Email:  xalison@excite.com
Category:  Response to challenge
Pairing:  Skinner/Byers
Rating:  NC-17
Archive:   Wherever you like!
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc
Summary:    A few weeks ago Peja issued a challenge for a story 
with these opening words.  Sorry it's been so long coming 
- unlike the two in this story! ;)

This one's for AmazonX, who came up with some Byers sex for
me last week when I asked for it;  and Mice, in appreciation for
all that delicious Byers/Doggett slash!


I HAD THE DREAM


I had the dream again last night.

It's kind of weird, the way it happens.  It always starts 
differently, and it always ends differently.  But the middle 
is always the same.

I'm fucking John Byers to exhaustion.

Yes, that's right.  Byers.  John Fitzgerald Byers.  Byers the Lone 
Gunman. Byers the geek.

I've been having this dream for a few years now.  Ever since that 
time in the hospital when they turned up to see Mulder and ended 
up helping him  break out.  Byers traded clothes with Mulder, 
who went off with Langly and Frohike while Byers stayed in the 
room.  In the bed, in Mulder's hospital gown.
  

I was there and saw it all.  Heard Mulder's demand "I need your 
clothes", saw Byers's gulp of surprise and his momentary panic, 
then the instant compliance.  How he matter-of-factly started to 
undress;  jacket, tie, shoes and socks, shirt, undershirt and 
pants ... god, I can even remember the order he took everything 
off!  Well, like I haven't been replaying it in my memory every 
fucking night.  

They ignored me, all of them, and I just stood in the background 
with nothing to do but watch.  

Watch and appreciate the revelation being shown to me.  
His slim body, smooth pale skin, the lean muscles, 
flat stomach, narrow hips and fantastic ass.  Nice shaped 
cock;  not too big, not to small.  He was nervous;  I saw him 
shiver, whether with fear or because the room was cold, 
I don't know.    He reminded me of a thoroughbred racehorse, 
highly strung, brave and beautiful. I had to turn away and 
breathe deeply, concentrating on not getting hard.  

Looking back it's amazing to realise that in that instant I had 
totally forgotten Mulder.  It was like he never existed.  He was 
standing there as naked as Byers and I never even noticed.

When I turned back Byers was slipping into the hospital gown 
and climbing into the bed.  Mulder and the other gunmen left.  
I think Mulder was kind of pissed that I hardly said goodbye 
or wished him luck in finding Scully.  The truth was that more 
than half my mind was on the man in the bed behind me, 
naked except for a hospital gown. 

The next ten minutes were among the most embarrassing 
and difficult of my life.  Neither of us knew what to say. 
 I guess he was as embarrassed as I was.  Fortunately 
it wasn't long till the backup I'd called for arrived and I 
was able to slip away.  I thought that was the end of it, at
 last as far as the gunmen were concerned.  What I had seen, 
I tried to put it out of my mind.

How wrong I was.  I dreamed about him for the first time 
that night.   And every week or so, ever since, I've dreamed 
about Byers and what I want to do to him.  


*********************************

Last night was typical.  

Like lots of dreams, I don't know how we got to be here, 
but here we are.  Byers is naked underneath me on the bed, 
legs spread wide.  I've got my fingers in his ass, twisting and 
pushing, stretching him.  He's whimpering and wriggling, 
pleading for me to fill him with my cock.   I've got my other 
hand on my own cock, which is hot and hard and ready to go.  
God, am I ready. I want this man more than I've wanted 
nyone else for a very long time.  

I pull my fingers out and grab his legs, pushing them up 
over my shoulders. He gasps, a gasp that turns into a 
shout as I push the head of my cock inside him.  I lean 
forward, taking my weight on my hands each side of his 
body, and push forward slowly and inexorably.  His mouth 
opens in astonishment as he feels the size of my member 
as it fills him.  Even in my dream, my instinct to be careful 
predominates. I'm a big guy, and I've got a big cock. 
 I'm not one to boast (well, not much) and it has been 
known to cause problems.

So I stop and pull back a little and he moans in frustration.  
I push back, in and out again, beginning to thrust gently.  
He grits his teeth in a snarl, his head rolling from side to 
side on the pillow.  "Please ...... " is all he can say.

I thrust a little harder now, a little deeper, into the hot depths 
of him.  His whole body shudders and tenses, squeezing me.  
Instinctively I thrust harder, deeper.  He screws his eyes 
shut and moans again, "Yes, harder!"

I'm nearly there, nearly in as deep as I can.  I take a deep 
breath and push harder.  He yells and spreads his legs 
wider, taking me in.  Out and in again, forcing myself deeper 
into him.  He's so hot, so wet.  One more thrust and I'm there,
 I can feel my balls against his ass and we're joined as 
deeply as it's possible to be.  His eyes open and he gasps 
"Walt ... god, you're in my CHEST!"

Somehow that's like the starting gun to an athlete.  I pull 
back and start to fuck him in earnest.  I push his legs 
further apart so I can lie on top of him, chest to chest.  
I kiss him, my tongue thrusting into his mouth even as my 
cock thrusts into his ass.  His hands grab my shoulders and 
his hips move with mine.  I kiss down his neck, tasting his 
sweat, smelling the waves of heat rolling off him. He's 
magnificent, pure sex, the most desirable man I've ever had.

I'm deep inside him now, impaling him with every thrust.  
His head rolls back and his mouth is open as he pants 
for breath.  He's groaning from deep in his chest, a sound 
that gets higher and more desperate as he gets closer to 
orgasm.  I'm thrusting wildly now, hard as I can, using every 
ounce of my strength and the superior weight of my body to 
ram into him, to fuck him harder than he's ever been fucked 
before.  His fingers dig into my shoulders, his short nails 
raking down my back and encouraging me to even greater 
efforts ... I've never been so hard before, never fucked anyone 
so powerfully before and I'm thrustingthrustingtingthrusting ....

Then he's convulsing under me, screaming, arms and 
legs thrashing as his orgasm hits him.  I feel him clamp 
down on me tightly at the same time as his jet of semen 
hits my chest.  He spasms again and again, then finally 
shudders and goes limp, his eyes rolling back in his head. 
 I come at almost the same time,  biting down hard on his 
neck like a mating stallion as one final glorious thrust 
pushes me through the barrier. I feel myself collapsing 
on top of him as I lose consciousness.

And I wake up here, alone, wet, sticky, empty.  Yes, it was 
just another dream.

Did I say it always ended differently? No, that's not true.
Time for another cold shower, change the sheets, dress,
go to work.  And try to lose myself in my work and stop
thinking about John Fitzgerald Byers.

Until the next time.




END