RATING: NC17 for m/m interaction

CATEGORY: SR, Slash (Mulder/Skinner)

SPOILERS: Nary a one

SUMMARY: Mulder comes to a decision.

DISCLAIMER: These dear people don't, unfortunately, belong to me. The characters of Walter Skinner and Fox Mulder are the property of CC, MP, DD, 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting. No money is being made here and no infringement is intended.

THANKS: To Hal, for endless patience and inspirational beta reading.

FEEDBACK: is always appreciated and answered at: sergeeva@walteris.vbeautiful.co.uk

THE SERIES SO FAR:

The Walk (Rarest Man: Prologue)

Rarest Man: Test of Endurance

Rarest Man: Wet Dream

Rarest Man: Resolution

Rarest Man: Famine & Feast

Rarest Man: Duty Before Pleasure

Rarest Man: Body of Evidence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He is simply the rarest man i' th' world"

Shakespeare - Coriolanus 4,v,161

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Letting Skinner give me a lift back from the warehouse to the motel is possibly not the brightest idea I've ever had, but Scully wants to stay back to check the witness statements again, and I just crave the sight of him. Being in the car with him is a delicious torture: my senses are in tumult at his closeness in the confined space, at the nearness of his body. I sneak sidelong glances at his profile: the smooth curve of his skull, the delicate rim of his ear, the immaculately-shaven jaw, the fine skin on his neck that I long to touch...

In my fantasies I dream that he feels as I do, that I've seen signs of this, that somehow, miraculously, we could declare ourselves and have a life together. But, in more rational moments, I tell myself that even if he did want that, he'd never act on his feelings, never violate the Bureau's code of conduct or risk the close working relationship we've finally established.

I can suffer in silence too, if that's how it has to be. I can live with the insatiable longing if the compensation is moments like this: he's twisted around in his seat, making sure that some child on a tricycle is well out of the way before he backs into the motel parking slot (Christ- are we here already?) and his body is turned towards me as he looks over his shoulder. His shirt is stretched tight across his chest so that the curve of his pectoral muscle and the nipple are clearly outlined. The tendon at the side of his neck is taut and that stretch of brown skin makes my mouth water.

I can live with this pain/pleasure of unrequited desire if I have to - God knows I've had more moments of real happiness in the last month than in the whole of my life up until now - but only if I know there is no other way, and I won't know that until I've shown him how I feel.

I know it's an immense risk and that, whatever happens, everything will be different after this. I can't imagine not loving him and I'll still love him if he turns from me in anger or disgust, but one thing I've always been good at is hope: hope beyond rational good sense, and somewhere inside me I cling to the tiny shred of hope that the fairy tale can come true.

So - I am resolved.

Before the raid on the warehouse tomorrow and before we all go back to D.C. and back to our circumspect, professional lives again, I will make my move.

We get out of the car and head for our respective rooms. I look at Skinner's retreating back and feel suddenly reckless.

"I could get you that analysis now, sir. So you can look it over before the briefing tomorrow?"

I pause at the door of my room, keys in hand, trying to sound casual while my heart pounds. He turns back to me...

"Fine, Mulder. I see you're determined to keep me hard at it this evening."

He begins to walk back towards me and I turn to unlock the door before my blush gives me away. I toss my keys and jacket on the desk and hear him close the door behind us. I go to the small refrigerator and look inside, still not knowing how I plan to do this.

"Would you like a beer, sir?"

"No thanks. I wasn't entirely joking about the paperwork I have to see to tonight."

He's standing looking out of the window at the arid Nevada landscape and he looks weary and strained. My heart floods with tenderness and in three strides I'm across the room and standing behind him. Letting my desperate need give me courage, I lean forward and kiss the back of his neck... and time stops.

Our bodies are not touching. Only my lips on that smooth brown skin between the neat hair and the crisp white collar. For an endless moment we just stand there, linked by that impulsive touch. I can feel the warmth of his body so close, smell the clean-cotton scent of him. I feel myself swaying closer, aching to wrap my arms around that perfect body, to feel the muscles under the starched shirt.

Then... time starts to roll forward again, I feel Walter take a deep breath and imperceptibly straighten, feel the powerful body tense. In an agony of trepidation I wait, expecting his anger, disgust, rejection... but instead, he exhales: a deep, shuddering breath. Clutching at that fragment of irrational hope, I step forward and take him in my arms, laying my cheek against the broad shoulder, revelling in his warmth and strength...

Walter closes his eyes and crosses his own arms over mine, smoothing over the backs of my hands where they are wrapped around his waist. Words seem beyond us. I move my lips over the velvet skin of his neck, emboldened by a feeling of utter contentment after the weeks of longing, by his heartbeat so close to my own. I sense him begin to relax, to let his rigid self-control ease. He tilts his head back against mine and takes my hands in his, intertwining our fingers. I feel his weight shift back to rest against me - trusting, vulnerable, and sudden tears prick at my eyes. I lift my head to kiss his temple. The skin is like warm silk, unbelievably tender and I am overwhelmed with desire for this strong, beautiful man.

I turn him in my arms, turn him to face me, wheeling away from the window and pushing him back hard against the wall with the force of my kisses. I pin his arms to his sides, our fingers still entwined, and press myself close against his hard body. His head is arched back, his eyes closed, and my mouth is all over his face: his brow, his cheeks, his throat. My nose catches against his glasses and I release one of his hands to reach up and pull the wirerims off, tossing them onto the armchair. With my free hand I cup his jaw while I kiss his eyelids then tilt his head back again so I can reach the exposed skin of his arched throat.

Needing even more sensation, I release his other hand and curl my arm around his hip, pulling his groin up against mine, feeling his erection pushing at my own. I look at his face: his eyes are open again - wide and bright with a kind of stunned joy. His lips are parted and I fall on that beautiful sensual mouth at last.

There's nothing gentle about this kiss - it's impelled by two months of hunger, of craving, of frustrated longing, of dreams and daydreams that leave me shaking with unfulfilled desire. Walter's mouth opens to mine, allowing my thrusting tongue to invade. I'm ravenous for him... for the lush softness inside his mouth as I take his breath with my kiss... for the heat and hardness of his body as I strain against him, crushing him against the wall.

I grind my hips into him, dragging my painfully-confined erection against his and he groans raggedly into my mouth. His hands suddenly clutch at my ass, repeating the excruciating bliss of that grinding movement and his tongue swirls into my mouth, taking charge there as well.

I am all sensation - the kneading of his hands on my ass, the friction of his cock against my own, the consuming power of his kiss drawing the breath from my lungs - and I am overwhelmed. Without a hope of control, I come thunderingly, from his touch alone. His strong hands keep me pressed against him, keep me upright as I shudder within his embrace and feel the semen run down my legs.

"Ohhh... God!!!!... oh...shit!"

The stickiness is already soaking through my suit pants onto him but he keeps me cradled in his arms as I hide my blushes in the crook of his shoulder. He's still rock hard and I feel even more guilty as my own insatiable flesh begins to swell again already. He feels the awkwardness of my silence...

"Fox...?"

I've always hated my name: it sounds like a bad joke or a lewd suggestion. Spoken in Walter's soft, warm voice it sounds....normal, endearing, sexy.

"I'm sorry...". I mumble, "I'm like a teenager in heat..."

"You want this that much?" he asks, wryly.

"I want you."

"You've got me," he says quietly, "but don't make me wait too long - I only have so much self-control."

He looks down at his own groin and the unrelieved erection there, then looks back up at my face with a slow smile. I've never seen such a look of delight on his face before and the radiance of it is almost enough to make me come again. I gasp an almost-giggle as suddenly everything is utterly perfect. He swats me lightly on the butt and leads me off towards the bed.

"Walter, I'm a mess." I say, blushing again.

"You expect me to wait while you shower?" he laughs, gesturing at his bulging pants again.

"Well - I guess not..."

His hands are already unbuckling my belt and pushing my pants and shorts down off my hips. My cock is half-hard again already, my stomach and thighs pearled with semen. Walter pushes me down onto the bed then kneels and removes my shoes and socks. He sweeps the pants and underwear off me and looks at me, grinning, for a moment. Then suddenly, he leans forward and licks the length of my spattered belly. It's the most erotic thing I've ever seen or felt. I reach down and stroke the smooth crown of his head. He looks up and meets my gaze. Our touches are so intimate and tender we need have no doubt that trust is both given and received. Walter looks boyishly happy, with a streak of semen on his chin, and I can feel the same foolish, delighted expression on my own face. I thought that this might be nerve wracking, awkward or clumsy - I never imagined it would be such fun.

I sit up and pull my shirt off over my head. Walter reaches up to caress my chest but I catch at his hand:

"Oh no. That was just to remind you that you've got some undressing of your own to be done and that's my job. As is taking care of this..."

I run my hand down the front of his pants. Still rock hard - the man's stamina is amazing, but then he was a Marine.

He reaches for me again, looking as if he might argue the point, but I settle that by removing his tie and starting to unbutton his shirt. My hands are trembling now, so close to seeing what I've dreamed of. I pull the shirt back off his shoulders and down his arms, but it's still tucked into his pants and buttoned at his wrists so he can't reach for me. I gaze spellbound at his naked chest rising and falling with each breath. He is as glorious as I knew he'd be. Strong graceful neck, the broadest shoulders I've ever seen and a lean, powerfully-muscled torso, with a fuzz of dark curling hair across his breast.

I can see from the deep, shuddering breaths he's taking that he's struggling to maintain control of his body. I feast my eyes on him for a moment then plunge forward to kiss his warm bare skin. Unable to brace himself, he falls back on the bed, laughing, and I fall with him, still hungrily kissing his shoulders, his throat, his chest. I kiss my way down to his belt and I can feel the heat of his erection through the fine wool of his pants as I fumble with buckle and zipper.

I'm suddenly nervous, and look up at him for reassurance. His dark eyes burn with a desire I recognize. He loses patience with the knotted shirt and yanks it off himself, the cuff buttons pinging off across the room. Then he toes off his shoes and reaches for his socks. I push him back onto the bed and pull them off him myself, then turn my attention back to getting him naked. I pull his pants down and off and smile fondly at the sight of white Fruit of The Looms straining to contain his swollen cock. Tenderly I lift the waistband away from his flat stomach and pull the briefs down over his erection. His strong, smooth penis springs free and I think that he is the most beautiful sight I've ever seen.

Every muscle of his burnished body is defined. The wide shoulders and strong chest taper to lean hips and his legs are so long. I feel dizzy with desire just looking at him and yet shy of touching such beauty...

"May I...?"

I hesitate, awed by what I intend to do,

"Please do, Fox... please do!"

and he laughs again - that soft, deep, easy laugh that melts away all my diffidence, evaporates all the awkwardness. Reverently, I take his penis between my hands and lower my mouth to him. At the first brush of my lips over that velvety skin, and the first inhalation of his warmth, my restraint is shattered - I've imagined this moment in my tortured dreams for so long and now it's exquisitely real. My world narrows to that single focus: his precious flesh so vulnerable between my lips and teeth. The heat of him on my face, the silk-over-steel of his hardness against the roof of my mouth, the salt and musk of his skin against my tongue...

I don't really know what to do to give him pleasure - this is all new to me - but I move as my hunger and adoration urges me: kissing, plucking at him with my lips, stroking and stretching him with my fingers, nibbling and licking, probing and sucking. My hands explore, smoothing up his inner thighs, sliding under his writhing hips to cup his tight buttocks, caressing his flat belly, reaching eventually to grasp his hand in mine. He is moaning my name now, with a catch in his voice that makes the word erotic.

His hips lift off the bed as he comes and his fingers clench so tightly around mine that I think we'll never let each other go. He makes an unforgettable sound: a long, falling, ragged sigh, as if it were his last breath. I swallow him all up, as thick as cream, an extraordinary taste of burnt sugar and the sea.

As he softens I let him slip out of my mouth with more kisses - my tingling lips clumsy, my throat muscles aching. I slide down off the bed between his spread thighs, resting my head against his knee and looking up the length of his sweat-slicked body to his face. His eyes are half closed, the whites a flash under the short thick lashes as he slides his dark gaze over me. He looks... wanton... sublime, and seeing his happiness is the greatest gift I've ever been given.

After a while we help each other into the shower, and under the falling water, Walter kneels and makes me come again, so shatteringly that my knees buckle and we end up both collapsed on the tiles, giggling like children. He dries me himself, wrapping the big towel around me so tightly I can't walk and then scooping me up and carrying me back to bed. I tell you, his stamina is amazing...

We lie face to face, sleepy now, touching each other almost shyly and kissing softly - ears, cheeks, hands. Just as sleep creeps over us I think of something:

"What went through your mind as I kissed you over by the window, before you breathed out and I knew that you weren't going to kill me just yet?"

"I thought of your job, and my job, and the rules and regulations and Scully, and the future... and I thought 'Thank you, God'. "

THE END

HOME - RAREST MAN - SERIES - EMAIL