DISCLAIMER:  Nothing here belongs to me except the kinky imagination.  And it's not all that kinky.  To Chris Carter and Fox be the glory. *********************** Wet Dreams II by Merri-Todd Webster *********************** Skinner flushed the toilet and then washed his hands thoroughly.    It was one thing to wake up with your own come on your belly at seventeen, but at forty-something--  And worse still, to have been dreaming about one of his subordinates.... Lately he'd been dreaming about both of them, frequently. Often he dreamt about Scully.  Just his luck to have the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen as his subordinate.  Too often he dreamt about watching Mulder drive Scully out of her mind with pleasure, and vice versa.  But tonight, he had dreamt about Mulder, just Mulder.  It had been years since he'd had erotic dreams about other men. It hadn't even started out erotic; no, it had started out romantic, which was worse, and then gotten erotic.  Skinner thought he could handle a wildly erotic dream about anybody every once in a while, even if it were Jack Nicholson or Ruth Gordon.  The dreaming mind speaks a strange language.  But this dream, the sweetness of it, and Mulder.... He wakes up slowly, feeling rested, contented, comfortable. The light shining into his consciousness, calling him forth, is golden and warm.  Gradually he becomes aware that the sun isn't the only source of warmth in the vicinity.  There is someone else in his bed, sleeping as peacefully as he was himself a little while ago, and putting out heat of various kinds. Carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeper, Skinner turns over.  He sees, above the crinkled white sheet, a shock of unruly brown hair and a slender bare neck.  From the cut of the hair and the length of the body beside him, he knows his bedpartner must be a man. But who...? As if in response to that unspoken question, the other man stirs, stretches out one arm, fist clenched and then relaxed, and languidly rolls over, yawning loudly at the same time. The sleepy eyes open and they are hazel, the color of a yellowish amber, the pupils like inclusions from the Jurassic age.  Fox Mulder. Mulder's eyes focus on Skinner's face, and he smiles an incredible smile.  It is sleepy, affectionate, contented, sweet, and it makes Skinner's heart melt and his cock harden simultaneously.  Mulder's smile is unmistakably the smile of one who has been well loved the night before and awakens with the anticipation of more of the same.  Those full, beautifully shaped lips part, and a hand on the back of Skinner's neck brings him in for a good-morning kiss. Mulder kisses sweetly, lazily, rubbing his mouth against Skinner's, letting the other man's tongue dart out, lick, coax its way inside.  Mulder tastes so good, dry and tangy like a good red wine, and while Skinner's tongue is exploring the younger man's mouth, Mulder is inching closer and closer, until their bodies are touching from tongues to toes. Skinner's arm loops around his lover, strokes down to the small of his back, and hauls him in so that there's no space between them, making both of them groan.  Chest against chest, belly against belly, cock against cock, and Mulder is moving sinuously, their thighs sliding against each other, Mulder rubbing his cock on Skinner as unself-consciously as a cat wanting attention. Skinner finally pulls back with a little gasp.  "Good morning," Mulder drawls, still smiling. "Morning."  Skinner is too aroused to say much more, but fortunately Mulder isn't interested in further conversation. His hand wraps around Skinner's cock in a leisurely fashion, stroking it in an idle but knowing way that suggests he's touching himself, not someone else.  Vague memories of the previous night flash through Skinner's mind, fucking and being fucked, Mulder's hands all over him and Mulder's sweet mouth....  As if reading his mind, Mulder pushes aside the sheet and blanket, baring both of them to the cool air, and kneels over the older man, grazing Skinner's chest with his lips.  Those full lips brush his nipples, then sweep inexorably down the center of his torso until they nuzzle the root of his cock, buried in coarse dark hair. "Mulder...." Mulder is kneeling now with his head over Skinner's groin and his ass toward the other man. His lips travel slowly up Skinner's cock to the head, and Skinner places a hand on that tight, muscular rear, just to brace himself at first. He groans as wet heat encloses the swollen head, a tongue probes delicately at the slit there.  His hand runs caressingly over Mulder's ass and slips into the cleft to nudge the puckered opening. Mulder wiggles, but it's not an encouraging one.  "Sorry, Walt," he mumbles, kissing his lover's stomach, "but I'm a little sore from last night."  Skinner withdraws at once, strokes the other man's thigh as more of his erection is sucked in, then turns in Mulder's direction, indicating with his hips and his hands that they should both lie on their sides. It's Mulder's turn to groan when Skinner takes hold of his erection.  Skinner licks the whole length of it--Mulder is a bit longer than he is, but not as thick--thoroughly but not too intensely.  Mulder simultaneously pushes into his lover's mouth and eases up with his own mouth, moaning softly. They work on each other with slow care, their knowing fingers and mouths agreeing to prolong the pleasure.  Each new move by one is answered by the other: fingers fluttering up and down the length, palm cupping the taut balls, tongue swirling, a subtle thrust and the cheeks drawing tight with sucking.  It comes to a peak when Mulder, unwilling to wait any more, takes Skinner all the way in, his mouth so tight and so wet, so good, and pushes the tip of one finger into Skinner's asshole. Skinner explodes so violently he can't believe it, his whole body rigid with pleasure as it spurts out of him in long slow splashes.  He comes so thoroughly he can't even move to finish Mulder off.  But the younger man doesn't seem to mind; he's smiling that sweet boyish grin as he pushes Skinner onto his back, then kneels over his lover and pumps his fist, throwing his head back in ecstatic silence as he comes all over Skinner's stomach. Smiling, Mulder drops onto the bed beside Skinner, burrowing in under his arm and tucking his head in the hollow between chest and shoulder.  He is still gasping a little, and so is Skinner.  Skinner strokes the soft, ruffled hair, the lean shoulder,and Mulder rubs his come into the older man's skin with lazy, rhythmless motions.  Neither one of them says anything, and Skinner can feel himself drifting into a doze again.... Skinner realized he was touching himself, hard again. Damn.    But it had felt so good to wake up, within the dream.  To wake up next to Mulder.  And so shockingly bad to wake up without him, in reality. "Damn." ********* end