Healed with a Kiss - Chapter 3

Still in Skinner's apartment...

Mulder was tentative as he began explaining himself. He lightly traced the long, delicate fingers of his right hand along the top of the couch's back, seeming to focus intently on the task, avoiding eye contact with the man seated within arm's reach of him. Even Skinner had a hard time not watching the slow path of the fingers at work as he listened to Mulder.

"I really just realized it tonight," Mulder began, looking up briefly at Skinner, then forcing his eyes to return to their focus on his hand. "Hearing you describe what you've been through lately, and in the past...it's making me understand how I've been feeling about you. I thought that I had simply respected you...admired you...for your convictions...for who you are."

Skinner silently encouraged Mulder to go on with an almost imperceptible nod.

"I knew there was something I felt about you that was more than just respect," Mulder continued. "There have been times when I've felt...attracted to you, I know now. You're also not the first man I've had feelings for. But you're the first one I've ever allowed to kiss me like that...the first one I didn't...*couldn't* say 'no' to," he said, pausing to look up to watch Skinner's reaction.

The older man realized Mulder was waiting for a response, and gave him another nod to go on. A look of understanding.

Mulder was relieved that Skinner had not reacted with shock or disapproval, like his father would certainly have done if Bill Mulder had ever heard his son admit the feelings he was admitting now. But Skinner had expressed the same feelings; Mulder felt like it was safe to continue.

"I've probably had more than my share of passes from other guys in my life, ever since I was in college. But I never acted on them...even though there were times I really wanted to."

Skinner had almost been expecting this response from Mulder. He knew there probably had been many men before him who had found Mulder quite tempting. But it wasn't like Mulder had had a high-profile position in the F.B.I. to protect back in his college days. And Mulder had never seemed to be the type to run away from his sexuality. Afraid of relationships, perhaps. Sexually repressed, no. "Why didn't you ever act on them?" he asked quietly.

Mulder looked directly into Skinner's eyes. "I wouldn't have been able to handle it if my father had ever found out," he said, a tone of regret entering his voice at the memory of his stress-filled youth. "There was always the chance that he'd get word of it if I even hinted that I was bisexual."

"How could he have found out?" Skinner asked, honestly perplexed, yet pleased that Mulder was being so honest with him about this. "You went to college in England; that's not exactly the University Next Door."

Oxford was not only far from Martha's Vineyard in miles, Skinner knew, it was also a vastly different culture with a significantly different tolerance level towards homosexual activity. Skinner had heard of how commonplace such relationships were reputed to be in the British educational system. There was probably no more homosexual activity there than in any other country, he supposed. However, after years of attending single-sex boarding schools, the cream of the crop -- like those students who went on to Oxford -- were often accustomed to looking the other way. No one would have paid any attention if Mulder had pursued any of the offers he had received.

"He had a close friend who was one of my lecturers at Oxford," Mulder answered. "My father was always checking up on me...even though I never gave him any reason to think I'd screw up in school. Dad had asked him to let him know if I ever had any problems with my studies, if I ever started goofing off...I'm sure Dr. Wilcox's hearing of an affair with another man would have qualified as a reason to pick up the phone and place a call to the States."

Skinner truly empathized with the conflict Mulder had experienced as a young man. He put a hand on Mulder's shoulder. "Fox, I'm sorry your father didn't trust you. I'm sure you deserved better than that."

At first Mulder didn't respond to the reassurance, but he did welcome it. No one had ever shown that they gave a damn about how poor his relationship had always been with his father; not even his own mother. Now, for once in his life, he felt bathed in the expressed concern of another human being.

Compelled by this unaccustomed emotion, Mulder placed his left hand on top of the one Skinner had laid on his shoulder, gently entwining their fingers and tipping his head to brush his cheek lightly against them. He lifted their joined hands off his shoulder and brought them to his soft lips, kissing them appreciatively, not letting his gaze slip from its focus on Skinner's face.

"I'm nearly 35 years old, Walter," he said at last. "My father's dead. It's about time I stopped living in his shadow. I don't want to be afraid of him...or what he might think of me...any more."

Skinner felt Mulder's hand squeeze his tightly as the younger man pulled him closer, his right hand coming off of its resting place on the back of the couch to grasp the back of Skinner's neck. Mulder met no resistance to his actions, and Skinner gladly moved in to find their second kiss.

The moment their lips touched, both became energized in their release. With the force of the kiss alone, Skinner pushed Mulder back against the plush armrest of the leather couch, quickly moving his knees to straddle the slim hips. He grasped the front of Mulder's T-shirt with one hand, roughly balling the material in his moistening palm, feeling the rough texture of Mulder's chest hair underneath the soft cotton of the shirt.

Mulder showed equal enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around Skinner's broad back and forcing his tongue into Skinner's inviting mouth, exploring its recesses and soon finding a playmate for his tongue in Skinner's own. Both men seemed to instinctively know each time they had to part to take in greedy gasps of air, as they quickly found their passion required far more oxygen than they could possibly take in with lips locked. They both took every moment apart to steal glances at the other's face, both enjoying the delighted expression they encountered there.

Skinner soon found himself nuzzling at the crook of Mulder's neck, breathing in the pleasant, musky scent of Mulder's cologne and entertaining himself with the feel of Mulder's light stubble against his own cheek.

Mulder thought back to earlier in the evening, when he had been dressing and had briefly imagined Skinner doing to him exactly what he was doing now. "Sir, this is better than I ever thought..." he began to describe to the man atop him.

"Walt", Skinner murmured into Mulder's neck, barely pausing in his explorations to voice the name.

"What?" Mulder squeaked, as Skinner found a particularly sensitive spot.

"Call me Walt...Foxy."

Mulder moaned. He had never been called that before -- not by another man. He liked it. It was a far cry from "Spooky".

Mulder couldn't help but allow a chuckle to escape his lips each time Skinner hit a ticklish area. While Skinner played in the hollow of Mulder's shoulder and neck, now and then venturing away from the delightful crevice to lick and nibble the soft flesh under Mulder's chin, as well as occasionally trailing further down Mulder's chest and stomach, his new lover busied himself with further unbuttoning Skinner's shirt.

Having run out of buttons and still finding a great deal of material between his hungry hands and his next objective -- Skinner's well-muscled chest -- Mulder let out a grunt of frustration as he roughly pawed apart the two halves of collar. As luscious as Skinner looked in the Henley shirt, Mulder now only wished that the man had stuck with his usual button-down dress attire.

Quickly exasperated with the situation, Mulder grasped the open part of the shirt more firmly and began to pull each side in opposite directions. He would get to that lovely chest one way or another, he determined.

"Wait a minute," Skinner laughed as he reached to his neck to prevent Mulder's eager fingers from literally ripping the shirt off his back. " 'Good things come to those who wait'; besides, this is my favorite shirt."

Freeing himself from Mulder's clutching hands, he straightened up and pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it behind him so quickly that it flew across the room and hit the far wall, dropping to the floor in a heap.

Mulder smiled and ran his hands over the soft but thick hair covering Skinner's pecs, pausing periodically to brush his thumbs over the taut nipples.

Skinner bent back down over Mulder and pulled the T-shirt free of Mulder's jeans, slowly raising it up inch by inch, enjoying the feel of Mulder's strongly-defined abs as he did so, and pausing to kiss the firm stomach as each new ripple was revealed.

Soon both men were bare-chested, skin making warm contact against skin. Once they had managed this feat, they each immediately got to work on ridding the other of their jeans. Fortunately, they had learned some patience and cooperation from their battle with the shirts, and the pants operation came off without any rending of fabric. Each found the other fully erect once free of the confining denim.

With Mulder in his boxers and Skinner in his briefs, they wordlessly moved their mutual exploration to the thick, soft carpet in front of the couch, each lying facing the other, continuing to kiss and peck playfully.

Skinner made the first move, slipping one hand between the waistband of Mulder's shorts and the smooth, firm flesh beneath. Mulder reflexively spread his legs apart as he rolled onto his back. Skinner scooted his body closer, hovering slightly over his lover, reaching slowly down past the soft pubic hair, briefly caressing the eager erection, and finally cupping Mulder's balls gently, but firmly.

"Oh, God," Mulder gasped as Skinner's adept hand lightly rolled and squeezed each testicle in turn. He shakily lifted himself up as Skinner shoved the boxers down and off, slinging them to land atop his own discarded shirt. Skinner paused in his ministrations to do the same with his own briefs.

Wanting to give back what he was getting, Mulder reached out to the newly naked man in front of him and gently stroked Skinner's erection, gradually turning the slow caress into a series of careful squeezes and pulls. He did to Skinner what he had done countless times to himself in his lonely, darkened apartment, the refuge where only the images provided by a videotape in the VCR allowed him light and company. He watched Skinner closely and could see from the older man's expression that he was appreciating his efforts as much as he, himself, was enjoying Skinner's attention.

As Mulder set a pace with his stroking of Skinner's penis, Skinner brought one hand to his own mouth, moistening his fingers and then reaching down again. "This will feel strange at first, but, believe me, you'll like it," Skinner said, smiling, giving Mulder an idea of what to expect. "Just relax; I'm not going to hurt you or do anything you don't want." It had been a long time since Skinner had done anything like this, and he was determined to make this first experience special for Mulder.

The hand sent out a probing finger in search of Mulder's anus, finding it quickly and slowly pushing its way into the tight, soft warmth. Skinner watched Mulder's beautiful, impassioned face as it contorted in response to the unaccustomed sensations. Skinner carefully inserted a second finger between the perfectly rounded cheeks and into the snug opening.

"What do you think, Foxy?"

"Oh...yeah," was all Mulder could manage in reply.

Barely missing a beat in his milking of Skinner's engorged penis, Mulder lifted his hips again, this time with a sharp intake of breath as Skinner slowly twisted and circled his fingers deeper, locating the younger man's prostate. His mouth diving in to suck, nibble, and bite on Mulder's generous lower lip, Skinner lovingly divided his attention, rhythmically massaging the gland to the beat of Mulder's shallow, but quickening, breaths.

His right hand busy between Mulder's firm cheeks, Skinner traced his left hand along Mulder's nipples, then brought it down to help as he moved his mouth to Mulder's groin, tenderly licking and sucking Mulder's thickly hardened shaft. Mulder was amazed at the skills Skinner had acquired in the Marines; "lock and load" took on a whole new meaning to him now.

Knowing Mulder would be too preoccupied with his own impending orgasm to continue adequately with his attentiveness, Skinner brought his free hand off of Mulder's groin and took over the job of bringing himself to climax.

After what seemed like an incredibly pleasurable eternity to Mulder, during moments of which he doubted he would ever breathe normally again, his orgasm could wait no longer and, letting out a guttural cry, he exploded his warm, sticky wetness into Skinner's thirsty mouth. Skinner swallowed greedily, letting Mulder's softening shaft slip from between his lips before his own orgasm temporarily blinded him with a flash of light, shooting his own ejaculate onto Mulder's thighs and the plush carpet.

Melting into mindless warmth, Mulder let his head fall back in exhaustion as Skinner nestled his smooth pate and bristly chin among the coarse curls of Mulder's lower abdomen, gratefully encircling his arms around Mulder's waist and hips.

It was then, in the hazy afterglow of their orgasms, that Mulder registered the low sound of the oldies station still playing on the radio. The music had blended into the background for both of them during the course of the evening's events, but now first Mulder, and then Skinner, were reminded of their accompaniment.

After a long string of songs from the '50s and '60s, the Donovan song was back in the rotation and being played again. The familiar tune continued, and Mulder and Skinner raised up on their elbows, simultaneously looking toward the stereo that emitted the radio signal:

"I'll send you all my dreams
every day in a letter
sealed with a kiss..."

They looked back at each other, grins spreading across both their faces as they recognized the song.

"Well, I guess that's 'our song'," Skinner said from behind his wide smile, eyes dancing with tired delight at what they had just done, and at the prospect of what they would do later.

Mulder nodded, breathing heavily, still recovering from the wonderful ordeal Skinner had just put him through.

"I'm just glad it wasn't 'Jumping Jack Flash,' " Mulder gasped wearily, his usual dry tone showing through the exhaustion in his voice.

Both men burst out in laughter, barely capable of anything more than breathless chuckles, and fell back to the floor to rest comfortably in each other's arms.

Concluded in part 4.