Battlestar

“If you feel the force throw your hands to the sky
Put your hands up, get ‘em up
Put your hands up.”
          -5ive, 
          “Battlestar”

Skinner sat back on the couch, removed his glasses, briefly massaged the bridge of his nose, then stifled a yawn with the back of his hand.  Mulder glanced over at him.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Ready for bed.” Skinner replied.

Mulder smiled.  “Aren’t you always?” he said, and laughed.  This comment earned him a light cuff across the head from Skinner, who growled, “Brat.”

Mulder slapped him back, softly brushing the back of the older man’s head, but when he tried to imitate the A.D.’s surly growl, the effect was lost with a snort and a giggle.

Fox Mulder giggling, thought Skinner, Christ, now there’s an X-File.

Abruptly, he stood and stretched, arms raised high enough to pull his shirt from the waistband of his pants.
The effect was not lost on Mulder, who stood with him and was now staring at him with all the subtlety of a five-year-old with his nose pressed to a candy store window.

 “Ready for bed,” Skinner said again, pulling Mulder gently into his arms.  They gazed into one another’s eyes for a long moment, chocolate to hazel, hearing the musicians in their hearts tuning up, beginning their nightly symphony with the music of longing.

 Mulder reached up and tugged Skinner’s face toward him, put his mouth over his, softly at first, then, feeling Skinner kissing back, with more passion.  Their tongues played an intricate duet in and out of each other’s mouths.

 Removing one another’s shirts was done swiftly without distracting either man from trying to devour the other.

 Mulder’s hands were everywhere on Skinner-back, stomach, chest-testing for sensitive areas, eliciting small moans from the older man.

 Skinner grasped Mulder by the hips and pulled him tight to his body, chest to chest, groin to groin; Mulder spread his legs slightly, and Skinner thrust forward aggressively.  Mulder whimpered against his mouth.

 Skinner pulled his mouth away with a nip at Mulder’s lower lip and was delighted when the younger man struggled to retrieve his lips.  Skinner evaded skillfully and pressed his mouth to Mulder’s ear, whispering, “Bed. Now.”  His warm breath caused a shudder to run through the body pressed against him.

 Skinner led Mulder upstairs to the bedroom.  At the door, they kissed again, holding each other close.  Skinner let his hands wander down to Mulder’s back to rest on the cleft of his buttocks, then pulled him in sharply.  Mulder gasped and threw his head back, breaking contact with Skinner’s ravenous mouth.  Skinner licked his throat instead, pushing him steadily back towards the bed.

 Mulder fell across the bed, arms high above his head, eyes closed, and chest rising and falling quickly as shallow, panting breaths parted his lips.

 Skinner quickly removed the rest of Mulder’s clothing, then reached for his naked lover like Jonny Lang reaching for his 12 string.  Mulder writhed frantically as Skinner’s hands played all new and exciting riffs across his body.  He was nearly about to lose himself in climax, and at that moment, Skinner stepped back and began to remove his pants.  Mulder eyed him hungrily, kiss-swollen lips parted in anticipation.  He touched himself lightly, lazily, wantonly.

 Skinner disrobed completely, and Mulder saw that the other man was as ready as he was.  He pointed at the bedstand, and Skinner nodded.  He walked over to the table and found the small bottle of lubricant.  Mulder helped him prepare himself, and he found it difficult to breathe.

 Skinner climbed into bed and on top of Mulder, entering him in one quick and masterful stroke.  Mulder groaned and raised his hips off the bed, filling himself completely.  Quickly the border between pain and pleasure was crossed as Skinner re-aquainted himself with Mulder’s sensitive neck.  He nuzzled and nibbled at his throat and earlobe, and Mulder turned his head to permit him better access.  One of his hands roamed through Mulder’s sweat damp hair, while the other hand reached down between his legs and squeezed, then stroked, slowly…

 All the while he kept up an intense rhythm with his hips, finding the music locked deep within himself, within his lover…

 Mulder contracted his muscles, and Skinner pushed on harder, losing himself in the song that bound the two of them together.  They thrust and bucked and tossed about, dancers of the most erotic sort.  It seemed to go on forever, and sometimes they wanted it to, and sometimes it became too much, and they begged one another to make it end.  But what had begun as a simple scale had suddenly become a raging orchestral movement and neither one could stop it.  Together they cried out, their voices melding into one heraldic note, as they came together.

 Skinner didn’t pull out right away.  He stayed right where he was, letting the last of the incredible sensations wash over both of them.  His kisses became softer, more loving and less carnal in nature.  He discovered that Mulder’s lips were swollen and red, and he had tears in his eyes; tears that matched his own.  He began to apologize for his exuberance, but Mulder kissed away the words, for their bodies were still playing the music, and there was no need for lyrics for this particular melody; not yet.