Just A Kiss

It was just past midnight when Walter Skinner pushed the door to Fox Mulder's hospital room open and stepped inside. He tried to justify what he was doing by telling himself he was just checking on his agent's status, but knew he was lying. The truth was that he could not force himself to stay away any longer. 

It didn't matter that he'd been there earlier in the evening. Every time Mulder got himself hurt, Walter had found it harder and harder to control the impulse to visit in the dark of night.

He'd called earlier and the nurses had told him that Mulder was given pain medication and would surely sleep through the night. There should be no way the man could wake and see him, so what was the harm? 

Standing there, watching Mulder breathe in and out, he luxuriated in being able to look his fill. Mulder never seemed to stand still long enough for him to really look at him. Damn, he was good looking. That dark hair literally cried out for his fingers, the full lips, for his kisses. 

Good God, what was he thinking? Taking a deep silent breath, Walter closed his eyes, praying for control. He could not *consider* looking at Mulder as a potential partner.

Even though he was no longer Mulder and Scully's supervisor, he *knew* there could never be anything between them. He was still an AD, and Mulder was still a field agent. This would not work.

Damn, what did he really want anyway? He wasn't even sure anymore. The emotions he felt were too fraught with uncertainty, he couldn't force himself to look too closely at the feelings. Too afraid of what he might see, he supposed.

Moving closer to the bed, he looked down at the handsome man lying there so quietly. How he wished he could reach out and touch the soft hair, or caress the pale cheek. But he couldn't. It would be wrong to touch without consent and he'd never ask for it. So why was he reaching out to lightly brush his fingers across Mulder's thick hair and push the strands off the broad forehead?

He didn't know, didn't want to know, but the strands slid across his fingers, silky and smooth.

As he was pulling back, a hand struck out unexpectedly, grasping his wrist in a surprisingly strong hold. Mulder's eyes blinked open, revealing sleepy hazel eyes lit with confusion.

Trapped by the look in those eyes, icy shock invaded his system. Oh, god, what had he done? There could be no denying this, no way out. 

His throat dried completely, speaking would be impossible. He tried to pull away, but Mulder held him fast. "Don't go. Please."

Walter shook his head. "I shouldn't be here." Even to himself, his voice sounded like desert sand, barren and desolate.

"Why *are* you here?"

Putting on his best AD tone, Skinner lied as best he could. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"You saw that when you came in earlier." Mulder smiled. "With my flowers."

Skinner cleared his throat and tried like hell to find a response to that. There was not except the obvious. And he wasn't going there. His behavior was already over the line of appropriate.

Distance was needed. "Agent Mulder," he started, his voice a hoarse croak. "I was on my way home and decided to check again." Another lie, and they both knew it. Maybe he'd get lucky and Mulder would not call him on it.

Struggling to sit up, Mulder pushed a pillow down behind him for support. Walter was not going to help him. "Yeah, right." Mulder took a deep breath, sweat was breaking out on his face from his exertions. Skinner gave up trying, and plumped the pillows, pushing Mulder back gently on them.

"Sit." Mulder patted the bed next to him, his eyes smiling with invitations. The glee that Walter saw there surprised and terrified him.

"I should go." He wanted to get out of this room as fast as possible and he wanted to lie down and take the hurting Mulder into his arms and comfort him. Oh, god, he couldn't keep hold on his emotions. Ruthlessly, Walter pushed the emotions into a small box and locked it. 

"No. Sit." Mulder's tone was an order Skinner wanted to obey. 

Sitting down, carefully on the edge of the bed, Skinner faced him, afraid of what he might see in those far too knowing hazel eyes. Bare as he'd never been before, Skinner sat frozen, Mulder's pale hand, nearly blue in the dim flourescent light, moved towards his face.

Contact brought a myriad of cascading emotions flashing through his body. Skinner bit back a gasp. The briefly locked emotions struggled to get out of the box, one or two managed to escape before he closed it down again.

Then Mulder was moving forward slowly, brushing his lips softly, sweetly, against Skinner's. The heat of Mulder's mouth scalded him, through all the levels of his life and heart, down to the core of his being. An undignified sound akin to a whimper escaped his lips as Mulder pulled back. The touch devastated him. 

Even knowing it was wrong, Skinner moved forward capturing the full lips with his own, slowly, careful not to press to hard, but still plundering the sweetness. With extraordinary care, he slid his arms around the long, too thin body, pulling it against his chest.

Mulder moved against him with a deep sigh, letting his head fall against Walter's shoulder. A moment of perfect peace permeated his world. He'd never expected to hold this man in his arms. Breathing deeply he savored the warm spicy scent as he tasted the tart interior of Mulder's mouth.

After forever, or only a few seconds Walter pulled back, dropping his head so he didn't see the accusatory eyes. What the *hell* had he done? This man was a subordinate and if this didn't equal sexual harassment, then Skinner didn't know what did. He needed to get out as fast as he could.

"Walter?" The question in the tone made him look up.

He couldn't speak, could not believe he'd just kissed Fox Mulder. What the fuck was he thinking about? Nothing but his own satisfaction, his own lust. And he knew better.

"Walter?" Mulder's tone now held a note of impatience and he had to raise his head to meet the knowing eyes. And he saw what he'd been afraid he'd see: Mulder's interest, hard and bright shining out of those captivating hazel eyes.

"Fox?" He wasn't sure he should call him that, but somehow calling him Mulder seemed just as inappropriate.

Shaking his head, Mulder grimace comically. "Please don't call me that. I hate that name."

Skinner sighed, he didn't want to call him Mulder right now, not after he'd just kissed him. "What would you suggest?"

"You don't like Mulder?" The full lips twitched as if Mulder was holding back a smile.

Walter shook his head.

"Then don't call me anything. As a matter of fact, don't talk at all."

Raising an eyebrow, Skinner wondered where this was going.

Mulder let the smile materialize. "Just kiss me again."

"I shouldn't." Shaking his head, he tried to tell himself that it was a bad idea, that he should just go home before things got out of control.

"Do it anyway." There was as much demand in the soft tone as there was request.

Skinner bristled at the order, but found that he couldn't deny it, either. He wanted nothing more in this second than to kiss Mulder again. 

Moving forward, he slid a hand along the back of Mulder's neck, nudging him forward until their lips just touched. Slowly, he molded his mouth to the perfect full lips, tasting their sweetness. 

If the first kiss had been devastating, this one flattened him. The box where he'd locked all those emotions he didn't want to deal with broke into a million little pieces, leaving him with the certain knowledge that he was doomed. There wasn't a hope in hell of saving himself.

Mulder's tongue pushed into his mouth, mapping the surface and flirting with his tongue. He groaned, a sound that was ripped from his chest against his will. The blood rushed through his veins, all of it moving toward his swelling cock. He throbbed with the desire that coursed throughout every the cell of his body. Too much. The intensity of what he was feeling was too much to be borne and it scared the hell out of him.

Tearing his mouth from Mulder's, he gasped for breath. "I'm sorry. I can't. I thought I could, but... This is wrong." Skinner stood quickly, heading for the door.

"Wait. Walter?" He heard Mulder call after him, but he didn't stop. He had to get out of there, now.

As soon as he got out into the corridor, he paused, leaning against the wall. Taking deep slow breaths, he fought for control. How had this happened? When? Sweet Jesus, how could he have fallen in love with Fox Mulder and not known it?
 

End.