6 Works by LyricaB in The X-Files
Skinner stepped back, allowing her room to breath, to move, but not enough room to slip past him. He leaned in,
just the top part of his body curving over her. "Haven't you ever seen Looking for Mr. Goodbar, Agent Scully? I
thought your last outing would have taught you the dangers of picking up strange men."
Wirerims Awards Winner - First Place, Best Skinner Story Ever
He's sitting at the little table in front of the window, in a pool of yellow light. He's making notes on a pad.
Yellow legal pad made even more golden by the light from the lamp. Tanned skin even more bronzed. Fat,
black pen, thick and rounded like a penis, clutched in his fingers. Lovely, square hands. Lovely, strong fingers.
He looks up at her, question in his dark eyes. Frown lines creasing his forehead. "Agent Scully? Don’t you
believe in knocking?"
Oh, the growl in his voice! It trails like rough fingers down her spine.
"If he's yours... Then prove it to me." The voice was low, rasping, as smoke ruined as its owner was corrupt.
"What do you mean, if he's mine?" Walter Skinner, standing just out of Mulder's range of vision, snapped
back at the cigarette voice.
"Prove to me he's yours, Mr. Skinner. And then, of course, I would never touch him."
"Sh-h-h." Skinner covered her head with his arms, pressed his mouth to her ear. "Don't move. Don't make
a sound." His body was tense, his arms tight on her.
Her heart was pounding so hard they must surely be able to hear it. She could feel Skinner's, tripping like
a jackhammer against her back.
The realization of how heavy and solid Skinner was came flooding along behind the dancing jitterbug of
sensations. Turned the sensitivity of her skin up a notch, from cold/hot/abused to singing.
Without acknowledging his shaky attempt at conversation, Walter Skinner drank again, draining the glass
of whiskey. He seemed as steady as if he'd just had a glass of water. His gaze was as steady as if he was
discussing a case as he looked at Mulder and said, "Top or bottom?"
Mulder jerked, his gaze coming up to Skinner's face. Was his boss really standing there, quiet and expressionless,
waiting for him to reveal what he'd prefer from the scene they'd just witnessed? A beautiful bound man. The
sharp heady slap of leather on naked flesh. He couldn't believe Skinner was asking whether he preferred holding
the strap or being under it.
Before Mulder could think, he responded with the truth. "Depends on who I'm with. I'm...ambidextrous."
Skinner never took his bland gaze from him, never blinked. His voice softened to the texture of velvet.
"Which would you be...with me?"
Skinner pressed so close that Mulder could feel his body heat. The bigger man was eating up all the oxygen, making
it impossible to formulate a coherent thought. "What will it take, Mulder...," Skinner whispered, and his voice was like
a small flame about to leap out of control, "...to have your trust?"
Skinner moved in on him. Breathing as if he, too, was having trouble finding air. "What kind of proof do you need?"
His pupils were dilated, just the barest circle of deep brown visible against black. Fists coming up. "What will it take,
to keep you from doubting me? Sacrificing me?"
Mulder twitched, muscles bunching. "Wait…"
Missing scene from Redux II