A Home On The Range
(Part
5)
(Written
June 14th – October 19th, 2006 – Yvette & Pamela, you
made my days…this one’s for you!)
Our
home. Ours. No longer my solo retirement dream; apparently Fox
does hold some semblance of appreciation for this hotter than hell locale, or
else I imagine I would have scared him off by now. No, it’s probably just me
keeping him here. That thought immediately propels me into more maudlin
thinking…what if he gets tired of living out here in the middle of nowhere with
me? What if he decides that he made a mistake by attaching himself to me? What
if he figures out that he really could get a woman – closer to
his own age, I might add – somewhere less brutal than the unforgiving Sonoran
Desert?
As
if on cue he comes into my bedroom and sits down on the edge of my bed, an
unreadable expression pasted across his features. I give him a minute or two to
speak; when nothing is forthcoming I clear my throat and mutter, “What is it,
Fox? Bored already?” This is rude of me for more than one reason; he has spent
the better part of the past week in a plastic chair next to my hospital bed,
obviously concerned about my health and he got me settled into my room
once we were back here. Here being home. Our home. I let loose a
deep sigh and close my eyes as I lean back into the pillows, awaiting the
retort I am sure is coming since he just took a deep breath of his own and
parted his lips. Oh God, those lips…
“Why
so glum Walter,” he says softly, and I can feel his gaze burning into me even
in my prone and eyes-shut state, “you’re out of that hellhole of a hospital and
back in your happy place, right?” He asks, forcing a half-smile out of me.
“Unless you’re sad because you have company,” he continues without missing a
beat, “in which case I can only leave you here in your weakened, decrepit state
to waste away…in bed…all alone,” he drifts off with the last word and forces an
actual chuckle out of me. I don’t give him the satisfaction of opening my eyes,
though I yearn to see his expression at this moment. I already know that his
eyes are boring into my very soul, trying to break down what meager defenses I
still possess in deference to his presence here.
I
feel the mattress shift a bit beside me, and I know instinctively that he has
leaned over me – I can feel his warm breath on my left cheek and I am
absolutely fucking terrified to acknowledge his closeness…his very existence
this close to mine is more than enough to unsettle me in my weakened state,
such as it is. I open my eyes and turn my head the fraction of an inch
necessary to bring me mere centimeters from his face. “Why don’t you go get
settled in the guest room, Fox? There’s a full closet and complete bathroom in
there as well – you can shave that godforsaken beard off your face and look a
little less than Grizzly Adams for starters,” I admonish before I turn away
from him again – not missing the slight hitch in his breath as I deny him the
intimacy he’s craving almost as much as myself. He releases his breath,
lingering just a moment longer than absolutely necessary before I feel the
mattress give and hear his footsteps on the tiled floor. I would have had to be
deaf to miss the muttered, “Stubborn surly bastard…” that he exhales as he leaves
my room. I also would have to be dead to not reply with, “Unruly fucking
subordinate…” in as close to a growl as I’m able to manage. Exhausted, I fall
asleep before I even hear him turn on the water for his shower.
I
have no idea how much time has passed since I fell asleep. I vaguely remember
my last argument with Fox, then the rapidly retreating sound of water running
and not much else after that. I do know that when I finally come back to my senses,
there is the distinct smell of soap and something else lingering in the
air…must be ‘Musk of Fox’ because when I roll to my left side and open my eyes,
he’s there…no, here…on his right side, facing me, hands fisted
beneath his chin and lost to the charms of his own dreamland.
“He
sleeps,” I whisper aloud with what feels like a half-grin but is most likely a
grimace, stubborn pain rearing its ugly head from the bite site, winding its
throbbing way up my calf and into my knee before expanding into unseen rings
that reverberate inside my thigh, stopping only when they reach my groin in a
crescendo of pain at which point I groan, “Ffffuckhhhh.” I’m not surprised in
the least when Mulder comes immediately to wakefulness, reaching out for me at
the same time that I turn my back to him – much the same way our working
relationship always played out.
“Are
you alright Walter?” he asks almost timidly.
“No
I’m not alright Fox,” I reply with way more sarcasm than
necessary placed on the consonants of his name, “I’m fucking in pain and I’m
fucking sick and tired of being asked if I’m alright,” I tell him in no
uncertain terms.
“Jesus
Walter, I’m sorry okay?” he asks quietly before finishing, “Sorry I give a shit
how you feel. Are you hungry?” Oh no – here we go; he’s going to take care of
me now, right? RIGHT? I’m the helpless old man and he’s my…my…my what?
My gigolo? My partner? My…my lover? NO!
“NO!”
I bellow out at him at the same time I think the word, and I watch him wince a
bit at my answer…that’s right Fox, you fucking JUMP when I say how high…“I
am not hungry. I do not need you to take care of
me. I am fine on my own and I fully intend to continue to
be fine on my own and I do not require your assistance – nor the assistance of
any more of my rogue Agents – in order to survive, do you understand me? Fox,
are you listening to---”
I
have every intention of continuing my rant, but there is the
issue of Fox William Mulder’s tongue in my mouth at that very moment that
somehow ceases my complaints. Immediately. I know my eyes are wide open, and I
know that he is bent over me ever so slightly, and I know that I can no longer
speak because his lips are firmly placed over mine, swallowing not only my
complaints but my air as well…and then I give in to the taste of Fox Mulder.
Uninhibited, uncensored, and previously – dare I say alien – to me. I’ve never
tasted anything so outrageous…so pure…so unrestrained. I swallow every drop of
saliva that he affords me and pay him back in spades, our lips and tongues
introducing themselves with overt enthusiasm.
He
bores down into me, his groin grinding against me while suckling at my mouth
and tearing at my shoulders with his fingertips, body thrumming and pressing
into mine like a sole vibration lost in some cosmic eddy. Before I know what is
happening, my arms coil around him and pull him bodily to me, pain from my
injury be damned. He’s worked his lanky form between my legs and wound his arms
underneath and around my middle as his tongue caresses my lips, careful to avoid
any direct contact with my injured extremity. Not that I would have noticed if
he had jostled my foot; I am completely caught up in the rapture
of all that is Fox William Mulder and resign myself instantaneously to
nothing less than experiencing this pleasure to its fullest.
Our
hips meet and thrum and vibrate against each another in tandem, each of us
wanting to take what the other has to give, both of us denied too long our
solitary carnal wishes…finally…oh God, FINALLY…this feels good –
feels right. I feel his hands slip beneath my cotton-clad ass
cheeks, each of his palms caressing a globe, kneading them and pulling my hips
up to meet his insistent thrusts; my cock has spent entirely too much time
sedentary and decides to rise to the occasion (thanks to Fox’s enthusiasm).
“Unnnhhh…ohhhh…Foxxxssssssss…” is the only thing I find myself able to speak as
my hips buck upwards to meet his, the swelling in my crotch alleviated only a
tiny bit by the grinding of his denim-encased and zipper-clad hard-on against
my own.
My
arms have wound themselves around Fox’s shoulders; my hands have buried
themselves in the thick shock of dark brown hair and wound it all around my
fingers, reveling in the silky feel of strands wrapped around my digits. All
the while, our tongues duel – both flicking outside of our mouths and caressing
the other, then locked back inside the turmoil of our joined kiss-swollen lips.
I can’t get enough of him, the taste of him, the mere essence of him; God, I’ve
wanted this for so long I feel like I’m going to explode, and not just from the
feel of his hips grinding down into mine nor the scent of him or even the
vibration of his entire body this close to mine. I think what finally undoes me
completely is holding him so close that I can feel his heart beating against my
own chest…pure, unadulterated life. I’ve come so close to losing him so many times and now here he is
with me, finally with me. It’s almost too much to bear and I find
myself ready to lose control until he practically reads my mind and releases my
mouth to lick and nuzzle his way up the side of my face, teeth clamping down
harshly on my right earlobe.
“OW!
GodDAMNit Mulder,” I manage hoarsely as I still the upward thrusting of my hips
momentarily while my brain tries to figure out just why pure pleasure has
shifted to abrupt pain, “What the fuck are you doing?”
He
stops his downward hip thrusts, resting his lean form bodily atop mine and
releases my earlobe from betwixt his teeth, hazel eyes boring deep into my own
as he speaks. “I want you to know that I love you, Walter Skinner. I want you
to feel my body on yours, feel my arms wrapped around you and your arms wrapped
around me and know that I will never leave you. Not now and not
ever, Walter. I love you…I’ve loved you for years and I am not going to leave
you. I have lost everything that ever meant anything to me, these last ten
years that I’ve been searching for some kind of truth…and the only thing that
ever remained a constant was you. You, Walter. Beyond my
relationship with Scully, and the Lone Gunmen, and even that rat-bastard Krycek
– you were the beacon in the dark that I could always count on.”
I
can barely find my voice to form a response, overwhelming as his confession is;
all I can do is lie beneath him and gaze up at him with my brown eyes
reflecting the love I feel for him while I ignore the pain shooting up my leg
from the goddamn snakebite. Thankfully, Fox has come up with a few ideas to
relieve me of the merest idea of my discomfort. It begins when he stops talking
and focuses his energies on thrusting down against my body yet again, grinding
his hips into mine and continuing the action until I’m hard and panting and
meeting his hips thrust for thrust, sucking on his tongue and nuzzling his neck
in turn when I can find it in myself to release those gorgeous lips from my
onslaught.
“I’m
no beacon Mulder,” I manage to utter before he clamps down on me with
everything he has, his lips taking mine, his hips taking mine, his legs taking
mine; there is no pain, only the joyous feeling of being consumed by such
passion…such love…overwhelming my body, mind and soul. I open myself up and
accept everything he has to give. His hands tear at my tightie-whitey briefs
until they are shredded beneath me where I lay, his hands grasping and
caressing the globes of flesh now exposed, practically vibrating with the
electricity of his touch. His cock is still straining behind the confines of
denim and zipper, so I force my right hand between our sweating, heaving
bellies and gently lower the final barrier so that his manhood can make its way
out where it belongs; leaking and throbbing and thrusting against mine.
“Oh
yes you are, Skinner…you so are,” his voice trails off as he
thrusts down into me, “You are my beacon and my salvation…and my truth,”
he finishes as he raises his head and lets loose a primal growl that makes my
cock jump and my heart sing and my body thrum that much harder up against his.
“Fucking love you, Walter, unnnhhhh…” he groans as he grinds his
hips down and up again, his cock leaking against mine and I know it’s going to
be soon, too soon but I can’t do anything to stop it…and I wouldn’t want to.
“Fox…oh
God Foxxxsssss,” I moan as I wrap my arms around him and pull him tighter to
me, our bodies now lost in some ancient rhythm that defies explanation. I can
feel his hands clutching my ass cheeks, and my hands in turn clench his. I can
feel his thrusts against my body, hear his muttered curses as he makes his way
closer to climax. I can feel his cock leaking against mine, and the mere idea
of Fox’s life force making its way onto my body does nothing less than make me
silently scream and bite into the junction of his neck and shoulder, vibrating
and cumming all over his stomach even as his own white-hot jism splashes up
onto my belly, so hot I swear I can hear it sizzle as it meets my flesh…and
then there is nothing.
I
dream the strangest thing; Fox Mulder is here beside me in my bed, having made
me cum my brains out after declaring his undying love for me. As
if! Jesus, these must be really good drugs they put me on for my snakebite,
I think as I find myself swimming back towards wakefulness…only to find myself
looking up to the ceiling fan swirling lazily above me, slight breeze doing
nothing to absolve the heat consuming me. I turn my head to find the source of
said heat…dear Christ! Mulder? In my bed? And then
it all comes slamming back to me; the kissing, the licking and accompanying
thrusting, the promises (from him), the gruff and doubting responses (from me),
and the orgasm…oh God…oh…oh no. Oh…wait…oh YES! He’s still here!
Snuffling into the pillows and burrowed under the covers alongside me, that
muscular and hotly naked form real, breathing and snoring beside me. That spiky
almost-black hair sticking out from underneath the sheets, body rising and
falling in tandem with the near-snorting emanating from beneath my comforter
confirms all I need to know. It’s real. He’s real. He’s
really here. We really did. Oh yeah!
I
squint and try to focus between the blind slats; from my spot on the bed I
can’t tell if it’s dusk or dawn. I suppose, given my mid-morning release from
the hospital and the ensuing smut-filled afternoon that it’s closer to sun-down
than sun-up – in which case I need to get up and make us something for dinner.
The throbbing in my foot has reared its ugly presence once more, and I’m
careful not to jostle the bed too much as I scoot over and get up to make my
way with a pathetic limp towards the bathroom…and my painkillers.
One
long piss and two dry-swallowed pills later, I limp out of the can and make my
way as quietly as I can towards the kitchen. I spare Fox a quick smirk and
raising of eyebrows as I listen to him snore into the pillows, ignoring the
come-hither invitation that his nearly bare ass poking up from beneath the
comforter affords. Later Walter, later – it’s dinnertime as far as you’re
concerned…most parts of you, anyway. That thought makes me smile at no one and
nothing, and I realize it’s been entirely too long since I cracked myself up
due to any mental berating…or self-chiding…of any kind. ‘He’s good for me’,
I think to myself with an all too wide grin as I heat up and stir soup on the
burner of my stove, grilled cheese sandwiches already prepared for the griddle
once it’s fully heated, ‘He’s really well and truly good for me. Oh God…he
wants a pony…’
Luckily the bite pain is subsiding and the cheese is beginning to melt on our sandwiches, both of which are great signs. I hope that Fox will smell the food cooking and wake up on his own, but the increased volume of the snoring coming from my – no, OUR room – is any sign, I suppose I’ll have to go in after him. No matter, I think as I turn the heat on the stovetops off and limp into the bedroom, grinning down at Mulder like some lovesick idiot, I’m sure. I sit down on the side of the bed, taking care to dislodge Fox from his comfy burrow in the middle of the mattress and bedding. His body rolls naturally into mine, my man now on his back instead of his stomach, his lips smacking and eyes fluttering against what little daylight is left leaking into the room. He reaches up to me blindly, eyes clenched shut against the practically nil daylight, body inviting me closer and I’d be remiss if I said I felt anything less than an immediate urge to fill that gap.
“Mmmmwwwwallllt,”
he manages to utter, and I find myself instantly not only leaning over him but
stretching out fully alongside him in our bed, taking him fully into my arms
and kissing everywhere I can reach, be it his face, ears, nose, lips or chin.
He…well, he actually giggles from my attentions…and I allow my own snort of
laughter to escape before I pull him that much closer to my body.
He
pulls away from me and rolls over only momentarily, looking down towards my
feet so I know that he’s watching my injury, then those hazel depths suck me in
once more as his face nears mine, the rest of his body held lovingly away from
mine despite the closeness of his head to mine…his cheek to mine…and then, with
a quick but careful twist of his form, his lips to mine…and I’m lost once more
in the heady and beloved scent and taste of Mulder. MY Mulder, I
think proprietarily – and with good reason – once I come back to my senses and
return the loving he’s currently giving me. Dear God, I will never tire of this
attention…this affection…this…this benediction that he’s affording me by
gracing me with his very touch. I’ve loved him for years – most likely since
the very first time I saw him and there is nothing that can take
place now to counteract that; we’ve both waited long enough. Truth be told,
we’ve both waited virtual lifetimes to get to this point…it’s
only fair that we experience it now, at the same time in our so-called shared
retirements.
I
relax back into the pillows, totally unconcerned about the grilled cheese
sandwiches that are now cooling on the stovetop – and the healing snakebite
that just moments ago demanded a bit of painkiller – as Fox straddles me and
leans down, that trim swimmer’s body with the slight chest hair coming down to
rest on the blanket of fur that coats my middle. His hazel eyes are nearly
green in their intensity as he gazes into my very soul, hips thrusting gently
but invitingly downwards against my own and I’m so taken with his appearance
that I can only manage to buck upwards against his touch…and then our mouths
meet again and there is nothing but a dizzying feeling of euphoria as I cum,
unbelieving that I can manage this feat twice in the same day at this age and
in my current physical state.
Alas,
I’m invigorated by the same emotions, and I give Fox back everything he affords
me, stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust…until he’s collapsed atop me in a
sweaty heap, gasping for air and proclaiming his undying love for me in mere
whispered pants. His arms are wrapped tightly around and beneath me, clenched
together in the small of my back as I pull him that much closer to myself with
my right arm twined bodily around him, stroking his asscheeks gently with my left
hand and gently bucking upwards every few minutes so we maintain constant
cock-to-cock contact.
“I
really want a pony, Walter,” he murmurs into my ear before his tongue traces
the path of his words. I thrust upwards and delight in the small groan that he
lets loose, denying him the downward thrust he intends to jar me with.
“I
already told you Fox, you’re too big for a pony. Haven’t you
found something else here in the desert closer to your size to
ride?” I quip, reveling in the chuckles that vibrate his entire body atop mine.
He affords me a typical Mulder grin long enough to assess my question, his head
tilted to the side as he mocks deep thought before once more gazing – dare I
say – hungrily down at me.
“Fine,
but we both know you’re my stallion, Walt. So how about a puppy?”
He manages to maintain an innocent face for approximately ten seconds before he
leans down to claim my lips with his own and we’re once more wrapped up in one
another, literally and figuratively. I haven’t even been home for one day, but
Mulder is here and working towards making me his sex slave. I’m sure if I give
in at some point to the pony – or the puppy – he might actually assist me in
finishing the perimeter fence and building the barn for our horses…and our
puppy…and making this house a home, out here in the desert.
Out
here in the middle of nowhere, where it’s hot as Hell and there’s no way that
whatever remains of the Consortium could ever find us. They
killed the Lone Gunmen. They killed Krycek (okay, so I
did, but they made me do it…). They even managed to
make Scully a pawn in the big picture by making Alex the father of her child
(godDAMN the bastards…but she did kick Fox to the curb after she
found out, all semblance of their years together ultimately damned in the endgame.)
It all comes slamming back to me, and I shake quite harshly beneath Fox as my
own ‘truth’ floods my senses.
“What
is it Walter,” he murmurs down into my mouth as I lean up in order to join my
lips to his, our bodies once more managing full contact, my cock stirring
lazily despite our previous exercises. I can feel him humping gently down
against me, his own member soft but stiffening up a bit by the second, our oral
foreplay coaxing our bodies into yet another exhibition of long-repressed touching,
loving, feeling, EVERY–ing.
My
hands make their way up his back from his ass, making sure to maximize contact
to the fullest as they roam up his back to his neck, burying my fingers in his
hair and pulling his face closer to mine as my digits encircle his face and
cradle it like the treasured gem it is, my palms pressing against his cheeks as
our tongues duel and our sweat mingles.
I
feel his hands release my ass and he pulls them out from beneath my back,
raising his arms up and then bending them so that he can cradle my head in his
hands; he pets the fringe around the back of my scalp while his hips continue
their erotic grinding against me, seemingly of their own free will. Before
long, he has my face cupped in his hands; his gesture mirroring my own gentle
grasp on his face, and as our bodies dance slowly and gently together, we kiss
again…and with nothing more than a loud sigh, I release the most meager of cum
dregs that remain in my balls, shuddering up against Fox with a gasp before
going limp beneath him. As I shudder, Fox collapses atop me, hands releasing my
face, his arms akimbo on either side of me as his body vibrates and he manages
one final, long string of semen that jets out of his cock and comes to rest on
my belly…just before he flops exhaustedly down into it. We’re now glued
together, literally and figuratively, and we can do nothing more than pant and
kiss messily and breathlessly until we regain our senses. One of us is going to
have to go get a washcloth or SOMEthing from the bathroom…I suppose we’ll draw
straws in five minutes or so. For now, I’m holding him in my arms, relishing
the stickiness, and the sweat, and the kiss-stale breath and the aroma of
release in our bedroom. I’m enjoying him wrapped bodily around and into me, and
I just can’t imagine how we lasted this long in both our lifetimes…without this.
THIS. This…no, US. I think I’m going to enjoy my
retirement. Immensely.
There WILL be at LEAST one more chapter…keep surfing
here…and THANKS for reading!!!!