Coffee Kisses

Title: Coffee Kisses
Author: J.D. Rush
Fandom/Pairing: X-Files; Mulder/Skinner
Category: Slash fic, romance, with some hot sex thrown in for fun.
Ratings/Warnings: NC-17 for m/m sexual situations
Summary: Good to the last drop
Spoilers: None that I can think of
Disclaimer: These characters still belong to CC, FOX, and 1013--as far as I know. Oh, and the song belongs to Squeeze. I don't make any claims to them, either.
Author's Note: Takes place in the 9th season, sometime after "Vienen". And in my world, "Jump the Shark" and "The Truth" never happened. (Oh, lord above, PLEASE tell me "The Truth" never happened!)


Coffee Kisses
By J.D. Rush

"With lips full of passion,
And coffee in bed. . ."
--Black Coffee in Bed, Squeeze

Mulder wasn't sure what woke him up. The dip of the mattress as someone crawled onto the bed next to him? Or perhaps it was the delicious smell of coffee wafting in the air? Quite frankly, he didn't care. He knew which one he wanted. Still half-asleep, he rolled onto his side and threw his arm over his lover's chest, the skin still warm and wet from a recent shower. "Mmpfhth," or some such sound passed his lips.

"You say something, Fox?" Skinner asked, amused.

Blindly, Mulder groped with his hand until it connected with the mug Skinner was holding. "Coffee," he muttered, sleepily.

"Yeah, it is," Skinner chuckled, settling his back against the headboard.

The hand tightened on the mug. "Want some," the voice still scratchy and drowsy.

Skinner swatted the hand away. "Then get your lazy ass out of bed and get some."

"Don't gotta," came the petulant reply. "Enforced retirement, remember?" The hand was back.

"What a relief. I was getting tired of bailing your ass out of jail," Skinner joked. His added, "Even if it is a very nice ass," earned him a flipped middle finger.

"C'mon, big guy," Mulder begged, his hand grasping at the mug as if his life depended on it. "Don't be such a jerk." One bright hazel-green eye opened, accompanied by a slow, seductive purr. "I'll do anything for a sip."

That piqued Skinner's curiosity. "Anything, huh?"

"Mmm-hmm. . .anything."

"I didn't know you were so easy, Fox. Selling your soul for a cup of coffee."

"Walter, stop teasing," Mulder whined, in a really annoying nasal tone.

"Ask nicely."

Mulder huffed a disgruntled huff before asking, rather sarcastically, "Can I have some coffee. . . puleeeeeezzzz?"

"THAT'S nicely?" Skinner replied, incredulously.

"I said please."

"Reluctantly."

"Reluctantly counts."

Skinner rolled his eyes. "You could show a bit more enthusiasm."

"What do you want for 6:00 AM?" Mulder snipped. "Now give me the fucking mug before it gets cold!"

"That's what I love about you, babe," Skinner deadpanned. "You're so goddamn cheery in the morning."

Mulder just glared at his lover. "You can be a real shit, Walter, you know that? Just forget it, okay?"

Skinner finally relinquished control of the mug with another laugh. "Here you go, Mr. Cranky Pants," he teased.

Mulder was ready to respond with a heartfelt 'fuck off', but at that moment, his entire concentration revolved around the mug in his hand. Taking a deep sip, he half-moaned, "Oh, God, so good." Sweeter than he normally liked it, but that was to be expected. He had discovered months ago that Skinner had a secret sweet-tooth--something he wished he had known back in the day. A box of chocolates would have been a great bribe when he had wanted one of his crazy 302's signed.

Another sip of the dark nectar earned some appreciative low, pleasured moans. One last mouthful, and he handed it back to Skinner. "Thanks," Mulder sighed, as he closed his eyes and prepared to catch a couple more hours of precious sleep.

Skinner placed a small kiss on Mulder's forehead. "You're welcome, love," he whispered, getting a contented little trill in return. The older man took a drink himself before placing the half-empty mug on the bedside nightstand, barely taking notice of the case folder lying there. When he had asked about it the night before, Mulder had explained that Agent Doggett gave it to him, looking for his input. Skinner just smiled at that. It wasn't the first time John had picked Mulder's brain about a case, which went a long way towards explaining why Doggett's reports were starting to raise eyebrows around the Hoover.

The X-Files were clearly far from dead . . .much to the Bureau's everlasting consternation.

But work was the last thing on Skinner's mind, as he leaned over his slumbering lover. With a quick tug on the sheets, he soon found himself gazing upon a very naked, and very startled, Fox Mulder. A predatory smile crossed his face as he bent down, and captured the parted, lush lips in a blinding kiss, tasting of the rich coffee they had been sharing.

"Walter!" Mulder yelped, pushing away from the larger man. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You said you'd do anything," Skinner reminded him, his mouth instinctively finding that sensitive spot on Mulder's neck that made him mewl like a kitten. "I'm taking my fee."

"I didn't say NOW!" Mulder protested, in between mewls.

"Sorry, payment due on delivery," Skinner stated, his broad hands skimming over the lean flanks and slender hips of the man he adored, pulling him in tighter.

"Walter. . ." But that was as far as Mulder got, as Skinner's mouth descended on his once more.
A helpless moaning sob of surrender and Skinner deepened the kiss, his tongue plundering Mulder's mouth, tasting everything his lover had to share. Long runners' legs parted, allowing Skinner to settle comfortably between them, his damp towel the only thing preventing full skin-on-skin contact.

Mulder's whole body seemed alive and humming as he rocked beneath Skinner, losing himself in the scent, the taste, and the heat of his lover. It was therefore quite a shock to his system when the older man suddenly pulled away. With a last, long, leisurely lick along Mulder's plump lower lip, Skinner implored, "Babe, let go. I've got to get to get ready for work."

"Your own fault," Mulder informed him, yanking at the useless towel. "Shouldn't have started something you couldn't finish."

"I can finish," Skinner informed him, trying to get off the bed, "just not now. Kersh'll have my ass if I'm late."

"He can't have it," Mulder retorted, pushing Skinner onto his back and straddling his waist. "It's already mine."

"Fox, I don't have time for this," Skinner argued, rolling Mulder over and off of him. Again, he tried to make his escape, only to be thwarted as Mulder grabbed his wrist and pulled him back onto the bed.

"C'mon, big guy," Mulder taunted, crawling once more atop his lover's body, his hands canvassing the broad chest and powerful arms. "Show me who's the bossman." A gleam twinkled in Skinner's eye at the familiar challenge, and he quickly forgot all about getting to work on time.

They wrestled for dominance, each trying to best the other. Skinner may have been bigger, but Mulder was quicker. Still, Mulder was at a disadvantage, and he knew it. It was just a matter of time before Skinner would win--he always did. But then, Mulder never initiated the battles to win anyway. It was just a major turn-on, for them both, and he lived for the moment when Skinner would conquer him, and take possession of his hard-won treasure.

Finally, FINALLY, Skinner triumphed, lying atop Mulder, crushing the younger man beneath his muscular bulk. He clasped Mulder's wrists in his large hands, stretching the lanky limbs over younger man's head, and pinning them to the pillow. Mulder's eyes widened in surprise, only to see a smirking Skinner above him. He staged a token struggle against his human handcuffs for a moment before surrendering dramatically. "Brute," he smirked back.

"You love it," Skinner replied in that low, rumbly sexy growl of his--the one that in days gone by could give Agent Mulder a hard-on that would last for hours. "Dontcha babe?"

"Fuck yeah, but you're still a brute," he choked out, trying not to laugh. In actuality, Skinner wasn't restraining him all that much, and Mulder could have easily pulled away if he chose to. But he didn't want to. It would have ruined the game, and that was the last thing Mulder wanted to do. His lover's playful side during sex was something Mulder hadn't expected when he managed to seduce the serious, up-tight man just three months previous. Skinner might have been a late bloomer to his sexual needs and desires, but he had proven a quick study. If there was a flat surface in the condo they hadn't fucked on, against, or under, then Mulder hadn't found it yet.

Still, Mulder wasn't about to give in so easily. As Skinner attempted to catch his breath, Mulder began wriggling under the other man, rubbing himself against his handsome lover.

"Jesus, Fox," Skinner panted as Mulder's erect cock caressed his own. "You're killing me here."

"Want you," Mulder mumbled in between kisses along Skinner's collarbone. "Fuck me."

"Ask nicely. . .awww, SHIT!" Skinner cursed, falling off-balance, as Mulder bit down on the sensitive juncture between Skinner's neck and his shoulder.

This time, there was no sarcasm, no attitude. Just Mulder's whispered, hungry plea in Skinner's ear: "Please."

The neediness of Mulder's voice shot straight to Skinner's groin. Releasing Mulder's left wrist, he blindly reached out towards the nightstand, trying to retrieve the lube they had dropped there the night before. In his haste, his hand knocked over the abandoned mug, spilling the remains of the cooling coffee. Fortunately, the liquid was quickly absorbed by Mulder's case file, which was unlucky enough to find itself a convenient--if soggy--coaster. "Fuck!" Skinner exclaimed angrily, momentarily distracted.

"Leave it," Mulder commanded him, slipping his freed hand around Skinner's neck and drawing him in for a fiery kiss, a kiss that left them both breathless, and burning for each other.

Convinced that Mulder wasn't too concerned about the damaged folder, Skinner snatched the tube from the table, and, after releasing Mulder's other wrist, squeezed some gel onto his fingers. After warming it between his fingertips, he pressed one large, blunt finger between Mulder's legs, causing him to purr contentedly. He caressed the sensitive skin before carefully slipping his finger in, the purring increasing in volume. One finger became two, as Skinner lovingly went about stretching Mulder. As the younger man was still slick and pliant from the night before, the preparation didn't take long. Skinner took a quick moment to apply some lube to his own painfully hard cock before grasping Mulder's hips, and began easing himself into his lover.

Even as stretched and relaxed as he was, Mulder still gasped when Skinner breeched him, the eloquent pleasure/pain a delicious prelude for what was to come. Arching his back, he gave himself up to Skinner, encouraging him, begging him wordlessly to take him, to use him, to own him. But Skinner refused to hurt Mulder, no matter how aroused they were, and paused until the younger man had adjusted to his size.

It took only a moment or two for the discomfort to lessen enough for Skinner to continue, sinking inch after inch into Mulder's willing body. Closing his eyes, Mulder savored the sensation of Skinner claiming him, possessing him once more. When he felt the larger man lying flush against his body, he wrapped his legs around Skinner's hips and sighed happily, enjoying the bond they shared, and the sense of completion he had never felt before Skinner entered his life. Fully sheathed, Skinner took a moment to gently kiss Mulder's wet, tempting lips. The sigh morphed into a low groan, as Skinner's mouth drifted down and latched onto the side of his neck, raising a mark sure to last a day or two, at the least.

Floating on air, Mulder lovingly ran his hands up his lover's slim waist and powerful chest, before wrapping around those impossibly broad shoulders. A breathy, "Do it," ghosted across Skinner's cheek, a request Skinner eagerly satisfied, pulling out and thrusting deep.

At first, Skinner's tempo was slow and steady, pistoning in and out, almost music in its fluidity. "Oh, God, yeah. . .right there," Mulder wheezed, thrusting himself up against his lover, driving the hard shaft even deeper within him. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the myriad of sensations Skinner enflamed in him, and quickly losing himself in the rhythm and pleasure of their union. His impossibly long eyelashes splayed out against his flushed cheeks as whimpers, sighs, and soft curses--interspersed with a prayer-like chanting of "Walter"--spilled forth from his perfect parted lips.

Somehow, through all the turmoil, a husky whisper managed to pierce his lustfilled trance. "Look at me, Fox," it implored.

The softness of the request touched something deep within Mulder, and his eyes opened, to be greeted by the intense gaze of his lover. Those dark brown eyes, almost as black as the coffee they had been drinking, were now clouded with hunger and lust. Without the barrier of Skinner's wirerims, his eyes were lethal, hiding a heat that burned right through Mulder's soul. The younger man felt himself drowning in those deep, dark eyes, even as he undulated his hips in counterpoint to Skinner's quickening thrusts, the two of them moving in practice-makes-perfect synch.

By now, each snap, thrust, and twist of Skinner's muscular hips had Mulder moaning shamelessly like a high-priced whore. Breathless pants turned into broken sentences, Mulder barely coherent enough to groan, "Ohgod. . .fuck. . .harder. . .ohgod. . .Walter. . .yes. . .mmmmm. . .yeah," until finally tapering off into wordless groans which grew louder by the second.

Mulder was not the only one left incoherent by their love-making. The strong, silent, always-in-control Skinner was anything but at the moment. The corded muscles in his neck as he tossed his head back in abandon. The clench of his strong jaw as he tried to regain control, to reign in the beast Mulder was determined to release. The sweat that clung to his flushed skin from his exertions. The resonant, rumbling grunts accompanying each deep plunge and retreat.
That Mulder could so easily shatter Skinner's valued self-control, and release the primal, passionate creature that the older man fought so hard to keep locked away, never failed to amaze him.

It wasn't long before the rhythmic strokes began losing their rhythm, signaling the end was near. Skinner pumped into Mulder harder and faster, almost mindless in his rutting. His breath came in harsh gasps until, with a low roar, he came, even as he continued to pound into the man below him. Mulder was convinced was nothing more glorious than Walter Sergei Skinner in the throes of sexual release, a beautiful, powerful force of nature that Mulder never got tired of experiencing. It only took a few more strokes, and soon Mulder joined his lover, his pleasured screams ringing through the room.

As their climatic cries trailed off, a sudden loud banging came through the wall behind the bed. Both men jumped, startled by the noise; a moment later, Mulder burst into laughter while Skinner groaned in embarrassment.

"Thin walls," Mulder observed through his guffaws.

"No shit, Sherlock," Skinner snidely replied, rolling off Mulder and collapsing on the bed beside him.

"Just so you know, I think I broke something that time," Mulder grunted, flopping over Skinner's sweaty expansive chest, his head resting over the older man's still racing heart.

"Complaining?" Skinner chuckled, his deep, rumble vibrating through the mattress.

"Nope, but I'm sure Mrs. Hamilton next door will be at the next tenant's meeting," Mulder replied, gesturing towards the wall with his thumb.

"Wonderful," Skinner sighed a long-suffering sigh.

"Don't worry about it, Snuggles," Mulder murmured, pulling Skinner's arms around him. "She's just jealous."

"Of me, or of you?" Skinner joked.

"Oh, of YOU, definitely," Mulder teased. "I mean, do you know how lucky you are to have me in your bed?"

Skinner pressed a kiss to the top of Mulder's head, and smiled. "Yes, I certainly do," he whispered, tenderly.

The loving tone of Skinner's voice sent warm tingles throughout Mulder's body. "Yeah, well. . . I'm pretty lucky, too," he echoed, nestling closer to his lover. And even though Skinner was running late, he indulged them both in some quality cuddle time. He spent the next few minutes leaving trails of soft kisses over his lover's face and hair, interspersed with an occasional nibble on a convenient earlobe--ordeals Mulder gladly endured. He practically purred as he burrowed deeper into the larger man's embrace, feeling cherished and safe, and especially loved. He hadn't felt that way in a very long time, not since before Samantha disappeared. The sudden thought of his sister gave Mulder a start, and he sent up a silent prayer to a God he didn't really believe in to watch out for her--wherever she was.

The melancholic moment ended as quickly as it began, as Skinner stretched and sat up. "Shit, I need another shower," he groused, swinging his long legs over the edge of the mattress. Taking a quick look at the bedside clock, he muttered, "Gonna be late."

Mulder didn't seem all that concerned with his lover's predicament. He kicked out his legs until his sated, sweaty body lay sprawled across the entire disheveled bed. He looked thoroughly and completely debauched, and quite pleased about it. "So what?" he murmured, running a hand seductively along his semen-splattered stomach. "It'd be good for you to buck the rules once in a while."

Skinner snorted. "ONCE in a while? I've done nothing BUT buck the system since the first day you walked into my office."

"Then they should be used to it by now," Mulder retorted with a grin.

"That's no excuse," Skinner argued. "I should at least PRETEND to be professional."

"So just skip the shower."

"Fox, I smell like the floor of a porn theater," Skinner explained, patiently.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Fuck you."

"You just did," Mulder replied, smugly. "Right into next week."

"Smart ass," Skinner laughed, hopping off the bed and heading towards the bathroom, completely unaware that his lover was ogling him, enjoying the flex of his buttocks as he walked across the room. Unaware, that is, until a wolf-whistle pierced the air. He turned back, and glared at his troublesome lover. "Mulder, you are so asking for it this morning."

Mulder leered. "Already got it, but I'll take some more, if you're offering."

Skinner opened his mouth for another snappy comeback, then changed his mind. Mulder would just keep going until he managed to get the last word in--he always did. And besides, he was REALLY late. So, instead, he just shook his head tolerantly, and continued on his way.

Now alone, and still blissfully surfing the high from their impromptu lovemaking, Mulder grabbed the sheets and pulled them around him, fully intending to catch a few more winks of sleep. His stomach, however, had other plans, the low grumbling sounds protesting its hungry state. Knowing the problem wasn't going to go away until he actually ate something, he gave a resigned sigh and dragged himself out of the warm, comfortable bed.

First thing he noticed was the damaged file on the nightstand. Righting the overturned mug, he then tried to mop up the mess with some tissues. He soon realized the disaster was going to require a more in-depth cleaning effort, and gave up with a frustrated grunt. Grabbing a discarded t-shirt off the floor, he rubbed it over his torso, wiping up the worst of the sticky semen from his skin. That done, he threw his robe on, and with a yawn, stumbled down the stairs in search of food.

Once in the kitchen, he poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and snagged a donut from the box on the counter. Taking a bite from that one, he threw a couple more on a plate, then, grabbing his coffee, he sat down at the kitchen table. He had already finished the first donut, and was about to start on a second when Skinner wandered into the room, immaculately dressed in one of his classic Brooks Brothers suits, ready to start the day

Approaching the table, Skinner leaned over and kissed a very receptive Fox Mulder. The younger man smiled as he inhaled the delicious, familiar bouquet of his lover--clean soap, Dolce & Gabbana, and that uniquely basic Skinner-scent that made Mulder's knees go week. "Is that all you're having?" Skinner scolded, even as he took a bite out of the donut Mulder was holding.

"Breakfast of champions," Mulder countered cheekily, taking a bite himself.

"You really should start taking better care of yourself," Skinner proclaimed, taking a seat.

"You should talk," Mulder replied, brushing at the powdered sugar still clinging to Skinner's cheek. "All these sugary treats. You're corrupting me, you know."

"Now THAT'S funny, coming from a man who has eaten in every greasy spoon and truck stop from here to Tacoma, Washington," Skinner joked, reaching for Mulder's coffee.

Mulder, however, grabbed the mug and held it possessively against his chest. "Hey!" he objected. "Get your own cup!"

"I did," Skinner reminded him. "And as I recall, you drank most of it, so you owe me."

"And if *I* recall, I already paid for it upstairs," Mulder fired back.

"You didn't seem to mind at the time."

"Who said I did?"

"Certainly not Mrs. Hamilton," Skinner deadpanned.

"We should just move the bed to the other side of the room," Mulder suggested.

"Or you could just, I don't know, try to be a little more quiet," Skinner snarked, earning a glare from Mulder both for the comment, and because he snatched the last donut off the plate.

"Brute," Mulder muttered under his breath, covering the comment by taking a sip of his coffee.

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law," Skinner pointed out, biting into the pastry.

"I'll remember that next time you want a piece of my ass," Mulder quipped

"Yeah, well, don't forget who owns nine-tenths of the cock you're so fond of," Skinner fired back.

Tipping his mug in defeat, Mulder simply replied, "Touché."

Skinner smiled. He rarely won a battle of words with Mulder, which made the victories that much sweeter. "So, what are your plans for today, babe?" he asked, in between bites of his donut.

Mulder shrugged. "Not much. Thought I'd visit the Gunmen--see if they can give me any help with Doggett's case."

"Do me a favor and try to stay out of trouble, okay?"

"Who, me?" Mulder feigned shock, his eyes going wide.

"Don't give me that innocent act, Fox," Skinner scolded. "I'm getting too old for your shenanigans."

"You didn't seem too old for my shenanigans this morning," Mulder teased, "as I'm sure Mrs. Hamilton will attest to."

"I could always just buy you a muzzle," Skinner mused, finishing off his breakfast.

"It was your own fault. You know how aroused I get when you go all alpha-male like that."

"Fox--a slight breeze gets you aroused."

Mulder snickered at that. "Asshole."

"Just remember, if you and the Gunmen get arrested, call Scully." Mulder's sophisticated response was to stick out his tongue at the other man causing Skinner's eyebrow to quirk. "And how many times have you done that behind my back over the years?"

"Never!" Mulder protested with an impish grin. "Now, Kersh, of course, was a completely different matter."

"And speaking of Kersh, I better get a move on." As Skinner stood up, he added, "By the way, I have a late-night directors' meeting tonight, so you'll be on your own for dinner, okay?"

"Nothing bad?" Mulder asked, suddenly concerned. He knew the big bosses were still gunning for Skinner because of his commitment to keeping the X-Files open. Kersh they could handle. The others were a crapshoot.

"No, just the usual bureaucratic budgeting bullshit," Skinner told him, adjusting his tie. "Don't know when I'll get home."

"I'll wait up."

"You don't have to."

"Want to," Mulder replied simply, gazing up at Skinner with bright hazel eyes, finally free of guilt and ghosts. He found himself momentarily knocked breathless to see all the love and devotion he felt for the older man reflected back at him from warm, brown orbs.

Impulsively, Skinner bent down and cupped Mulder's chin in one large palm; kissing his full lips gently, he murmured, "Love you, Fox."

"Love you back, big guy," Mulder whispered, flashing Skinner a sunny smile full of adoration and contentment.

"I'll see you tonight, babe, " Skinner vowed, tenderly brushing an errant lock of hair out of his lover's eyes. With a final kiss to the intriguing, sexy mole on Mulder's cheek, Skinner grabbed his briefcase, and glided out the front door.

Mulder sat at the table for a moment, watching the door Skinner has just left through, already missing him. It still amazed him how smoothly they had both adapted to all this. From friends to lovers to domestic bliss, in just three short months. Sometimes Mulder would sit and ponder how fast he had become addicted to Skinner's kisses and the feel of Skinner's skin pressed against his--an addiction stronger than any drug. Or how quickly he had gotten used to sharing Skinner's condo, his bed, his life.

Sometimes Mulder's insecurities would surface, telling him this couldn't last. Sometimes his abandonment issues niggled at him, warning him not to get too comfortable, not to let his guard down. Sometimes he thought everything had happened much too fast, that something he had wanted for so long shouldn't have been so easily achieved, that doom could only be around the corner. Sometimes he thought he was in over his head. Sometimes he felt like he was drowning. Sometimes he got scared.

And sometimes, like now, he didn't give a flying fuck in the world about any of it. He was head-over-heels in love with the most incredible man in the world, and he was happier than any person had a right to be.

Finishing his coffee, he placed the mug in the sink to be washed, then headed back upstairs to catch a shower. As he passed the nightstand, he saw his mangled file, covered in coffee stains. Fingering it gently, remembering how the stains got there, he smiled and whispered, "Walter. . ."


The End