Red Alert By ga < garrull@yahoo.com > Rating: NC-17 Category: PWP, Slash, Sk/O Spoilers: Set post-Field Trip, reference to Two Fathers/One Son Disclaimer: No way in hell Distribution: Friends of Jay (FoJ) Summary: He's baa-aack Notes: This is a followup to the list round robin Red Rover. It may help to know that story happened; but it's not as though there's a plot to get lost in here or anything. Thanks to Paige for reading. And happy birthday, Jay! ----- "I'm fine, SIR." The word grates; she's not supposed to call me that, not here. But that's my fault; I'm the one who showed up at their, technically her, apartment in the guise of AD Skinner rather than as concerned friend Walter. Concerned friend might go over better; but if I really want these two to take a couple days R&R, I have to order them to do it. "We're both fine. And there's..." "Whatever there is, Mulder, put a sock in it. You two were both exposed to high levels of toxins that produce hallucinogenic psychosis. You're not cleared to carry weapons for at least another 72 hours. I should probably put you on desk duty..." I break AD persona for a moment. "But I'd rather you stayed here and got some rest and took care of each other, okay?" They're still glaring. I should be used to it. I have pretty much just told them they're grounded--although grounded in a bedroom together. As I turn to go, I look first to Mulder, who is softening a bit. But Scully HATES to be told she can't do something; especially, it seems, by me. I turn away from cold steel blue eyes and open the door. Only to find that same cold steel blue on the other side. Charles Scully. Fuck me. It's been months; he'd be a sight for sore eyes if he didn't look like he wanted to kill me. After he'd left to go back to San Francisco, we'd had plans--I'd fly out there, or we'd meet somewhere in between. Proud as any Scully I've ever met, he was not going to let me fly him in to DC even though repeated cross- country trips are out of his starving-artist reach. Still, yeah, we had plans. But things happened. Jeffrey Spender happened. El Rico happened. And though Mulder was the one who could have seen it coming, it was on my ass to deal with it afterwards. For weeks, I was lucky if I made it out of the office to take a piss. My nights were spent with the bottle of Scotch I kept in the bottom desk drawer, a new bottle every week or so. I barely made it home except to change clothes. I never made it to the gym and could hardly stand to look at myself in the mirror. I couldn't look myself in the eye. Charles has no such problem. "Hi," he says, a little coldly. I don't think he'd expected to see me, though he'd apparently heard my voice through the door and prepared himself. "Hello, Charles." Nothing, for a moment. "I didn't know you were in town." "I got here yesterday. I didn't think it'd matter to you." Shit, how long has it been since I've even called him? I now understand the look in his sister's eyes all the better. If a glare is all I'm getting, I'm doing well: if Scully truly believes I've broken her baby brother's heart, she'll rip off my balls and hand them to me with half my guts still attached. And then again...a pissed-off Dana Scully has gotten me hot and hard more than once. A pissed-off Charles Scully--I could cut glass. I look around; we're still standing in the doorway, though Mulder and Scully have made themselves scarce: getting out of the line of fire, no doubt. "You thought wrong, Charles. It matters a hell of a lot. Shit happened, on a monumental scale. Now, can we take this somewhere and talk about it?" "I'm visiting my sister," he says, not letting me off the hook. "Well, we could take it in your sister's living room. But frankly, I'd rather...damnit, Charles, please. Could we just go and talk for a while?" "Talk." He stands, arms crossed, lower lip jutting out slightly. I step outside the apartment and pull the door shut behind me. I keep my voice very low. "Charles, I'm sorry. But I have been in hell the last months. You can bet your ass I'd rather have been with you. Look, you know what my work is like. The stuff that was going on, I can't talk about here. I can't even really talk about it with them,..." I gesture over my shoulder at the apartment behind me. "I can't even tell you. But you know what it's like. You know how many times your sister has missed family obligations because of work..." He nods. This time he's the one to glance back at the apartment door. "And I know the shit my brother's given her because of it." A grin, the first I've seen and, damn, it looks good. "If there's ANYTHING you could say to get me to let you off the hook, it would be to imply that I'm acting like my brother Bill in his asshole moments." My grin matches his and I see a little heat in his eyes; I know there is, more than a little, in mine. But there's unfinished business here. "You're right that it stinks, though. And I can't even tell you that it will be different from now on, because it won't. They know that..." Another gesture behind myself in what I believe to be Mulder and Scully's general direction. "And that's why they are probably the only ones who could ever truly put up with each other. Do you think you can put up with it?" "I don't know," he says, looking serious. "But..." He stares me in the eye, a look that leaves no room for interpretation. "There's only one way to find out." "So, Charles," I growl, "can we get out of the damn hallway now?" He laughs, and we walk out of the building together. ----- "I want to fuck you senseless." We barely make it into my apartment when I shove Charles against the wall and claim his mouth, skipping the preliminaries and thrusting my tongue as deeply as it can go. His tongue meets mine and duels with it, and we trade deep, hot kisses, he matching me stroke for stroke. I thrust my hips against his, hard and sharp, and break a kiss just long enough to growl in his ear, "Your ass is mine, Lover." He counterthrusts and bites my neck. "Condoms and lube are in the other room," I say as I grab his rock-hard ass and hold on tight. "Then what the fuck are we doing out here?" he pants. We stumble into the bedroom, pulling clothes off ourselves and each other on the way down the hall and leaving them where they drop. In the bedroom and naked, I bend to retrieve the condoms and Astroglide from the nightstand drawer. Charles's eyes rake over my body and I hate it that I haven't been working out--I'm on the verge of getting a gut, for Christ's sake. "I'm so goddamned out of shape," I mutter under my breath. "Hardly," Charles counters with Scully eyebrow raised. He's stroking himself, staring at my cock. I pump myself a few times while watching him handle his cock. The sight, and the memory of how his ass felt around me, has me just about ready. I suit up and apply lots of lube, and walk over to Charles, taking his mouth for one more deep kiss before turning him around and spread-eagling him, arms against the highboy bureau. I run my hands over his back, ass and legs, then slip one lubed finger between his ass cheeks while my other hand reaches down to caress his balls. Charles grunts, low and animal sounding. "I want you, Walt," he forces out through clenched teeth. He feels ready, and I position myself behind him, the head of my cock nudging at his anus. He arches his back to give me a better angle, and I slide in, long and slow and oh, so sweet. "You okay?" I ask as I hit home. "Fuck, yeah," he hisses. "Now, MOVE, Lover, dammit." I pound into him, hard and furious, grasping his hips to keep myself steady. With each thrust, he slams his ass back at me. The heat of the argument we just had, the frustration of months of wanting to fuck the Consortium, fuck the X-Files, fuck the entire goddamned FBI, months without this, without Charles,...it all turns into this, giving it to him for all I'm worth. And Charles is giving it right back to me, huffing and grunting my name and thrusting his ass at me. I can see him getting harder with each thrust and my eyes burn as red as his hair. "Goddamn fuck--Walt!" he yells and comes, spurting streams onto the bureau and the floor. His ass is throbbing; a few more strokes and I follow him over, his name torn from my throat. I ride it out and collapse against his sweaty back, breathing as hard as if I'd just finished a long run. He wiggles his ass against me like a caress. Leaning over his neck, I can smell both of us, hot and sweaty and male. Slowly, I slide out of him, reaching with one hand to ease the condom off but not wanting to get off of him just yet. "Charles," I say, my breath slowing but still a little rough. "Glad to see you, Walt," he answers, a little quiet but comfortable. For a few minutes, we just enjoy our peace. Finally, I drag my body off his and straighten up; he does too, slowly. "Ready to hit the showers, Sailor?" I ask with a grin. "Yes, Sir." ----- THE END