Fandom: XF
Title: Real Flesh
Author: Grey
Rating: NC-17
Email: Grey853@aol.com
Keywords: M/Sk slash, MulderAngst, sequel to "Real"

Disclaimer: These guys aren't mine, but they have more fun with me than with CC.

Spoilers: "Fire", "Avatar", "Zero Sum", "Kitsunegari" and "The End".

Summary: In this sequel to "Real", Mulder struggles with his feelings for Walter Skinner.

Archive: Yes, as long as the rating stays on it.

Website: http://grey.ravenshadow.net

Author's notes: This takes place the morning after "Real". If you haven't read that one, you might get lost at some of the references. Be warned that this story contains an explicit scene of MulderAngst.

Real 2: Real Flesh
by Grey
Grey853@aol.com

Mulder's hand shook as he rinsed the razor, the hot water taking both the blood and foam down the drain quickly. Stinging nicks reminded him one more time about why one should never shave while hung over. Turning off the tap, he dried off, tiny red streaks staining the dark green towel. In the other room the phone rang and he ignored it, the answering machine clicking on. Scully's worried voice threatened, "Mulder, if you're there, pick up or I'm coming over. Mulder, pick up the phone. Now, damn it."

Still in sweats and barefoot, Mulder stepped down the hall, his whole body dulled after a night of no sleep and too much drink to think about. "Calm down, Scully. What's going on?"

"Where the hell have you been, Mulder? I've been calling off and on all night and this morning. I was really worried."

"Why?"

A long pause introduced her next words. "I just was, okay? Now where were you and why didn't you answer my messages?"

Sitting down first, Mulder held his head with one hand and the phone with the other. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the nasty throb in each temple and the incredible slicing ache at the base of his neck. Lying to Scully could be dangerous, but no way would he tell her the real story. He'd finished the tequila alone, trying to forget the whole thing with Walter, to pretend it never happened. No way could he tell his partner about such a perverse evening in the latest string of Mulder failures.

"I went running for awhile and then played some ball down at the gym. I didn't answer your messages because I just forgot to check when I came in."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Really."

"Then why were you out running in the rain?"

"People run in the rain all the time. It doesn't mean they're crazy or in trouble."

"Depends on who you ask." She cleared her throat, the sound ominously familiar. "Mulder, we didn't get a chance to talk about what happened with Linda Bowman."

Settling back, he propped his head against the wall, his forearm over his eyes. "If you need to talk about it, I'll listen, but I don't have anything to say."

"I think you need to talk about it."

"Think what you want, but I'm fine. It's over."

"I was really worried about you yesterday. What did Skinner say after I left?"

His throat resistant to saying his superior's name, afraid Scully would hear the faintest of catches, he worked to keep his words even. "He just said I did a good job."

"Nobody else had any idea it was Bowman. I was wrong about that and I'm sorry. Skinner's right. You did do a good job."

"I almost shot you, Scully. Just put the medal in the mail, okay? Best job in fucking history." The anger pushed the words out before he could rein them back in, their savage edge cutting.

"I'm coming over."

"Don't." He cleared his throat several times, but the words still snagged, swollen and bloody. "Look, I'm just tired. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Do you ever?"

"You know the answer to that already. I just want to be alone. I appreciate the concern, but I don't need you or Skinner anywhere near me right now. I'll be fine by Monday."

"Skinner? Did he come to see you?" Caught off guard, he paused too long before an answer. "He did, didn't he?"

"Why would he?"

"Are you saying he didn't?"

"Not exactly." He rubbed his face, the skin still sensitive from the itchy lather and the rough shaving.

"Mulder, why wouldn't you want me to know Skinner came to see you? I mean, maybe he needed to be sure you were all right. Is that what he said?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"What else did he say? Why are you so upset?"

"Just leave it alone."

"He had to say something else or you'd tell me."

Shit. "What else would he say?"

"Don't tell me if you don't want to, but I'm going to say something now that might surprise you."

"I doubt that. Nothing much surprises me anymore."

"Tarnished Mulder, huh?"

"Maybe. What did you want to say about Skinner?"

"It's not about Skinner, well, not directly anyway."

Shaking his head, confusion muddled his already cloudy thinking, his voice almost too strained to work. "Just say what you mean. I'm a little lost here."

"Mulder, I hope you know you can talk to me about anything. If you were to start seeing someone, someone you might not think I'd approve of, you could still tell me. I'd never judge you about that."

Suddenly guarded, wariness like venom striking a main artery, he spoke carefully. "I know that, but I don't have a clue what the hell you're talking about."

"Maybe I'm wrong then. Even so, just keep it for future reference."

"It'd help if I knew what I was keeping, but sure, I'll do that."

"I'll be at Mom's the rest of the weekend. Call me if you need me, okay?"

His dry throat made it hard to swallow, the need to confess choking. "Thanks, Scully. I'll see you on Monday then."

"Try to get some rest, Mulder." A click ended the connection, his breathing suddenly easier.

Hanging up, he sagged back, both hands rubbing his eyes. "Jesus, Scully, how the hell do you know about Walter?"

Stripped down and grimy, he turned on the shower, making the water as hot as he could stand it before stepping into the tub. The spray washed over the sweat, the soap mixing with oily skin, cleaning the surface of his exhausted body. His muscles ached but eased with the massage of warm cloth, the even rubs a relief to tension. Wrapping his cock in his own hand, he stroked several times but nothing happened. The limp flesh stayed flaccid despite his tries at cupping his balls and holding himself harder.

"Shit."

He leaned his forehead on the slippery tile, frustration grinding his chest as he worked a steady rhythm trying to get off. Closing his eyes, he imagined Walter's hand, his body thrusting against his groin, his strong knees parting his thighs. His cock responding slowly, he licked his lips, his boss's unique mix of tangy Chinese spice and liquor from last night's kiss lingering. Urgently, he grew harder, his balls heavy. Running a soap-slick finger between his legs, he worked his own ass, thinking about Walter's large hands, each finger wide and rough entering him over and over. God, he needed to come, needed to finish, but he required more than his own fingers to do it.

Taking a deep breath, the water still running, he reached beyond the curtain and grabbed the cold rubber dildo. He used it rarely, but he urgently needed that extra push, that release he only got when he shoved it deep inside. Coating it with steam-heated gel, he lubed himself and then raised a leg, his foot steady on the towel folded over the edge of the tub. Very carefully, he eased the tip against the resisting ring of muscle. A sharp pain slowed the urge forward, but didn't stop him. He wanted to fuck himself with the same power he imagined Walter would fuck him, wanted to impale himself on the huge cock of the man who taunted him with his touch, with his trust, and his very presence.

The fake crown spread him open and the ring expanded, sliding its grip red and aching around the two-inch shaft still moving steadily inward. A sudden cramp stopped him, the spasm shooting through his rebellious belly. After a few moments, he pulled it out just a little and with shorter, more forceful movements started again. He could barely breathe, the hurt in his lower gut swelling as he rocked back against the unyielding intruder. Grunting, his moans muffled by the shower, he put his leg down and leaned forward, his efforts awkward and clumsy, the torturous fucking actions withering his frustrated cock. Shaking his head, his ass throbbing, he slowly withdrew the useless piece of artificial flesh and let it fall into the water. Bracing himself against the wall, emptiness layered impotence, his body shuddering at his own miserable self image. God, how fucking pathetic.

Carefully, he washed his hands and cleaned between his legs, startled when red showed on the cloth. "Damn." Checking himself closer, he found blood, but nothing too serious. Thankful for only the small tear, he finished and then turned off the water.

Refusing to look in the mirror, he toweled off, pulled on his dirty sweats and walked to the kitchen. Pouring himself tequila from a fresh bottle, he raised the glass to his lips. The slight tremor of his hand stopped him, his mind snapping on a picture of his father drunk and drinking alone in the dark so many years ago after Samantha's disappearance. His shaking hand spilled more of the drink before he could return it to the sink and step away to lean back against the opposite counter. Wrapping his arms around his waist, he hugged himself against the wave of frightening specters. He didn't want to become his father, forcing the people he loved to leave him, becoming so lonely and broken in the end. He didn't want to fuck up so badly in his personal life, yet when it came to accepting that someone could love him, why couldn't he believe it? Why fight the idea that Walter Skinner actually loved him?

Mulder knew the answer, denied it all of five seconds, and then groaned against the truth of it. He loved Walter Skinner and that scared the shit out of him, terrified him more than alien invasions, mutants, or even a pissed off Scully. So many hopes, so many failures haunted him. He never wanted to add Walter to that list of losses, but he couldn't stand losing the chance of being with him either. Not for the first time in his life, Mulder stood paralyzed, his mind merely soaking in the pressing shadows around him, his mind dwelling on the ugly, ragged scars left by his own demons.

Standing in the hallway, Mulder stared at the entrance to his boss's apartment wondering if he should knock or get the hell out of there as fast as he could. Suddenly the door opened and Walter appeared, garbage bag in hand. A sad smile came with the younger man's words. "Well, this seems familiar."

"Except it's not the middle of the night and you didn't call first." Pushing his glasses up, Walter motioned for him to enter. "Why don't you come on in and I'll run this down later?"

"Sure." Still uncertain, but determined, Mulder walked in and waited while Walter closed and locked the door. "I thought I'd take the chance that you'd be home tonight."

"I said I would be." His husky voice tingled his skin, the very vibration of it a turn on.

"I know, but..."

"But you didn't really believe me."

"It's not that."

Walter stood there watching, his dark brown eyes never wavering. The black T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and the tight jeans bulged in all the right places. "Then what?"

Nervous, he held up the bottle. "Then nothing. Look, I just thought we should talk and I brought this as a peace offering."

Taking the wine with his free hand, Walter read the label. "White zinfandel. Thanks. Would you like a glass now or I've got some fresh coffee?"

"Coffee's okay, but a beer would be even better."

"A beer it is then. Sit down while I put these in the kitchen."

Following orders, Mulder settled on the couch, rubbing his sweaty hands on his pants. Anxiously he waited until the older man stood beside him, handing him the beer, a slight smile turned his way. "Calm down, Mulder. I'm glad you're here."

"I am, too. I think."

Nodding, but the smile not fading, Walter sat in the chair across from him, a mug of coffee in his hand. "I wasn't sure you'd come, but I was hoping."

"You really threw me with what you did last night."

"I know that." Suddenly more serious, Walter asked quietly, "Did you manage to sleep at all? You look terrible."

Smoothing down his tie, Mulder moved his knees as he spoke, the motion calming. "And here I tried to look like proper date material. Sorry."

"Date material?"

"I thought maybe we could go out for dinner or something, maybe see a movie."

Shaking his head, Walter leaned back in his chair, relaxing. "You're asking me out on a date, Mulder?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"I'm flattered, but to be honest, I've already planned to cook something here. Besides, somehow I have a feeling we don't have the same tastes in movies."

Relieved, and yet disappointed, Mulder shrugged. "Maybe, but I don't think we've ever talked about it. We haven't talked about a lot of things before."

"No, we haven't, but we will. So, let me guess, you like science fiction, right?"

"Sure, and you like war movies, right?

"Actually, no. I avoid them." His tone no longer light, Walter shifted and leaned forward, using his hands to mark his words. "Look, I've been thinking about what happened last night, and I think I came on a little too strong, maybe a little too demanding. I really didn't have any right to come in there, drop a bomb like that, and then just order you to feel what I want you to feel."

"I've been thinking, too."

"Instead of sleeping?"

"You have no idea what I felt last night."

"Confused, afraid, pissed off? Am I anywhere close?"

"Would you stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Hitting so close to home. It's seriously unnerving." Mulder stared down at his tie, his hands nervously straightening it, lining up the ends with the same precision of cutting bomb wires in the right sequence. His gut tightened, the panic like fists battering soft tissue. "Scully does it all the time, but I never realized I was so transparent."

Snorting, Skinner finished his coffee and put the mug on the table. "Transparent? Hardly. You hide your feelings pretty well most of the time. It's just in those unguarded moments, those times when I actually know you trust me that you let me see what's really going on with you. Do you have any idea how good it makes me feel to know you trust me enough to do that, that you trust me as much as your partner?"

Mulder spoke quietly, each word a painful confession. "I do trust you, Walter."

"And I appreciate that, Mulder. I know that trust isn't easy for you."

"Or you."

"No, it's not easy for me either. The thing is, I'm not sure your trusting me is enough. I need more than that and I think you do, too. This isn't about sex, though that's a part of it."

"Thank god." Mulder smiled as he spoke, the relief in his voice almost comic. Walter's amused grin prompted a question. "What?"

"I'm just glad the sex thing isn't going to be a problem. I wasn't sure."

"Come on, Walter. After last night surely you guessed that you wouldn't be my first male lover."

"No, I figured that out awhile back." The slightest hint of sadness flavored his tone.

Scooting forward, Mulder studied the uneasy expression, the eyes turned away for just the briefest of moments. "What is it you want to ask me?"

"It's not my business."

"What? You want a list of ex-lovers?"

"Like I said, it's not my business."

Sitting back again, his mind settling into more familiar territory, Mulder hardened himself to talk about his past, his failures. "Actually if we're seriously considering some kind of relationship beyond sex, it is your business. I mean, I know about your wife. I don't know much else about your relationships other than I always thought you only went for women. You were married for 17 years. For me that means that you're able to commit to somebody deeply. Hell, Walter, that's damn impressive."

"I've only had one male lover and that was in Nam. Sharon knew about him, which is why she was so jealous when I talked about you. She said I used the same tone when I said your name as I used when I talked about Jim."

"Jim?"

"Jim Marshall. He died in the jungle. Hell, we died at the same time, but he didn't make it back."

"I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago." He paused before speaking, his eyes focused on a world separate from where he sat. After a few moments, he looked up, his eyes clear again, even more bright than before. "You don't have to tell me about your love life, Mulder."

"But I need to be able to tell you."

"You're bothered by the question though, I can tell."

Swallowing hard, pride being bigger than most words, he tried to keep his voice even. "Yeah, well, I've had some pretty awesome disasters scattered in the past. Phoebe, Alan, and Diana lasted the longest, and I don't really regret them completely, but the aftershocks kept me pretty shaky for awhile."

"Phoebe would be Inspector Green of Scotland Yard and Diana would be your ex-partner, right? But who's Alan?"

"He was my high school English teacher and swim coach."

"What? Did you say high school?"

"We were together almost a full year before he decided it wouldn't work out and left the school."

Leaning forward, his eyes suddenly even more concerned, he strained to keep his voice calm. "My god, Mulder, how old were you when this happened?"

"I was sixteen."

"Damn." Walter sat back, his arms crossed, his face set in anger.

"It's not what you're thinking."

"Tell me what I'm thinking, Mulder? The man broke the law and abused a minor. Shit."

"He didn't abuse me, Walter. He saved me. You've got no idea what it was like for me in school and at home, how lonely I was. I loved him and I wasn't forced to do anything I didn't want. Besides, when he dumped me, I was stronger and more confident. I mean, I was hurt. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that, but I still learned a lot from him."

"Jesus, Mulder, how can you say that? You were only a kid."

Serious, his words as straight as a sword rammed through the heart, he whispered. "I stopped being a child after Samantha left, Walter. Don't be pissed about Alan. I'm just telling you this so you'll know that sometimes my choices haven't always been wise, but mostly they've been from the heart, regardless of what others might think or how they turned out."

Nodding, the meaning not lost on him, Walter rubbed his face several times before he spoke again. "You said mostly. Who wasn't a choice from the heart?"

"You don't really want to know about those now, do you?"

"Not if you don't want to tell me."

His mind skimmed back over the most painful of memories and he shook his head. "Not yet. I'm not ready for those two yet." Looking up, meeting the somber eyes, he smiled weakly. "I just wanted to tell you to let you know that I'm able to take chances when I think the risk is worth it, and I think being with you fits that category."

"Risky might be one way to describe it."

"And another?"

"Damn crazy." But he said the words lightly, his eyes open and intense. "Risk isn't new to either of us, Mulder, but this is different. For the first time in awhile, I could give a shit about consequences. You're all I think about and I'm getting too damn old to give up what could be the last chance I have to be happy."

"You're not old, Walter."

"I'm almost fifty."

"Which means you've dodged the bullets nicely."

"And bitten a few."

"That, too. I just think we'd both be losing out if we didn't at least give this a try."

"I agree."

"And we don't have to work out all the details tonight. Can't we just be together, maybe get to know each other better before we make a lot of promises neither of us might be able to keep?"

"I already know what promises I want to make, but if that's what you need, Mulder, more time to be sure, I'm willing to do that."

"Even though you weren't willing to do that last night?"

"One of the main rules of survival is adjusting to the situation, and you, Mulder, require my full quota of adjustments. I'm willing to be patient. You need more time, so be it."

"And what about tonight?"

"How about this? I'll fix dinner, something light, while you take a short nap."

"Doesn't sound exactly like the wild date I had planned, sir."

"Wild date?"

"Yeah, the part where we pick up where we left off before you ran out on me."

Clearing his throat, his voice still a bit hoarse, Walter nodded, "I'll consider it, Mulder, but first, rest. I wouldn't want you too tired before we even get to the good part."

"The good part?"

"Yeah, the part where it gets even wilder and I don't leave you hanging this time."

"Well, hell, sir, where's the pillow? I can nap like crazy with that kind of motivation." He lowered his voice, more serious, and definitely horny. "And if you'll nap with me, it could get wilder even sooner."

Pulling the pillow from behind his back, Walter threw it, the smack in the face deflected only at the last minute. "Go to sleep, Mulder. I'll wake you when it's ready."

"I'm ready now, sir." The words sounded pouty and downright petulant even to himself.

"I see that, but self-discipline and restraint are wonderful qualities."

"Qualities I've never been blessed with."

"And never learned."

"Nope."

"Then I'll teach you." Not exactly what he expected to hear, Mulder found he himself actually looking forward to Walter Skinner instructing an unruly pupil in the art of strict discipline. He slipped off his shoes as he slid sideways, pulling his legs up and his head resting on the pillow. His mind drifted to the misty realm of his favorite student/professor fantasies sans Alan, wondering once again about the ever shrinking space between real and make believe.

Mulder leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching his boss fixing the salad, his movements efficient and neat. The black cotton stretched with him, his muscles firm and well-defined, his shoulders broad under the yielding cloth. Licking his lips, he stepped closer, bracing his ass on the edge of the counter. "You look good enough to eat."

"You're a horny bastard, Mulder. I thought you were sleeping." Walter continued to cut the last of the carrots while he grinned.

"Couldn't. Too hot."

"Yeah, so I noticed."

"Did you?" His hand touched the back of Walter's neck and all food preparation stopped as he spoke in a hush. "I'm hungry for more than anything in that bowl. Why don't we eat later?"

Wiping off his hands, Walter turned, his groin shifting to press against Mulder's. A finger traced across the younger man's lower lip, the slightest hint of lemon lingering. "You saying I'm more tempting than a salad, Mulder?"

"Way more tempting. Bet you taste better, too."

"You think so?" The words came out a low rumble, a challenge to control.

"Oh, yeah. Let me taste you, Walter, the real you." His voice pleading, Mulder stroked the whiskered cheek, watching the transformation begin. Taking off his glasses, the older man folded them and placed them on the counter, his actions slow and deliberate. As soon as he turned his attention back to Mulder, all hesitation vanished.

Leaning in, Walter's lips captured his, the hot tongue pushing hard into his mouth. Strong arms pulled his body closer, his balls swelling, his cock alert against the delicious crush. A thick slickness worked to the back of his throat, the rough energy driving into him and then pulling back, a quick suck to draw his eager tongue between Walter's teeth before a soft lick. Muffled moans rumbled in his chest as one hand held the back of his head, the other cupping and kneading his ass. Shoving forward, he humped his erection against Walter's, the cloth between them annoying.

Bringing his head back, he struggled to speak, the words traitors, breathy and slurred. "Upstairs. Naked."

Flushed, Walter took several long breaths and then nodded. "Go on up. I have to turn off the food first."

He kissed him quickly and then whispered. "God, hurry."

"I'm right behind you, Mulder. It's the first door on the right." Walter thrust forward once like a promise and then commanded, his voice husky with wanting. "Get ready and I'll be there in a minute."

"Wait much longer and I'm going to have finish without you."

"Discipline, Mulder."

"Fuck discipline, sir. I need you."

"Then stop calling me sir and go get yourself naked."

With a fast turn and slap to his ass, Mulder took his tie and shirt off on the run up the stairs. By the time he got to the bedroom, his pants flew to the chair along with his boxers. Socks came off last as he turned down the dark blue comforter, the white sheets a vivid contrast in the low light. Crawling in and stretching out, he ran his hand along the cool, solid texture. As he turned over, he grabbed a pillow and held it to his face, the musky scent arousing and familiar. Looking up, he found Skinner standing bare by the bedside, watching him closely, his face both hungry and amused.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Did I ever tell you how much I love the way you smell?"

"You like sniffing my pillow?"

"God, yeah."

"I've got better things to sniff, Mulder. Move over."

Sliding in beside him, the larger man pulled him close, their bare bodies pure heat. Reaching down, Mulder stroked the leaking cock, tickled the balls, and ran his fingers through the tight curls. Walter groaned into his neck, his words grunted prayers. "Jesus. Please, oh god."

Shifting down, Mulder licked first the leaking tip, the bitterness elixir to his parched throat. A tremor ran through Walter's entire body and hands urged his head closer, anxious fingers combing his hair, his mouth taking in only a few inches, sucking and swirling his tongue against flaming silk. Contrasting textures pushed back, the swollen vein running along the underside of the smooth flesh. Rolling the balls while he took in even more length brought on more shudders and an unexpected whimper that pleased him.

Suddenly, Walter's voice struggled to form words, the urgency getting his attention. "Stop. I want to be in you." Two shaking hands guided his face away and pushed him on his back.

Still holding Walter's cock, petting it, he smiled, more than willing to please. "Then do it."

Voracious, the older man shifted the full length of his body over Mulder's, his weight lowered slowly. Using his knees, he spread Mulder's thighs wide apart as he lifted his legs over his shoulders, the whole time keeping eye contact. "Look at me, Mulder."

"It's a little hard not to in this position, Walter."

Shoving his hips forward, Walter shook his head. "Pay attention. No games here. I want you to feel me, to know I'm real."

Swallowing hard, the salty taste of his lover still on his lips, Mulder nodded as he stared back into that intense stare. "I already know that."

"Good, now just relax and feel me."

Before he could say anything else, Walter quickly squeezed gel on both hands, using two slick fingers to enter the tight ring while wrapping his fist around Mulder's cock. Air vanished from his lungs while fire spread up his belly, the fingers working him in an even rhythm. Attention grew stronger as a third finger quickly joined in and touched the prostate, the electric pleasure surging up his spine. "Shit."

"Like that?"

"Yes." The single word hissed in the air, alien to meaning, Mulder's eyes squeezed shut against the increase of lightning searing his heart.

His ass suddenly empty, the pressure renewed with Walter lifting his hips higher to push his cock forward, the easing of the blunt tip painful, his earlier tear and swelling like a pinched memory. Short thrusts shoved harder, each one adding more strain, the muscles stretching but resistant. "Relax, Mulder." Walter's soothing voice chanted to him, urging him to accept and receive him completely.

Stubborn drives came between short waits, but didn't stop. Thighs heavy, the burden of arousal and his own aching cock growing, his hands squeezed the headboard above him. One last forceful jab filled him, Walter lying forward, waiting for a signal. Slowly, he breathed enough to whisper. "Do it. Please."

Sweat trickled between them, their bodies locked. Walter nodded and then started, the steady rhythm matched with Mulder's own grinding motion, the slap of flesh and bones bruising. Every muscle tightened, the friction burning, the very tissues shocked and screaming. Eyes closed, he whirled in a stream of flashing, yellows and golds sparkling first before exploding. The arching upward into paralysis jerked him, the spasms grabbing his heart, the grip of release redefining all previous pleasures. His gut sprayed heat like a fountain, fire in his veins spilling blaze even down to his fingers and up to his tongue, his very lungs singed by the power of the real flesh that forever possessed him.

Collapsing, Mulder sank to the bed, his whole body tingling and sated. Walter settled his weight on top for just a few more moments before withdrawing and then rolling over. Hugging Mulder to him, he whispered, "I love you." A kiss sealed the vow against his cheek.

A stunned brain formed the words on swollen lips very slowly. "I love you, too, Walter." Snuggling in closer, his ear resting over the racing heart of his lover, Mulder prayed his hopeful truth didn't become another lie too soon.

The End