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