TITLE: Alliances in the Dark

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: SRA

RATING: NC-17. SK/O. SK/SC friendship/UST. Skinner/LGM friendship. This story contains 
explicit het sex. So, if you don?t like that type of thing - STOP NOW! Forewarned is 
forearmed. Proceed with caution. Also, angst warning.

SUMMARY: Sometimes circumstances make for strange bedfellows. Missing a part of this 
opus or just want to read more of my fic? Then surf here: http://www.squidge.org/3wstop or 
here, on my mirror site at: http://adult.dencity.com/frogdoggie

FEEDBACK - YES PLEASE, AND THANK YOU SIR, CAN I HAVE ANOTHER? Comments, 
suggestions and healthy debate are always welcome. Flames? They only serve to warm my 
body and mind.

ARCHIVE: Sure. Anywhere - as long as my name and e-mail addy stay on it.

TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Post Requiem fic. Spoilers would include pretty much the 
entire series but with specific references made to events in SR819, and Two Fathers/One Son.

KEYWORDS: story romance angst Skinner NC-17

DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and all other X-Files characters 
belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No 
copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use.

Finished in June of 2000. *Author's notes at the end.

Alliances in the Dark

by frogdoggie

There wasn't a chair close enough to the bed so after she uttered the words he ended up rocking 
back, his ass perched on the windowsill.

They sniffed back their tears and that was the only sound in the room for a moment while they 
both tried to compose themselves.

As soon as he could think straight, he started to ask, for the record of course, about the father's 
identity. He suspected who the father was and then she spoke, as if she read his mind, and made 
it official anyway.

"Yes, sir, it's Mulder's," Scully whispered, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Let me get you a Kleenex," Skinner suggested, rising from his precarious perch to retrieve the 
box of tissues someone had left on the movable bedside table which was currently out of 
Scully's immediate reach. He had a million questions...but right now his mind was spinning 
around each and every one of them in the face of her tears.

"Thank you, sir. And you might like a chair," she added with a weak smile as he fumbled his 
way around the bed, uncharacteristically graceless in his guilt and shock.

He handed her the box of Kleenex, drawing a few tissues for himself first, and then pulled the 
chair that was near the door over to the side of the bed. His thighs contacted the seat heavily as 
he sat down at her side. He took a moment to quickly wipe his own eyes and nose and then 
disposed of the Kleenex in the trash can next to Scully's bed.

"Whatever I can do, Scully...just ask. I mean that," he finally coughed out, clearing his throat of 
the bile that rose up after he thought about not only losing her partner and friend, but now her 
lover and the father of her child. Skinner wanted to take her hand in his...but he couldn't bring 
himself to do it. So instead he placed his hands carefully close to her left hand where it rested 
on the bedspread. The muscles in his fingers were twitching.

Scully nodded and finished wiping her face. Tossing the used Kleenex into the wastebasket as 
well, she refocused on Skinner.

"We're going to need a plan...this isn't SOP," Scully answered, the irony heavy in her voice and 
evident in her second weak smile to him.

"Agent Scully...I believe I'm at last becoming very accustomed to non-SOP situations," Skinner 
answered, giving her a small ironic smile of his own as he straightened and prepared to offer 
her his complete and unqualified support.

xXx

The room was almost pitch black as suited her since light sometimes still bothered her eyes. 
Even in the dark however, she was still able to reach the Baretta under her pillow, tab the safety 
off, and shove the gun under his chin when she felt the bed move.

"This wasn't in the agreement, Alex," she spat out, as he awkwardly straddled her. She could 
see his green eyes...startled at first but recovering quickly as was his facility. In a moment, his 
white teeth shown in the darkness as he grinned down into her face. Then she felt the bed shift 
again as he moved off her. She still left the safety off the Baretta as he stood at the foot of her 
bed.

"Sheath your claws. I'm leaving," he hissed, and then he was gone as silently as he came.

Marita sat up, switched on the night stand light and flipped the safety back on the gun. She 
placed the compact weapon back under her pillow and then glanced at the clock radio under the 
lamp.

"Only ten o'clock?" she asked aloud. She sighed. She had practically a whole, what would now 
probably be sleepless night, ahead of her, she thought.

xXx

Walter Skinner parked his car in the Viva Towers garage and then took the elevator up to the 
fifteenth floor...his mind numb. He didn't want to think anymore today if he could avoid it. 
There would be enough time to reengage his thought processes tomorrow.

He had succeeded in keeping everything that happened in Oregon under wraps for a short time. 
He might have been able to keep it quiet just a bit longer if the auditors hadn't expected to meet 
with Mulder, Scully and himself. Faced with canceling the meeting forced his hand in regards 
to the missing Mulder and then all hell broke lose. Now he was sure to be faced with an OPR 
hearing that would undoubtedly result in disciplinary action for him...and quite possibly Scully.

He was going to try to take all the heat if he could to spare her that first problem. After 
that...the rest of it...well they were still working out a plan. Scully was still in the hospital and 
would be for another day of observation. That would give them some wiggle room...time to 
arrange for additional security besides Mulder's hacker friends. Time to formulate more plans 
to protect the baby. He sighed and tilted his head back to rest against the wall of the elevator. 
He still couldn't believe he'd suggested she marry him. Christ...as if matters weren't bad enough 
he had to make a fool out of himself on top of everything else.

Well, at least they'd agreed to keep the pregnancy a secret for as long as possible. With any 
luck she wouldn't show for a while and they could work something out. He shook his head. 
Maybe he could convince her to lie and say the baby was his. It wasn't as if getting a 
subordinate pregnant was going to hurt his career any further. No, the events over the last few 
days were going to do the damage there anyway...not that he gave a shit about his job situation.

He'd deal with the FBI as best he could. Whatever direction he had to take in order to aid Scully 
was paramount now. He just had a feeling it would be a whole lot better if people didn't think 
the kid was Mulder's baby. He had a feeling Scully was getting that idea as well since she was 
still trying to determine how she was suddenly fertile again.

He shook his head as the elevator door slid open. Enough. Tonight all he wanted to do was stop 
thinking...and a bottle of bourbon with his name on it was waiting to help him towards his goal. 
Yeah, a glass of bourbon or two, a warm shower to unwind his muscles, and he'd hit the hay. 
Skinner levered up, shifted his briefcase in his hand and exited the elevator.

He shut his apartment door wearily, put his briefcase down and switched on the overhead lights. 
His gun was out of his holster and pointed at the couch even as he thought "Fuck it, 
Skinner...too slow...you're a dead man."

"You're getting slow," Marita Covarrubias said dryly, echoing his thoughts.

He relaxed a millimeter when he observed she wasn't holding a gun on him. He wasn't going to 
bother asking her how she got in. She was one of the best lock-picks in the business.

"And you're getting reckless," he growled back, keeping his gun trained on her more as a 
punctuation to his words than any real threat now. If she'd wanted to kill him she'd had ample 
opportunity when he stepped in the door. She raised her eyebrows and flicked her eyes to his 
Smith and Wesson. He gave her a terse nod and slowly lowered his weapon. "I have two 
questions," he immediately continued when he felt the gun slip soft, and snug into his leather 
holster. Marita lowered her eyebrows.

"Ask," she replied, folding her arms over her chest and drawing herself up straighter against the 
couch cushions.

"Does he know you're here?" Skinner rumbled, walking over to stand closer to her watchful 
form.

He knew she could lie to him but based on their past dealings he hoped she still had a shred of 
respect for him...some...regard so that she'd at least tell him the truth concerning Krycek. 
Well...as much as she knew anyway. If that bastard had any inkling that Scully was pregnant the 
danger would rise exponentially. If Krycek sent Marita he would just assume Krycek had 
knowledge and act accordingly. If not...he might have some breathing space.

He'd trade on any scrap of an alliance that might still lie between him and Marita to ferret out 
that information. He had after all not shot Krycek on the spot when they'd showed up at the 
Hoover, because she'd been at his side and he'd been without the palm pilot. In the brief words 
they'd had since her return he'd sensed a little warmth under her icy exterior where he was 
concerned he thought.

"No," she replied, affirming his hunch. Skinner caught her eye, read she was being truthful and 
counted himself lucky at least that the pregnancy was still a secret. She inclined her head in a 
gesture that said, fire away...next question.

"Why?" Skinner asked, his voice catching slightly on the word. 

She arched her eyebrows again and her forehead wrinkled. Skinner studied her face and was 
struck over how tired she looked in the glare of the overhead light. She was still an attractive 
woman...with an inner vulnerability below the haughty, cold appearing exterior. But it was 
obvious she'd been through the ringer. Hell...that made two of them Skinner thought bringing 
his head back around to the business at hand. "Why...Mulder?" she confirmed his question in 
her own mind.

"Yes," he hissed, placing his hands on his hips.

Marita sighed and ran a hand down her leg. Her fingers were pale against the material of the 
black slacks she was wearing. Skinner's eyes were drawn to the movement for a moment. When 
he looked back up into her pale blue eyes she was just starting to shake her head in negation.

"At first I thought it was because he simply wanted him out of his way. But now...I'm not so 
sure. I...I need more time to get into Alex's head. I'm...it's been awhile. I'm somewhat out of 
practice," she replied, her voice a mixture of embarrassment, regret and disgust.

Skinner grunted. Getting into Alex Krycek's head wasn't something he'd find particularly 
attractive either. Her tone of voice told Skinner she and Krycek weren't an item any longer 
either. Dealing with Krycek at all must be double the displeasure then he thought. Well...'you 
made your bed' ran through his mind. And on the heels of that idea he told himself...Christ...he 
should know all about that accusation.

Was she lying though? He studied her face again. He didn't think so. Wheels within wheels 
marked Marita Covarrubias...as a rule. Tonight...she was giving him that clipped Marita speech 
that she affected when all was business...truth or lies either one. But...there was something 
going on here underneath that intrigued him. Something that made him wonder if she was being 
totally on the level with him. He pulled his eyes away from her face. Who the hell really knew 
though? He massaged his temple for a second. God, he was tired. Maybe he was getting slow. 
Maybe it didn't matter. He eyed her face again and saw his thousand yard stare reflected there. 
Yeah...tonight, maybe it really didn't matter at all.

"Why the late night visit then?" he asked finally, suddenly at a loss as to what else to say in the 
wake of his exhaustion and her world-weariness. He glanced at his mantle clock. Midnight. 
Holy hell...had he really been at the office that long he mused for a second as Marita answered, 
her face neutral once more.

"I...I just needed to get out of the hotel room for a while...to get away. I'm sorry...I'll go," she 
replied, making to rise.

Skinner cleared his throat and she stopped her motion and sat back down. He didn't know if that 
was the truth but...he wanted to find out. Hell he had a lot of questions to ask her...the first of 
which was...where was the fucking palm pilot? He also wanted...shit he wasn't sure what else he 
wanted here. Fatigue really was setting in...making his head feel like sludge was swirling in it 
where his brains should be. But...oh yeah...he was sure of one other thing. He gave a shrug of 
resignation.

"Stay. Would you like a drink? I was just going to pour myself a bourbon," he replied, his voice 
low.

"Scotch?" Marita replied, one eyebrow lifted again.

"On the rocks, right?" Skinner asked as he headed towards his bar. 

"Yes. Thank you," Marita replied and watched him as he left her side.

xXx

Marita folded her hands in her lap and blinked at the bright light. In a moment she'd ask 
Skinner if he'd turn off the overhead and turn on a lamp instead. She wanted to relax and the 
dim light wouldn't bother her eyes as much. Relax and forget things for a while...like the 
lingering effects of the illness that made her light sensitive. God...she hoped Skinner wasn't as 
intent on pumping her for information as his eyes had indicated a minute ago. She really wasn't 
in the mood for that kind of dance tonight. Not at all. She didn't have the answers he desired 
anyway...the main one being where was the damn palm pilot? She didn't have a clue at this 
point. She let out a small sigh. She just needed to let down her fucking guard for a little while. 
From looking at Skinner she determined that the AD's mind just might be working along the 
same lines.

She'd come here tonight out of desperation really. She didn't have anywhere else to go. She 
didn't feel like being alone and she wanted conversation and a drink...with someone who would 
understand...not a stranger in a bar. It was a weakness she supposed but she did desire male 
company sometimes and let's face it...there weren't many men she could spend time with who 
wouldn't either be a danger to her or from her. Well, Skinner was probably both but at least 
they understood that concept as it applied to their situation.

Skinner had been the lesser of two evils tonight. She hadn't wanted to stay in her hotel room, 
awake with on-guard induced insomnia, wondering if Alex would be stupid enough to take 
another chance at crawling into bed with her. He'd always used his cock to get what he wanted 
from her in the past. Well...that used to work. Unfortunately for Alex he was going to have to 
learn that it wasn't going to work anymore. If Alex Krycek was the last man on Earth he wasn't 
going to touch her again.

Skinner on the other hand was a different matter. She could talk to him, probably with a 
minimum of fencing as well as a minimum of exchanged information since at this point in time 
she judged neither one of them were enough in the loop to impart much useful data anyway. 
And...if she had him figured right, he'd take her to bed tonight as well...and she had no problem 
letting Walter Skinner touch her. Now or in the past either.

So, she settled back as Skinner brought the two glasses over to the couch. He looked tired she 
thought...more tired than the last time she'd seen him...but that had been before the nanocytes 
and under the circumstances she thought he looked better than he could. He still looked 
impressive in starched white cotton, and wool, most certainly. It was obvious the body beneath 
the clothing wasn't in bad shape either.

She accepted the drink from him and he placed his on the coffee table, sliding a coaster under 
it.

"Would you excuse me...I'd like to take these off," he gestured towards his tie and suit coat.

She nodded and he left her side. He retrieved his briefcase and headed towards the nearby 
stairs.

xXx

Skinner locked his briefcase in the extra bedroom that served as his office before he went into 
the master bedroom to change. He removed his suit coat and tie and hung both up on his silent 
butler. The whole suit would need to go to the cleaners tomorrow he thought letting his mind 
wander. He ran his hand over his mouth. Maybe some cold water would help him to wake up a 
little he considered as he scratched at his chin. He turned and went into the en suite bathroom. 

Under the lights he drew a shallow basin of cold water, and removed his glasses, setting them 
on the vanity. He pulled a washcloth from the rack next to the sink and dampened it in the 
basin. When he moved the cool, wet cloth from his eyes they ached more than he expected they 
would. "Aspirin," he breathed out into the otherwise silent bathroom. He made a short sidestep 
over to the built-in medicine cabinet and pulled the recessed handle. It stuck, as it usually did, 
so he gave a small yank.

The bottle of Excedrin and a box of unopened condoms clattered out onto the vanity top. His 
other hand paused, the damp washcloth covering his mouth as his lips dropped into a frown. His 
eyes focused on the condoms for a moment and then, he lowered the cloth and glanced up and 
over into the mirror at his face.

He saw a middle-aged man, evening beard stubble darkly harsh in the bathroom light, with 
weary eyes, the brown depths of which shifted, sparked and then smoldered with intensity as 
his crotch filled with arousal. Hell. How pathetic was he? He should be thinking about going 
back down there and pumping Marita for every bit of information she could give. But instead 
he was thinking about pumping her in an entirely different way as soon as he got a reminder of 
what other kind of history they had between them.

Oh yeah. Lust and distrust...gee what a heady mixture. Jesus. Self-loathing welled up in him, 
oozing through his blood and making his face hot for a few seconds with an emotion much 
different from the ardor he felt only a few seconds ago. He recognized the self-hate of course. 
That was nothing new. But this self-hate was probably more basic. He hated being a man 
sometimes...a slave to his gonads at the worst possible moment.

It wouldn't be so bad if he hadn't seen that same shifting in Marita's eyes earlier. The change 
from ice to heat that told him she still had at least a very primal need for him. Asking her to 
stay was probably both stupid and dangerous. But then again...maybe he was being 
uncharitable...if that was even the right word. Unfair maybe? Their sexual liaisons had never 
been used as a bargaining chip, a lure or a threat before. No, they had never used sex against 
each other...and they had known it was just sex...nothing more.

He straightened in resignation. He knew he was going to ask her to stay the night.

Even he needed a chance to connect with another human being in that basic way...to gain some 
release that wasn't at his own hand. Just a few hours lying with someone in his arms for a 
change. Spending time with someone who cared even a fraction for what pleasure they could 
give each other. Shit...he'd risk it. Evidently Marita must have been having the distaff version 
of this conversation with herself. He had seen the willingness to take the risk in her eyes too. 
Everything in his life was a risk. Why should this be any different? Why...when you don't 
expect you should deserve more? Because if you did...his mind stopped on that last thought. 
No...let's not play the "if only" game tonight he told himself. It's more pointless now than it 
ever was before. He shook his head and returned the washcloth to the rack. Then he reached for 
the condoms. 

His mouth twitched into a terse smile as he checked the expiration date on the box of condoms 
however. They were still good. Well, one small bit of luck there at least. He put down the 
condoms and picked up the Exedrin, opened it and shook two capsules out into his palm. They 
went down with a paper cup of water. He disposed of the cup, put his glasses back on and shut 
the medicine cabinet. Finally he picked up the box of condoms. Shutting off the lights as he 
exited the bathroom, he headed over to the night stand to place the Trojans in the drawer.

xXx

Marita took another sip of her second scotch and concentrated on Skinner's question again. The 
liquor was making her feel just a bit disconnected and she was inviting the feeling. It had 
become obvious that after making small talk...and yes, it startled her to find out they could 
actually make it...along with the inevitable sparring with Skinner during their first round of 
alcohol, that indeed, neither one of them had a lot of important information to impart. Each of 
them had extrapolated enough from events to make the conversation merely a confirmation of 
the 'facts'. Now she felt she was just marking time until the final event of the evening.

She sat on her end of the couch, in the now dim light of the end table lamp, and contemplated 
Skinner's shoulder and bicep muscles as he lowered his glass of bourbon from his lips.

"No, he didn't check his pulse," she told the AD as he held the glass at lap level.

"Krycek is slipping," he observed, looking down into the amber liquid where it swirled a bit in 
the tumbler.

Marita shrugged. "Maybe he feels it didn't matter if Spender were dead or alive. Maybe he 
thinks the bastard's finished anyway," she mused aloud in answer.

"Pardon me if I don't count him out of the picture," Skinner rumbled, his voice holding irony 
behind his words. He lifted the glass to his lips again.

Marita watched him take a small swig of bourbon and studied his neck tendons as he 
swallowed. She'd always thought of him as rugged looking rather than traditionally attractive. 
His profile bore that idea out now as she took it in. No...Skinner was chiseled as if from rock. 
He wasn't pretty like Alex...or boyishly handsome like Mulder. He was just...masculine. 
Distilled essence of male. Something she found very much to her liking. Oh, she could never 
love him. Love in general with anyone wasn't something that she'd had much luck in. She didn't 
think it was in the cards for her. Not a word in her vocabulary any longer. So, she couldn't love 
any man. But, she could respect a man like Skinner...and she could certainly find 
pleasure...even short-lived pleasure with a man like Walter Skinner. 

She felt a warmth stealing over her that was partly the scotch and partly the fact that she 
wanted this man between her legs tonight. Well, she was enjoying the drink...and the 
conversation so far...even more than she thought she would. She could be patient. She replied 
and shifted her body to look at him more fully.

"I don't think that's ill advised at all. His body's disappeared. He's come back before...it's better 
to be watchful," she agreed.

Skinner nodded in assent as he lowered the glass. He gazed at her then, his eyes almost 
unreadable but Marita caught something there...regret? Guilt and embarrassment? Both, she 
thought, before he cleared his throat and began to speak again.

"I didn't know he arranged for your protection. I...I tried to find out what had happened but ran 
into nothing but dead ends. Even his son didn't know what happened to you. Then Krycek told 
me..." he murmured turning away again to study his drink.

"Look...it's called seclusion for a reason," she answered, a touch of sympathy for him in her 
voice to offset the acerbic words. No one had known where she was after Jeffery Spender had 
succeeded in getting her to safety. When she'd been extracted from the safe house Spender Jr. 
had thought secure and he'd been shot by his own father, she was totally amongst the missing. 
Krycek would have been the last one to know her whereabouts since Spender Sr. had arranged 
for her...welfare.

Yes, the Smoking Man had seen to it that she had the finest care available...provided of course 
that she do his bidding after her recovery. She had little choice in the matter. Do or die. She 
sighed. She'd had so few choices. Except tonight perhaps. Tonight she was calling the shots and 
that gave her a measure of solace. At least for now she was in a better position than that cancer 
riddled son of a bitch. There was some solace in that idea too. "I know you asked Alex. He told 
me. If it's any consolation...he thought I was dead," she added, looking down at her glass as 
well. She saw him nod again in her peripheral vision.

"So much of this has been such a royal clusterfuck," he commented tersely, examining the 
glass, turning it in his hand as if the remaining booze would tell him why his life had come to 
this short, sharp point in time.

"I can't argue with you there," she answered quietly, stilling her breathing as it threatened to 
pick up. She observed the tendons in his hand tightening. "And you don't owe me. It wasn't 
necessary for you to...to try to protect me," she finished, in an attempt to assuage the strong 
emotions that were obviously threatening to well up in him. She watched him tamp it all down 
and marveled again at Walter Skinner's control.

"I suppose not," he rumbled, looking over into her eyes.

"There was nothing you could do," she replied, inclining her head respectfully in his direction.

He nodded and took another swig of his bourbon.

xXx

Nice of her to absolve him he thought somewhat bitterly. Then he chastised himself. No...he 
was being unfair again. Let's amend that last statement. In truth they'd probably called it even a 
long time ago and he knew she didn't expect him to rush to her aid anymore than she'd rush to 
his. So, if not absolution at least in this instance she was offering him a modicum of peace of 
mind. She was being charitable and he should accept the gift in the spirit it was given. After 
all...theirs was an alliance based on straddling the middle ground, walking the center line and 
understanding what it meant to balance between so many tangled skeins. So, she would know 
he was telling the truth when he said he really hadn't been able to find out what happened to 
her.

Skinner had now ceased to be in that head space, though. The fence. No, he'd fallen off in a big 
way. Marita wasn't there yet...but he sensed she was headed that way. Maybe she'd get there 
eventually. When she jumped to either side...he could only hope it was the right one. He 
couldn't love this woman...no his heart wasn't going to go there. But he did respect her...had a 
certain caring for what happened to her...he'd rather she ended up where the grass was greener 
and not in the briars when this all played out. In the meantime...she was the usual shaky 
alliance...to be kept close but not too close. And needless to say, he would keep her in the dark 
regarding Scully.

But...he wanted to ask her about the palm pilot. He'd been avoiding the question for nearly an 
hour and a half now and it was starting to grate on him. Come on Skinner, he told himself. 
What's the big deal? Just spit it out. Maybe he'd get lucky and she'd actually tell him. He 
glanced at her again out of the corner of his eye.

One thing about Marita that had always impressed Skinner was her ability to project total 
detachment and composure. Like a Pre-Raphaelite version of the Sphinx. Right now he was 
being held in her almost unblinking regard. It didn't really bother him...except to make him 
shift as arousal warmed between his legs again. No, Marita's calm fascinated him. He 
considered it a challenge to read what was going on behind those frosty blue eyes. In fact...he 
judged that this was her technique to divine his thoughts. His lips almost twitched into a grin 
before he spoke.

"What am I thinking?" he asked impulsively...attempting to test his theory. Of course she might 
have a totally different answer than he expected to get. But if she said...'You're thinking you 
want to fuck me now', instead of 'You want to know if I've seen the palm pilot', at this point 
he'd take either answer and run with it.

For the first time that night, and for the first time in a long time, Marita smiled and snorted a 
laugh. Skinner did find a small smile gracing his lips then too.

"Do you want an honest answer?" she replied, setting her glass down on the coffee table.

"If you can manage one," he replied, his voice not holding the rancor the words could imply but 
rather a teasing that he knew wouldn't offend her.

"Now, now," she admonished him, meeting his eyes squarely.

"So?" he prompted as he met her stare.

"So...I believe you're thinking about more than one question right now. Both are obvious...but 
there's only one I can answer..." she replied, her smile very Mona Lisa like as her pause at the 
end of the sentence threw the ball back in his court.

He raised an eyebrow and put his glass down as well, rocking back slightly and resting his 
hands lightly on his thighs.

"Answer it then," he murmured, the smile still just playing about his lips.

"Yes, I'd like to go to bed with you," she replied, her voice at once sorry and seductive.

He let out a small snort of appreciation and shook his head in bemusement. She gave him a 
throaty chuckle.

"Did I assume incorrectly?" she asked, her voice almost a purr. 

Skinner met her eyes again.

"No. Right answer to the more...pleasurable question," he answered, giving her an inclination of 
his head in acknowledgment. He knew she knew he could tell from the tone of her voice and 
body English that she'd answered both his questions at once. She didn't know if Krycek had the 
palm pilot. He could let himself fall into despair over the situation now. Or he could as he said 
earlier, run with whatever answer she gave him. He chose to run...to lose himself in her for a 
short time...and think about the rest tomorrow. "Why don't you go upstairs and make yourself 
comfortable," he added. "I'll lock up."

Marita nodded and rose to take his suggestion.

xXx

The moonlight dappled her naked body as she stood at the window, her back to the room. They 
were far enough up on the fifteenth floor with no other apartments on this side that she wasn't 
worried about anyone seeing her.

She'd undressed, folding her clothing neatly and placing it on one of the overstuffed chairs in a 
corner of Skinner's master bedroom. Her ankle holster containing the Baretta had gone on his 
left night stand. What cash she had on her was placed next to her weapon along with her watch, 
her only jewelry tonight. She didn't have any ID. People in her position frequently didn't carry 
any.

The room was almost as she remembered it. The addition of a Bowflex machine in one corner 
being the main difference. He had some new books in his bookcase. She'd been curious, 
checked, and found the new additions. A first edition of 'Seven Pillars of Wisdom' by T.E. 
Lawrence and a hand-bound volume of "On Walden Pond" by Thoreau. War and Peace she 
thought. Somehow apt.

Her exploration of the room had ended at the window. It had been a long time since she'd seen 
DC at night from this elevation. And certainly from anywhere this...well heeled. The hotel she 
and Krycek were hiding out in hardly offered this view, or these amenities. She idly stroked her 
rib cage, her weight canted to one side as the apartment's air kissed her skin along with the 
moonlight. She was just thinking she hoped her ribs weren't too prominent...after all...she hadn't 
gained all the weight back she'd lost...when a soft footstep behind her told her Skinner's Nunn 
Bushes were touching the bedroom carpet. He was doing much better, she hadn't heard him 
until he was in the room, she thought with a wry smile. She didn't turn around however. Better 
to let him get the full effect of one of her best features. From the slight hesitation in the sound 
of his movements he was definitely looking.

She felt him come up behind her and after another moment's pause, his large hands splayed 
over her hips, resting gently there. His breath ruffled her hair as he spoke.

"I see you remembered I take the right side," he commented, referring to her accessories placed 
carefully on his left night stand. He brought one hand to the back of her head.

"Yes," she replied quietly as he caressed her pinned up hair.

"Let your hair down," he whispered, his hand dropping again to her hip.

She turned in his embrace and any doubts she'd had regarding the worthiness of her body were 
dispelled with one look into his dark, aroused eyes.

xXx

Her sculpted back swooping down into her toned backside had caused him to stop just inside 
the bedroom door for a moment. He'd stopped to admire the backlit view as she stood gazing 
out his window just before he took off his watch and put it on the night stand. His eyes raked 
her form, her body like shadowed marble against the reflected glow of DC. He felt his cock stir 
and the telltale moisture of his desire appeared at the tip, dampening his briefs.

Now, when she turned in his arms he knew she'd see that desire for her in his eyes. He could tell 
by the way her touch along her rib cage had gone from absent-minded to more directed and 
probing that she was worried something was amiss with her appearance. She was a bit thin...but 
under the circumstances that wasn't surprising. It made no difference. She was quite lovely 
really and he wanted his evident ardor to set her mind at rest, to banish her concern. She smiled 
at his request, he could just see the side of her mouth curve up before she turned fully around.

Now her mouth held that mysterious smile as her hands came up and efficiently unbound her 
hair. He reached for it, wishing to run his hand up under the blonde tresses but she shifted her 
head rather playfully out of his way. He gave her a raised eyebrow and then chuckled as she 
motioned with the pins. He allowed her to move away and take the pins to the night stand. She 
set them there, and almost as an afterthought, turned on the lamp, one click to illuminate the 
bed in a soft glow. Then she returned to him as he began to unbutton his shirt.

"Let me," she suggested as his fingers worked at the fabric.

He nodded and she made him smile again as she reached up and removed his glasses first. The 
specs went to his side of the bed and when she came back this time her long, elegant fingers 
took up where his left off on his dress shirt. He let his hands fall limp at his sides to give her 
better access and in a few moments his shirt was unbuttoned, pulled off and tossed over the 
silent butler. His T-shirt followed it and when he turned from tossing that garment, Marita 
stepped closer and he cupped the back of her head with both hands and drew her to him. His 
hands tangled in her hair as their lips met. 

xXx

One thing Marita had learned early on about Walter Skinner was, for all his muscle he wasn't a 
brutal lover. Some powerful men, physically as well as powerful through outside means, were 
inconsiderate, self-centered and rough in their lovemaking. It was like going to war for 
them...or like competition in the board room, with the woman needing to be conquered on the 
way towards attaining pleasure.

Skinner wasn't anything of the sort. His kiss now conveyed what was in store for them tonight. 
Shared excitement, attention to detail and her needs as well as his own, and a surprising 
gentleness that when she first met him she had no idea would lie under his gruff exterior.

So, although he gripped her head in his large, strong hands, it was a tender hold and his lips 
played softly over her lips, teasing them open until she allowed his tongue entry to dance with 
hers. He tasted like the smoky Kentucky bourbon he'd been drinking and smelled subtly of Old 
Spice cologne...and something else...his own musky scent. She felt herself growing wetter 
between her legs as he deepened the kiss. She ran her hands up and down his back, enjoying the 
feel of his bunching lats as he moved a little harder into the kiss.

xXx

Skinner tried for a slow seduction. He had to...it had been a while and he was rusty. Besides...he 
hated rushing a woman. It was more pleasurable to take things at a leisurely pace at first he'd 
discovered over the years. He found gentleness was much more enjoyable for himself as well as 
his partner. There was plenty of time later for 'Sturm and Drang' when they got into the king-
sized bed and were both more lost in the moment.

So he savored the kiss. Marita tasted like the finely aged scotch he'd served her and it wasn't an 
unpleasant mixture with the flavor of bourbon still on his tongue. Her hair gave off the scent of 
some perfume as he luxuriated in its texture along with its fragrance. He couldn't place the 
perfume...maybe "Opium" or...something spicy anyway. A scent for evening.

After he'd spent a few moments teasing at Marita's lips and then pressing into her harder so that 
they tasted each other deeply he pulled back and stared into her eyes. Her hands came around to 
his belt buckle.

"Shall I?" she asked, her voice breathless.

"Please," he rumbled, nodding at her hands. She smiled and flipped the metal buckle open.

xXx

Before she let his unfastened pants slide down his legs, Marita slid her hands into them and 
back, caressing his hard ass muscles through his underwear. Skinner's breath picked up as she 
stroked him and he stepped closer, the front of his briefs only millimeters from her pubic hair. 
She could tell he wanted to rock into her, push the evidence of his arousal against her, but she 
skimmed her hands around and down past the waistband of his BVDs, past there and the scars 
on his groin to caress his cock. His mouth parted on a sigh as her hand trailed down his length. 
He wasn't hard yet but she could feel the growing warmth of his flesh as his cock began to react 
to her. She caught a little of his pre-cum on her fingertips and massaged it around his glans. His 
body jerked involuntarily and he reached down and drew her hand out after only a few seconds 
more, cradling it in his and toying with her fingers.

"Skin to skin," he husked, toeing his shoes off, just a little impatient now. She chuckled and he 
gave her a self-deprecating ghost of a smile. "In the spirit of equality," he added with a teasing 
tone.

"Good to know you're still for equality between the sexes, Mr. Skinner," she purred, stepping 
back so he could finish undressing on his own and she could watch the final unveiling.

He grunted a chuckle as well and finished with his shoes, kicking them impulsively below his 
silent butler. The socks and pants came next and were hung up. Marita enjoyed the economy of 
his movements, his contained power and flexing muscles as he completed his disrobing. There 
was no attempt to delay or tease her as he pulled off his briefs, working them over his swelling 
erection and heavy balls. After the BVDs were draped over the wool suit pants he stood up, 
straight and without any self-consciousness so she could reacquaint herself briefly again with 
the contours of his body.

He'd put on a little weight since the last time she'd seen him. It looked good on him however. 
She'd thought him a little thin before...perhaps through poor nutrition, too many rushed meals 
or lack of appetite through stress. He wasn't fat now by any means...where he'd filled out was 
muscle, especially his chest and arms. Now she knew he'd been using the Bowflex. His waist 
and abs were still trim, his legs still finely muscled and not bulky as some men's legs became 
from weightlifting. She let her eyes stray between his legs. Of the men she'd had in the past 
Skinner's cock rated one of the best. Well formed and large enough flaccid not to be off-putting 
but wonderfully filling when he was hard. God...she did want him tonight. She reached for his 
hand, he took hers and with no other words she let him lead her to his bed.

xXx

Skinner could tell she was allowing him to take her to the bed. He always found that interesting 
about Marita as well...her ability to give and take during sex. She was a generous lover. He'd 
never expected that would be the case the first time he'd beheld her icy, businesslike exterior 
and heard her clipped but oddly sibilant way of address. But she wasn't selfish in bed. She 
wanted her partner to at least think he was in control he chuckled to himself. And really, that 
was part of the experience too...the game...and he didn't mind it. Especially when it was 
coupled with the desire to give as much pleasure as she got.

So he walked over with her. He released her for a moment to pull down the comforter, blanket 
and sheets, shoving them down to give them enough room. Then he turned and took her hand 
again, pulling her to him as they sank down on the bed together. He lay down on his back, and 
she ended up propped up on his chest, looking down on him for a moment while they studied 
each other.

"I have protection," he assured her after a few seconds, nodding towards the night stand drawer.

"Thank you," she replied, running her hand over his chest hair. He knew there was more gray in 
it than last time. But the expanse seemed to still be pleasing to her nonetheless. She stroked his 
nipples and smiled down at him. He swallowed, the sensation ratcheting up his arousal. He 
captured her hand and held it as he reached with his other around the back of her head again. He 
pulled her head to his and they kissed once more, long, and slow and deep.

She moved over him, draping her body over his so that they were pressed skin to skin as he 
suggested earlier. Her hands fell to either side of his head, as she took a more dominant 
posture. He could feel her heat. The throbbing of her sex against his cock and balls. Her pubic 
hair damp against his. They rubbed against each other, his hands running from her ass to her 
shoulder blades, softly at first and then harder as they both began to breathe more heavily and 
she moaned a little around where their mouths were playing over each other.

Finally she broke the kiss and moved her mouth away from his and down his neck, sucking and 
licking as she went. He took his hands off her back, holding them up above his own head and 
craning to see, panting a little as she snaked down his body. He arched his chest up as she 
tongued and then bit lightly at his nipples. He groaned low in his throat in appreciation. When 
his nipples were hard nubs she left them and progressed down his torso, leaving a hot, wet trail 
of erotic sensation with her skillful lips and tongue.

His abs flexed and contracted with his hitching breath as her mouth traversed them on the way 
to the target she was obviously seeking. He came up on his elbows and shifted his legs apart 
slightly as her face reached his genitals. She nuzzled his pubic hair and then without any further 
delay, one hand lightly lifted his tumescent cock.

"Oh yeah," he sighed as her mouth started to engulf him.

He watched in fascination as she worked her lips down his dick, her jaws stretching to 
accommodate his growing erection. She took it all in, sucked him quite fantastically and then 
began to move her mouth up and down, sucking, licking and tonguing him to complete 
hardness.

Skinner rocked his hips in a steady, not overly rough rhythm. He avoided grabbing her head and 
forcing his cock to the back of her throat. He enjoyed feeling the prowess of her performance. 
He hoped his panting breath and occasional grunts were giving her enough feedback. She was 
perfectly capable of getting him hard without his frantic thrusting intervention to get him along 
faster. He'd been given head many times before, by both sexes actually, and Marita was 
amongst the best at giving it.

"Jesus...that's good," he murmured, adding the verbal compliment to his other nonverbal 
commentary.

Finally he felt as if he was getting a little too close so he reached forward and caressed her 
shoulder.

"Wait," he grated out and her mouth pulled up and off him. She held onto the base of his cock 
and looked up at him.

"Too close?" she asked in confirmation.

He nodded.

"It was fantastic...easy to get carried away," he smiled at her letting her know again how much 
he'd truly liked it.

She smiled and released his hard-on, but kept her hand around the base of his cock as she slid 
up to lay next to him. Her hand strayed to his balls and she idly fingered them as she spoke.

"You really do have a magnificent cock," she whispered, bending forward to kiss and nuzzle at 
his chest.

He chuckled and stroked her head.

"I'm just glad I could get it up after your talented demonstration," he told her, the honesty very 
evident behind the attempt at a compliment.

Marita's hand ceased to stroke him. She looked at him and her face grew soft.

"I...I would have understood if you couldn't. It wouldn't have mattered you know," she 
whispered. "You...you never have to worry about...performing. I don't mean for you to think 
you do," she added, looking down at his chest.

He felt a twinge in his chest then. A warmth for her that he hadn't felt before. He addressed her 
bent head, and touched her shoulder with tenderness.

"I appreciate that. I guess...I guess we don't have to worry about that tonight however," he 
replied quietly.

When she looked back at him her face was sultry again, the softness gone, replaced instead with 
that heat melting her ice.

"No...we don't," she replied huskily. Then she rose up and urged him to follow her as she moved 
over onto her back.

xXx

Marita knew all men feared the inability to perform. The evidence of their inability was so 
obvious after all. A man like Skinner would have that fear and probably rightfully so given the 
circumstances of his life. Anyone who could be under the amount of stress, fatigue and illness 
he had been under was a prime candidate for impotence. She wouldn't have been surprised if 
even with as hot as he was, he couldn't get it up. But, as he splayed out over her and his hard 
cock stroked between her open thighs it was clear he was more than capable of rising to the 
occasion this evening. And...she had been telling the truth regarding her caring about whether 
he'd gotten hard or not. There was more than one way to satisfy each other.

But now she enjoyed the feeling of his hardness and ran her hands down over his muscular back 
and ass, encouraging him to press against her so she could feel the hardness of his erection, his 
heat and his weight on her. He began to kiss her, sucking the skin in on her neck and then 
sucking and licking down over her breasts. He laved her taut flesh, swirling his tongue all 
around her breasts, then in towards her nipples, not concentrating on the nubs at all yet. She 
loved this and she was rather touched to think he remembered she did. She moaned and stroked 
his bald head in appreciation.

"That feels so good, lover," she told him to make sure he knew. 

She felt him smile against her right tit and then he sucked in her nipple, tonguing and nipping 
at it. She arched up and laughed as he chuckled around her...his breath tickling her was 
exquisite torture. After spending some time on her nipples he mumbled a question as he kissed 
her breast.

"Do you want me to go down on you?" he asked, swooping his mouth down as he spoke to kiss 
at her belly button.

She considered it. Sometimes she liked to have a man perform oral sex on her. But tonight she 
was excited enough that she really wanted his cock in her. However, she wanted to leave the 
decision up to him...to give him his control because she knew a man liked to feel he was in 
control too. He looked up at her and she smiled at him.

"If you'd like..." she replied, but her verbal pause was just enough that he'd know she wasn't 
considering it mandatory.

"I'll get a condom," he replied, giving her a grin of understanding. She chuckled again as he 
levered up and fumbled with the night stand drawer. When he took out the unopened box she 
had a moment of sadness for him. It was a mute testament to Skinner's love life. So...he was as 
alone as she had been. She shoved the thought down as he quickly opened the box and extracted 
one of the packets. He had to sit up to rip the packet open and shake the lubricated condom out 
onto his hand. As he did so she admired his cock again...now at its full erect size, the head red 
and weeping for her as he placed the rubber at the tip. She stroked his knee, retaining contact 
with him as he unrolled the latex down his erection.

When he was done, she spread her legs, raised her knees and he knelt between them.

His eyes took in her cunt, and she felt renewed wetness moisten the area and warmth flood it 
under his intense gaze. He moved his hand towards her and then hesitated, obviously not sure if 
he should touch or just thrust into her.

"I do like to feel your hand on my cunt," she whispered and he glanced up at her.

"Yeah...I like that too," he replied, reaching forward and laying one muscular hand over her 
entire sex. She whimpered slightly in pleasure at the contact and the idea that he was so eager 
just to touch her before entering her.

"Like this?" he asked as he started to massage her clit and folds. 

"Yes...oh...that feels good," she murmured as his hand rubbed and squeezed her swollen skin.

After only a few minutes of his palming her clit and massaging her entire mons she couldn't 
take it anymore.

"Jesus, Skinner..." she gasped and he chuckled.

"Hmmm?" he teased raising an eyebrow again as he removed his hand from between her legs. 
He kneed up and took her hips helping her to slide closer. As soon as his cock was near her 
opening she felt him take a hand off her hip and position the head at her vulva. He teased it a 
little around the opening and over her clit and she moaned.

"Bastard," she gasped, but it ended on another chuckle.

He laughed. "Good things come to those who wait," he replied and she slapped him lightly on 
the arm in mock exasperation.

"Ok," he advised her as he finally worked the head in a bit. She craned her neck so that she 
could see him enter her. He started to push forward. She rocked into him, helping his thrust and 
they moved smoothly together until he was fully inside her. His balls tickled her ass a little but 
the feeling of his cock inside her was marvelous. She pulled her legs up and wrapped them 
around his waist, drawing him closer and taking him in deeper at the same time. She saw his 
larynx work and then he groaned in pleasure himself. They stilled together.

"Can we just..." she began to ask him. She looked away. Was this weakness to want to enjoy his 
body...this connection with him? She didn't have time to think about it long when he answered 
her.

"Enjoy this for a second?" he rasped, his voice hoarse. He stroked her hip and then rested his 
hands on her. The softness of his voice that came through the raw lust told her permission to 
show weakness was granted...for both of them.

"This stillness...yes," she replied, recapturing his eyes and reaching to caress his right hand 
where it held her hip.

He nodded and took her hand, fondling her fingers. She looked up into his eyes and then closed 
hers. Even in this moment she realized that if she looked too deeply it wasn't advisable. That 
would be...courting disaster...that much sharing. And if she looked that deep she'd see 
something else there she didn't particularly want to see...would hardly admit she didn't as well. 
She'd see the desire for the woman that Walter Skinner really wanted beneath him tonight. And 
that was a fucking mood crusher if there ever was one. So, instead she closed her eyes and 
concentrated on the sensations of his large, hard cock stretching her inner muscles...and she 
moaned in ecstasy. 

xXx

He had loved touching her of course. Feeling her skin under his lips and tongue, tasting her 
feminine flavor, smelling her arousal, drinking it in. His hand over her sex had been sublime. 
He wouldn't have minded having his mouth there either but if she preferred his hand and 
fingers that was fine too. The tactile sensation of her wet folds and swelling clit were incredible 
and made him even more turned on.

And now...God, she felt good, Skinner thought. Tight and warm and so inviting as he thrust into 
her cunt. He watched her watching his cock slide into her and inclined his head to get a glance 
at his flesh disappearing into her body. Her juices glistened slick and shiny in the light from the 
night stand lamp. Her inner muscles closed around him, fitting themselves to him in swift 
acceptance and he came to rest with his balls pressing lightly against her ass.

He took her hips and looked into her eyes. His first thrust was stopped by the observation that 
she had something to say.

"Can we just..." she whispered. Then her eyes left his.

He let his gaze roam over her profile. Noted the tensing jaw muscles. The struggle not to worry 
her lower lip between her teeth. She wanted them to enjoy feeling each other together for a few 
moments. Wanted to ask for a moment to savor their connection but considered it a weakness. 
The notion came to him suddenly and just as quickly he knew he wanted to do that as well...and 
he answered fast so neither one of them could mull the issue over and second-guess the desire.

"Enjoy this for a second?" he replied. He stroked her hip for a second or two and then let his 
hands come to rest on her. He pitched his voice low and soft and hoped that his tone, despite the 
rawness of his voice, would tell her he was fine with enjoying each other in this way. That it 
wasn't weak to want to enjoy the ecstasy of joining. That neither one of them was weak for 
wanting it.

"This stillness...yes," she replied, and her eyes returned to his. He gazed down on her and 
sensed her caress to his right hand.

He nodded and took her hand in his. He stroked her fingers. Something shifted in her eyes, her 
eyebrow raised a fraction as her gaze held his. Then she closed her eyes. He knew why. This 
was her last barrier...and it wouldn't be lowered even now. Her privacy. Her choice not to allow 
him into her soul. He could breach her body with her permission, but the inner Marita would be 
off limits to him even as they brought each other to the heights of pleasure.

He didn't blame her. In fact, he agreed with her. If she hadn't shut her eyes he would have shut 
his he was sure...for that same reason...as well as another. If he allowed her to look too deeply 
into his eyes she might see what he tried not to admit even to himself. She might get a glimpse 
of his desire for another woman to be here in his bed. That would be the ultimate insult to let 
her know. He didn't want to hurt her that way even though the thoughts were in his heart and 
mind. He'd make sure she was never clued in out of respect for her.

So now he contented himself with watching her fine facial muscles respond to the slight 
shifting of his cock inside the confines of her vagina as he gathered himself to fuck her. The 
moan that issued from her throat and the grimace of pleasure that flitted across her features 
inflamed him.

"Lover?" he grunted, asking permission but knowing he probably wasn't going to be able to 
hold out any longer anyway. He gripped her hips tighter signaling his intentions as well and 
Marita opened her eyes. She tilted her head down to look between their entwined legs. 

"Move for me, big man," she purred, grinning as he grunted a chuckle and pulled back.

He centered his focus between them as well and watched their thigh muscles flex as he 
backthrust and then shoved forward. Two short strokes and they were moving together, only a 
few more and they were in synch, rocking and thrusting against each other in long, steady 
pumps.

"Oh good, good," Marita gasped, moving her feet up higher and locking her ankles in the small 
of his back.

Skinner's breath came in short pants as he rotated his hips in a slight circular motion. He 
savored the friction of his cock sliding back and then sinking into her again. He guided her hips 
to him and she gripped his forearms, scratching him a bit as she held him.

"Yuh," he grunted, the sweat breaking out on his brow and running in a long trail down the side 
of his face.

Marita was starting to sweat too as well as pick up the pace of her arching hips and ass. He 
adjusted his position and his pubic bone came into better contact with her clit.

"Oh God," she moaned her voice low and filled with her enjoyment. 

"Oh yeah, there you go," he urged her as she ground against him. 

"Harder," she gasped, biting at her lip now and arching up into him with increased pressure.

"Fuck...fucking..." he grunted unable to finish his thought. He laughed in pleasure at the electric 
sexual energy flooding his groin and her desire to go for broke now. She laughed in pleasure as 
well, and for a moment their eyes locked when she replied.

"You're so good at it," she gasped and his smile widened. She grinned in return.

"You...make me...want to...rise...to the challenge," he gasped out as he looked down again and 
jerked his hips fast, concentrating on getting them both where they wanted to go.

xXx

Skinner leaned forward, seeking to rub up over her clit even further and Marita was able to pull 
him close as he picked up the speed and depth of his thrusts. Oh Damn...Oh God...she was so 
fucking close. He was good at this, it was no lie at all she thought. Right where she wanted him, 
just as he wanted him as he rammed against her. 

He was breathing like a locomotive, his harsh breath panting in her ear and he grabbed at her 
convulsively at last holding her firmly against him, losing his gentleness as he lost himself 
totally in the forward rush to orgasm. Their sweating thighs and abdomens pounded into each 
other and Marita cried out, slapping Skinner's back as he groaned loud.

"Fuck me!" she cried.

"TAKE IT!" Skinner roared, his hips rocketing forward, plunging his cock deeply into her. He 
tried to hold himself still but she didn't want that as the sharp shocks began in her cunt.

"Don't sssstop," she moaned and he heard and rocked faster. Her orgasm seized her so suddenly 
she shook with the intensity of it as her muscles clamped down on him as they went into spasm.

"GOD!" she screamed, grabbing for Skinner.

He angled up and continued to ride her hard. Perfect, her mind thought dimly as she felt her 
body contracting all around him.

"OHHHH!" she cried out again as the climax washed over her with greater intensity. "OH!" she 
gasped, her body heaving up as her taut muscles sent her towards her lover. They moved 
together, close and fast as she crested on the wave of her climax. Then she started to come 
down, to regain coherency and she turned her attention to Skinner where he grunted and huffed 
above her.

Skinner moaned and she felt him gather himself again. He surged powerfully forward, snapping 
his hips rapidly against her and then she felt his entire body start to shudder. His balls were 
tightening against her ass and she squeezed down on his cock to help him get off.

"Come on," she gasped. "That's the way, baby," she murmured, her breathless voice urging him 
over the edge.

"OHFUCK!" he groaned loudly, and then he threw his head back, his jaws clenched as his hips 
spastically humped against her. "AHHHHHH!" was wrung out of his throat before he lost his 
voice and Marita could feel the telltale pulsing that told her he was emptying himself into the 
condom.

"Right there, lover...right there," she mumbled as his neck muscles grew taut. His mouth 
opened but no sound came out. His face twisted in a grimace of what looked like agony, but 
Marita knew was anything but as his movements grew spastic between her legs.

xXx

When she said harder Skinner took Marita at her word and all pretense of tenderness left him as 
he rammed into her. His mental vision spiraled down to the point where their bodies were 
connected...into that heated, tight warmth as he threw himself wholeheartedly into their shared 
ecstasy.

He knew he was making incoherent noises, grunting...moaning and cursing as he reverted to the 
primitive that was buried inside him. Marita had pulled him close so they felt fused from his 
belly button to his balls. He could feel that coiling in his groin that told him he was getting 
close. Christ, come on, come on, he thought as he pumped his hips against Marita. His rapid 
panting was harsh in his ears.

When she came it took him by surprise and he faltered for a moment unable to remember if she 
liked to feel his cock inside deep or if she needed continuous friction. She ended up moaning 
for him not to stop and Jesus, he was glad, because he was so close to coming himself he was 
going to die if he didn't keep thrusting.

His mind started to spiral in on sensation as he drove into her...and he let himself follow 
it...into her warmth, her tightness, into the scent of their mingled sweat and arousal. He was 
aware that his muscles were starting to shake and he thought...oh man...yeah...here we 
go...just...a little more...just...just...almost...

"Come on," Marita gasped close to his ear. "That's the way, baby," she murmured, her 
breathless voice a punctuation to her muscles squeezing his cock and he was almost...almost...

There.

"OHFUCK!" he cried out. His body convulsed forward, and his hips continued to piston as a 
blast of raw ecstasy traveled through him. His neck muscles grew taut as his head strained 
back. The orgasm wrenched sound from his throat for a moment until it struck him mute. As he 
clenched his teeth he was vaguely aware Marita was urging him on. God it felt so fucking great. 
He was moving...moving through a white haze of pleasure...and...it was fucking 
fantastic...and...just so good, and oh God don't let it stop he thought over and over, and then...it 
did. He moaned and fell, gasping and panting, his face buried in Marita's neck.

xXx

Marita lay holding Skinner as he gasped into her hair. He hadn't quite collapsed on top of 
her...he'd somehow remembered to land over her on his elbows and forearms. If he had fallen 
on her however, she was more than capable of taking his weight. Even after her illness she still 
had enough reserves of strength to support him. But he'd taken part of his weight with an 
almost instinctual desire not to hurt her. As if he still maintained control during his orgasm she 
thought with some alacrity. Walter Skinner was a very interesting man, she told herself as she 
stroked his back.

"You still with us, Skinner," she whispered, teasing, into his sweating ear.

He snorted a laugh and levered up off her breasts. She removed her hands from his back and 
held his biceps as he looked down on her. 

"Just," he replied, breathing a little less hard. Marita laughed and patted his right arm. He shook 
his head and chuckled further. "Christ, woman..." he shook his head again and let his words trail 
off.

Marita felt that familiar postcoital buzz that told her she'd been well fucked and she knew 
Skinner was feeling the same thing. It had been a fantastic rush. She was tired and from the 
look in his eyes...he was quite possibly going to do a 'roll over and go to sleep'. Well...she 
wasn't big for talking afterwards either to be honest. If he was ready to call it a night...or more 
correctly a morning...she wasn't going to protest.

"Thank you...I enjoyed it too," she smiled, reaching up to wipe off a bead of sweat that trickled 
down his chin. That got a smile from him and he pushed her hair back from her eyes in a 
gesture that made her suddenly feel sad. God...under other circumstances...she threw the 
thought out as untenable. Why even think about what she might have when there was no chance 
of ever attaining it. That kind of thinking made you morose, depressed and ultimately got you 
dead in this game. Better to take what you could, when you could and enjoy the moment. She 
looked down at Skinner's chest and stroked his graying chest hair for a moment, averting her 
eyes in case her train of thought was reflected in them.

Skinner spoke and she knew her deflection had been successful when he did.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to crush you," he added as he shifted a little to take more of his weight on 
his arms.

He mistook her discomfort for his weight bothering her and she didn't mind letting him think 
that was the case. But she didn't want him to think he'd hurt her so she looked up again and 
smiled at him. 

"I didn't feel it...believe me," she replied, running her hand around his nipples.

He gave her another twitch of his lips, just a half smile that heralded his pulling back from the 
intimacy they had just shared. She lowered her legs and sighed a little as he started to move off 
her. 

"Well...I'd better pull out anyway," he replied with a slight cough. He reached between them to 
steady his cock. He grasped the condom tight around the base, slid out of her and sat up.

She noticed his cock was still a little hard even now as he turned his back on her and swung his 
legs over the edge of the bed. His back and arm muscles bunched as he bent over his lap and 
worked the used condom off. In a moment he had it removed and tied the top. A quick toss into 
the trash can and it was gone. Marita scooted over on the bed to the left side so that he could lie 
down next to her. She lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, idly stroking 
her breast where the nipple was still swollen.

"You can shower if you like," Skinner offered as he set his night stand clock radio alarm. He 
turned and lay down on his side, facing her.

She turned her head to look at him.

"Maybe in the morning," she whispered, yawning slightly. He gave her another small smile and 
sat up to pull the covers up around them. When he lay down on his back, impulsively she slid 
into his side, placed her head on his chest and her arm over his stomach. She could sense his 
surprise as his muscles jumped a bit under her. She cuddled close and he tentatively wrapped 
his muscular arm around her shoulder to pull her closer. "Sometimes I...I still get chilled," she 
offered in way of explanation. Christ that sounds weak and idiotic she chided herself. But too 
late now...she was lying here wrapped in his arm...she'd already said it and what the hell...it felt 
good for him to hold her.

Skinner made a sympathetic noise in his throat.

"I see," he replied, a yawn making his voice catch on the words. 

He was quiet for a moment and she listened to the steady thump of his heart and felt the regular 
rise and fall of his chest. Then she spoke again...and knew she shouldn't have the minute she 
uttered the words.

"Have you seen Scully since...Oregon?" she asked quietly.

For God's sake, she castigated herself. What made me ask that question? Skinner's muscles 
tensed and for a second she thought he was going to push her away. But instead she felt him 
force himself to relax.

xXx

Damn it, Skinner thought. What in all that's holy made her ask that question? He was instantly 
upset and angry on two levels at once. He wanted to pick her up off his chest and demand why 
she wanted to know. But that would be extremely imprudent. Foremost in his mind was Scully's 
pregnancy. He couldn't allow his anger for one reason make him lose his composure and make 
her suspicious of the other reason he didn't want to discuss Scully. So he tamped it down and 
answered civilly if somewhat tensely.

"Yes. She's coping," he replied, his voice rough.

He felt Marita nod against his chest.

"I am...sorry it turned out this way," she whispered, stroking his stomach.

He was silent but finally found some words to answer her.

"I understand," he replied. It was as close as he could come to expressing any opinion or 
emotion over the matter. As close as he could come to allowing her that small peace of mind 
she'd given him earlier. He knew full well now that they had both been puppets...left in the dark 
when need be, brought into the light when it was needed as well. They had more in common 
than not really. It was unfortunate that they chose to walk different paths...he trying to pull 
against the strings and eventually snap them...she all too often jumping as the strings played 
her. He felt her nod again. "I need to sleep now," he added wearily. And in truth...he very much 
did. He was exhausted and keeping up any pretext or desire to converse even without having to 
deflect this topic of conversation was rapidly becoming impossible.

"I know," she replied, her voice hushed, and then she shifted off his chest and rolled over onto 
her side.

He sighed quietly and felt a pang of sadness for the whole damn situation. He wondered 
sleepily when he'd stop cursing his life and just get on with it. Regret only kept a good warrior 
down after all...or so they told him in the Marines he thought bitterly. He stared at Marita's 
graceful back for a moment. Well...why the fuck not, he thought. He moved forward and gently 
placed his arm over her, pulling her close and nestling his cock into the curve of her ass. She 
might think this was unusual...might interpret it as a weakness on his part...but what the hell. 
Holding her felt good and if her putting her head on his chest was any indication...she wasn't 
going to mind being held tonight at all.

"Marita...it was good...I mean that," he murmured into her ear. 

He felt her snuggle back against him and nod again before he fell asleep.

xXx

It was the first time he'd used her Christian name that night...the first time in a long time he'd 
used her Christian name at all. She was shocked when she felt his arm snake around her. 
Shocked because it was a gesture she wouldn't expect from him. She was the last one he'd want 
to hold this way, she thought. No...not her. Scully. She knew she shouldn't have mentioned 
Scully. Agent Dana Scully had always been a verboten topic between them. She realized he 
loved her from afar and also that it was the last thing he wanted Marita to know. He probably 
saw it as a weakness he didn't want revealed. But she also gave him the benefit of the doubt in 
that he probably didn't want her to think his mind was on Scully whenever he made love to her. 
She had a feeling Skinner was that much of a gentleman. There was that much respect between 
them.

No, Skinner would never tell Scully he loved her. He'd remain mute, suck it all in, and stand by 
her as best he could as a friend and ally. Stupid she thought...but admirable she had to 
grudgingly admit...and probably for the best given the fact that love would never be returned, 
even with Fox Mulder out of the picture. She didn't let herself feel the quick stab of jealousy 
that pierced her heart. No, jealousy like love was counterproductive. Either one, along with 
depression complicated matters...and as she said...could get one killed. She willed herself to 
forget what could only go unfulfilled...and concentrated on sleep. Only her growing lassitude 
and drifting into slumber stopped the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes.

xXx

Skinner woke to the sounds of Chopin on his clock radio and wasn't surprised when he reached 
over to find the left side of the bed empty. He listened for a moment. The apartment was silent. 
He sat up and retrieved his glasses, putting them on. Glancing around confirmed what his ears 
told him...Marita was gone. Her clothes were no longer folded on the chair. Her gun, money, 
hairpins and watch were gone from the night stand opposite.

He gave a resigned sigh and got up, padding into the can to take a piss and start a sweep of the 
apartment to verify his theory. She hadn't showered after all. She was probably afraid it would 
wake him. He guessed morning coffee and conversation wasn't on her agenda as he left the 
master bedroom and headed downstairs. His nose made him think otherwise and he picked up 
the pace, his cock and balls bouncing slightly as he descended the apartment stairs.

There was a fresh pot of coffee brewed in his coffeemaker on the kitchen counter. He knew he'd 
forgotten to set it up the night before. His lips twitched in a bemused smile. He crossed to the 
counter because there was a piece of paper there. Picking up the neatly written note he read it, 
continued to smile, and shook his head slowly back and forth.

///Skinner:

I'd suggest some Sumatran next time. It's less acidic on the stomach.

MC///

So the 'thief in the night' thought there'd be a next time...and had some concern for him...well 
over his digestive system at any rate. He laughed, almost silently, the effort causing his 
stomach to shake as he tore the note up and disposed of it in the kitchen trash can.

"Well...Starbucks House Blend will have to do this morning," he thought aloud, scratching at 
his stomach. His mirth subsided however as he thought of the implications in the rest of the 
note. Next time? Christ...next time? Yeah...if there was a next time, he thought with pragmatic 
irony and not a small amount of bitterness. He squared his shoulders and glanced at the wall 
clock. "Mine is not to reason why," he growled aloud. He looked at the coffeepot and decided 
he needed a hot shower...badly before he had his coffee.

EPILOGUE

"Sir, I have a Mr. Ted Lawrence on the line," Kimberly told him over the connection. Skinner 
winced. Damn it...I told him to call my private number he thought as he answered his executive 
assistant. 

"Thank you, Kim...put him through," he rumbled. The telltale click of the connected call 
reached his ears.

"Why Aqaba by land?" the man's voice came through to him with a slightly tinny timber.

"Mr. Frohike...I thought I told you to use my private line," he replied tersely.

"The response, Mr. Skinner?" the hacker replied equally as tersely.

"Oh blow me," he breathed out before he thought better of it. "All right...because the guns are 
pointed towards the sea," he replied, massaging his temple.

"No thanks, I don't swing that way and hey...if you weren't going to use the friggin' passwords 
why did you make us rent 'Lawrence of Arabia'. I mean granted it's a classic but I drank a six 
pack of beer after the intermission with all those desert scenes..." Frohike began, gearing up for 
a tirade.

"Because you said you'd never read 'Seven Pillars of Wisdom' by T. E. Lawrence so I relied on 
the popular media interpretation of his story...something I thought would be more...accessible 
to the three of you," he answered acerbically.

"Hey, G-man, watch it," Frohike chuckled despite the warning. "If you don't play nice I won't 
tell you your private line is tapped," he added quietly, all attempts at jocularity disappearing as 
he grew serious.

"Shit..." Skinner hissed.

"Don't worry...we're working on it. But for now we should probably rely on cell phones and this 
line because it believe or not...it's not tapped," he replied more genially.

"All right. Thanks," Skinner replied, his voice less tense and conveying his sincerity. "I take it 
she's home," he added.

"Safe and sound. She wants to talk to you but she's uh...using the facilities. Hang on," Frohike 
replied, his voice a little far off as he obviously checked to see if Scully was out of the 
bathroom. "Byers?" Skinner heard him say. "Yes...tell her he's on the phone," he added. Ok, 
here she comes," Frohike came back on louder as he held the phone to his mouth again.

"Sir?" Scully's voice came over the line.

"Scully...how are you?" he asked. "Did you get enough sleep?" he added his voice soft with 
concern.

"I'm doing all right. I actually did manage to get some sleep last night," she replied, her voice 
precise and businesslike. Typical Agent Scully reporting in, he thought with a mixture of 
admiration and sadness. But then she spoke again and her voice was gentle. He felt a warmth in 
his chest. "Did you, sir? I hope you were able to rest," she added.

He had a sudden profound guilt steal over him at her words along with the guilty pleasure that 
she showed concern for him. He cut off both feelings very abruptly. He had no hope with 
Scully...why would he? Her concern was one of friendship, of course. He needed to remember 
that at all times and police himself there, most definitely. 

And as for the other...why feel guilty for being with Marita? It wasn't as if he were betraying 
Scully by doing it. He shook his head and ignored the voice in his mind that said he was 
betraying her because he loved Scully with every fiber of his being. He ignored it because it 
was a moronic idea and self-defeating in the extreme because Scully was never going to love 
him. No...there shouldn't be any guilt over Marita. He and Marita were well suited to each 
other...and the sex was extremely satisfying.

"Thank you, yes. I had a good evening," he replied, keeping his voice friendly but not informal.

"I'm glad to hear it," she replied and her voice carried the same tone. Good, as it should be, he 
thought.

He was going to speak again when she beat him to the punch.

"So, any word on the OPR hearing?" she asked, her voice serious. 

"Oddly enough...no. Nothing...not even a hint that I might be suspended beforehand. I'm taking 
it as a good omen. But it's got to come. I have to think this is just behind the scenes 
bureaucratic procrastination while they figure out what exactly to do with us. At any rate, all I 
can do is sit here and wait for the other shoe to drop. But, Scully...we're still on for tonight. I 
don't want you coming back in here Monday without a battle plan...you haven't even let me 
arrange for any other security but those three..."

"Sir...I know. I agree. As soon as you can make it this evening. We'll all be here," she replied, 
her voice both serious and a bit defiant.

He shut his eyes and bent his head slightly. Christ this woman was stubborn. He couldn't help 
smiling a little. Yeah...she had balls. In the end she was going to need them and they'd have to 
be brass ones too, he thought, straightening before he answered her.

"All right. Agreed. I'll phone you when I'm on the way," he replied.

Scully was silent for a moment and then her voice was gentle again over the phone when she 
replied.

"Thank you, sir. I...I really appreciate this more than I can say," Scully said quietly.

"You're welcome, Scully. Now...get some more rest. I'll see you all this evening," he replied his 
voice a little hoarse and then he severed the connection.

He put the receiver back in the cradle and pushed his fingers up under his glasses to massage 
the bridge of his nose. He let his mind go blank for a moment. His stomach growled and he 
chuckled despite himself as his mind came back to the here and now. He lowered his hand

"I might as well eat. No sense facing my afternoon of paperwork on an empty stomach," he said 
aloud as he rose and reached for his suit jacket. As he lifted it...his cell phone beeped.

He raised an eyebrow thinking, Frohike must have something on that wire tap already as he 
fished his phone out of the coat pocket and put the jacket back down on his chair.

"Skinner" he said into the receiver after he stabbed the 'SEND' button.

There wasn't any secret pass phrase forthcoming at all.

"I don't have much time," Marita's sibilant voice came to him over the air waves.

"Speak to me," he replied, his tone clipped and curt. He was all business even as his guts 
clenched and turned to ice.

"A man from the Tunisian embassy will contact you in the parking garage as you leave for the 
day. An attaché. You'll recognize him because you've met before. But...he will have ID and 
show it," she replied quickly.

He knew the man of course...the bastard Mulder had caught in front of Orgel's house...the man 
who'd tried to kill Skinner later.

"Fuck him...I can't..." he started to reply, angrily.

"He's my man now...you can trust him," Marita hastened to assure him.

Skinner's jaw clenched as tight as his guts were twisting and in a split second he decided to 
believe her...he had to know what was coming down here...it had to be vital.

"All right...what then?" he rumbled, pressing the cell closer to his ear.

"He'll give you a package. I think you'll know what it contains. Now...I have to go," she 
finished, sounding breathless. He could hear sounds in the background. She was in an airport. 
She must be leaving for somewhere...with Krycek...but she's giving him...she's...giving...for one 
brief moment something squeezed his heart as tight as his guts were being compressed and his 
face flushed as heat suffused his body. He thought...this is what love must feel like...love...and 
he spoke quickly as he went with the feeling.

"Marita?" he asked, his voice wavering on her name a little.

"Yes?" she replied, something soft and hesitant suddenly in her voice as well.

"Next time I'll have Sumatran," he breathed into the phone and then he paused, waiting for her 
answer.

"Te avel mange bakht, Sergei," she whispered in the language they'd discovered was shared by 
both their grandparents.

'All we need is good luck', indeed he thought.

"Zhan le Devlesa tai sastimasa, Marita," he mumbled into the phone...but she had severed the 
connection and hadn't heard him. "Go with God and in good health," he repeated in English. 
"Yeah...on second thought...we can use all the help we can get." he added with an ironic twitch 
of his lip. He flipped the cell phone shut, tucked it back into his suit coat pocket, and prepared 
to leave his office. 

*Author's notes: Ok I know...Marita!? Well what can I say...the character intrigues me. Is she a 
stone-cold killer and villain...or something else? I like to speculate. This story was an exercise 
in speculation. I hope you'll accept it as such and enjoy it. Oh and by the way...the language 
Marita and Skinner's grandparents shared was Romany. Thanks for reading.

-THE END-