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Hegel Place
"Oh...god, yes!" His firm hand is stroking my cock. I moan and wriggle closer. "More...I need more." "You can have all you want," he says, his rough tone causing me to shiver. He lays me across the feathery bed and falls on top of me. "You want me?" "Yes...god...please. Please..." I'm panting, hot as hell, wanting him so badly. He cups my face gently. I never knew he was capable of such tenderness. "Whatever you want." He enters me quickly, and I catch my breath at the sensation. Pulling me close, he begins thrusting inside me. I'm writhing; impaled by a thickness I didn't know my body was capable of accepting. The feeling is intense. "Oh, yeah," I moan. "Just like that." "You're mine..." he whispers, stroking my rock hard cock in his strong grip. "All of you...mine." "Please," I beg. I'm aching, wanting the feeling the last forever.
"Give it to me," he rasps, pounding into me harder, faster. He smoothes his hands down my body, branding me. "Give me what you won't give anyone else." I panic. I’m not sure what he wants, and I don't want to disappoint him. "What? I don't know..." "Shh," he croons, and begins a rhythmic stroking of my cock, matching his thrusts. "You're mine, only mine. Tell me..." He's hitting my prostate with each push forward. "Yes!" I thrash my head against the pillow in frustration. "Let me have you..." At those words, I let go. My body tightens, and the white-hot pleasure of my orgasm approaches. I move under him fast, clutching at him, trying to absorb him. "I'm...oh, god! Oh...yes! I'm yours...yours..." I howl and arch off the bed, coming so hard I nearly pass out. "Mine," he pants, holding me tightly. "Mine." "Yours…" I sigh, and clench my teeth as more tremors shoot through me. He pulls away, and I roll over to snuggle into his unique warmth. I hit the floor with a thud that rattles my teeth. Damn. Another dream. Wide awake now, I drag myself off the floor and back onto the couch with a sigh. I feel the wet stickiness on... damn, just about everything, and squirm against the cushions. Nothing I can do about that. I'm too limp and worn out to care. I lie back and breathe deeply, letting the sensations wash over me. That was the most incredible dream I've had since this madness all started. Better than any porno flick in my collection. Better than any 900 number I've got on speed dial. The best dream I've had the entire time I've been dreaming about him. It's always so real. I can smell him, taste him, feel him. My body throbs for hours afterward. I can barely look him in the eye at work. Walter Skinner, the man of my dreams. It's not hard to believe that I'm having dreams of hot sex with my boss. My surly, snarling, overbearing, hopelessly grumpy boss. I see him enough to warrant him making an occasional appearance in a dream or two, but I don't know how to begin to explain my actual attraction to him.We've always had a good balance of antagonism/disobedience going, but this is something even I couldn't imagine. I don't know exactly when my feelings for him changed. Maybe it was the last time he tackled me in the hallway at work. Or maybe it was seeing him in workout gear in the gym. Hell, maybe it's the fact that we'vebeen thrust together a few more times than normal on cases in the last seven months. I just hope they're not putting drugs in my water again. All I know is that I want him. Maybe I've even fallen in love with him. I spend hours thinking about ways to seduce him. I need to know if it's only a dream, or if I can make it a reality. Maybe Scully can help me.I sure hope so. If I don't do something soon, I'm going to set a world record for wet dreams. Viva Towers
I jerk awake, cursing as I roll onto my back. I push the sheets aside, sighing in disgust at the wetness I feel there. A man my age has no business having wet dreams. Especially not night after night...after night. I know I can't control my subconscious, but this is getting out of hand. I dreamed about *him*. Again. That I’m having sexual dreams about a man doesn’t really bother me. Well...maybe a little, having been married for seventeen years. It's not as if I've never had sex with a man before, but they've been few, and definitely not recently. What bothers me is... it's *him*. The bane of my existence, the reason for my ulcer, the long, lean, hazel-eyed, pouty-lipped, sexy man of my wet dreams. Mulder. Go figure. These are great dreams, despite the frustration that comes with them. Hot, sweaty, get up and change the sheets sex, coupled with intense feelings of ...things I'm not sure I even want to admit. At first, I chalked it up to the fact that we worked a case together
in Baltimore last month. Not a tough case, but the ASAC needed the firm
hand of an AD, and I was it. Mulder and I worked different aspects of the
case, and he was elated when we caught the serial rapist. He was different
with me, more open, honest...relaxed. That may have triggered my
I keep asking myself, why him? The answer to that question will probably require intense therapy and maybe a few bottles of Night Train to figure out. Hell, I just know I want him. I don’t know if I want him for the night or for keeps. Right now, it doesn't matter. I can't sleep. I keep flashing back on my dreams. The feel of entering him...the heat, and the tight, perfect fit...keeps my dick hard all the time. My dream Mulder arouses me like no other person has, real or fantasy. I lie down at night, determined not to dream about him, but my subconscious seems to have other plans. This has to stop. No matter how the dreams make me feel, I can't go on like this. I'm distracted in meetings. I'm snapping at my assistant, and acting like a bear. I'm hot, hard, and frustrated all the time. I want him like I've never wanted anything before. Plain and simple. In my arms, my bed, my life…whatever. I think I need to talk to a psychologist. Mulder's a psychologist. How apropos. I've got to do something. I'm starting to prune from all these cold showers. Friday, 2:55pm.
"Scully, do you believe that a dream is a wish your heart makes?" I hand her a mug of steaming tea, and try to look nonchalant. She accepts the tea, and looks at me as though I forgot to put on deodorant. "Mulder, have you been watching the Disney channel again? You know that's hazardous to your health. All those motherless girls tugging at your heartstrings, and a cricket for a conscience. Stick to grown up stuff, like South Park." I smirk at her. "I've had this lecture before, Scully. Come on,
"You don't believe in dreams and wishes. Why do you ask?" That's my Scully. Sensible to a fault. A no-nonsense kind of woman. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay, Scully. What I'm telling you doesn't go beyond the confines of this office." I think about that for a moment. "And the Consortium's office...wherever that is." "Ooh, a secret." Scully loves secrets. Especially mine. She sets her tea aside, and rubs her hands together. "Tell me, Mulder." "Now you have to be open to extreme possibilities, okay?" She nods impatiently, so I go on. "I dreamed that I had...hot, sweaty, noisy, scorching, too-ashamed-to-look-at-you-the-next-day sex." She laughs. A loud, unladylike laugh. "I've told you time and again that if you fall asleep watching those videos, you will have those kinds of dreams. It's a natural thing, Mulder, to have noc-" "Thank you, Dr. Scully, but I know *that*." Taking a sip of her tea, she shakes her head. "Oh, Mulder...you
I hate it when she's disinterested. It's worse than her disbelief.
"What, besides the person in the dreams?" I ignore her sarcasm. "The more I think about the dreams, as the details of each encounter becomes clear, I realize my subconscious is pushing me to stop running from what I need." She looks at me. A little sadly, I think. "And your brilliant
"You wound me, Scully," I counter. "I hate when you're like this." She sighs, looks at the ceiling, then back at me. "I'm probably going to regret this, but who were you having this uh, hot, hot sex with?" I studiously avoid her eyes. "Um, well..." I can't tell her. She'll
"Is it me?" Her voice sounds a bit squeaky. "Mulder...I, uh, that is we...well, given the closeness of our-" I know where she's going with this, so I cut her off at the pass.
She's still gaping at me. "Skinner? Mulder, it's a terrible idea.
"I know what you're thinking, Scully. But...what if Skinner...he could be...as sexy as he is, I'm sure he's had men proposition him before. And he's a sensualist. I can tell. All those whiter than white shirts, tailored suits, expensive leather shoes, silk ties. Sensual fabrics, Scully. That says a lot about his nature." She snorts at me. "It says he makes more money than we do." "Scully..." "Mulder, he doesn’t even like you." I start to protest, then stop. Nothing like the bleakness of reality to take the wind out of your sails. "There's a thin line between lust and hate," I retort, a bit hurt. "He could...he kinda likes me...maybe not as much as you do, but he doesn't hate me." Ignoring me, she continues, "And he's our boss. You can't just...seduce him. If it backfires, you'll be in Alaska, investigating ice fishing X-files." She gets up and moves over to stand next to me. "God, I can't believe I'm even having this conversation with you." I look at her. Have I shocked her? I thought sure she would have figured it out by now. "Scully, you did know that I was...?" I trail off, unsure of what I should say, and if I should actually say it here. And what am I? Gay? Bisexual? Doesn't matter. I look at her, inwardly cringing. "You're at a loss for words? This is something." She waves a hand at me. "Yes, Mulder. I know that you are..." She trails off, probably thinking better of saying it here, too. "For the Boys? A switch hitter?" She smiles at her own pun. "I'm your partner. How could I not know?" "Oh." I blink. Shit. Am I that transparent? Am I swishy? Did she find out about me and 'he who shall remain nameless'? God, I hope not. I start to ask her how she knows, but I don't think I want to know. "Well, maybe Skinner is, too. I am the premiere profiler here." "You promised you would only use your powers for good, Mulder." Her tone is chiding, but I can hear the amusement, too. "I can't believe that you're willing to put everything on the line for shameful sex. With our boss. You've managed to amaze me. Again." I feel an irrational need to defend myself. "I didn't say it was
"Yeah, right." She downs the rest of her tea, and clangs the mug on the desktop. "Why would I be jealous? He's our *boss*, Mulder." "Yeah, and the thought of hot, sweaty sex with Skinner, our *boss*, turns you on. You're turned on now." I know my Scully. Her cheeks are red. "Damned profiler." She laughs. "If you strike out, mention me." "You're a bad girl, Dana Scully. But a definite asset to the team." I stand up, straighten my tie, and run my fingers through my hair. "How do I look?" She looks at me critically. "Gorgeous, as usual. Where are you going?" "To Skinner's office." With a frown, she gestures at the folder in my hand. "A case you haven't told me about?" "Nope. I just want to see him. This is that old gag case...you know, the one with the chicken?" "Oh," she says. "You're just going to annoy him, joking like that." "I repeat: thin line, Scully. Maybe I can get him to have a drink with me. Wish me luck." "Good luck not getting your teeth knocked out, Mulder," she says, going back to her chair. "Thanks a lot, partner." I leave her shaking her head. JEH, 4th Floor
I stop at Kimberly's desk, waiting for her to finish her phone conversation. She's one of the best assistants in the building. And she's very protective of her boss. She hangs up the phone and looks at me suspiciously, a look that she's given me a hundred times. "What do you want, Agent Mulder?" She glances at her computer screen. "I don't show you as having an appointment." "Is he busy?" I'm trying to maintain a casual façade, knowing that Kimberly is the one female that I can't charm. She hates to see me coming. I heard her tell another assistant that after I leave Skinner's office, it takes three days to get him to unclench his jaw. Granted, I do cause more than my fair share of headaches, and I did ransack his office once… "Yes, he's busy. And he's in a foul mood. More than usual." She glances at the door and lowers her voice. "He's been yelling at everyone all week. He looks like he hasn't slept in a month." She looks me over. "Did you do something I haven't heard about to make him this way?" I give her my best 'who me?' look. "I've been a model employee this month," I quip. "I've got the parking space to prove it." She glares at me. "Agent Mulder..." "Kim..." "Give me your solemn promise that you won't upset him." I shift from foot to foot. "You know how we mix. Oil and water." She leans back in her chair, and folds her arms across her chest. The message is clear: if I don't convince her, I don't get to see him. I could just run past her, but that would spoil the mood. I've got seduction on my mind, not a three-day suspension. "Okay, I promise that I will not make him any worse than he is already. Scout's honor." I hold up my fingers to convince her of my sincerity. She sighs. "Wrong fingers, Agent Mulder." Then, to my surprise, she gestures at the closed door. "Enter at your own risk. And of course, I wasn't at my desk when you came up here." "Of course." I watch her grab her coffee mug and escape down the hallway. Now or never. I square my shoulders, and tap on the door. "What is it?" He sounds like a bear caught in a trap. Definitely not conducive to seduction. I open the door and enter the room cautiously. He isn't at his desk. He's standing at the window, staring out at the skyline. I get a nice view of his nice ass. "Sir?" I enter his office tentatively, not wanting to make him grouchier than he already seems to be. XxXxXxXx Mulder. Damn. I almost went an entire week without seeing him. I knew I should have locked the door. Maybe if I avoid looking at him... I continue to stare out the window. "I told Kimberly I didn't want to be disturbed," I say in my best growl. "I...she wasn't at her desk, sir, so...I, uh, I just thought I'd take
a
I hear the nervousness in his voice, and make the mistake of turning to look at him. He's standing there, looking so earnest and sexy, I clench my jaw to stem the moan gathering in my throat. Fuck. "What do you want, Agent Mulder?" He's looking at me oddly, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. "You don't, um, sir...forgive me for saying so, but you look like hell. Are you ill?" Yes, Agent Mulder, I've got the "I Must Fuck You" virus. Why is he torturing me? Why can't he just throw a file at me, give me some bullshit line, spout some insane theory, throw out a rant about trust, and make me sign the damned 302? Why does he have to stand there, looking like a model, smelling fresh and clean, frustrating me? I clench my jaw tighter. "I am not ill. I just haven't been sleeping well." Why am I telling him this? Now I'm having flashbacks of him hot and panting beneath me. Shit. "For the second time, Agent…what do you want?" "Bad dreams, sir?" He sounds so concerned, I almost tell him. *Almost*. But they don't
call me The Stone for nothing. I don't want to talk. I want to grab him,
throw him across my desk and fuck him, like I did in last night's… Enough
of that train of thought. It's enough that I can't sleep. Every time I
close my eyes, I see him. Writhing. Naked. Begging to be taken, licked,
sucked...loved. I swallow
XxXxXx He looks terrible. To the untrained observer, he's looking delicious as usual. His clothes are fresh, he's clean shaven, his posture straight. But to me, knowing him as well as I do, there's something in his eyes--besides the dark circles the glasses almost hide--I can tell he's having a hard time with something. Something he doesn't want me to know. "Agent Mulder. Talk or walk." Shit. This is worse than I thought. I can't think when he's growling at me like this. Why *did* I come up here? Oh, yeah, to tease him. I look at his face, and suddenly, this doesn't seem like a great idea after all. But, being me, I do it anyway. "Um, well, there's a case, and I...need..." "Leave the file and go back to your office. I'll call you after I read it." He sounds like a bear with laryngitis. I've never heard him like this. Definitely not conducive to seduction. Maybe humor will work. "Um, sir, the case will only take a few minutes to outline. May I?" I give him my best professional look, combined with my most pleading look. My look seems to work. He sits down in his chair, glares at his watch, then at me. "Make it quick." I hadn't counted on this. Surly, I can deal with. I can even deal with
him humoring me. But this...there's something I can't quite put my
finger on. I open the folder and pretend to read. Hopefully, he'll see
the humor. I clear my throat. "Well, sir, I have a report of a series of
unexplained happenings at a fast food place in Kansas. The owner thinks
that the place may be
He leans back in his chair and shakes his head. A sure sign I'm headed for wiretap transcription. "That's it?" I swallow and go on. "It's the chicken pieces, sir. The owner says they won't stay in the oil. They seem to object to the eleven herbs and spices." No harm in a little levity. I look at him, but he's still glaring at me. Damn. "Anyway, every time a worker puts the chicken in the pressure cooker, they return to find the pieces arranged in a pentagram on the floor, covered in salt and a blood-like substance." "And…?" I frown. *And*? Did he not hear me say pentagram? Blood-like? That's usually the prompt for the patented Skinner response. A rant on wasting the Bureau's resources, a threat to put me on surveillance, an 'are you out of your mind, Agent Mulder?', but I get nothing. Something is definitely wrong. "What is it, sir? Has someone...is there something that I can do to help you?" He stops glaring, but he still looks pissed. "It's nothing, Agent Mulder. Like I said, I'm having trouble sleeping. I'll sort it out." I watch him roll his head from side to side, as if trying to relieve the stress in his neck. My fingers itch to go and massage him. I nearly groan as he reaches a hand up to rub a spot on the back of his neck. "I...know how you feel, sir. I don't sleep well as a general rule, and recently, I've been seeing some...disturbing images in my dreams." I wonder what he'd say if he knew that he was the image, and not all that disturbing. He nods. "Nothing that you can't handle, I'm sure. Having a good partner who'll listen to you should be a big help." I realize that my boss has just made a fleeting request to be...helped. Okay...maybe that's a bit of a stretch, but I'll take every bit I can get.Something's bothering him, and he wants to talk about it. Now, I know that he won't sit down over drinks and pour his heart out to me. I have to handle this just right. Maybe I can get him to my place and massage it out of him...no. I promised to use my powers for good. He'd probably have me fired if I offered to massage him anyway. Hmm...how to handle this. Skinner is full of secrets, and he's used
to keeping them. A situation like this calls for drastic measures. Maybe
I can drag him off for what marriage counselors call cave time. Sports,
alcohol, cigars...manly stuff. A man can sit and shoot the shit with a
guy he trusts, and if the thing that's bothering him comes up, it will
be dealt with in a
He clears his throat. "If there's nothing else..." "Sir...I've got tickets to the, uh, basketball...yeah, the Wizards game tonight. Maybe...it could help take your mind off your troubles." His eyebrows rise. "The basketball game?" He's frowning as if I asked him to attend a ritual sacrifice. I shrug. "I know it's the Wizards, sir, but they're playing the Lakers. It should be a good game." God only knows what Frohike is going to charge me to get tickets on such short notice. "A friend of mine offered his season seats for the next few games. I was going alone, but..." I trail off, hoping he'll take the hint. As if I want to spend two hours sitting next to the object of my nighttime fantasies. He must be crazy. "We've just come from a week of living in each other's pockets, Agent Mulder. One would think you'd like nothing more than to put a little distance between us." He shrugs again. "One would think." "I'm not really in the mood for a crowd." On the other hand, I don't want to pass up this opportunity. "I've got lots of work to do..." Great with the protesting too much, Walter. "It should be a good game, sir. And these are really good seats. Close enough to hear all the cursing." I sigh in defeat. Mulder begs so beautifully. Just like in my dreams. "Okay, Mulder. I'll go to the basketball game with you." It's official--I've finally lost my mind. I am going to willingly spend two hours of my leisure time with my most troublesome agent. And the object of my secret fantasies. The look on his face is priceless. He looks a bit shell-shocked. "Um, yes, well...the game starts at 7:45. I need to go home and get changed. Should we, um, let's meet in the garage at 6:30?" I nod. "6:30 is good. I'll meet you at my parking space." I am crazy. He smiles tentatively. "Okay. I'll see you then." He stands, and turns to go. "Agent Mulder." My voice is stern again. He turns back to face me, looking a bit tense. "Yes, sir?" "About your chicken." I hold out the folder he left on my desk. "Request denied." He shrugs and takes the folder. "Too bad. It seemed like an X-file." I lean back in my chair. As if I don't know a gag case when I hear one. I think J. Edgar made this one up himself. But I can play along as well as the next man. "Probably unsanitary conditions more than anything, Agent. See you at 6:30." The door closes behind him and a toss my pen down in disgust. I can't believe I just went along with his madness. And just what is he up to, coming up here with that phony case bullshit? How am I going to survive the next few hours? I hope I get through this night without needing a straitjacket. As soon as the coast is clear, I whip out my phone and hit the speed dial. After a series of beeps and silence, I hear a familiar voice. "What's up, Mulder?" "Frohike. I need a huge favor." "Of course you do, Mulder. What is it this time? Pictures of the grassy knoll? Location of Bat Boy?" "I need tickets to the Wizards game tonight. Good seats, but not too good. By six." There is a huge silence on the line. Then a sigh. "It's going to cost you. A lot. They're playing the Lakers tonight." "I know. Can you do it?" "You doubt me? Of course I can do it. Just hold on a minute." He sounds offended. I hear typing in the background. "Who are you trying to impress?" "You don't want to know, Frohike. Just use the credit card number you have on file and save the questions for another time." "Okay, okay." He's silent for a minute. "All righty then. Two seats, good, but too good. This must be someone special. I'll take an extra fifty bucks, and parts eight and nine of your Backyard Booty series." He pauses. "Or a picture of Scully in a lace bodysuit." I laugh. "I'm going to miss my tapes. I'll pick up the tickets at
"Sure, Mulder. What are friends for?" "Your kung fu is the best, Frohike." He laughs. "Tell that to the delicious Agent Scully." He hangs up before I can reply. I fold my phone and head for the basement. Scully looks up in amusement as I scurry in. "What's wrong? Is he after you?" I frown. "What?" Then I laugh. "Oh. Scully, Scully. You don't think I went up there and told him I wanted to have a session in the sheets, do you? I mean, I do have a little class." "Sorry, sorry. What did you do?" "I invited him to go to the basketball game with me tonight, and he said yes." I know I sound smug. "Am I good, or what?" Her eyes widen. "Oh, god. Mulder..." I hold up a hand. "I know what you're going to say, Scully. Don't worry, Frohike is taking care of the tickets for me." She raises her eyebrow at me. "I'm not worried about the tickets. I'm worried about you." "And I'm worried about him. He's got dark circles under his eyes, and he says he's been having trouble sleeping. He kind of hinted that he might want to talk about it---" "Kind of hinted? We are talking about Skinner, right?" I knew she would zero in on that. "He wouldn't come right out and say it, Scully. You know how he is. Anyway, I did some quick thinking and told him that I had tickets to the game. I don't have to have hot sex with him." Well, I do, but she doesn't need to know that. "It's just male bonding." She looks at me intently. I hope I don't look like I want to have hot sex with my boss. She shakes her head and lets out a long-suffering sigh. "I hope this doesn't backfire, Mulder. Just...I mean, he could be receptive to your...ideas, but if not..." "I lose a few teeth. I know, Scully. I'll go easy on him." I smile to reassure her. "As unbelievable as I find this, you do need my help." "You want to come with us?" I ask, cringing. Talk about a disaster. "I only asked for two tickets, and you don't like basketball, and it's a guy thing, Scully. You wouldn't enjoy-" "I'm not trying to horn in on your plans for seduction, Mulder." She
rolls her eyes, then looks me over from head to toe. "I just mean.... You
haven't been on a date since...hmm, you do know Disco is dead, don't you?"
She laughs. "Being your friend, I don't want you to be embarrassed.Without
my help, god knows what you'd wear." She cocks her head to the side, thinking.
"Okay. Jeans. Black. A new pair, not the old faded ones you always wear.
Shirt...hmm...that green Henley you wore on the
I leer at her. "Been checkin' out the Mulder, hey, Scully?" She throws a paper clip at me. "I'm a woman, Mulder. Trust me. I know what makes you look good. If he is...interested, he'll drool when he sees you." Skinner drooling? Maybe she's got something there. "Really?" "Definitely. The jeans make your legs look longer, and the shirt will make your eyes look like emeralds. Good shoes are kind of a Silence of the Lambs thing. And the leather jacket...well, that makes you look like a hottie." She laughs. "Skinner won't stand a chance." I laugh. I can't believe Scully said hottie. "I love you, Scully.
"Thanks, I think. Just be careful. And don't push him." "I won't, Mother. I promise." "But if you strike out..." I laugh. "I know, I know. You have my word, Scully. If he knocks my teeth out, I'll say 'Stully waths you, Thir.' " I dodge another paper clip, turn on my computer, and try to get some work done. Skinner's Office
I gaze at myself in the mirror. I can't believe I'm doing this. The man is haunting me in my sleep, and now I'm supposed to sit next to him for the next few hours, breathing in his scent, while pretending to watch a basketball game. I must be a glutton for punishment. What the hell was I thinking, agreeing to this? I'm kidding myself thinking he's not going to want to know why I'm having trouble sleeping. He'll badger me until I tell him. 'Yes, Agent Mulder, I've been dreaming about having hot, steamy sex with you for the past three months'. Then what? 'Bosses Who Lust, on the next Jerry Springer.' Oh, who the hell am I kidding? We could be going to Cats on Ice for all I care. I just want to...what exactly do I want? I want...him. To have him with me, to make love to him, to...shit. Shit. *Shit*. I feel myself growing hard again. I just came from an icy shower in the gym. I haven't been this hard since...forever. Shit. I splash cold water on my face and will my body to relax. After a few minutes, I dry my face, and check myself in the mirror. I think I look all right. Brown jeans. Brown Timberland boots. Tan Henley. Sharon bought the shirt for me. She said it made my eyes look like chocolate kisses. I remember balking at that, but she assured me that chocolate and sexiness went hand in hand. Whatever. I shrug into my brown leather bomber jacket and head for the garage. I know this is a mistake. xXxXx A few hours later, we're making our way through the crowd back to the
car. I don't want this evening to end. To my surprise, Skinner is a very
interesting man. He has a wicked sense of humor, and he loves basketball
just as much as I do. He heckled my team, I heckled him. He has a knack
for stats and knows far too much about the history of spandex for my liking,
but hey. And I did worry when he hummed along to Michael Jackson's Thriller
at halftime. And if I'm not mistaken, he's a bit attracted
"Well, that was entertaining, Skinner. You should take your show on the road." He glares at me. "If you tell anyone about the Thriller thing, I'll
"My lips are sealed." I look at him. "Could you hit the high note once more? I kinda liked it." "Go to hell, Mulder," he retorts. He points at a black limo ahead of us. Brandy and company are hanging out of the sunroof, waving. "They found other prey, I guess." "Damn. I feel so used." "You run fast. I'm sure you can catch them, if that's what you want.Don't let me put a crimp in your style..." "Uh...no. I'd rather hear you sing some more." "Wiretap is your true destiny, Agent Mulder." "Yes, sir," I smirk. Dangling his keys from my finger, I lean against the passenger side of the car. "You get to drive back. I'm feeling woozy." Actually, I'm testing a theory. Will he take me back to his place to 'talk'? Or am I totally wrong about him? "You only had three beers, Mulder. And they were watered down. You're just being difficult." "Hey, I don't drink often. You wouldn’t want me to drive your beautiful car with a slight buzz, would you? Besides it being a crime, I can't imagine what you'd do if I bumped something..." I give him my 'lost puppy' look. He frowns, totally ignoring my look. Wouldn't do for the AD to be in a car with an intoxicated driver. And especially not in his classic pride and joy. "Of course not." He looks over the car. I suppose he's inspecting for dents and missing parts. It seems to be all right. "Do you mind if I put the top down? It's warm enough." "Does that require me to wear a scarf and huge sunglasses?" He gives me a small smile, and I raise my eyebrows. I have never seen him smile. Not even a hint. And for god's sake, I think the man actually has dimples. Damn. This is surreal. "Only if you want to, Mulder." He lets the top down and we're off. He expertly guides the car through the clog of traffic and soon we're headed back toward the Hoover. "Thanks for tonight, Mulder. You were right...it did help get my mind off things." "You said you were having trouble sleeping? Is it...like before?" Not that I want to dredge up old memories or anything, but I'm dying of curiosity. The look he gives me is unreadable. I can feel him fighting to get us back to AD and agent, but I know that's not what he really wants. Besides, it's too late. "No," he says finally. "Look, I'm not a man given to deep discussions and deep conversations. This is uncomfortable for me.Especially when I'm the subject." Don't I know it. I'd been working for him for three years before I found out he was married. And I would have never known if his wife hadn't come to talk to me. "I wasn't trying to push you, sir. I'm just trying to help." He sighs. "I know, Mulder. It's not that I don't want your help. But I really don't think you can help me." "I know what it's like not to be able to sleep, sir." "I know you do, Mulder. That's not the point here." He's so cute when he's surly. How did I not notice it for all these years? "Sorry. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I just want you to know that I know how you feel." His hands clench on the steering wheel. "I don't think so. I've never, well, I haven't had dreams like this since I was a teenager." Oh, shit. If he starts talking about sex dreams, I'm going to jump out of the car. But I've gotta know. "Involving...sex?" I have the pleasure of seeing my hard as nails boss blush to the tips of his ears. "Um...shit, Mulder." He shakes his head. I'm sure he's wishing he'd agreed to come with me. "Look...I know that dreams are supposed to be about desires and all that crap that you repress, but this...this is different. I can't sleep, and it's bugging the hell out of me." I nod. We're nearing the exit for Crystal City, and I hold my breath. I just know he's going to invite me over. "Look, Mulder." He looks at me and takes a deep breath. "Do you want to come to my house for coffee? I think I'd feel better talking about this on my home turf. And I might give you a slice of pie, if you don't do anything insane." You are the man, Fox Mulder! Insane, indeed. I wonder how he'd react if I tackled him and gave him a blowjob. Hmm...might be a little over the top, even for me. I bite my lower lip, trying not to pounce. "Sure," I say casually. "I'd love a cup of coffee. Though you don't seem like the type to have a pie lying around the house." He heads for the exit. "I have a thing for pecan pie, Agent Mulder. I have a fresh pie waiting for me on the kitchen counter as we speak." Well, I'll be damned. My sexy, surly boss has a sweet tooth. This ought to be fun. "Lead the way, sir." Viva Towers
As I unlock the door to my condo, I know that I have lost my mind. I cannot believe I've let things get this out of hand. Not only did I tell Mulder that my dreams are sexual, I invited him to my house for coffee. It was bad enough sitting next to him in a crowded arena for a few hours. But now, I'm at home and I can smell him, touch him...shit. "Take your shoes off, Mulder," I bark. I know I sound grouchy. "I just got the carpet shampooed, and it may still be a bit damp." I take off my boots and put them in the closet. My jacket goes on the coat rack near the door. "I'll go put on the coffee." I leave him there gaping at me. After a few minutes, I sense him behind me. I turn to find him staring at me, curiosity written all over his face. "What is it?" I gesture at the scoops of coffee I'm putting in the filter. "Am I making it too strong for you?" He laughs. "No. I was just thinking that you don't seem to be the type to make your own coffee. I'm impressed." I push the coffee filter in place, then turn the machine on. "I'll let you in on a secret, Mulder. If I concentrate really hard, I can move things." He's looking at me as though I've sprouted a second head. Then he laughs. Hard. The sight makes me smile. I wonder how long it's been since he's laughed like this. He coughs, gasping for air. "I don't believe it. As much time as you spend shaking your head at the things in my reports, you know dialog from Carrie? Amazing." "It's one of my favorite movies," I say, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet. "Please, sir. You're ruining your surly, gruff image." "God forbid I should do that," I say in my best AD tone. I haul out the cream and sugar. "That's better. It's going to be hard enough to face you, knowing you know the words to Thriller." He looks around the kitchen. "Where's the pie you lured me here with?" "I didn't have to lure you, Mulder. You go where the food is. Remember, I sign your expense reports. The money you spend on food could feed a small nation for years." I slide the foil covered pie pan in front of him and uncover it, revealing a delicious looking pecan pie. He leans down and sniffs. "Smells delicious. Like a real pie should. Looks good, too. Do you have whipped cream?" I feel my body tighten, recalling a dream that involved whipped cream and hot fudge. Damn. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. "I think there's some in the fridge." I root around in the refrigerator, and pull out the can of whipped cream. "Will this do?" I ask, handing him the can. Shaking the can, he frowns. "There's not much left. Will your sex life be thrown off if I use the rest?" I frown, not comprehending. "I don't..." He continues shaking the can, looking at me. "Your... lover won't mind if there's no whipped cream?" What the hell? "My lover? Mulder, put the damned whipped cream on the damned pie." "Yeah, but you didn't answer the question." His tone is very, very nonchalant, and it makes me wonder. "Oh, the lover part?" I can't believe Mulder is actually interested in my love life. Or is this his way of finding out if I'm available? My over the top libido seems to think so. Hmm...rational or wicked? I'll take wicked for seven hundred. "Whipped cream is so cliched, Mulder," I say, pitching my voice an octave lower. "I prefer peach preserves. It doesn't leave that milky aftertaste, and it's very arousing to sop up with a warm biscuit." Take that, Mr. Profiler. He blushes. Never thought I'd see the day when he'd be embarrassed. "You...humph." He clears his throat. "I...too much information, sir." "Hey, you asked. Must be all those watery beers going to your head." "Must be." His cheeks are still a bit red, but he squirts the cream on his pie, and sits down at the table. Forking a hunk into his mouth, he chews thoughtfully. "This is delicious, sir." "I can't take the credit." I watch him wolf down the pie in three bites, licking whipped cream from his bottom lip. This is torture. I've got to do something… "Mulder...about my dreams. I've got to tell you..." I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. With all the deep breaths I'm taking, I'm sure I'm going to hyperventilate before the night is over."Okay, we've already established that there's sex involved." He sips his coffee casually. "I believe the term was hot sex." I swallow hard. "Are you going to talk or listen?" He shrugs, and I plunge ahead. "The dreams...well, I've been having these dreams for a while now. It's been the most amazing...and the hottest experience that I've had in a long time." He looks at me and nods. "So...is it something you want to come true? That you can make come true?" "Yes, but no." I think I may have answered too quickly. "I mean, it's a big risk when sex is involved. Things could get ugly if the person doesn't feel the same way. I could lose my job." Oh, shit. Too much info. I watch his eyes narrow thoughtfully. "So...it's someone at work?" He looks at me again. I feel as though his eyes are piercing right to the core of my dreams. "Is it Scully?" Scully? I wish life was that simple. If it was Scully, I wouldn't be losing sleep. I'd chalk it up to overexposure and go on with my life. "No, it's not Scully. If it were her, I wouldn't tell you." I shake my head. "This was different...like it was meant to be. But if I told..." "I know how you feel." His eyes are wide and innocent. "It's always risky, baring your soul to someone, not knowing how they'll react. I'm sure it'll be okay." He sounds so sincere, so hopeful. I can't take it anymore. "Mulder..." I look at him again, into his beautiful eyes, and lose my nerve. I shake my head. "I just can't tell you. It's not that I don't trust you, it's just too hard." He shrugs. "I understand. But if you change your mind..." "Thanks," I say. Time to change the subject. "Are you hungry?" He licks the fork thoughtfully, regarding his empty plate. "I could eat a meal." He stands and takes his plate to the sink. After rinsing it off, he frowns. "Where's your bathroom? All that beer is starting to jump on my bladder." "It was three weak beers, Mulder. Never thought you were such a baby. Through the living room on the left," I instruct. "You can use any towel on the rack. What do you feel like eating?" "Anything," he says. "Well, no pizza. I had that last night." "Fine. I know a good Thai place. They only take about ten minutes to deliver." "Thai's cool. I like noodles and rice. Chicken's good. So is shrimp.Don't forget the spicy sauce." He disappears into the other room. "Yes, Master," I say, as the bathroom door closes. I heave a sigh of relief. I'm starting to ache from unrequited lust. God, why did I invite him over here? As if having him next to me during the basketball game wasn't torture enough. Having him watching me like I'm the last glass of water on a hot day certainly isn't helping. I'm a fool. A hot, horny fool. I need an ice cold shower, before I do something we both regret. I stalk over to the phone and order dinner. After ordering enough food to feed an army, I head up stairs to get out of my jeans. The way my dick is acting tonight, I need some room. I figure cool water will help my erection, as will a nice loose pair of sweats.Ten minutes later, I come back downstairs, slightly cooler, wearing a comfy pair of sweats and a T-shirt. For some strange reason, Mulder is still in the bathroom. Thank god. I don't think I'm ready to face him just yet. The doorbell rings, and I head for the door. I open it, and find a pair of blue eyes regarding me lustfully. "Hiya, G-Man." Shit. I forgot about Ginger, the delivery girl for Thai Palace. Anytime she delivers, she has a habit of trying to seduce me. "Hey, Ginger," I say with a sidelong glance toward the bathroom. I take the bag from her. "How are you? How much do I owe you?" "I'm fine anytime I see you, G-Man. Your bill is eighteen bucks. I snuck some spring rolls in your order because I know you like them." "Thanks." I hand her twenty-five dollars. She licks her lips and smiles at me, moving closer. "You always give good tips, G-Man. What do you say I-" "Damn, Skinner," Mulder interrupts, "what did you order?" Grateful for his sense of timing, I thrust the bag in his arms. "Food, Mulder." I open the door and wait patiently. Ginger looks at me, then at Mulder, then at the door. "There's extra shrimp in the Pad Thai, too. Maybe your friend would like-" "Thanks, Ginger, but no." I give her my patented AD look. "*Goodnight*, Ginger," I say in my 'your ass is grass, Agent' voice. She smiles at me again, not intimidated at all. "Okay, G-Man. See you next time. Enjoy your dinner." She brushes past me and out into the hallway. I close the door and sigh. Mulder's unpacking the bags, grinning like a loon. "What?" I bark. "Ooh...down, boy. I was just thinking what an interesting interlude that was." "What do you mean?" "Well, first of all, that her name is Ginger. And given the fact that all the women I've met tonight have cutesy names, it's a strange coincidence. And that she was looking like she wanted to break federal laws with you. And a few state and locals statutes, too. And that you tipped her like, ten bucks, G-Man." With a sigh, I explain, "Ginger was walking the streets and some guys
beat her up. I was overseeing the Napton case...you remember that undercover
bust with the drug/prostitution ring? Well, Ginger was caught in
that. She was only fifteen. I got a friend of mine to take her in, and
"I didn't mean to imply that you were. It's just...I've never seen
"I can imagine. Ginger's quite a handful. You want a drink?" "Sure. What do you have?" I go to the kitchen and open the refrigerator. "Iced tea, lemonade, beer, ginger ale. Or hard liquor, if you'd prefer." "The watery beer was enough for one night. Iced tea is cool."
"This is surreal," he says, taking a long swig of tea. "It's just regular tea, Mulder. Nothing fancy." "No, not the tea. It's...I can't imagine you grocery shopping." He piles steaming noodles on his plate. "I mean, you're always at work. Late night, early morning. When do you have time to shop?" "Well, since you asked, I'll let you in on another secret. I'm
an
He blushes. "Nice perks. I think I'm jealous." I chew on my spring roll thoughtfully. "There are many disadvantages as well, Mulder." "But the money, power, respect, and women must outweigh the disadvantages. And the fact that you don't have to wait in line at the cleaners." "Well, there's that, of course. The money's good, the power's
"You probably haven't noticed them. They're behind every potted plant and file cabinet, waiting for you to walk by." He shakes his head. "Women seem to go for types like you. You alpha males exude something...I don't know what it is, but if I could bottle it, I'd be rich. One whiff, and women would swarm you. Like those basketball chicks." I shrug. "Not my type, so they don't count. I'm sure you have your share of fans, Mulder." "Not really, unless you count Bob, the cross dresser in Travel, and 44DDMama, my online pal. Most women think I'm weird." "Weirdness can be attractive. Just have to find the right woman. I mean, people think I'm surly, but I've had my share of women. You just have to know what you want, and go for it." "Uh, sir, you *are* surly. And it's attractive...uh, to women, that is. It's okay to be grouchy, or grumpy, but mention an alien or a global conspiracy, women run." I laugh. His sense of humor is razor sharp. Adorable. How did I not see this before? "Mulder, Mulder. It's all about finesse. Any woman can be seduced with the right touch." "All you alpha male types think alike. A man like you could have any woman you want, yet you always do the honorable thing. Absolutely amazing." "I’m not always honorable. In my heyday, I'd have taken all of those basketball bimbos home, and went back for another set the next night." He chuckles. "You go, boy. I think I'm jealous." "You were invited to share in the five-some. Women love you. You just don't know it." "It's not that," he says with a shake of his head. "That there's a
He looks so forlorn it takes every ounce of self-control not to wrap him in my arms and give him a fucking he can write about in his diary. "It's not a bad thing to be devoted to your cause, Mulder. Although, I happen to know that you're not *all* about the X-Files. It's a well known fact that you play ball on Saturdays, you go to basketball games, and I heard through the grapevine you like old Sci-fi movies, Plan 9 From Outer Space being your favorite." His face lights up. He seems pleased that I know things about him. Surly or not, I'm really good at little details. "Still, put that way, I sound like a prime candidate for Loserville." He sighs. "Mulder, don't be so hard on yourself. You're fine just the way you are." "Yeah, yeah. I guess I just want a life...and someone to share it with. To go see a movie, to dinner, Sunday brunch, a long walk...to smell cigarette smoke without looking around for Consortium goons." He sighs again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be dumping my loneliness on you." "Don't worry about all that," I say. "I don't mind listening. If you don't mind me asking... why you don't just take Scully? You guys are friends, right?" He looks at me. "We're the best of friends, but she's not...I'm...it's not the same. She doesn't understand this part of me." "What's not to understand?" I ask, taking another swig of my lemonade. "You're a highly intelligent, driven, passionate man, with a wicked right cross, who wants a life and someone to share it with. Nothing wrong with that." "It's the 'someone to share it with part' that's the problem. I'm too driven, too passionate, and too intelligent for any one person." "Well, gee, Mulder, I'll go to a movie with you if you'll explain the big words to me." He laughs. "I didn't mean it as an insult. My last date called me
"I wouldn't say that. Definitely not cerebral, certainly not condescending. As for being a dud...well, maybe it was the wrong date for you...or...." "That's all right, sir. I know I can be...obnoxious at times." At my raised eyebrows, he adds, "With some more than others." "The understatement of the year," I say dryly. "I must have a sign on my head that says 'annoy me, Mulder'." "Not really. I just react to you sometimes," he says with a shrug. "Maybe I just need to relax and let life pass me by." I snort. "I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Let's be realistic here. If you want to date, you have to keep certain things in mind. Rule number one: No woman wants a man who's uptight and tense. Of course, I learned this *after* my divorce, but trust me." He nods in understanding. "What do you do to relax?" "I box, lift weights. Sometimes, I read. I like to fish. And I have a fondness for poker." I shrug. "I often find sex very relaxing, though I'm having a bit of a dry spell these days." At least, involving another person's physical presence, I amend silently. "You find sex relaxing?" His incredulous tone makes my eyebrows rise. "You don't?" He shakes his head. "I...overall, I've found my recent sexual
I wonder how recent, and immediately regret my musings as my body reacts to those lustful thoughts. "Edgy?" "Maybe it was performance anxiety." He stands up suddenly. "Can I get another iced tea?" I don't have to have a degree in psychology to recognize classic avoidance. Or maybe he's just nervous. I am his boss. I wave him toward the kitchen. "Help yourself." A few minutes later, he's back with another tea, and lemonade for me. "You've even got chocolate milk in your refrigerator." He frowns at me"You don't find sex edgy? Not even the first time with someone?" "I think edginess comes from a lack of trust in your partner." I shrug."Or maybe you're just having sex with the wrong kinds of women." And so here is my chance. Should I come out and say it? Or should I be macho and pretend? Being macho has never been one of my strong suits, so I figure honesty will be my policy. "Well, maybe that's the problem." "The wrong woman?" he asks, his dark eyes searching mine. "That's easily fixed, Mulder." I squirm under the intensity of his gaze. Spit it out, Mulder. Stop stalling. "Uh...no, the woman part," I answer. "I'm on the wrong team. No wonder sex is edgy."
His lips turn up at the corners...god, please don't let that be the
I amazed that he's not amazed. "Seemed right at the time, but I was
"*All* of them?" he demands in that tone of his that always makes me
I frown at him, reminding him we are talking about my personal like, or
"Well, that's different. I'd worry if you told me you've only had bad
I chuckle at his choice of words. I'm putting that in the 'things you
"Yeah, well, call it what you want. I do know that sex between men can
He says this so nonchalantly that I gape at him. "And having been
"I wasn't always married, Mulder. And I'm not married now."
I blink. He can't be...I mean, I profiled him, but this was basically a
He lifts a massive shoulder in a shrug. "Well, since we're playing
I shake my head back and forth. "System overload." "What?"
"Too much information to absorb. You smile, you eat, you have gay
"Oh, please. My life isn't much to brag about. As far as men go, I've
"Anyone I know?" I blurt before I can stop myself. "No, never mind. I
His eyes shift to the side for a moment, then he looks back at me.
I gape at him. "Martin Sheen? Hmm...I suppose he's...yeah."
"Apocalypse Now had a lot to do with it. Something about his eyes. I an
And here I was all ready to talk about Martin Sheen. Shit. I can't even
"He's the one?"
I feel my face warming. "And only." He'll probably fire me tomorrow. I
"Not good?"
"I'm not sure. It all happened so fast. We were in the car, and..." I
"I'm not writing this down, Mulder," he says in his uniquely surly way.
To trust, or not to trust. Trust no one. But then again, Bob Dylan did
"Too bad. I thought he'd be a real hot piece." "Maybe for you he would be." He looks at me. "No. He's not what I want." "Well, he's no Martin Sheen, but his eyes are-" "No," he repeats. "No? Nice lips, and he's well hu-" "*No*, Mulder."
There's something in his eyes I can't describe. Kind of like a hungry
"Yes." He smiles at me. It's a sexy, devilish grin I could grow to
I bite back a moan. If he only knew how long I've wanted to hear those
"Shut up, Monster Boy Mulder," he growls. "Kiss me like you know you
Licking my lips nervously, I look up at him. The desire I see gleaming
His chocolate eyes bore into mine. "The dreams, Mulder. It was you." ******************
I watch his eyes widen. Then he does just what I feared he'd do. He
I clench my teeth in anger. "Mulder...either hit me or walk out on me,
He sobers immediately, grabbing my arm in protest. "I'm laughing with
"Well, since you're the only one laughing, I suppose I don't." My jaw
He smiles a gentle smile at me. "I...dreamed about you, too. Hot, hot,
"Son of a bitch." I feel slightly dizzy. This is so...this could only
"Very. I'm been having these dreams for a while. I wake up with...let's
I realize what he's saying and my heart starts racing. I look at him.
"You knew I was...attracted to you. How?" he asks, looking at me with a
"I've been your boss for five years, Mulder. We've never really been
He inches his hips upward. "I wanted you. This. Us...it was...god,
He sounds confused. I know he wants me, but doesn't want to be hurt
"Huh?"
"My name, Monster Boy." I thrust against him slowly, tantalizingly.
****************
"I..." My dick has begun to throb to its own beat. Walter. Walter.
He places a large hand over my mouth. "You want me? This? Us?"
The feel of his hand covering my mouth is so erotic. What a dom he
"Tell me." He takes his hand away. "If... I... we do, then what?"
"Everything. I want it all, Mulder." He sweeps his tongue across my
"I want it," I gasp as he nips at my chin. "I really do, but…"
"Let me make you feel it, then. Show you how a real man makes love." He
"But-" His kiss cuts off my protest. Who knew that my hard-assed, surly
"Yes, we should," he replies, then he pulls back, looking at me
"What if it doesn't work?" My tone is whiny, but I can't help it.
His hand goes back over my mouth. "They're all gonna laugh at you. I
I shake my head, my eyes imploring him to listen. He moves his hand
"I do know, Mulder. Trust me on this one thing. We need each other. You
I move my hips upward with a groan. "Is this where the Smoking Man
"Are you deliberately trying to turn me off, Mulder?"
"Ah...no, sir..." I shiver as he licks my neck. "That would be dumb of
"Hold on to that thought, Monster Boy." "Wow, a nickname...are you going to pin me, too?"
He grinds me into the sofa. "You don't feel pinned enough? I must be
"If you slip me out of these jeans, this would feel a lot better."
"Too easy," he says, pressing his hips down. "In my dreams, it was so
"This is kind of like an X-file." I say, fighting the urge to flip him
He gathers my hips in his big, sexy hands. "You want me to sign the
"What?" His voice is rough with passion.
He's thrusting against me and I can feel that he's hard and huge. For
"That about sums it up," he gasps as his lips blaze a trail down my
I tug on his T-shirt until I free it from his sweats. To my delight, he
"Are you saying that I'm made of stone?" I move my hips against his. "Some parts of you definitely qualify."
He answers with a hip movement of his own. "Tell me about your dreams,
"Yes." He's moving faster against me. "It was all of that. But it was
"More?"
I nip lightly at his neck, causing him to shiver again. "You...I was
He toys with the snap of my jeans. "Are you sure, Mulder? I want you to
"I've been dreaming about you for a long time. I'm sure." I suck in my
"Yes, I'm not sure." He slides his hand inside my jeans and caresses my
"Yes," I sigh, and arch into his touch. ***********
Oh god, I'm burning. He's so hot, so wild...I press him into the sofa
He pants at the contact. Taking advantage of his parted lips, I set my
I slide my hands down and cup his beautiful ass, pulling him closer
"Oh," he moans. He grabs my wrist in a vise grip. "Please...god,
"Easy..." He's holding my wrist, forcing my hand back and forth on his
He shouts into my mouth and goes limp. "Mulder..." I twist my wrist
"Uh, sorry..."
He looks at me. I can see the satisfaction on his face, but his
"No." The word comes out stilted and curt.
Tensing, I look at him again. Shame. That's what I see in his eyes.
I
XxXxXx
I hear a door slam and jerk out of my trance. Damn. Of all the times to
At the top of the stairs, I pause, listening. "Skinner?" I hear a small
He's standing at the window, staring out into the night. I move closer
He turns to face me. "I thought you'd be gone by now."
I drop my hand from his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to
The hurt dulling his brown eyes is heartbreaking. He shakes his head.
"No!" I say forcefully. "It wasn't that, *Walter*."
His eyes flash at my use of his first name. He looks angry. Pissed.
"It was-" I begin, but he holds up a hand.
"Did you think that you could just...profile me, and get what you
I feel guilty. "No, it wasn't that. I was...ah, overwhelmed by
He lets out a huge breath. "Oh, hell, Mulder. I thought...when you
I laugh uneasily. "That's a good thing, right?"
"Yeah, it is. I didn't expect you to be so sensitive, so easily
"You think I'm...easy?" God, how pathetic.
He grabs my hand and places it on his crotch. It feels like a boa
I know I'm blushing. I like my hand there, though. "Blame it on the
I have the pleasure of seeing him blush again. Cute, if I'm allowed to
I arch my eyebrows at him. "Does this involve whipped cream, a pogo
"Kinky, but not what I'm thinking." He steps closer, putting his arms
Maybe that's a rhetorical question. "My moaning your name didn't make
"You're sure?"
"Again with the moaning answer," I say, frowning. Where is he going
"Then, you'll have to seduce me." ************** I smile as he nearly chokes. "Didn't I do that already?"
I shrug and move back. Time to see if he's serious about this. "If
"Oh." He looks hurt for a moment, then shakes it off. "If you're not
"So you just profile, and don't follow up?" I taunt. "Maybe you can't
"I can handle you, and a hundred men like you," he sasses. "Can you
I shrug again. "That, Monster Boy, is entirely up to you. You want me,
He backs me against the window. "You want to be seduced?" His voice is
Hmm... that thrills me. A lot. I lean into him, letting him feel my
The End?
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