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X Marks The Spot
MULDER'S APARTMENT
Mulder didn’t know what else to do. He had gone this route before, often with mixed results, feeling fulfilled yet unsatisfied. When all other attempts to learn the truth failed him, he always found himself back in this place, hoping for answers, knowing that they might elude him, and often did, but also feeling somewhat comforted by the act itself. Reaching into the desk drawer for the masking tape, ripping off two long strips with his teeth, pressing them against the cool glass of the window. Somehow, he knew he’d get what he needed.
BASEMENT, J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
CSM held up his hands against the noise of several people crowded into Fox Mulder’s office. A moment or two passed, and the crowd settled into something approximately like silence. CSM lit a cigarette, then paused overdramatically, then announced: “He’s asking again.” “Third time this month,” someone muttered. “I don’t know why he doesn’t find another way,” said somebody else. CSM cleared his throat loudly, and the complaining died down again. “Regardless of our personal feelings in this matter, it must be addressed.” He crushed out his cigarette in an X-shaped ashtray, then reached into his pocket for a small plastic container. “I can’t do this,” announced Agent Scully. “If I can, you can,” snarled Krycek. “Shut up, Ratboy. You of all people know how this works, and I think-“ “People, please!” A surly growl cut Scully off in mid-sentence. Assistant Director Skinner glared around the room, got the cowed looks he was going for, then continued. “You know the routine. It’s all part of the job. We all have to do our part to keep the quest for the truth alive, and if this is the only way, then so be it. Let’s just keep our focus here, and get the job done.” Slowly, everyone in the room nodded and murmured agreement. Skinner always knew just what to say, and how to keep everyone in line. CSM opened the plastic container to reveal the bases of several matches. He turned to the Lone Gunmen, who were standing nearest to him and said, “Gentlemen? I believe we have work to do.” Each man pulled a match from the container. All three revealed that the heads of the matches were unburned. “Thank God,” muttered Frohicke. “Safe again,” said Langly. “Darn,” murmured Byers. CSM approached Krycek next. He held out the container, and Alex reached for a match with his real hand, pulled it slowly from the box, and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when the unburned head appeared. “Sometimes you get lucky,” he said, then added something under his breath in Russian, which was largely ignored by everyone, although Skinner gave him a sharp look. Scully was next. She seemed to be almost in tears, and her hand shook as she reached for a match. Just as her fingertips grazed one, her hand was knocked away by Holly, who gave her a wide-eyed but perfectly calm look, and whispered, “I’ll draw for the both of us.” She pulled two matches from the container, and when she saw that they were unused, she reached for Scully’s hand and smiled. “Let’s get out of here,” she said. “You know the rules, Miss Patton; you too, Miss Scully. You will wait until someone has been chosen.” CSM said, his voice cold. He paused in the selection process to light another cigarette, and someone coughed. “I feel like I am stuck in a Shirley Jackson novel,” said Kimberly. CSM blew a thick cloud of smoke in Skinner’s direction, which earned him a fierce glare as Skinner reached for a match. He cupped it in his hand so that only he could see it for a moment, then, with another scowl for all those assembled, he threw the burned match to the floor and walked quickly out of the room. “Poor guy,” muttered Krycek, retrieving the match. “That’s three for three. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were setting this up, you son-of-a-bitch.” CSM kept his face neutral as he told them to go home and warned them against speaking of this to anyone. “Like I would,” muttered A.D. Kersh, stalking out of the room.
MULDER’S APARTMENT
Mulder was lying on his back on the couch, having fallen asleep while waiting for his call to be answered. He twitched in his sleep but did not awake when Skinner entered the apartment. Skinner slipped the lockpick back into the pocket of his trenchcoat, then pulled two black silk scarves out of the other pocket. They caught briefly on something, but he tugged them free. He easily found his way through the darkened apartment to the window, where he peeled away the masking tape X, then turned to the couch. Mulder was turned on his side now, knees drawn up, hands curled in loose fists under his chin. Skinner noted the pizza box on the floor near Mulder’s head, and grimly thought that the drug that had been added to the sauce should keep Mulder aware but unprotesting all night. He knelt in front of the sleeping man, and just looked at him for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Then he quickly slipped one of the scarves over Mulder’s eyes and tied it tight. Mulder awoke to dizzying motion and blackness. He tried to focus his eyes, and realized they were covered. He also discovered that he was being moved, carried, lifted. He tried to visualize his position, and from the pressure on various points on his body, he decided that he was draped over a large person’s shoulder, being held firmly in a fireman’s carry. He thought maybe he should be panicking at this point, but felt too lazy to do anything. Skinner entered the bedroom, kicked dirty clothes and casefiles out of the way, and laid Mulder gently onto the bed. “What is this?” Skinner silenced the younger man with a finger brushed lightly over his lips, then used the other scarf to tie his wrists to the brass headboard. Mulder put up a token protest, but the drug coursing through his system made his efforts ineffectual, and Skinner largely ignored them. Skinner stepped back and removed his trenchcoat and suit coat, laying them across a wooden chair near the closet. He loosened his tie and slipped it off, then began unbuttoning his shirt. Mulder could hear nothing except his own breathing, but he felt that the person was still in the room. He twisted against his bonds and discovered that he could move from side to side, but not free himself. Again he thought that this should be a bad thing, and he fought a little harder, then froze as he felt the bed sink under the weight of the other person. Skinner, now fully unclothed, lay down beside Mulder and began to run his fingers lightly up and down the other man’s torso. Mulder jumped at his touch, then shuddered, then lay still. He jumped again as the hand brushed lightly over the front of his pants, and his breathing quickened. Then the hand returned to his chest and he felt the buttons of his shirt being undone, slowly, with a pause to touch the bare flesh revealed as each one fell open. Mulder thought that he should be more concerned, but the hand on his body felt somehow familiar, and he decided that maybe he was close to an answer here. Skinner took his time disrobing the man, telling himself that it was all about Mulder, that he was here to do a job, to reveal the answers demanded by the X in the window, and managed to convince himself not at all. He felt his body responding to the man next to him, and he struggled to control his breathing. Mulder’s shirt now lay open, and Skinner explored the exposed flesh of chest and stomach, nipples and navel for just a little longer than he had to with his hands, then, as he reached for Mulder’s belt, he leaned forward and laid claim to one nipple with his mouth. Mulder felt a jolt of desire course through him as a warm, wet mouth began suckling a nipple, then licking and biting across his chest to find the other one, and he was barely aware of his pants being removed. When he felt a strong hand grip his growing erection, he groaned aloud. Skinner kept up a steady stroking motion with his hand, while he licked and kissed the other man’s chest, then moved up to his throat, pausing to taste the rapid pulse below his chin, then nibbling at an earlobe. This action produced a gasp and a thrusting of hips that nearly caused Skinner to lose his grip. He had expected this, though, and knew the other man was close, so he pulled his hand away and straddled Mulder’s body. He swept his hands up Mulder’s ribcage, noting the firm swimmer’s muscles that sheathed his long torso with something that was entirely unlike clinical detachment, then followed the movements of his arms to lean forward over Mulder and take his mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. The other man opened his mouth obligingly, and Skinner groaned into it as their tongues met. Mulder could feel the other man’s growing desire, and it only served to augment his own need. He thrust and bucked under the other man, trying to make more contact with the large hard body above him, but Skinner had his own agenda, and was determined to stick to the script, such as it was, despite his own feelings. Skinner began sliding back down Mulder’s body, holding most of his weight off of the younger man with his arms, creating more friction with his mouth than with his body. He tasted as much flesh as he could as he made his way down his chest to his stomach, swirling his tongue around Mulder’s navel, then pressing kisses to both hips, pushing Mulder’s legs apart to kneel between them. He delighted in the noises that Mulder was making, listening to his sighs and moans, judging the rate of desire based on the inarticulate sounds. Mulder found a vocabulary when Skinner took him in his mouth. “Oh, god…” Skinner pulled back for a moment, grinning at the other man’s words. Hardly, he thought. Then he took his entire length into his mouth and suckled hard. Mulder gasped and thrust his hips forward, but Skinner pushed him back down hard, and pulled away. A loud groan of frustration was cut off abruptly as Mulder felt the other man’s hands on his back and buttocks, and he was turned on his side. Skinner had moved around on the bed beside Mulder. He kept one hand stroking the other man’s back, tracing his spine, while he reached over to the bedside table, where he knew the condoms and lube were. It didn’t take him long to prepare himself, and then he spooned up behind Mulder and held him tight in his arms, allowing his hands to wander down the front of Mulder’s body. He knew that this was the position that Mulder liked best, having experimented with this situation a time or two. He laid a kiss on the back of Mulder’s neck, then bit at his shoulders, as he took him in his hand again and re-kindled his desire. Mulder felt the scarf holding his wrist twist tightly, but the pain was gone quickly, and when he felt the other man’s chest pressed hard to his back, and a nudge between his legs, he forgot his arms entirely and gave in to his need, throwing one leg back over the other man’s body. Skinner entered him slowly, thinking he maybe should have prepared the younger man a little more, then remembering that this was the third time this month, then losing his train of thought completely when Mulder thrust back aggressively, capturing his length entirely. Determined not to rush, Skinner reclined just slightly, not enough to be completely on his back, just enough to pull Mulder off-balance so that he was thrusting upwards into his body as well as forward. This action achieved the desired physical result as Mulder was reduced to mindless keening and his body was given over to sensation. Skinner’s hands never left his body, and it didn’t take long for Mulder to feel his orgasm building, not just in his body, but in his mind. The position he was in made him feel loved and protected as well as desired. He had found the truth, not out there, but in himself, and the resulting emotional and mental stimulation, coupled with the physical one, made his climax that much stronger. Skinner felt muscles tightening, and increased his movements as his own orgasm approached. He growled into the nape of Mulder’s neck and thrust almost brutally into the other man’s body, holding him tightly to his chest with one strong arm as he came. For a long moment both men lay motionless together, the only sound in the room their harsh ragged breathing. Skinner recovered first and slipped out of the other man, letting him go entirely, then standing on legs that felt made of rubber. He moved silently to the bathroom, removed the condom and disposed of it, then cleaned himself, and took a warm, wet cloth back to the bedroom. Mulder had rolled over onto his back, and Skinner gently wiped away all traces of his orgasm, pressing light kisses to his damp forehead and cheeks as he did so. He tossed the washcloth in the general direction of a small wicker basket that appeared to be for dirty laundry, missed, and didn’t care. He quickly got dressed, then returned to the bed and untied Mulder’s wrists. Mulder appeared to either have fallen asleep, succumbed to the drug in his system, or passed out from the strength of his climax. Skinner didn’t know which, and didn’t care, but when he bent to kiss Mulder’s mouth, the other man reached for him with a whimper. Skinner pulled back immediately and left the room, knowing that not all the truth could be revealed at this time. Just before he left the apartment, Skinner pulled a thick envelope out
of the inside pocket of his trenchcoat and threw it on the coffee table,
barely glancing at the return address for the Department of Defense that
was typed in bold on it.
SKINNER’S APT.
Skinner walked into his apartment, shut the door behind him, and discovered no need to turn on any lights as dawn attempted to make it’s sunny presence felt through the half-closed blinds over the windows. He set his keys down on a small table next to the door, then, feeling waves of exhaustion wash over him, he, walked over to the closet to hang up his coat. Just before he reached the closet, he stopped at his desk and emptied the contents of his trenchcoat pockets onto it. Gun, badge, wallet, loose change from the right hand one. Black silk scarf from the left, which creased a grin across lips still slightly swollen from fevered kisses. He set the scarf on the desk almost tenderly, then reached back into his pocket for the last items there. A handful of matches, the heads blackened and burned.
(A silly picture for a silly story!)
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