A crack of thunder woke Walter out of a deep sleep. Every muscle tensed as still-bright lightning seared his open eyes. Jesus! the storm must be right over the roof. His shoulders hit the mattress and the whole bed shook.
The bed was empty beside him, covers thrown back, pillow still dented. The sheets were cool. How long had Mulder been gone? Walter swung his legs around and got up, grabbing a discarded pair of shorts to put on. He didn't have Mulder's predilection for walking around the house naked, as at home in his skin as a cat in its fur.
He found his lover sitting by the big bay window in the living room, staring into the night. A dark and stormy night, no less. Mulder was wearing grey boxers and a dark blue t-shirt. He sat with his legs tucked up, arms around his knees, his body parallel with the windowpane and his face turned toward it.
There were no lights on, no computer, no television. There'd been many nights when Mulder, unable to sleep, had crashed on the couch for a few hours, falling asleep in front of the flickering tv as he used to when he lived alone. Usually he'd come back to bed before sunrise, curling up around Walter soundlessly, sometimes waking him to make love before they both drifted off to another hour or two of sleep.
Two weeks ago, the news had come from an unimpeachable source, namely Scully: Alex Krycek was dead. His body had been found in Alaska, of all places, in one of the last strongholds of the Consortium's scientists--a last victim of their gruesome experiments. Mulder and Scully had gone to Alaska together, to identify and to autopsy the body, respectively. Dana had told Walter, privately, that the autopsy left no doubt: It was Alex Krycek. Mulder had not slept through the night since. And he had spent his insomniac hours waiting, watching by the window as if waiting for someone to arrive.
At the sound of his name, Mulder's head turned. He gave Walter a weary smile. "I'm still here. I haven't left."
"I didn't think you would." Walter headed for the windowseat--stopped, startled, as another huge burst of lightning and thunder together illuminated the dark street with savage clarity--shook himself and went to join his lover.
"I can't shake the feeling," Mulder said quietly. He was looking out into the rain again. "The feeling that he's going to come. He's going to just show up at the door."
"Mulder." Walter paused, smoothed out his tone. "You ID'd the body yourself. And Scully did the autopsy. It was Krycek. The Consortium... the bastards turned on their own, they ate their own dead, if you like, when they couldn't get their hands on anyone else."
A few months ago, he might have added that it served Krycek right to be used as a lab rat by the organization he'd worked for. And Mulder would not have disagreed. But Walter knew better now. He'd had to face the fact that he was not Fox's first love and comfort himself with the thought that he would be the man's last love.
"I know." Mulder's voice sounded dreamy. "There's no reason for me to feel this way. But I do."
Walter reached out and touched Mulder's arm. "Come back to bed."
Mulder rubbed at his eye, half-smiling. "I'm not sleepy."
"Come back to bed."
In the bedroom, Mulder stood still as Walter pushed up the dark blue t-shirt and ran his hands over the younger man's chest. The flat brown nipples budded to hardness under his tongue. Mulder raised his arms so Walter could strip off the t-shirt. His hands came to rest on Walter's shoulders as the older man knelt, pulling down Mulder's boxers, leaving them around his ankles while he nuzzled the thickening cock and the trimly muscled thighs.
"Walt..." Mulder whispered, clutching at his lover. Walter licked his way knowingly, lovingly, over Mulder's cock, nuzzled his balls, flicked his tongue into the crease of Mulder's groin, then wrapped his hand around the hard flesh and suckled on the head. The thunder and lightning came and went as Walter's hands and mouth made love to the body he loved, to the man inside the body, to the drifting soul he had finally, somehow, grounded here, in his home, their home, in their bed.
Mulder lay down on the bed on his stomach and spread his thighs. "No... not like that." Walter got out lube and condoms from the nightstand and then lay down on his back, urging Mulder closer. Mulder's mouth was hot and wet on his cock, unbelievably supple, so tight and clinging, and he coaxed Mulder around so that he could start opening him up, stroking in the lube, getting Mulder ready to be fucked while Mulder sucked him.
It didn't take long. Mulder sank readily, gracefully, onto his cock, back arched, his belly taut and vulnerable, and Walter groaned. So good. So absolutely right. A micro-engineered fit, as perfect as the way their lives had come to fit together. Mulder moved, controlling the fuck, taking his pleasure, and Walter arched and let go, arched and let go beneath him in a slow, wavelike motion, in no more hurry than the tide.
Imperceptibly, the tide came in, and the rain drummed on the roof as Walter pounded into his lover, thrusting upward wildly while Mulder, hands braced on Walter's chest, thrust down in a rhythm as relentless as the rain. Walter came first, groaning, holding absolutely still for a few seconds as the pleasure crested, then, when he could think again, capturing Mulder's cock in both hands and wringing the younger man's climax out of him.
There was a long moment of silence when the rain seemed to have abated, the lightning was withheld, the thunder was silent, and their wild breathing slackened off. And then, pounding. Pounding at the front door.
Mulder raised himself off Walter's chest. They stared at each other. Disentangling at record speed, Mulder raced naked down the stairs, followed by Walter pulling on the discarded shorts.
Mulder opened the door. The rain blew in on him and sluiced off Alex Krycek's leather jacket.
"Don't believe everything you see, tovarishch," Krycek rasped. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
I'm not committing to any sequels!