongue start licking in a circular pattern where his lips had just been burning my skin. . .it took me a moment to realize he was tracing the outline of my tattoo. A smile played across my lips--he wasn't the only one who was intrigued by that silly thing. I can't guess at the number of times Mulder has insisted on doing it 'doggie-style', just so he can stare at it while we screw. He might have been pissed when I first got it, but he's enjoyed it since, that's for sure.
After nearly driving me out of my delirious little mind, Skinner knelt behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing himself flush against my back. I was suddenly overwhelmed with his heat and his intoxicating masculine scent. "No, it wouldn't be nice to keep you waiting, my love," his voice a sexy gravely rumble in my ear. I swear I was close to swooning.
As I went back to riding Mulder, Skinner silently ran his hands over my breasts and nipples, down along my sides, and over my hips with a gossamer-like touch. Since I was busy with Mulder, there was no way to return Skinner's embraces, but my body responded with ripples of ecstatic delight as his feather-light touches caressed each sensitive spot--and I'm sure my vocal encouragements told him I was thoroughly enjoying his attentions. His left hand finally took residence cupping my breast while his right one slipped between my legs, his skillful fingers unerringly finding my sensitive bud once more. I moaned loudly, and started to fuck Mulder faster.
Making love to two men at the same time was novel experience for me--a fantasy I had thought myself too proper to ever indulge in. Nice girls just didn't do things like that. Well, nice girls don't do a lot of things I've been forced to do since joining the F.B.I., so I felt like I had the right to indulge. And besides, Mulder and Skinner were acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world, obviously turned on by their mutual enjoyment of me, and by the bond of intimacy we were all sharing. Their lack of inhibitions quickly relaxed me, allowing me to reap all the pleasure I could from this experiment.
I was close and getting closer. The air around us seemed to crackle with an electric current of unleashed passion that had been building up between us since the evening started. I was floating, so engrossed in our triple joining that I lost track of my own body. I felt as if we were all one single sexual being--no longer three individuals, but just one entity, one soul. It was exhilarating.
In my mind, I flashed back on my earlier image, of both of them taking me, together, at the same time. It would be so easy--I could almost taste Skinner's cock in my mouth. But then the scene shifted, the fantasy mutated until they were both in me--one in the front, one in the back-- fucking me simultaneously.
I had seen that once, in one of Mulder's videos. Yeah, I've watched some of his movies. They're not in the least erotic, and they never made me horny, but they certainly provided me with some ideas over the years.
This one had the subtle title, "Double Penetration"--I think you can guess what the plot was. I remember years ago, when I had first heard about that particular sexual act, I was freaked out--not just because for the medical risks but also because I couldn't image any woman being, well, slutty enough to do it. I mean, only a serious tramp would do something so incredibly nasty. And even after seeing the movie, I couldn't quite understand the appeal.
But now, I couldn't help but put myself in that actress's place: riding Mulder while Skinner slipped through the backdoor. Oh, God! To be filled with both of their amazing cocks, to feel them both deep with me, possessing me, fucking me.
I could see it, I could feel it. Oh, my God, it was so dirty, so raunchy. So wrong. What kind of slut would do something like that? Me. I would. Right now. Oh, yes, oh. . .oh. . .it's so good. Yes, sir, give it to me, fuck me, use me. Oh, Christ, do it. Take me. Fuck me so good. Harder. More. Give me more. Oh, God, I can't take any more pleasure. I'm going to die. I'm going to die!
"Come for us, baby," Mulder slurred. "You're so beautiful, Scul. Show Walter how beautiful you are when you come."
"Yes, Dana, show me," Walter begged softly, his fingers stroking me faster. "Let me see how beautiful you are when you come."
Their words thrilled me, and combined with the fact that I was at the mercy of Skinner's talented hands and Mulder's magical cock, I couldn't hold back any longer. I threw my head back on my boss's shoulder and shouted in rapture as I crashed through my third orgasm of the past hour. I came so hard I felt an all-over sensation of love and wonder and joy sweep through my body, leaving me utterly breathless.
I was still flying high when I felt Mulder grasp my hips, digging his fingers into my flesh. He gave an inarticulate cry as he thrust deeply into me, his own orgasm ripping through him. Skinner, meanwhile, kept fondling and stroking me through an improbable (and unprecedented) fourth screaming climax. As I started coming down, trying to get my breathing and heartbeat under control, I stopped moving up and down altogether and leaned back into Skinner's arms for support, which he readily gave me.
I loved being in his arms. He was so big and strong and powerful. I felt safe within his embrace. And yet, he was gentle with his touch, a true gentle giant. I wouldn't have minded staying forever in his clinch, but I was too weak to hold myself up any longer. With one final sigh, I slipped from Skinner's grasp and collapsed like a ton of bricks onto my lover.
"Incredible," Skinner's husky voice hitched. "Simply incredible."
"Didn't I tell you?" Mulder told him, proudly. "And she's all ours."
I felt Skinner's hands glide down my back, his fingers tracing over my tattoo one final time before he leaned over me and kissed Mulder over my shoulder. "Ours," he echoed, his cock lying flush between my butt cheeks. I shivered excitedly at the notion of belonging to them both. Theirs. I was all theirs.
And they were both mine. Finally.
<They're exceeding even my most fevered, detailed fantasies. So gorgeous together, so sublime. I still can't believe I'm here, that they are allowing me to share their lives like this. Even if it's only for tonight--and I pray that it ISN'T only for tonight--I could ask for nothing more.
Dana--lovely Dana--rolls off Mulder and lands flat on her back. She's flushed and sweaty and unbelievably breathtakingly beautiful, like some thoroughly debauched angel. I find myself staring at her, much as Mulder is doing. She catches us gawking and pulls a loosened sheet over her nakedness. I can't help but smile at her momentary attack of modesty--it's so endearing and adorable. She returns my smile with a shrug of her shoulders, her cheeks blushing a furious pink.
I look down at Mulder--he's just as flushed and sweaty and gorgeous, but the boy doesn't have a modest bone in his body. He's smirking smugly, the cat that ate the canary. He's proud of what he just did, how he completely ravished his partner, his lover, in front of me. And I can tell that he wouldn't think twice about doing it again.
I find it interesting they're not so different out of the office, their personalities and traits so distinct, so set, so. . .Mulder and Scully. . . and that makes me love them even more.
I think I'm in serious trouble here.>
"Hey Scully, look what I found," Mulder called out to his partner, as he sat up and grasped my hard-on.
Scully grinned playfully. "Very good detective work, agent."
"That's why they pay me the big bucks."
"I don't think I've ever seen one that large before," she whispered with mock-trepidation, leaning forward for a better look. "I'm scared."
"Don't be, Scul," he assured her, running his long elegant fingers teasingly along the rock-hard shaft. "I'll watch your back."
By this point I was practically biting on my lip to hold in the laughter. I probably should have put an end to their silly bantering, but I was enjoying it far too much, and couldn't wait to see where this was all leading--as if I didn't know. Scully didn't keep me waiting long. Tilting her head to one side like a puppy, she asked curiously, "Any ideas what we should do with it?"
A twinkle alighted in those deep hazel eyes. "Oh, yeah. I have an idea all right. But I'm going to need your help."
She gave a long-suffering sigh. "What else is new?"
"Well, if you don't want any part of this investigation, I'll just go on alone."
"No, you always get in trouble when left to your own devices. What do you want me to do?"
"Just follow my lead," he announced as he sat up and pushed me over, rolling me onto my back as he straddled my legs.
"Hey! Wait for me!" Scully squealed girlishly, tossing her sheet aside and leaping onto the two of us. It soon became obvious just what Mulder's plan entailed, as they both began kissing down opposite sides of my neck, down along each shoulder, and over my chest. Each one then began teasing the nipple closest to them, nibbling and sucking until I was sure my moans of delight would bring the neighbors running.
From there they traveled downward, over my stomach--I was both shocked and oddly touched when Scully ran her lips and tongue reverently over my abdomen scar. She stopped and glanced up at me, and for just a moment I swear I could see tears in her eyes. She knew where that scar came from, a constant reminder of what I would do for these two. Reaching down, I cupped her pretty face gently and mouthed, "I love you."
Her expression brightened as she mouthed back, "I know," then lowered her gaze and continued with her mission.
When they reached my groin, they both avoided the area that needed their attention most; instead, they went back to planting little kisses and nibbles along my thighs and down my long legs. Once they arrived at my feet, they took a moment to break for a quick French kiss before bending down and working their way back up my legs. By that point, I was thrashing around like a fish on a hook. I had been right all along--these two were going to be the death of me.
This time when they reached my crotch, they chose divergent paths, as if by some unspoken agreement. Scully's head ducked under me; I almost came off the bed when I felt her warm wet tongue licking around my nuts. Mulder, meanwhile, got first crack at my cock, and he didn't disappoint. He wrapped those lush full lips of his around the head and slowly inhaled it. Getting about half of it in his mouth, he began bobbing his head up and down, in and out, up and down, in and out. Oh, God, he was good. Perfection.
He had no sooner established a pulse-racing rhythm than he released mealtogether. I grunted a curse to let him know my displeasure, but it was only a momentary break as he and Scully changed positions. Next thing I knew, Mulder was sucking my balls into that same hot mouth of his, one at a time, while Scully--luscious Scully--was leaning over my erect penis, her rosy-red lips parting, I could feel her hot breath skimming across my ultra-sensitive skin. . .
<Oh dear God! This can NOT be happening! This just can't be fucking happening!>
Instead of Mulder's directness, Scully was more ladylike in her approach. She started by simply running her tongue up and down the throbbing shaft, from the left and the right, then along the prominent vein underneath. I was tossing my head from side to side, groaning in agonized pleasure. I could feel my heart beating faster, and wondered if it would beat right out of my chest.
Content that she had me totally at her mercy, she smiled as she took just the tip into her mouth, her tongue burning a path across the super sensitive ridge. I grasped at the sheets to each side of me and gritted my teeth, using every ounce of self-restraint not to thrust myself right down her throat.
She seemed to sense my distress and took pity on me. Taking more of me into her mouth, she started to suckle; meanwhile her tiny hand wrapped itself around the still exposed shaft, gently pumping me.
With her attentions on my dick, and Mulder's skillful ministrations of my cajones, I was soon climbing the walls and sobbing to the high heavens. I knew I was close--it wouldn't take much more to drive me over the edge.
Suddenly, Mulder's mouth was replaced by his knowledgeable fingers, working over my stones while his mouth joined Scully's on my cock. Teeth, lips, and tongues slid up and down and all around until I thought I'd surely have a coronary. Then, just when I was at the end, dear Dana snuck one dainty finger underneath me, tickling and teasing my most private place until it slipped in easily. And that was all it took. I closed my eyes and shot off with a bellow, my hips jerking and bucking off the bed. For many long moments my body continued to twitch and tremble, as the aftershocks rocked me to the molecular level.
After a minute, or ten, I felt some kind of soft cloth wiping at my crotch. I managed to open my eyes enough to see Mulder cleaning me off--with my own discarded BVD's. "Mulder, that's disgusting," I scolded.
"Get used to it, Brown Eyes," Scully sighed. "He gets worse."
"I can hardly wait," I groused.
"Don't listen to her--I'm not that bad," he insisted as he dropped the now soiled underwear onto the floor and crawled up to lay down beside me, pulling my left arm around himself possessively.
"You've been to his apartment. . .I rest my case," his partner decreed as she slithered up the other side and pressed her soft nakedness against me. She didn't need to wrap my right arm around her--it went instinctively.
Before Mulder could retaliate, I covered his mouth with mine. I felt his low whimpers against my lips, and deepened the kiss further, until I heard a distinctly perturbed throat clear beside us. "Excuse me, boys, but I don't like being ignored."
Well, as Mulder keeps reminding me, it's not nice to keep a lady waiting. So I turned my head and lavished her with some attention, too. For the next few minutes, I alternated kissing both of them--some feather-light pecks, others deeply passionate smooches. The three of us kept it up until Mulder finally closed his eyes and silently dropped off to sleep. . .then it was down to just me and Scully.
I was busy nuzzling her neck when she sighed and whispered, dreamily, "Isn't he the cutest thing when he sleeps? Sometimes I like to stay awake and watch him. It's the only time he's at peace. I know he's not. He can have the most horrible nightmares some nights. But when he's like this. . ." her voice trailed off, but I could see the love and devotion in his eyes.
"What do you do when he has the nightmares?" I inquired in shushed tones, so as not to wake our sleeping friend.
"Not much to do," she replied, sadly. "Try to wake him gently, and hold him through the night. He claims he doesn't get them as often now that we're together, but they won't go away completely. He's seen so much, been through too much for that happen."
Once more I was touched by this incredible pair, how much they meant to each other, and yet they had let me in. I truly felt blessed. Tightening my hold on her, I commented, "He's very lucky to have you."
"Both of us," she corrected. "He's partly your responsibility now."
I smiled at that. Yes, he was mine now, just as she was. They were both mine. Life was good. "Something tells me that's a full-time job," I remarked, drolly.
"You have no idea," she sniggled, "but well worth the trouble."
Looking over at the slumbering young man, I couldn't help but agree. "Yes, more than worth it."
She smiled up at me, then placed a butterfly kiss over my heart, even as her hand drifted down to caress my sore, spent cock. "By the way, this is mine in the morning," she informed me.
"Breakfast in bed, huh?"
"Cream in my coffee."
"I'm not even going there."
Another snicker. "Oh yes you are, Brown Eyes."
I just shook my head in amusement. Definite amusement. These two were going to keep me on my toes. "As milady wishes," I replied, planting a kiss on the top of her pretty little head.
"You learn fast, sir," she giggled, sleepily
"Walter," I told her gently but firmly. "At the office, it's sir. But here, it's just Walter, and Dana, and Fox."
She just snorted. "Good luck--he won't even let ME call him Fox."
"He'll get used to it."
Snuggling close to me, she dropped her head on my shoulder and purred, "Walter. I like it. . .but I like 'Brown Eyes' even better." Those were the last words she uttered before drifting off to dreamland.
And as I lay there, listening to the sleep sounds of my two agents, my two friends, my two lovers, I couldn't help the silly grin crossing my face. "Thanks, Langly," I murmured before I, too, dozed off.
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