TITLE:     UNDER SUSPICION
AUTHOR:    DONNILEE
E-MAIL:    Donnilee@snet.net
WEBSITE:   http://donnilee.tripod.com
RATING:    NC-17
CATEGORY:  SK/O
CLASSIFICATION:  POST-EP "AVATAR"
SPOILERS:  AVATAR
SUMMARY:   What if Sharon hadn't died?
AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Fandomonium Season 3 Smut Fic  
           Challenge.  
DISCLAIMER:  All characters used from the show, The 
X-Files are the property of Chris Carter, Ten 
Thirteen Productions, and Fox Broadcasting.  No 
copyright infringement intended.  No money made here.

THANKS:  To my beta reader, FatCat, for continuously 
cleaning up my messes.

XXXXXXXXXX

"The kiss is a wordless articulation of desire whose 
object lies in the future, and somewhat to the 
south."  -- Lance Morrow

XXXXXXXXXX
PART 1 (PG-13)
WALTER SKINNER'S APT.
ALEXANDRIA, VA

As I sat on my couch, I pulled off my glasses and 
squeezed the bridge of my nose with my thumb and 
forefinger.  My eyes felt dry and tight.  I wasn't 
sleeping.

For a week now, I'd walked the halls of the Hoover 
Building, enduring the gauntlet of stares from my 
colleagues.  They were curious, wanted to know what 
had happened.  Bottom line, they wanted to know if I 
was guilty.  Despite my name being cleared in both 
the death of the prostitute and in my wife's car 
accident, I knew that the taint of these events would 
follow me like an unwanted shadow for a long time; 
maybe for a lifetime.

I picked up the last piece of pizza from the paper 
plate where it lay on my coffee table, the cheese 
congealed into a fatty mass on top.  I didn't even 
care.  Biting into it, I realized that it tasted like 
toasted cardboard, and threw it back onto the plate.

Repositioning my glasses on my face, I picked up the 
ten-page document that I had been attempting to read.  
It was the new protocols for the coming year that had 
been handed out to all the Assistant Director's and 
Deputy Director's at the Bureau.  There was lots of 
mumbo jumbo about achieving goals, having objectives, 
implementing directives, and interfacing with other 
departments.  Jesus, I wondered who taught these 
bureaucrats how to write.  This was positively 
anesthetic to anybody with a brain.  I simply didn't 
have the motivation to read it now.  I threw that 
back on the coffee table as well.

Toeing off my shoes, I swung my legs up onto my couch 
and lay back against the armrest, where I'd thrown a 
small bed pillow.  I looked around the room and felt 
depression weigh heavily on my chest.

I was alone, utterly alone.  Mulder and Scully had 
gone back to their wonderland in the basement.  
Sharon had been released from the hospital after a 
remarkable recovery and proceeded to go back to the 
home in Crystal City that we had shared for the last 
twelve of our seventeen years of marriage.

My new apartment left much to be desired.  This 
living room boasted a couch, coffee table and small 
TV.  A breakfast bar separated it from a small galley 
kitchen.  Off to the left was a short hallway with a 
bathroom on one side and a bedroom on the other.  The 
bedroom had one small closet, a double bed and a 
three-drawer bureau I'd picked up at a tag sale.  

Boxes were scattered everywhere along the walls of 
both the living room and bedroom.  They were filled 
with my worldly possessions, which I hadn't bothered 
to unpack yet, despite being here several weeks now.

There wasn't one picture on the walls or decoration 
of any kind.  The Venetian blinds on the two front 
windows were all that broke up the expanse of non-
color in the room.  Plain white walls were everywhere 
you looked.

I closed my eyes picturing the home I'd lost.  I 
snorted with disgust.  I hadn't lost it.  I'd traded 
it away, for a job that had betrayed me more than it 
had lifted me up, for prestige that I never got 
despite working like a dog to earn it.

What had it all been worth?  I knew this type of 
thought process was totally self-destructive and 
honestly, I didn't care anymore.  I wondered what I 
could do if I left the Bureau.  That would shake 
loose some tight-asses.  They would never expect 
that.  Right now, the prospect of sitting alone as a 
security guard in some nearly vacant commercial 
building didn't sound so bad.  

I was sick of the intrigue, the deceit, and the 
veneer of professionalism that hid the fine line of 
ethical behavior that I straddled on a regular basis.  
I had ruined my marriage because I wouldn't share 
myself.  Sharon and I had been little more than 
roommates for the last years of our marriage.  How 
that had escaped my notice, I'd never know.  I felt 
like an idiot now.

My lawyer had called three days in a row, leaving 
messages requesting that I call and make an 
appointment to finalize my divorce.  I couldn't do 
it.  I didn't want to deal with anyone right now.  
Just getting my sorry ass out of bed in the morning 
was enough of a chore.

It was the weekend, Friday evening, and I was looking 
forward to ignoring the world for the next two days 
and nights.  I had some decisions to make.  

Someone hated me enough, or considered me enough of a 
threat that they went through the trouble of setting 
me up for a big fall.  That action I might have even 
been able to let go of, considering my name was 
cleared in the end.  Messing with Sharon was another 
story entirely.  

During all my years in the Bureau, all the 
compromises I'd made, no one had ever threatened my 
wife.  No one had ever crossed the line and stepped 
on my family.  Maybe that's why the sacrifices had 
always seemed worth it.  I felt I was the only one 
paying the price.  Now, I knew that wasn't strictly 
true either. 

My silence had bred indifference in Sharon.  My 
frequent sour attitudes had killed any desire or 
passion that might have existed in our relationship.  
My reluctance to share myself emotionally had killed 
the last bit of trust she may have had for me.

I couldn't blame her.  I would have left me too.  
Despite the lack of significant interaction between 
us in years of late, I was reluctant to let our 
marriage go.  Was it the devil I knew?  I was so 
lost.  I did know that I was turning sulking into a 
fine art.  I was feeling sorry for myself and I knew 
it.

If recent events had taught me nothing else it was 
that I was still capable of passion.  I hadn't 
realized how little passion I had in my life until 
that night that I thought I was sharing loneliness 
with a like soul.  Instead I'd been duped, and so had 
she.  I'm sure getting her neck twisted like a 
swizzle stick was not part of the deal she made when 
she agreed to seduce me.  

I wanted to sleep.  I closed my eyes, praying for the 
mercy of darkness.  I wanted that deep, exhausted 
sleep that shuts the doors on any dreaming.
 
The phone rang, loud and abrasive in the silence of 
this apartment that didn't even have a clock ticking 
to break the endless quiet.  Startling and sitting 
up, I reached for the cell phone that sat on the 
coffee table.  I hadn't even gotten a landline 
installed yet.  I really was pathetic.

"Skinner," I barked, peeved at the interruption of my 
self-destructive reflection session.

"Hello, Walter," she said quietly.  Her voice was 
like a purr in my ear and I shivered.

"Sharon?" I asked stupidly.

"Surely it hasn't been so long that you don't even 
recognize my voice anymore?" she asked, her voice 
level and calm.

"No, no!  I just wasn't expecting it to be you."

"Didn't look at the Caller-ID?" she said, her tone 
teasing.

"No, I didn't.  What can I do for you?  How are you 
feeling?  Are you settled back in?"  I cut myself 
off, realizing I was babbling.

She chuckled.  "I'm fine.  I wondered if I could see 
you?"

"Of course!  Is anything wrong?"

"No, but I'd like to talk."

"Would you like me to come over?"

"No, let's meet at that Jansen's," she suggested.

It was a coffee shop three blocks from me here in 
Alexandria.  "Are you supposed to be driving?" I 
asked.

"I'm fine, Walter.  Clean bill of health from the 
doctors."

"That's good to hear.  I'm relieved.  You sure you 
want to make the drive?  I don't mind."

"I'm sure.  An hour?"

"Uh, yeah.  Sound's good.  I'll see you there."

"Okay, see you there," she repeated.  She hung up and 
I listened to the dial tone buzz in my ear for 
several seconds before I thumbed off the power 
button.

I shook my head and leaped off the couch.  I was 
still in my work clothes and had a days worth of 
grime and sweat on me.  I hadn't cared, but now I 
didn't want to look like I'd slept in my clothes.  I 
peeled them off as I headed for the bathroom.

I showered quickly, shaving carefully and applying 
her favorite aftershave lotion.  I wanted to look 
casual but not too casual.  I dug into one of the 
boxes in my bedroom marked 'pants', and came up with 
a pair of tan Dockers.  I pulled them on with a green 
polo shirt and a brown belt.  

After checking my reflection in the mirror, I took a 
deep breath and said, "As good as it's going to get."

After throwing on my brown leather bomber jacket, I 
decided to walk.  The fresh air might do me good.  I 
locked the apartment and opted for the stairs instead 
of the elevator.

I stepped out onto the gasoline-tinged pavement.  It 
had rained and the asphalt glimmered with oil and 
gas.  A light fog was blanketing the area, making 
visibility bad.

I inhaled the misty air and started walking, my 
loafers clicking on the cement sidewalk.  It was damp 
but still warm outside.  I got there fifteen minutes 
early and found a booth near the back that would 
afford us some privacy.  Putting my back to the wall, 
I faced the door so I would see her come in.

XXXXXXXXXX
PART 2 (PG-13)
JANSEN'S COFFEE CLUTCH
ALEXANDRIA, VA

Pushing the door open, I listened to the bell tinkle 
above my head.  I saw him stand in the booth near the 
rear of the shop.

I waved and made my way to him, dodging the small 
tables that littered the center of the room, passing 
the booths that lined the walls.

I slid in opposite him and drank in his appearance.  
He looked good.  Damn the man for being so sexy, even 
when I didn't want him to be.  

"Hi, Sharon," he greeted me.

"Hi."  I ordered a tall cappuccino from the waitress 
that strolled up to our table.  He already had a 
latte.  Once it was delivered and I'd taken a sip, I 
decided I couldn't stall any longer.  "Walter, we 
need to talk."

He was silent, his brown eyes pensive as he stared at 
me.  I noticed the dark rings under them and knew he 
hadn't been sleeping well.  

"Your hair is nice that way," he said suddenly.

A smile tugged at my lips but then faded.  "I had to 
cut it after the accident," I admitted.

"It's flattering framing your face like that."

I cleared my throat.  I didn't want him to compliment 
me.  I didn't want him to be nice to me.  "Um, this 
is awkward," I confessed.

"Just say it," he said in his usual straightforward 
manner.

"The divorce papers.  My lawyer called and said that 
you still hadn't signed them and returned them to 
your lawyer."

He frowned and looked down at the table.  Taking 
another long sip of his latte, he delayed his 
response.  "I know," he said finally.

"That's all?  You know?"

He sighed heavily.  "I'm sorry, Sharon.  I couldn't 
do it the day they were brought to me.  I'm having 
trouble letting go."

"This hasn't been easy on either one of us, Walter.  
Nevertheless, if we are going to move on, we need to 
get the formalities out of the way in order to get on 
with our lives.  Dragging it out is just going to 
make it worse."

He was silent for several moments and then looked up 
to gaze at me.  "What if I don't want to move on?" he 
asked in a husky tone.

I felt a stab of guilt, knowing I had no reason to.  
He was the one that had abandoned this relationship.  
He was the one that had traded intimacy for his job.  
He was the one that shut me out.  Why should I feel 
guilty?

Maybe because I wondered if I'd really tried hard 
enough.  It took two, and after some soul-searching, 
I'd realized that I hadn't put a lot of effort into 
it either.  I just hadn't been up for the fight.  I'd 
wanted it to be easy.  One thing I knew when I 
married Walter was that he would never be easy.  "I 
don't know what to say to that, Walter.  Our 
relationship has been, over, for a long time."

"That's my fault.  I know it.  It's not that I didn't 
notice either.  I guess I just thought there would be 
some notice; something to tell me that you'd had 
enough.  Some sign that would give me a chance to 
make it up to you.  Instead, there was no fight, no 
discussion, just the sheriff knocking on my office 
door one day to serve me papers."  He paused, 
swallowing noisily.  "Couldn't you have even warned 
me?" he asked, a hint of anger in his voice.

I looked away, staring at the flower pattern of the 
wallpaper behind his head.  "I was afraid.  I didn't 
want to have the discussion that would end like all 
the others."

"How's that?"

"With you shutting me out, me feeling hurt and 
lonely."

He reached across the table without warning and took 
one of my hands in both of his.  Warmth shot up my 
arm and invaded my body.  I gritted my teeth to 
suppress the shiver that wanted to run down my spine.  
"Please, Sharon," he said softly.  "Can we talk about 
it?"

"Talk about it?" I cried softly.  "Walter, you've had 
years to talk about it!"

"I know!  Damn it, Sharon.  I know I don't deserve 
another chance."  He hesitated.  "Even so, I'm 
begging you for one," he whispered.  His eyes raised 
up to find mine.  Wetness pooled in his and I bit my 
tongue to keep from bursting into tears.  

"I don't know, Walter."

"I promise it will be different.  I've had a long 
time to think about what happened.  Everything that I 
did wrong has circled my brain for weeks now.  I know 
my priorities were screwed up.  I know I didn't trust 
you enough.  I know I took you for granted."  He 
stopped, taking a deep breath, clearly trying to 
compose himself.  "It took this jolt to wake me up.  
I just wish the jolt hadn't been the divorce papers.  
God, Sharon, I still love you.  I love you so much."

He looked down, fighting the tears I could see now 
gathering in the corner of his eyes.  He whipped off 
his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.  It 
was such a familiar gesture that I felt my heart 
contract in my chest, squeezing the air out of my 
lungs.  I had no idea what to say to him.  "I didn't 
expect this," I choked out.

"Please.  I'll do anything.  I'll go to counseling 
with you.  I'll tell you anything you want to know.  
I promise, I'll try, so, hard," he stuttered.

I felt my resolve quiver and melt.  How could I 
ignore such an impassioned plea?  It had never once 
occurred to me that he would want to stay for any 
reason other than convenience.  That's what I'd felt 
like for the longest time.  Convenient.  I figured 
that the passion had died, his love had died, and he 
was married to his job.  I'd felt as though there was 
no longer a place for me in his life.  "It can't be 
like it was before, Walter."

He perked up, knowing my resolve was crumbling.  "It 
won't be.  I promise," he hissed.

"Lots of things would have to change."

He nodded vigorously.  "Just name them."

"You'd have to learn to talk to me, share with me.  
If that means counseling, fine, but I can't take 
being shut out anymore.  I know a lot of what you did 
was confidential, but you wouldn't share your 
feelings with me."

"I will now.  I promise."

"Don't make too many promises, Walter.  Broken 
promises hurt worse than promises never made," I 
informed him.

He licked his lips, not sure how to respond.  "Can we 
get out of here?" he asked.

"To go where?"

"Come to my apartment."

"Oh, Walter.  I don't know."

"I just want to keep talking, Sharon.  I want 
privacy."

I wondered if he had an ulterior motive and realized 
it didn't matter.  If I was going to give him another 
chance, it had to start somewhere.  The question was, 
did it have to start today?  I needed time to think 
about things.  What did I want?  It had all seemed so 
clear when I didn't think he cared anymore; when I 
thought he didn't love me.  Perhaps I had been hasty.  
Maybe I should have given him an ultimatum, a chance 
to turn things around before I made my decisions.  It 
wasn't really fair that I hadn't given him that 
chance, that warning.  "Okay," I said quietly.

He smiled softly and stood up.  Reaching into his 
pocket, he threw some money on the table.  He held 
out his hand to me.  

I hesitated but then took it.  Warmth spread through 
me again.  It had been so long since we'd been close; 
I'd forgotten how big and comforting he was.

He pulled me up to my feet.  After slipping on his 
jacket, he reached for my hand again, tucking it over 
his forearm and pulling me close to his body.

We exited and started walking towards his apartment.  
"Do you want to get your car?" he asked.

"No, I can walk back for it later."

"If it's after dark, I'll walk you."

"Okay," I said.  We walked in silence at an unhurried 
pace.  I could feel the heat of his body next to me.  
His thigh would brush mine now and then and it made 
me tingle.  What the hell was happening here?  I 
hadn't felt things like this with him for so long.

It was reminding me of the early days when he could 
excite me with just a look from those smoldering 
brown eyes.  How long had it been since I'd felt 
those big hands on my body.  I shuddered, and shook 
my head to dislodge the memory.  I didn't need to be 
thinking about that now.  We were just going to talk.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

I shook my head.  I'd never removed my long, wool 
coat in the restaurant.  "Just the damp, I guess."

He hummed and kept walking.  Too soon, we reached his 
building and he led me to the elevator.  On the 
second floor, we exited and he led me to the door I'd 
only entered once before.

XXXXXXXXXX 
PART 3 (PG-13)
WALTER SKINNER'S APT.
ALEXANDRIA, VA

Once inside, he took my coat and retreated to the 
bedroom.  He emerged without his, and went into the 
kitchen.  "Want more coffee?"

"I think I had enough," I replied.

"Tea?  Hot cocoa?" he asked.

"Cocoa would be nice."

He nodded and began preparing the warm milk.  It 
prompted another memory of winter nights, curled up 
on the couch with cups of cocoa.  He'd never made the 
instant kind, insisting on warming real milk to make 
cocoa the way his mother used to make it.  I smiled 
and relaxed without even thinking about it.  

I walked to the kitchen and leaned on the breakfast 
bar, looking around.  "You haven't unpacked," I said, 
just for something to say.

He shook his head, adjusting the flame on the gas 
stove under the saucepan of milk.  "I've been busy."

"Yeah, I know," I said.

"Uh," he grunted softly.  He turned.  "I need to 
apologize for that."

"For what?"

He looked away.  "Do you have any idea how guilty I 
feel?"

"That she died, or that you slept with her?" I asked, 
feeling a knot form in my stomach.  One thing I'd 
never wondered about was whether Walter cheated on 
me.  I knew he'd been faithful.  Oddly enough, 
despite how chaste our relationship had become, he'd 
never given me reason to believe there was someone 
else.  Just the job, that was his mistress.

"Both," he croaked and turned away to stir the milk 
with a wooden spoon.

"Why did you do it?" I asked tremulously.

He didn't turn around but he did answer me.  "That 
was the day I refused to sign the divorce papers.  I 
was so depressed, lonelier than I think I've ever 
been.  I felt like my life was falling apart, and it 
was."  He paused for a few seconds and then said, 
"She approached me."

I snorted.  "You're not going to give me the excuse 
that you were the pursued and not the pursuer so that 
gets you off the hook?" I offered.

He turned away from the stove, leaving the spoon in 
the pan.  He said, "No, I'm not.  I'm just telling 
you what happened.  We talked, I drank.  She was 
lonely, or pretended to be.  So was I.  I realized I 
was losing everything in the world that mattered to 
me and I guess I didn't care anymore.  I was numb 
with grief, and I just wanted to feel something; 
anything.  She offered," he began, and then cut 
himself off.  "I have no excuse.  Except that I had a 
serious case of 'fuck-it'.  No pun intended.  
Honestly, I wanted the comfort.  I needed it.  Little 
did I know that her loneliness was all feigned.  She 
was hired to seduce me.  I didn't even get to walk 
away with the comfort of thinking she was truly 
attracted to me."

I nodded.  Oddly enough, I believed him.  Unbeknownst 
to him, I'd talked to Agent Mulder.  Of course, he 
wasn't supposed to talk to me about the case, but he 
did anyway.  He'd told me that Walter had no idea she 
was a prostitute.  He'd told me that his credit card 
had been used by the woman but it was unclear if she 
had palmed it off him, or if whomever hired her had 
given her the number to use, somehow gaining that 
information ahead of time.  It hurt, knowing he'd 
been with another woman, but I appreciated his 
honestly.

He stirred the milk again and poured it into the two 
cups waiting on the counter that were prepared with 
the cocoa mix.  After stirring them, he handed me one 
and sat on the barstool opposite me.  "That's not an 
excuse.  I didn't mean it to sound like one.  She 
didn't mean anything to me, Sharon."

"I know."

"I didn't kill her, Sharon."

"I know."

"I never cheated on you," he said.  "Not until then."

"I know," I repeated again.  "Technically, we were 
separated, so it wasn't cheating this time either."

"I still feel guilty," he admitted.

"Are you still under suspicion?" she asked.

"No, I've been cleared.  You know how it is though.  
It will haunt me for a while, just being accused." 
We sipped our cocoa in silence for a few minutes.  

"I guess we should decide what we're going to do," I 
said, starting the conversation.

"First things first.  Can you ask your lawyer to put 
everything on hold?"

"Yes, for now.  I'm not making you any promises, 
Walter."

"I know," he said, nodding.  "I'm grateful you're 
willing to try, to give me another chance."

"I have to tell you something," I said after a pause.

He nodded, waiting patiently.

"In the hospital.  You talked to me."

He looked a bit uncomfortable, and then took a deep 
breath.  "Yes, I did.  I thought you were 
unconscious."

"I was."  After a moment, I continued.  "I still 
heard you though.  It's vague, but I remember hearing 
your voice and being comforted by it."

He smiled.  "I'm glad."

"I don't, however, remember exactly what you said," I 
informed him.

"Funny this should come up," he murmured.

"Why?"

"I was trying to explain to you why I wasn't signing 
the divorce papers."

"Tell me now."

"Lots of reasons.  I was trying to explain to you why 
I didn't share things with you, well; it wasn't 
because of you or a lack of trust.  It was because I 
needed to shut a part of myself down to do my job and 
stay sane.  There were times when I was forced to 
push the ethical envelope.  I needed to rationalize 
those things to myself in order to keep believing in 
the work.  Mainly, because I didn't know what else to 
do.  Sometimes I had a hard time rationalizing it to 
myself.  How in the hell could I explain it to you, 
justify it to you?  I didn't want to expose you to 
the violence anyway."

"You were trying to protect me?" I asked.  I could 
hear the edge in my voice.

He shook his head.  "No, I was trying to protect me.  
I don't know if you can understand."

"I'm trying."

"That wasn't the important part though."

"What was the important part?"

He paused and closed his eyes.  He said, "I never 
told you what I should have told you, that what 
really got me through each day was knowing that I'd 
be sleeping next to you that night.  Knowing that, I 
had a reason to wake up in the morning."  He paused 
again.  "I wasn't sure if you could hear me, or if it 
even made a difference to you any more, but I wanted 
you to know that."  Another pause.  "So that's what I 
told you."

I was on my feet without having consciously made a 
decision to do so.  I rounded the breakfast bar and 
stood next to him.  He turned to face me, his legs 
spread for balance, his butt balancing on the 
barstool.  I stepped in between his legs and leaned 
forward, putting my hands on his shoulders.  

Tentatively, he slid his hands around my waist.  Then 
his arms moved and he tugged me toward him.  

I went willingly, knowing it was probably a bad idea 
to get this close, this quickly.  Heat radiated from 
his chest and poured onto me.  His words touched me 
profoundly.  It was more disclosure than I'd heard 
from him since the early days when we were still 
young and dumb and the world hadn't jaded us yet.

I pulled back to look at his face after we'd hugged 
for nearly a full minute, not saying anything.  "Why 
did they do this to you, Walter?" I whispered.

He shrugged.  "I'm not sure.  Maybe I know too much.  
I think this may have had to do with the X-Files.  
They won't stop looking for a way to shut them down.  
Removing me would be a great way to weaken them, 
since I'm the only one in management that believes in 
them, supports what they are trying to do."

"What about me?"

"The imprint of the face from the guy that stole my 
car," he began.  "We ran his face and fingerprint 
through every channel and found nothing.  This guy 
had been erased."

"Erased?  You sound like a bad sci-fi movie," I said 
lightly.

He smiled.  "The X-Files can sound that way 
sometimes," he replied.  "I knew what the danger was 
when I took the job.  It was my risk to take.  I 
never balked at the danger.  I accepted the potential 
land mines and the probability of making enemies to 
stand up for what I believed in."  After a moment, he 
said, "You though, you getting hurt, that was an 
unacceptable risk.  I don't know what I would have 
done if you hadn't pulled through.  The guilt would 
have killed me.  You were totally innocent.  They 
went after you for no other reason than to bring me 
down.  I can't even tell you how angry that makes 
me."

"You don't have to," I said.  I reached behind me and 
captured his hands, which had gradually balled into 
fists next to my lower back.  

He flexed his fingers as I continued to hold them.  
His left hand let go of mine and he reached up to 
palm my cheek.  I leaned into his hand and felt it.  
I pulled away and brought my own hand up, capturing 
it in mine.  I looked down at the wedding ring.  He 
was still wearing it.

"When did you put it back on?" I asked.

"As soon as I knew my name was cleared.  You were 
still in the hospital.  I did something I hadn't done 
in years."

"What's that?"

"I read the inscription.  Do you remember what it 
says?" he asked gently.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat.  "Love 
forever, Sharon," I whispered. 

"Is it true?  Is it still true?"  He paused.  Both of 
his hands moved now and cupped my head gently, his 
fingers lacing into my hair.  His eyes caught mine 
and he looked deeply, as if they held all the answers 
for him.  Maybe they did.  "Do you still love me, 
Sharon?  After all I've done, or not done.  Do you 
still love me?" he asked again.

Damn me for a fool.  I never could lie to him.  I 
blinked rapidly to stem the tears that threatened.  
"Yes," I whispered.  "Damn it, Walter.  Yes."

Before I could react, his mouth was on mine.  He 
tipped my head to just the right angle and his tongue 
plunged into my mouth.  

I moaned before my brain could stop my vocal chords.  
Hot sensation raced through me as he worked my mouth.  
His kisses were hot, wet, and hungry, needy even.  I 
couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this kind of 
passion from him.

I was helpless to stop it.  He was wrong.  I was 
wrong.  There was so much that needed to be fixed.  
At the same time, I couldn't push him away.  If I was 
honest, I needed him as much as he needed me right 
now.  I wasn't going to say no.  In that one kiss, he 
conveyed all the hope and passion and love that had 
been missing for so long in our relationship.  There 
was a promise in it, that the passion wasn't gone, 
and neither was the love.  I told myself that I could 
take this comfort from him and still walk away later 
if I needed to.

I should have known better.  Underneath all of the 
mistakes, the harsh words, and the words unspoken, 
there was love.  There had always been love.  He'd 
just hidden it so well, that I couldn't see it 
anymore.

XXXXXXXXXX
PART 4 (NC-17)
WALTER SKINNER'S APT.
ALEXANDRIA, VA

Being with Corina Sayles had been an act of 
desperation; desperation to feel something real.  
There had been no love there, not even caring really.  
This was so much different.

As I took her hand and led her towards the bedroom, 
she didn't hesitate.  I'd worried she would.  When I 
looked into her eyes, I saw her pupils were dilated.  
She was as turned on as I was.  Once in the bedroom, 
we hurriedly undressed.

She was not the young woman I'd married, but neither 
was I the young Marine she'd married.  Her body was 
still toned and she was still thin.  Her generous 
breasts showed the weight of time a bit more and the 
small hill of her abdomen did nothing to take away 
from her beauty.

I didn't want to rush.  I slowed down, kissing her 
softly but deeply.  After steering her onto the bed, 
I wedged my shoulders between her legs.  She gasped.  
I hadn't done this in years.

XXXXXXXXXX NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXX

I smiled at her before lowering my mouth to her sex 
and parting her with my thumbs.  She moaned as soon 
as I touched her with my lips and moaned even harder 
when I lapped at her.  

Her hands fluttered over her thighs and then on my 
head, tickling the band of hair that circled my 
skull.  Her touch was trembling and it made me surge 
with love and affection for her.  The touch was 
seductive and her scent was like a zap of 
electricity, making my cock surge to full mast.  

It didn't take long at all for her juices to begin to 
flow.  The glistening wetness drew me like a moth to 
a flame and made my passion flare.  I slipped my 
fingers inside to give her more stimulation.  She 
bucked into my hand and I commenced to tease her, 
stretch her, and lick at her bundle of nerves.  I 
wanted to make her come this way.  She began rubbing 
herself on my tongue and moaning as I lapped her 
thoroughly.  When I finally captured her clitoris 
between my lips and sucked, she climaxed, her walls 
squeezing my fingers, and her hips bucking into my 
face.  

I rode it out with her, trying to prolong it with my 
pumping fingers and sucking mouth.  She hissed when 
the sensation became too much and I retreated, 
feeling her juices drying on my chin.  I slid up and 
kissed her, letting her taste herself.

I held her gently waiting for her to come down.  "Oh 
my God," she whispered.  "I'd forgotten how good it 
could be."

I smiled, pleased that she was enjoying herself so 
far.  It was like it was all brand new.  I couldn't 
remember the last time we'd made love, which meant it 
had been far too long.  "I'm not done with you yet," 
I informed her.

She chuckled, the sound low and sweet.  "I'm glad.  I 
want to remember some more."

I smiled and kissed her again, positioning myself 
between her legs.  "How long has it been?" I asked.

Her brow scrunched, and I regretted asking, but then 
she said, "Too long.  Make love to me, Walter."

I rubbed my shaft over her wet entrance, coating it 
in her warm fluids.  She whimpered when I hit her 
clitoris and again when I nudged her lips open with 
my swollen glans.  I began sliding in slowly and she 
moaned.  "How does it feel?" I asked, wanting to know 
that she was with me.

"Big and hard, just the way I like it," she blurted 
out.

I barked out a huff of laughter and she grinned, 
knowing she'd caught me off guard.  I buried my face 
in her shoulder and grunted.  "Jesus, you talk like 
that, and you're going kill me."

Her sultry chuckle did nothing to calm my throbbing 
shaft.  I pushed hard, sliding myself the rest of the 
way in, feeling my balls slap against her skin.  That 
wiped the smile off her face.  It was replaced with 
an open mouth in the shape of a perfect 'O'.

"Oh Christ, Sharon.  I don't remember you being this 
snug," I gasped.  "Feels so good."

She murmured, "It's been a long time, and I do 
exercises, remember."

"Yeah, but still."

"You're still a really big boy.  No one's stretched 
me out in a long time," she reminded me.  

"No one?" I asked, slightly embarrassed at the husky 
tone of my voice.  I realized that if she'd had a 
lover, I probably wouldn't have even noticed.  I'd 
had my head so far up my ass, I amazed myself.

"You, Walter.  There's never been anyone else."

I began to thrust gently.  "I can't tell you how glad 
I am to hear that."  

XXXXXXXXXX

It had been a long time since we'd had sex.  At least 
two years, if I remembered correctly.  I'd always 
done exercises to keep my muscles fit down there.  
He'd always filled me full, but he'd always fit.  
This time, he'd hit the back of my tunnel and it felt 
different.  Even when I didn't think I could take 
anymore, he kept pushing, embedding himself.

I was stretching now and the feeling was divine.  It 
felt as though his rigid helmet was pounding against 
my diaphragm.  He felt so deep, and I grunted softly 
with every steady, hard thrust that built me back up 
towards another orgasm.  Thrust after thrust knocked 
at the door to my womb and made my body tighten in 
response.  I didn't think I could wind any tighter 
without exploding.  

I was wrong.  His fingers reached between us as he 
held himself up on one arm.  He found my clitoris 
with an accuracy born of familiarity.  Pushing it 
against our joining, feeling his shaft rake across it 
as he plunged inside, sent my body into sensation 
overload.  Two strokes was all it took and I 
shattered, crying out as I felt my nipples harden 
nearly to the point of pain, my muscles contract 
tightly on his steel hard shaft, and tingles race up 
and down my spine as my body released its coiled 
tension.

"Oh God, Walter!  Yes!  So good, baby!"

He gasped, whether in response to my muscles going 
spastic on his cock or me calling him baby, I wasn't 
sure.  

There are advantages to being with an older man.  One 
of them is the gift of endurance.  He continued to 
stroke me gently until I focused on him again.  Both 
arms came down, supporting his weight on his elbows.  
He kissed me gently, rocking in and out.  When my 
breathing became semi-normal again, he sped up.  My 
arousal began to climb up again.  I was sure I was 
finished, but again, I was wrong.  He stared at my 
face, as though memorizing my reactions, and maybe he 
was.  I knew there was a spark of fear that this was 
the last time. 

I could see it all in his eyes.  He was in awe of us 
again, remembering how good we were together.  Behind 
the fear, he loved me.  It was there, shining in his 
face and in the dark depths of those soft, brown 
eyes.  How could I have thought I could walk away 
from this?  There had been no 'this' for a long time.  

If he was true to his word, that would change.  One 
thing about Walter that I knew, he had always kept 
his word.  I moaned seeing the expressions of love 
and passion on his face.  With every grimace of 
ecstasy, every soft kiss filled with love and 
affection, he was convincing me of the rightness of 
this union.  

He fit perfectly inside me, as if we'd been made for 
one another, two halves of one sculpture; meant to be 
forever entwined.  I was surprised at the sappy turn 
of my thoughts, but then didn't worry about it as I 
felt myself soar back up to another peak.

Then he began panting out words to me.  "Love you, 
baby.  Aww, Sharon, it's so good.  Oh man, missed 
this so much.  Why did we stop?  I'm so sorry!  Oh 
Jesus, you feel so good.  God, we're so good 
together.  You still make me hard as steel.  Love 
you, baby.  I'll remind you every day."  

He reached down to raise one of my legs higher on his 
hip.  Tingling heat shot outward from my core and 
rippled through my body.  He swiveled his hips and 
the exquisite friction sent me over the edge a second 
time.

He began moaning and shuddering against me and then 
he was coming.  Rushes of warm liquid, coating my 
insides, followed hot pulses in his shaft.  Again and 
again, I felt the head of his cock contract and 
expand way up inside me and the hot cum rush out to 
fill me up.  I couldn't ever remember feeling it like 
this.  Perhaps I was just hyper sensitive after such 
a long abstinence.  

"Oh Christ!  Oh Jesus!  Sshhaarroonn!  Oh God, love 
you, love you, love you!" he cried.  He coughed and 
collapsed on top of me.

XXXXXXXXXX END NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXX

I welcomed the warm slickness of our sweaty bodies.  
We lay there in a hot tangle of arms and legs for a 
long time.  He feathered my neck with soft kisses and 
I ran my hands over his broad shoulders and squeezed 
his ass cheeks.  He'd always had a mighty fine ass.  

Finally, he levered up on his arms to look me in the 
face.  "I love you, Sharon."

I smiled.  "I love you too, Walter."

"Stay," he said simply.

I opened my mouth to object, but his fingers landed 
on my mouth.  

"Please, stay with me tonight.  I know I can't come 
home yet.  We have a lot of work to do, but I need 
you, Sharon.  I need to feel you with me tonight.  
Let me hold you."

"Okay," I said, barely audible.

He smiled and kissed me gently, pulling out and 
rolling over.  He got out of bed and returned with a 
warm washcloth.  After cleaning us up, he threw it in 
sink in the bathroom and returned once more.

I turned on my side and he cuddled up behind me, 
spooning around my body.  I sighed with contentment.  
We were far from perfect.  We had a long road ahead 
of us, but for the first time in years, I felt hope 
for the future.

THE END.