Home Alone III *************** NIGHT THREE FRIDAY "Sleep tight," Mulder had said on the phone. Skinner snorted. He had *not* slept tight. *Again*. He had been moving all over the bed in his sleep, unconsciously searching for his lovers. He had woken several times from the damn silence. Which meant absence of snoring, mumbling, sighing and murmuring. Not to mention absence of body heat, sleepy caresses and the general feeling of love and comfort. And absolutely not to mention the absence of somebody to take care of his morning hard-on. In short: he hated sleeping alone. And that from a grown man of fifty-two. Pitiful. He entered his office in a dark mood, and only the knowledge that his lovers would be back tomorrow kept him from biting Agent Fuller's head off when she handed him a budget report that reminded him too vividly of Mulder's wild times with the X-Files. He somehow managed to get through this shitty Friday and studiously ignored Kim's lifted eyebrows as he left the office at five for the second time this week. Hell, it might have been the second time this *year*. He found himself thinking about what his guys had suggested last night. It would be nice not having to come here anymore. He would talk it over with them, he decided. And, remembering what waited for him at home, his mood began to lift. This time, he called first. He got Mulder on his cell. "Alex is still at the bank, but almost finished," his lover told him. "We'll catch the first flight tomorrow morning, at about - lemme look - yeah, eight twenty-five. We'll be scratching at the door around twelve, I think." "You want anything for dinner?", Skinner asked. "I could prepare you something." "Ooooh yeah," Mulder purred. "How about a hot Walter, waiting for us upstairs, all naked and horny and ready?" Skinner chuckled. "That depends on what I'm gonna find on that tape tonight. I don't think you can top the chocolate. That was your idea, wasn't it?" "You liked?" Mulder sounded delighted. "Actually, it was Alex's idea, but tonight's treat was mine. Think of me when you're coming all over yourself - aaah, Walter, I wish I could be with you now, feel you, feel your hard dick deep in my-" "Fox. You know I don't do phone sex." "Aawww, Walter. You didn't even listen to *where* I wanted to feel your dick. Spoilsport. I'm hard, Walter. Really very hard. Wanna feel?" Skinner rolled his eyes. "Alex is right. You *are* a slut." "And you love it." "Yeah. Yeah, I do." No use denying that; Mulder's velvety purr had already stiffened his cock. "I know. I love you, Walter." Skinner felt a wide grin breaking through, his first of the day. It felt good. "Love you too, Fox," he said roughly. "Tell Alex I'll call later." "If you're still able to," Mulder chuckled. "You really haven't looked at the third part yet?" "No." "Thought so," Mulder mused. "Only you would have that much self-restraint. Also, if you had looked, you'd have killed me already." He laughed. "Oh God," Skinner said warily. "*Do* I want to know? You didn't do anything outside, in the garden, did you?" "Walter." Mulder sounded slightly hurt. "Would we do such a totally stupid, reckless thing?" "Yes," Skinner sighed, "you would. That's why I'm asking." "Go and have some fun, lover," Mulder said, amused. "Shoo. And call afterwards - if you can." *********** He showered first, ate some soup and sandwiches, then opened himself another nice cool beer and settled down on the couch. He hadn't bothered with a shirt tonight, he just wore a pair of comfortable gray sweatpants. Starting the VCR, he took a couple of swigs of beer. He sighed blissfully as he enjoyed the cool, slightly bitter liquid prickling down his throat. Then the first image appeared on the screen and Walter Skinner found himself spewing the beer all over the table. Coughing and gasping for air, he stared at the tv. Mulder had told the truth. They *hadn't* done anything in the garden. They hadn't even been *near* the garden. They were in his office. They were in the office of Assistant Director Walter Skinner, at the fucking J. Edgar Hoover Building, Headquarters of the FBI, Washington D.C. "Oh no..." Skinner buried his face in his hands. "Walter... hey, Walter... are you with me here?" That was Mulder's voice. Obviously, Mulder the Profiler had foreseen his lover's reaction. Skinner looked up. Mulder was sitting at his desk, *his* desk, in *his* chair, playing with the "Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner" nameplate. And he looked utterly gorgeous. "I don't believe this," Skinner muttered. Then he stopped the tape, got a cloth from the kitchen and mopped the spilled beer up. Didn't bother with another bottle, just sat down and started the VCR again. Mulder was still sitting in the "boss chair", grinning into the camera and looking illegally sexy and debauched. Skinner sighed resignedly; his cock was stiffening *again*, despite the shock, and Mulder hadn't done anything yet besides grin. The Agent - and that was what Mulder looked like just now, his former self, Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI - closed his eyes and licked his lips. "You know what I've always wanted to do, Walter?" he asked, his voice dropping a few levels down into the velvety degrees. "All those years, Walter, every single time I sat at your desk with one of those stupid, useless reports, I wanted to kneel down at your feet, open your pants, get your dick out and suck you off." Skinner moaned and let his head fall back against the couch. Damn, that had been a fantasy of his for years, too. Of course, after they had finally had the guts to come out to each other, they had played the old lovers' game: When I saw you first, I thought..., when you did that, I wanted... And of course they had confessed to each other their secret fantasies of having sex in Skinner's or the basement office. But... seeing Mulder actually sitting at *his* desk, in *his* chair, beautiful, hot and horny, made Skinner ravenous. Mulder smiled,licked his lips again and slowly unknotted his garish tie. Skinner wondered where his lover had found that one; he hadn't worn those gruesome patterns since he had left the FBI and become an author. With a swishing sound, Mulder pulled the tie off and opened the buttons of his shirt. Slowly. Skinner sighed. He knew damn well how Mulder's slow, sensual strips could drive a man out of his mind. Or, more truthfully, drive a man's mind out through the tip of his cock. Mulder opened his shirt, revealing his nicely defined chest, and raked his fingernails through the light brown hair. Leaned his head back against the black leather of the chair, took one finger in his mouth and began to suck. Skinner's cock answered with a fierce twitch. Mulder stuck his tongue out and made a production of licking and wetting the tips of his fingers very thoroughly. Skinner's cock began to throb demandingly against the confines of the sweats. He ignored it. Too early. Much too early to touch; Mulder seemed to want to draw this out. The former Agent looked into the camera from under half closed lids and slid his hands over his chest. He teased his nipples with his wet fingers, rolled and pinched them until they were dark red and hard. He was breathing through his mouth now. So was Skinner. His own nipples were standing up, envious and demanding the same attention. He sighed and gave up. Slowly, he stroked his chest and fondled his nubs, slightly pinching and rubbing them. Unfortunately, the nerves there seemed to have a direct connection to the tip of his cock. Every touch of his finger on a nipple sent a spark down right into his hard-on and made it jolt. "You just wait till I get my hands on you," he muttered to the screen. "You bastard." The bastard pulled the shirttails out of his pants. Then he rolled a bit backwards with the chair, so that the camera could capture him better, and slowly opened his belt. "Every time you were mad at me, Walter, every time you were reaming me, I wished you were *really* reaming me," he said hoarsely, while he pulled the zipper down. Krycek had to be behind the camera, because the image zoomed in a bit closer. Skinner watched breathlessly as Mulder pulled his hard cock out and slowly fisted it. "God, every single time you were shouting and bellowing at me, Walter - and believe me, you're a great bellower, I have witnesses all over the Hoover who could clearly hear you even in the most remote toilet stall - every time you shouted at me, I just wanted you to fuck me stupid. Or to fuck you stupid, whatever." Mulder moaned as he massaged the clear liquid that oozed out of his slit slowly around the cockhead. "You don't know how often I had to jerk off after those meetings with you, just to avoid coming back to Scully with a raging hard-on. She used to wonder about my shiny eyes and flushed face. I always told her I was just mad at you because you were such a mean bastard." He grinned and licked his lower lip. Skinner wanted that tongue on his cock. *Now.* Mulder's strokes increased, his voice became more breathless. "Remember the case in Nebraska, when I ditched Scully and came back with nothing except a crashed car and a sprained ankle? Remember how mad you were? How you shouted at me? God, Walter, you were *so* hot, so sexy, I could have gone down on you the moment you began to holler. You know what I was thinking for a moment?" Mulder arched back in the chair and closed his eyes, licking his lips again. Skinner stared at the shiny, lush mouth and thought of the last time Mulder had sucked him off. Remembered how Mulder would nibble along his lover's heart-shaped cockhead, the feeling of those hot, lush lips on his own oversensitive dick. He groaned and closed a hot fist around his dick. Gazed at Mulder blissfully jacking off and matched his lover's strokes on his own cock. Mulder groaned, too, as if in answer. He looked into the camera and flushed a bit. "I thought you were going to pull your belt out and whip my ass." Skinner hissed and tried not to come. He succeeded. Just. Damn, that was such a hot image...they would have to talk about a few things when his guys were back. "And you know what, Walter? I *wanted* you to do it. I really wanted to. I jacked off three times that night just on the image of you with a belt in your hand. God, Walter, you make me crazy, you make me so horny--" "Oh fuck," Skinner moaned. He was very close now, his cock felt like a hot iron in his hand. It cost him a lot in self-restraint not to stroke himself to release right now. He heard a groan from behind the camera. "God, Fox. Don't come, babe. Don't come, hear me?" Mulder looked past the camera with glazed eyes. His hand on his leaking cock stilled, the angry purple of the glistening head shimmered. "Too late," he sobbed. His eyes rolled back, he arched up, and the cock in his hand began to jerk. White creamy strands flew all over the shining surface of Skinner's desk. Mulder bit his lip and fervently tried to remain silent, which seemed to intensify the force of his orgasm. Skinner dimly heard Krycek swear in the background as his own climax surprised the hell out of him. While a raging pleasure seemed to explode all over his body and a sudden hot wetness coated his stomach and chest, he saw white drops running down the lamp and the nameplate on his desk. Mulder's low keening sounds forced a new wave of shuddering lust out of him. Panting and gasping, he looked at the screen at a likewise breathless Mulder. His lover grinned weakly into the camera, waved and croaked, "Cut." Skinner fell back on the couch, grabbed the remote with a trembling hand and pressed the "Pause" button. The image blurred and froze. "Damn," he breathed. "I'm getting too old for this." He lay for a few minutes more until he had his wits back, then got up with a grunt. On the screen, a hazy, slightly distorted Mulder still sat frozen with his hand in the air. Skinner smiled and pressed "Stop". He was sure there was more, they wouldn't miss the opportunity to get Krycek off without sharing it. But first he wanted a shower. No matter what came next, he knew he wouldn't get it up again tonight for a second orgasm. He was too beat. He'd just enjoy the sight of his guys screwing each other stupid and then go to bed. His last night alone. Smiling at that thought, he took a brief shower and helped himself to another beer as he returned to the couch. He felt lazy and relaxed, but lonely. Hot and enticing as the video was, he missed Mulder and Krycek terribly. And the nice thing was, they seemed to miss him, too. He found he was extemely touched, almost uncomfortably so, by the thought, by the amount of work they had put into that video. When the hell had they found the time to do that? And when had they been in his office? He fervently hoped that his rooms at the Hoover weren't bugged - but then, if they were, the shit would have hit the fan already. And he trusted his guys - they both were paranoid and meticulous enough to take all precautions. He pushed the "Play" button and only shook his head as he saw Mulder standing at the conference table. "I didn't exactly plan to come twice tonight, you know, Walter. I hope I can get it up a second time," the former Agent grinned into the camera. Skinner merely snorted. Yeah, right. When it came to sex, Mulder was the Energizer Bunny in their relationship. He seemed to want to make up for all the lonely years with no or only occasional sex. He was permanently horny. He could stand in a breeze and get a stiffie. "But then... the incentive is rather irresistable," Mulder continued. He stretched his hand out. "Come here, lover." And Alex stepped in front of the camera. Skinner swallowed. Blinked. Felt his cock twitch. Oh. God. Alex looked like... like the young Agent he had been when he had joined the FBI. When he had first reported to Skinner. Sure, his face didn't have that boyish roundness anymore, and his hair was shorter today, he looked much more mature... but he had combed his hair with gel and wore one of those terrible Brooks Brothers suits he had worn back then, together with a tie that was at least an eight on the Mulder scale. He looked sweet, young, innocent and totally edible. Mulder slid his left hand from behind around Krycek's waist, his right grabbed into the sable hair before him. He pulled Krycek's head back and exposed the marble neck to the camera. Nipped behind his lover's ear. Krycek gave a purring sound and grinned at Skinner, his eyes half closed. "So, Walter," Mulder continued, "here's another fantasy... this sweet young Agent, our beautiful prince... you wanted him, didn't you? You wanted to fuck his brains out from the first moment you laid eyes on him. Wanna hear why I know that?" Skinner snorted again. He *knew* why Mulder knew. He had told them. In one of those long velvety nights, when they had lain in each other's arms after the most exquisite and mindblowing sex. All three of them had confessed where and when they had been attracted to whom. It had been both hilarious and sad - to see all the wasted years, all the lost opportunities. So, Mulder knew. But then, this was a game, and Mulder could well pretend Skinner didn't know why he had wanted Krycek from the first minute. "Because," Mulder said, and ground his hips into Krycek's ass, "because I wanted him, too. He came into my office and I wanted to fuck him stupid. That's why." Skinner wriggled a bit on the couch. Mulder grabbed Krycek's shoulders and shoved him around, so that he faced the conference table. Krycek was most willing; he bent over and stuck his ass out to Mulder with a blissful grin, licking his lips expectantly. Skinner could see his image in the shining surface of the big table. He had a nice view of his lovers from the right now. He shook his head - he would never be able to look at his office the same again. Mulder reached around Krycek's hips and opened his belt and zipper with practiced movements. He shoved pants and briefs down together and fondled the firm white globes of his lover's ass. "Oooh yeah," he sighed. "This is such a hot ass, don't you think, Walter?" Skinner absolutely thought so. So did his cock, obviously, for it jerked happily in the sweatpants. Skinner stroked it briefly through the cotton and found it semi-erect, but didn't do anything more. Krycek wriggled his hips. His stiff heavy cock swung like a pendulum. "Are you gonna do something about my 'hot ass' or are you planning on worshipping all night?", he complained. Mulder chuckled. "Right here, babe. Right here," he crooned. Quickly, he opened his zipper and took out his hard-on. "Is that what you wanted to do, Walter?", he asked into the camera, slowly stroking his erection. "Bend him over the table and shove your dick up his wonderful, sexy ass, up to the hilt?" Skinner moaned. Shit, but that was exactly what he had wanted to do when Krycek had entered his office for the first time. Bend the young man over and fuck him into next *month*. He had already been in love with Mulder then, and he had fallen for Krycek right away. He still couldn't believe his luck. Not only had he gotten Mulder, but Krycek, too, a bit later. Being in love with two men was crazy enough, especially for a high-ranking G-Man, but he had gotten all two of them to share his life. *And* they loved him back. Which was difficult for him to believe, even today. An ecstatic groan and a "Ssshhhh!" pulled him out of his reverie. Mulder had done exactly what he had just said: he had shoved his dick up Krycek's wonderful, sexy ass, up to the hilt. Krycek rested his forehead on his arms and pushed eagerly back at Mulder. Skinner stared, transfixed. God, what a sight. Krycek, his pants in a puddle around his feet, his ass and legs gleaming in the light of the desk lamp. Behind him, Mulder, completely dressed with just his cock out, knees slightly bent, gripping his lover's hips hard, head thrown back in blissful abandon, his mouth half open, his eyes closed, thrusting into Krycek with increasing speed. Skinner sighed and lazily stroked his cock. He would never get tired of watching those two, they were incredibly beautiful. He heard Mulder gasp, then the lanky figure bent over Krycek's back, bit hard into his lover's shoulder and convulsed, jerking his hips hard into the ass before him. Krycek gave a keening mew. Mulder chuckled, panting, straightened up and pulled the Russian up with him. He grabbed around, still inside that marvellous ass, and gave Krycek's dick two hard strokes. Krycek's body strained like a bowstring, his face contorted, then, with a long low groan, he rhythmically shot creamy white streaks over the conference table. They glistened brightly against the dark wood. "Oh God," Krycek croaked. "Yeah," Mulder sighed and pulled slowly out, still suporting his wobbly lover. "Yeah," Skinner breathed, giving his hard cock a sympathetic squeeze. He watched Krycek glide limply into a chair, grinning into the camera like a sated Cheshire Cat. "I think we're going to pay you a little visit in your office next week, Big," Mulder said fondly, and Skinner sighed resignedly. No matter how much his lovers would wear him out this coming weekend - and they would do their best to love him to death - no matter how wrung out he'd arrive at his office on Monday morning, he knew that the mere sight of his desk and the conference table would give him a hard-on. Like the one he had just now. He briefly considered doing something about it. But... no. The edge was off, he would keep those happy thoughts for tomorrow. They would make a real love-fest out of this weekend, Skinner promised himself as he picked up the phone, smiling, to call his guys. ***THE END***