Lonely Road Trip

LONELY ROAD TRIP

It’s midnight and the street lamp is shining in through the thin curtains of the run-down road motel I stopped at. The TV set is broken and the clerk refused to let me have another room. I was tempted to flash my badge in his face to make him oblige, but I was too damn tired to make trouble. Now I regret it. The TV is the only thing that can help me sleep; the TV or the closeness of my lover.

But Walter is far away, back in DC, I miss him like crazy. Even Scully could make me feel better, but she isn’t anywhere near. She’s at Quantico doing an autopsy on the corpse we found last night. She flew up there with the same plane that transported the body. We had a few things I had to wrap up here before I could leave. So, here I am. It’s dark, it’s lonely and the memories are swallowing me. I hate this. I cast aside the comforter and groan as I get up from the bed and start pacing. The floor is cold beneath my feet and I shiver. There isn’t much room to pace and I feel like a caged animal. If only the damn TV was working …

I know I’m too tired to drive back to DC even if that is what I would really like to do right now. The light from the street isn’t making it easier for me to relax. Its piercing, eerie light only serves to make the dreams and memories of Samantha’s abduction seem more real and more disturbing than usual. I want to sleep, but I know that if I manage to fall asleep, the only thing that will happen is that I will wake up with a scream on my lips.

I feel sorry for myself for a moment. I need someone here with me tonight. I wish Scully was here, but she’s miles away. I wish Walter was close by, but he’s probably sleeping the sleep of the dead back in DC right now. The memory of that deep voice and its warmth suffuse me as I think about my lover.

"Call me anytime, Fox, any time of the day or night if you need to talk."

He knows my nightmares. The first time he saw what the dreams could redme tme to I think I actually scared him. Now he knows them almost as well as I do. He’s got a few of them himself; from Vietnam. I know that much by now. He’s even tried to get help for his sleeping problems, for Christ’s sakes! I know that maybe it is what I should be doing too, but I can’t make myself share those dreams with a complete stranger. I know that; as a psychologist myself, I should believe that there is someone out there who can help me. But I don’t believe that - I know that the only thing that will ever drive these dreams, and the panic they bear with them, away is to find Samantha. It might be a fool’s dream but after so long, so many years of searching and getting close to finding out the truth, I know I can’t just give up now. I sigh and stop pacing. Again Walter’s words play around in my mind.

"Anytime, Fox, you hear?"

Those warm, brown eyes looked at me with all the love in the world and they made my heart race. Heck, even the memory makes my heart contract in strong feelings of love and longing. I haven’t seen Walter in more than two weeks. I haven’t talked to him in several days. Scully and I have been so wrapped up in this case we’ve been working on. I don’t even want to think about it right now. I don’t think anyone will believe me if I reveal what happened anyway. I hope Scully finds the evidence we need in that body. I close my eyes. I don’t want to think about business right now. I don’t want to think about Samantha. All I want to think about is Walter, Walter’s brown, loving eyes. God, I never thought he would look at me like that. But the thoughts of Walter aren’t quite enough to drive the memories away.

Finally I give up and heave a deep sigh. I rummage around on the nightstand in the room. The streetlights make it light enough to dial Walter’s number, I don’t even need to turn on the bed-lamp. As the tones buzz in my ear I start feeling insecure again. Damn, I hate that. I don’t want to wake him up, in case he might not have slept okay for days. I know how hard he works.

"Skinner," he grumbles. He was asleep, I can hear it and his voice reminds me of an angry grizzly someone disturbed from itbernbernation.

"Walter, it’s me, Mulder." I don't use my given name - I truly hate it. Although, there is nobody who can make that name sound as good as Walter can. I close my eyes, waiting for his reaction. There is a short silence.

"Fox?" His voice changes instantly. The anger is gone and now I can hear a slight tinge of worry instead. "Is there something wrong?"

"Don’t worry, nothing’s happened. I can’t sleep. That’s all."

"Oh," It’s not one of those tired or impatient ‘oh’s’. There’s a warm, understanding tone behind it. "Are you okay?" he asks softly.

"Actually," I say as I feel the corners of my mouth quirk up a little. "I feel a lot better now that I can hear your voice."

"Good," he purrs. "Is there anything else I can do to make you feel even better," he teases. The words make me sigh and a hot flash runs through my body instantly. His voice can reduce me to a quivering mass if he sets his mind to it.

"Oh man, I wish you were here right now, Walter," I whisper. I can hear my voice going down a notch or two, sounding real harsh and husky. He’s got to know how his words affect me.

"I wish I was there too, Fox. I’ve missed you. It’s been too long."

"Yeah," I agree with him. It certainly has. Last time we had a moment together was almost three weeks ago; three weeks since we had a chance to tend to our own wants and needs and those three weeks really are apparent right now. I grow hard, just hearing his voice. At this moment the street-lamp doesn’t bother me anymore and the shabby old motel room suddenly feels cozy.

"Where are you?" he asks.

I tell him about the old motel and that it doesn’t feel quite as bad right now.

"The bed isn’t too bad. All that it lacks is your warm, strong body lying right next to me, touching me and caressing me," I tell him. I lean against the headboard and stretch my legs. I spread them a little as if to invite him to touch me.

"Oh, Fox," he mumbles. "I wish I could be there with you, right now."

"What would you do to me if you were?" I ask as my cock grows just a bit harder. It’s trapped in the confines of my boxers now. It's getting uncomfortable, and I wiggle a little to get them off of me. Soon they are in a pile on the floor and I settle against the headboard again.

"Fox," he says hesitantly. I can hear that he’s embarrassed. My big old bear. He’s so much more prude than you’d ever believe. He’s a 47-year-old, gay man for heaven’s sakes. You’d think he’d have loosened up a little? I love him for it though. I find it … endearing.

"Come on, Walter, I’m sitting here in the nude, and I’m getting really turned on. My hard-on is just for you, and all I want is for you to tell me what you’d like to do with me if you were here," I beg him. I can hear him groan a little. That’s good. My words are getting to him. Perhaps it is better if I begin. God, I can’t believe Mr. Surly AD has never had telephone sex before.

"Are you dressed, Walter?" I ask him huskily.

"Yeah, a little," he chuckles. "I’ve still got my briefs on."

"Get rid of them," I order him. "Imagine that I’m there, sliding those tight, white briefs off of you. I’d let my fingers graze the lightly furred skin of your thighs as I pull them off of you."

"Oh yeah."

I can hear that he’s really getting into the idea now. In my mind forms an image of my favorite AD, completely naked. I can see him standing in his bedroom, the light from the city casting intricate shadows all over his muscled body.

"Where are you?" I ask. "Are you in the bedroom?"

"Uh-huh, I just put those briefs on the chair beside my bed and now I’m lying back on the bed," he answers.

"How are you feeling, Walter?" I ask. "Are you as hard as I am?"

"Yeah, like a steel rod," he replies huskily. "Man, Fox. I haven’t been this hard in so long and you aren't even here to touch me."

"I wish I was there to touch it, to feel it. I’d want to taste it." I moan. Just imagining that hard, velvety column oesh esh sliding in my hand, in my mouth. I have to close my eyes as the desire shoot through me like laser beams.

"Tell me what you look like," I ask him. "Are the lights shining through the windows?"

"Yeah, it’s a white, eerie light. It’s shining in through the window, playing across my stomach and my legs. My face and shoulders are hidden in the darkness. My legs are drawn up and separated, just enough to make room for you there."

"Oh yeah," I say. I can so see him lie there. "You’re beautiful. I know just what you look like. I want to go down on you, Walter, lick that firm shaft all the way from the balls to the crown."

He gasps at my words and I can see him close his eyes. An inner image of his face going stern, as he holds the pleasure back, forms in my mind. Walter is like that. He tries not to show how turned on he is from the start, as if showing arousal is showing weakness. I love pushing him over that edge where he does let go, where he does lose control and shows his vulnerability. I can see it clearly in my mind and it makes me even more excited. The distance between us is somehow making the moment even more intimate than when we are together. I have to tell him things, to make this seem real; things that I would never speak aloud otherwise. It is a heady feeling; a bit frightening, but liberating at the same time.

"I can see those brown eyes of yours dilate as they look at me."

"What do you look like, Fox?" he asks me, his voice full of the need to know.

"I’m looking at a mirror, hanging just in front of the bed, between the two windows of my hotel room. It’s a small mirror, just big enough to show my body as I’m sitting here on the bed. It’s queen-sized with a wooden headboard. I’m leaning against it and the lights are shining in through the curtains, casting the entire room in a reddish light. It’s playing across my body. My legs are spread wide and my cock is hard as rock."

"What are you doing?" he asks huskily

"Nothing yet. Would you like me to touchelf,elf, Walter?" I ask. The thought of him wanting to listen to me while I touch myself is a heady trip. The thought of him touching himself is driving me insane.

"Yeah. I want you to touch yourself."

I slide my hand down between my legs. I cup my balls for a short moment, and close my eyes, shutting out everything but the feeling of my hand caressing my cock and my balls and the sound of my lover's deep, throaty voice as he tells me what to do.

"Don't move too fast, Fox," Walter tells me softly and I pull my hand away from my groin guiltily. It's eerie - as if he can see what I'm doing.

"Okay, whatever you say. You're the boss."

He chuckles a little at that. I know he's silently thinking that it'd be nice if I remembered that at work too sometimes.

"If I were there I would start by caressing your thighs, softly, I’d graze my fingers over the lightly furred skin of those sexy thighs. I love your legs, Fox. They turn me on."

Oh, I love hearing him tell me what it is about me that make him lose it

"Tell me more," I beg. "What else about me turns you on?" I really need to hear that right now.

He laughs ruefully. "Just about everything, lover."

"Tell me …"

"I love your mouth, Fox. Those full lips drive me wild when you kiss me and lick me. Sometimes at work, when I at at those lips it's all I can do to stop myself from ravishing you right then and there. And your ass, Fox, oh - your ass … " I gasp at that and an image of him caressing my buttocks forms in my mind. It's such a vivid memory it feels real.

We're standing inside the hallway of his apartment and I just got there from work one night. I remember how he had enveloped me in his arms at first, but quickly slid his hands down to my ass, cupping my butt-cheeks in those blunt, strong hands, kneading them in earnest. Right now I can almost feel him do that to me. It never fails to excite me - the way he does that. It tells me how attractive he really finds me. It's a great memory.

"What would you do to my ass if you were here, Walter?" I ask him, and my voice is unsteady.

"I wouldn't be able to keep my hands away. I'd settle between your inviting legs, lying on top of you and sliding my hands down to those perfect globes of flesh, as I kiss you with abandon; deep, throaty kisses. I'd ravage that mouth. I'd be kneading your ass, pulling you closer to me until we lie there, groin to groin, unable to lie still, needing to feel the friction of our flesh moving together."

"Oh, God, Walter." I need his touch. My body is tingling with arousal and all I want right now is to get off.

"I'd pull back eventually though, not wanting this to be over too quickly. I'd kneel between your legs and start touching your beautiful body. I'd caress your torso first, moving slowly downwards. I’d move past the place where I know you want me to touch you the most."

"Walter," I plead as I follow his instructions to the letter. I just want to cup my balls and my shaft with my hands and start pumping wildly. I’m so aroused by the sound of his voice, by the illusion that he is there with me I can hardly stop myself, but I know that if I do, this will be over all too soon and the emptiness after will be just as bad as this is good. So I do as he says. I let my hands move past my aching cock over my stomach and up to my nipples. They are hard little nubs already.

"Touch those sensitive nipples for me, Fox," he whispers. "Roll them between your thumb and your index finger."

"Oh yeah, Walter, I can feel your hands on me." I throw my head back as I caress my left nipple, rolling it between my fingers until it feels like a pebble.

"I wish I was there to touch you. I'd kiss you in the neck, and lick you all the way to that sensitive flesh behind your earlobe. Well there, I'd bite you carefully. It always produces such a delicate moan."

I can almost feel him do those things to me and my breath quickens.

"Open your eyes, Fox," he says softly. It's eerie how well he knows me. He knows that I'm so into it now that my eyes are closed.

"They're open," I whisper huskily.

"Look in the mirror again," he orders me.

"I'm looking."

"Tell me what you see."

I lift my head slightly and watch and then I describe it to him.

"I'm flushed, my lips are swollen as if you've been kissing me hard enough to bruise." I realize that in my need for him I've been chewing on my lower lip and it's full, just the way he likes it. "My eyes are half-closed," I choke. It's difficult to concentrate on telling him this when I'm so hard it almost hurts.

"Where are your hands, Fox?"

"One of my hands is resting on my thigh, grazing it lightly with my nails. A drop of precum is glistening at the top of my cock and I'm really longing for you to hold my hard-on. My other hand is on my nipple."

The phone is squeezed between my head and my shoulder, it's a bit uncomfortable, but I need both my hands right now.

"I'd really like you to pay some attention to my sex right now," I plead.

"Yeah," he says. "I can sense your eagerness and your impatience, so I slowly move down over your body, ing ing that delicate skin as I go along. Your stomach gets special attention since I know that drives you wild."

"Oh, damn!" I whisper, as I feel my balls contract. I can imagine Walter's tongue moving from my torso, down my stomach, kissing and licking there for a long, torturous moment and then finally he arrives to pay some attention to my aching flesh.

"Do you want me to suck you, Fox?" he asks.

"Oh yeah, I need you to."

By now I couldn't form a coherent sentence if my life depended on it. So Walter keeps talking. "I'd grab your shaft with my hand to steady it and then I'd open my mouth, letting my tongue slide from the base and up to the glans, slowly - because I want to savor the taste of you."

I let my fingers move from the base of my cock, and I gasp. A physical touch to my sex is now like an electrical shock when it's accompanied with Walter's sexy, needy voice. I let my fingers touch my own flesh with a feather light caress. Again my eyes drift shut and I throw my head back and moan. The telephone drops on the mattress, but it doesn't matter, because I can still hear Walter's throaty voice as he tells me what he wants to do with me. I feel the love for him pour through me at this very moment. He's overcome his shyness and does this for me, because he knows I need it and I've made him need it too.

"Then I'd take you in suddenly, unexpectedly, all of it at once; deep-throating you like a starved man before a feast, because that's exactly what I am, Fox. I'm starving for you."

"Oh," I moan as I wrap my fingers around my shaft in a firm, but comfortable grip and I start caressing myself in earnest. My hand moves up and down in slow strokes at first. My groin tightens at once and I groan. "I won't… Oh, God, Walter, I want you so much," I stutter, as my hand speeds up its movements. I won't last long that's for sure, the images of him going down on me as I masturbate is driving me crazy. I pause for a second to savor the feeling.

"I'd move my hand between your legs to caress your balls just the way you like it, playing with them as I start to really suck you. I'm hard now too, Fox. So hard I can't stop myself from caressing my own cock. I'm taking it in my hand as I keep licking and nibbling your shaft."

Those words make the arousal reach new heights and I moan aloud when I hear his heavy breathing, knowing that my excitement has put him in this state, knowing that he too will come soon.

"Fox …oh, Fox … I love you," he murmurs shakily.

It pushes me over the edge. Those words reach deep into some hidden place inside me and they make me come hard. The orgasm claims me and I think I may have blacked out for a short moment. When I open my eyes I can hear Walter's moan as he comes. The sound produces an image inside my mind, an image I ache to see for real. Him, lying sprawled out on his bed, muscles glistening in the eerie light from the street. He's flushed with excitement, eyes heavy lidded with arousal, and his body rigid as he reaches his peak. I ache to touch him at this moment. I want it so much.

"Walter," I whisper.

"Yeah?" he breathes back. He's panting a little and I give him and myself a moment to calm down before I speak.

"I love you too."

"Yeah," I can hear the smile in his voice.

END