Title: Ray of Light: Skin

Author: Laura Jacquez Valentine (laurav@stones.com)

Codes: M/Sk/Sc, M/Sk, Sk/Sc, M/Sc.

Spoilers: various, up to Mind's Eye.

Rating: NC-17 for m/m sex

Summary: This is the fifth a series of stories about the complicated

relationship between Mulder, Skinner, and Scully.  Scully, however, is

almost totally absent from this story.  Skin takes place after Mind's Eye. 



Although the titles for the series come from Madonna's _Ray of Light_, these

aren't songfics.  Feedback to jacquez+@andrew.cmu.edu or laurav@stones.com



laura jacquez valentine -+- http://www.andrew.cmu.edu/~jacquez

"I'd give you a cherry if I knew someone around here who had one." --Mary

Ellen Curtin



----------------------------

Excerpts from the journal of Walter S. Skinner



Fox is asleep on my couch again.  It's been quite some time since he was

there, since just after we learned that Dana would live.  When he came back

from this last case, there was something...



Something that bothered him, though he hid it at work.  But I opened my door

earlier this evening to find him standing there, that lower lip of his

betraying him.  It always does.  He'd been crying, and probably hadn't been

able to find Dana.



"Sir, can I talk to you?"



I let him into the apartment without questioning him.  Forcing things out of

Fox always makes me feel like I'm raping him.  No means no with him, and I'm

not sure if it's sick or not that he's stuck by me when I've forced him so

many times--



Best not to think about that.  Because of what happened.



So there he was, fidgeting slightly, looking at me.  Haunted and beautiful. 

I stood there, my hand on the closed door, transfixed.  He frowned at me and

walked past me into the living room, where he flopped onto the couch, as

graceless as I've ever seen him.



I brought him a glass of water and sat down next to him.  He drank half the

water and then held it in his hands, staring at it.  



"Fox?"



"She reminded me of me, sir.  She--what she could do--I mean, she was

limited, but--"  He stopped and put the glass down.  His fingers played

nervously with each other between his knees.



"Who, Agent Mulder?"



"Marty Glenn.  The blind girl.  She--she could see inside his head.  I

remember--I hated profiling, sir.  I--sometimes, I couldn't get out of

people's heads afterwards.  Do you have anything stronger to drink?"



I got up, brought him Scotch on the rocks.  I didn't say anything.  I'd

never seen him this upset. 



"I don't--she could have been--goddammit."  



I've never seen anyone drink Scotch that fast.  "Agent Mulder, when was the

last time you ate?" 



"I had a sandwich for lunch.  She--"  and he stopped again.



"I'll make you something."  I went to the kitchen.  I was feeling a little

bitter about the whole thing.  Every time Fox ends up here, beautiful and

disheveled, I want to make love to him.  And every time he ends up here he's

vulnerable and worn and not in any kind of shape... but that's neither here

nor there, now.



He followed me into the kitchen, where I made him soup and a grilled cheese

sandwich, stretching my cooking skills to the max.  I also gave him a beer,

hoping he wouldn't ask for more Scotch.  It's not a solution, Fox, I wanted

to say, and didn't.



He kept talking, mumbling around the food.  "She just--you know, we both

have a natural talent for getting inside heads, just she could only do it

with one person.  And she had to kill him to get out.  I mean, what if that

happens to me?  I still--I mean, you can't *stop* profiling if you're good

at it.  People ask.  And you do it all the time anyway.  You can't turn it

off.  And I hate it, sir.  I could turn into one of them.  Sir."



"Do you want me to keep those requests off your back, Agent Mulder?"



He stared at me for a moment, his eyes blank.  "No.  No, I mean, catching

them, that's important, that matters.  I'd hate myself if I didn't do it. 

But it scares the hell out of me."  He slurped at the soup for a few

minutes, a frown between his eyebrows.



"I profiled you, sir.  And Scully.  I mean, since I know you, I have more

clues about you, and I can make such a detailed profile I feel like I'm

invading your privacy, but I--it's nothing you don't have written all over

you, and I--I can't help doing it.  It just happens.  I'm sorry."



"It's all right.  I don't mind."  Like hell I didn't mind.  What did he know

about me that I didn't?



He laughed.  "Yes, sir, you mind."  He raised his head and met my eyes.  He

was still hurting, but I saw something--



"Fox, it's really that you profile people you know that bothers you, isn't

it?"



His mouth twisted into a parody of itself.  "UNSUBs scare the hell out of

me.  I don't want to get stuck in their heads.  But yeah.  It bothers me

that I do this to people who are supposed to be able to trust me.  It

bothers me that I can look at Scully and know she knows I'm in love with her

but she won't do anything about it.  It bothers me that I look at you and

know you don't know I'm in love with you."  He stood up and grabbed the

half-empty bottle of beer, then left the kitchen.



I'm surprised I had the presence of mind to follow him back to the living

room, where he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.



I'm even more surprised I managed to beat him to it.



"Fox."  



He tugged at the door, his head down.  I couldn't see his face.  "I'm sorry,

sir.  I'm leaving.  Will resign on Monday if you want.  Sorry."



"No one said anything about resigning, Agent Mulder."  I was *furious*.  I

knew he could hear it in my voice.  But I was damn sure he didn't know *why*

I was furious.



"Sir?"



"You're in love with me?"



"Yeah."



"Eloquence itself, Fox.  Keep talking like that and I'll have to kiss you to

shut you up."



His head snapped up.  I take my advantages where I can get them.  "Did your

profile also tell you I was in love with Dana?  And with you?"



He sighed.  "Yes, sir."



"Well, then."  I pulled his hand off the doorknob and used it to pull him

against me.













Part 2.

-------

Fox doesn't stay surprised for long.  I'm pretty sure he thought that I

would go into a boss routine and chew him out about Bureau regulations.  But

profiles--even his profiles--aren't perfect, and he'd rarely seen me outside

of the office.



Fox, surprised or not, is a tremendously good kisser.  With that mouth, he'd

have to be.



I shouldn't be writing this down.



But I'm afraid I'll forget.  No matter how unlikely it is that I could

forget sex with Fox Mulder.



I held him against me, kissing him.  I hadn't kissed him since the last time

he stayed here.  I shouldn't have kissed him, but I did, and the

consequences--well, damn the consequences, full speed ahead.



I slid my hands from his back to his ass and pulled his groin closer to

mine, pressing my erection into him.  Oh, yes, there was an answer to the

question I was asking, in the sudden pressure of his cock against my hip,

and his hands under my shirt.



We stumbled back to the living room and landed on the couch.  "You're

overdressed, Fox," I said, indicating his shirt and tie and slacks.  



"So're you."



"But not as much."  I was wearing only a t-shirt and jeans, and I was

barefoot.



"Sonofa--"  I silenced him with another kiss as I undid his belt and the

slacks, then slid my hand under his boxers--which had little

glow-in-the-dark aliens on them, damn him--to his erection.  I began to

stroke him, gently at first, then with a firmer touch when he started to

leak pre-cum.



He moaned against my mouth, and I relented and let him go.  We undressed

then, quickly, not romantically, but romantic undressing has never been my

strong suit.  And, I suspect, it's never been his either.



The touch of his skin on mine was incredible.  I began fondling his balls,

caressing his cock, teasing him, touching him lightly with my mouth and my

hands and then pulling back.  Fox is not a demanding partner, but he is a

responsive one.  So responsive, in fact, that I wonder when the last time he

was with someone was.  He hasn't been with Dana, that much is clear.



He arched his back and twisted underneath me, and I pulled back.  He laughed

up at me--I probably looked startled--and flipped us over.  My turn to be

surprised.  He kissed a line down my body, starting at my left ear, pausing

only to graze my nipples with his teeth, and ending at my inner thigh.



His breath was warm against me, and the sharp pain of suction and

teeth--that left a bruise that I can still feel--just where my leg

begins--was incredibly erotic.  He soothed the spot with his tongue and then

continued to lick, working his way to my cock, then up my cock...



I have to admit I never really thought I'd get the best blowjob of my life

from Fox.



"You've done this before."



He pulled back and laughed.  "Not for a long time.  I'm not as flexible as I

used to be."



I made a noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a moan.  Even in

bed, he could be trusted to say the strangest things.  "You're a sick fuck,

Fox."



"You don't know that yet, sir."



"When I'm naked, I'm *definitely* Walter, not sir."



"Yes, sir."  And his mouth was back at work, and I wasn't exactly coherent

enough to respond.  



He knows just when to add a little pain as an accent.  He knows exactly

where I love to be touched.  He has this little ripply thing he does with

his tongue.  He may as well have sucked me dry with a straw, because that

made me come, thrusting into his mouth, feeling the heat of his throat

around me--how does he relax his throat like that?--my cock spasming and

finally softening.  And then he licked me clean of any droplets he'd missed,

catlike, beautiful, and crawled up to cuddle next to me.



I kissed him, tasted the salt and bitter taste of ejaculate, and reached for

his erection.  He jerked away from me.



"I can't reciprocate, Fox?"



"I'm tired," he said.  "Tomorrow, maybe."  And he closed his eyes and

snuggled into the hollow between my shoulder and my chest.  After about an

hour, I slid him onto the couch, boneless in sleep.



Damned if I know what the hell is going on with him.  He wanted me to touch

him earlier, he responded so well--and then he turns off like he was the one

who had come, not me.  I don't understand the man.



But he's sleeping on my couch, naked and beautiful.  (I finally got to fuck

that mouth of his, but that's not what's important.  I don't want this to be

about fucking.  I wanted to give him pleasure, and he wouldn't let me.  Damn

him.)  I'm going to carry him into my bedroom and hold him all night, and

tomorrow he will tell me what's going on.  And he will come.  In my hand, my

mouth, my body...somewhere.  I won't let this be one-sided.



Not when I finally have one of the lovers I've always wanted.



---

The End.  The next story in the Ray of Light series will be "Nothing Really

Matters".