DISTRIBUTION: Archive/X okay. Any site devoted to Skinner, okay. Anywhere else probably okay, but please ask.
RATING: NC17
SPOILERS: None
KEYWORDS: Slash, Skinner/Mulder
SUMMARY: Mulder makes Walter play a game. Walter likes it.
DISCLAIMER: Skinner and Mulder belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox.
FEEDBACK: Welcome. Send it to geoffrey2@cox.net

THE PIGGY GAME
By Geoffrey
April 25, 1999

"It's a sexy variation on the piggy game."

"What the hell is the piggy game?" I ask, but not gruffly. It's a Sunday afternoon and I have nothing important to do, so I can afford not to be gruff. I'm lying on the sofa in my living room, a pillow tucked comfortably under my head, and my bare feet are crossed and resting on my Mulder's lap.

"Scully says they used to play it when she was a kid. Like this --" he grabs my big toe and gives it a little shake. "Now, you say 'Market.'"

"Market."

Mulder lets go and grabs my middle toe instead. "Now what do you say?"

"I have no idea."

"You say, 'Roast beef.'"

"Roast beef," I say, patiently. Somehow this is leading to sex, and it will probably be worth my while to follow wherever Mulder is traveling.

"Good." He smiles at me, and moves to grip my littlest toe. "Now what?"

"I don't know. What?"

"What do you say for this toe?" He shakes my toe in encouragement.

"I don't know. I don't get it."

"You say, 'Wee wee wee.'"

Comprehension is a scary thing. The nursery rhyme comes creeping out of the depths of memory to settle itself in the foreground of my inner vision, complete with a watercolor image of five little piggies from a book I had as a child. "Oh shit, Mulder. You are weird."

"No, come on. It's fun. You have to see how fast you can go." He grabs my 'piggies' one by one, in order, giving each a little squeeze in punctuation as he quickly says their names. "Market, Home, Roast beef, None, Wee wee wee."

"What do you want me to do? And where does the sex come in?"

"You'll get your sex, but first you have to practice. Say the right name when I grab your piggy." He immediately grabs the fourth toe.

I have to think, and it takes a moment. "None." As soon as I say it, Mulder grabs my big toe. I don't have to think very hard this time. "Market." Now the third toe. I have to start at the beginning of the rhyme and work my way through, so it takes a few seconds. Finally, I'm there. "Roast beef." My pinkie toe. "Wee wee wee," I say instantly, laughing at the silliness of this game.

But the game isn't over. Mulder keeps randomly grabbing my toes, faster and faster, and I struggle through my laughter to say the names. "Home! None! Market! Roast beef! Market! Roast beef! Wee wee wee! None... no wait, Home! None! Wee wee wee! Market... I mean Roast beef! Uuggh! Goddamnit, Mulder... stop!" I pull my feet away from my lunatic lover, and sit up, howling with laughter.

He pounces across the sofa and lands on top of me, peppering my face with kisses. Submitting to the attack, I stop laughing and reach behind his head to grasp the back of his neck, pulling him down for a deep one.

After a minute he groans into my mouth and pulls away, panting. I let him catch his breath, then try to pull him down to kiss again. But he stops me with a hand against my chest. "We have to finish the piggy game."

"Mulder, come on. Feet just aren't that exciting for me." I reach, unsuccessfully, to stop him from standing up. "Come back here."

"It's not about feet, I promise. We need to go upstairs." He grabs my hands and pulls until I am standing with him. "I know you," he continues, bringing me into a close embrace. He puts his mouth next to my ear, and whispers. "Come play with me. I know what you like."

Well, he's proven it in the past, so I follow him. Up the stairs and into the bedroom, where Mulder immediately strips off his clothes.

"Do I take off my clothes too?"

"Yeah. Take them off and get on the bed."

I do as I'm told, and watch while Mulder throws the sheet and quilt off the end of the bed.

"Lie down," he tells me. "On your back."

The pillows are scattered at the head of the bed. I stack all but one in the corner against the headboard to keep them out of the way, and position the one I keep well away from the edge of my side of the bed. I lie down as instructed, adjusting my pillow for comfort, and wait.

Mulder grabs lube out of his bedside drawer and settles down next to me, sitting cross-legged beside my shoulder. "Okay," he says, holding his hand above my face with his fingers outspread. Beginning with his thumb, he wiggles each finger in turn. "Market. Home. Roast beef. None. Wee wee wee. Got it?"

I nod. I get it, but I'm not sure what to do about it. The answer comes as Mulder presses his thumb against my lips, rubbing it from side to side and then pulling my lower lip down, pushing for entry. "You need to learn them. Close your eyes."

I obey. His thumb is in my mouth now, rubbing the top of my tongue. "Suck it," he says, and I do. I pull on his thumb with my lips, and scrape it with my teeth. I bite the thick pad of it, and lick it with my tongue, and try to learn it. It is about three inches long, and has two distinguishable parts. I am thinking of them as a head and a shaft, and I mouth his thumb as I would a toy cock that I desire to pleasure.

He removes it, and rubs the tip wetly across my lips. "Who is this? Which piggy?" The way he says it, 'piggy' is an erotic word, not silly at all.

"Market," I answer.

"Yes. Very good." He pushes a different finger into me now, and I wrap my mouth around it, searching for identification. The tip of my tongue finds metal at the base of the finger, and I know that this is 'None,' the finger that wears the ring I gave him. The idea is a confusing one, that suddenly the finger bearing my ring should have a name and a personality. Maybe it will be my favorite finger, and I twirl my tongue around it, and lick it as tenderly as I can. It is None, the finger whom Walter loves.

None leaves my mouth, and draws a circle around my lips. "Who?" he asks.

"None, None, None, None..." I whisper my response, and wonder if he understands what I feel.

Wee wee wee comes next. Not exactly tiny, but shorter than None and thus identifiable by size. I let it rest gently along my tongue's length, and then draw the tip of my tongue up to feel the grooves that separate the three short sections. In my head, all three sections are named Wee. Wee the First is wider and fatter than his brothers. Wee the Last has a nail on his back. Wee, Wee, and Wee are pulled away through my lips, and as they withdraw I feel the joints that separate them.

"Wee wee wee," I say, before I'm asked.

What the hell. It's Sunday afternoon, and I'm responsible for nothing except lying in bed with my eyes closed, identifying finger piggies with my mouth. Mulder says he knows what I like. I like this, it appears, and I wonder if the revelation should disturb me.

Now I find myself with a mouthful of Roast beef. Roast beef is long; Roast beef tickles the back of my throat, and I relax and swallow, and it is an interesting sensation. Roast beef is shaped more like a tenderloin. Roast beef fucks my mouth and strokes my tongue. I moan, and keep swallowing, and soon I'm shaking my head from side to side because Roast beef is overwhelming me and I can't breathe. And then Roast beef is gone, and I am panting.

"Who?" He insists that I answer, as I catch my breath.

"Roast beef."

"Yes. So this must be..." And he slides the last finger between my lips. I work at the finger, searching for what will make it interesting. At first, nothing. Somewhat like None, only without a ring. This finger bores me. But I think those words, and they play in my mind, and 'bore' becomes an activity, and I see it all from the finger's point of view. 'I am Home. I give you comfort. I am sensitive. I feel the most. I delve into you, knowing you.' So, Home is Mulder. So, I love Home. And when Home pulls away I try to follow, raising my head from the pillow in pursuit. Home touches my forehead, pushing me back down.

"Home." Does Mulder know I am addressing his finger, not merely answering an unspoken question?

"Look at me." I open my eyes, and he is smiling at me. I bask in it; it is a smile of love, not a humorous grin. His hand moves underneath my chin to press against my throat, and his fingers curve around it, gripping me lightly. Owning me. "You got into that. Didn't you?"

I look up at him, watching his eyes watch me. "Yeah," I smile back at him.

"Turn over." He reaches behind to grab a couple of pillows from the pile in the corner. While I'm kneeling he sets them before me, then guides me into position so that I am prone with my ass in the air, supported by the pillows. He situates himself so that I can't see him, but the motion of the bed tells me he is near my legs, doing something with the bottle of lube.

After a few moments, he lays one hand on top of my ass and rubs it from side to side. Then he slides his hand between my cheeks, and pushes his thumb and fingers apart, spreading me wide. I feel my cock twitch, as it always does when I am exposed like this. As he holds me open I will myself to remain still, not to make any movement that will betray my embarrassment. And as always I fail, compelled by my discomfort at being on display to shift my hips just a little. And when he speaks, I imagine I can hear him grinning.

"Here we go, Walter. It's time to play the piggy game."

Immediately he penetrates me, plunging a finger into me and wiggling it around within. "Who is it?"

"Oh, Jesus." The suddenness of his entering me makes me gasp. I guess I'm a fool, because even when he rolled me over I didn't see where it was leading. So this is the sexy variation on the piggy game, and piggies in my mouth was, apparently, just an interlude.

"Nope, not Jesus," he laughs. "Try again." He pulls the finger out and sticks it in again. I don't feel a ring at the base of it. I don't think it's fat enough to be his thumb. He's still poking it in and out, does this a few times before he resumes twisting it around inside me. I pay attention to the length of it, and decide it's his pinkie finger.

But I have to answer with a piggy name, don't I? I complete the rhyme in my mind. "Wee wee wee?"

"Good boy." And Wee wee wee is gone, replaced by another. This one goes deep, stroking in and out of me with a rhythm that calls to mind an image of an oil pump, the kind that cover the desert in southwest Texas. I remember the finger in my mouth that reached deep in my throat, that made me swallow over and over. I imagine for a moment that I'm being fucked by a beef tenderloin with a bone in it. I'm just about to say "Roast beef," when the pump strikes oil, hitting my prostate, making me shout, propelling my hips forward into the pillows. Roast beef is relentless, sliding through my entrance again and again, diving down, nudging the gland with each driving thrust.

I'm humping the pillows, driven by the motion of his finger. "Roast beef... Roast beef... Roast beef...." I huff the words out, and Mulder answers me in the spaces between, saying "Yeah... Yeah... Yeah...."

I'm so hard, my cock is so hard, but suddenly I'm empty. Just for a heartbeat, and then something big and blunt prods at me, pushing into me roughly. I know right away that it is Market, but I don't say so. I want to feel it work at me, opening me wider. Market makes it good for me, pulls out and rubs a callused pad quickly back and forth across my asshole, wearing away lubricant, building up friction and making me hot. This is what I like, and I growl, and push my ass hard against the thumb. Then it penetrates me again, and curves and twists and rotates, rimming the inner edge of the muscle. I cry out, holding still now as Market assaults this sensitive tissue, scratching an itch I didn't know I had. I can't think. I don't want this to end.

But it does. Market leaves me, though not completely, sliding out my asshole and downward to press the flesh between my asshole and balls, rubbing there. I wish I could come, but I know Mulder won't allow it. "Who, Walter? You know who. Tell me."

"Market." I say the name, and Market pulls away. Another finger jams into me, and I feel the gold ring at its base and recognize my beloved. "None," I moan in greeting, and then I'm sorry because None is instantly gone. But it's okay; his ringless twin, Home, replaces him.

And Home is Mulder, and this is Mulder's most sensitive finger, and I think of Mulder exploring me, feeling the bumpy rim of my asshole, feeling the smooth channels of muscle just inside me, feeling the softer tissue deep within. What does he think of me when I'm like this? Why does he give this gift to me? I imagine all of Mulder reduced to the size of this finger, walking up to the edge of me, crawling inside of me, launching an expedition to discover... I don't know... something I contain that's never been discovered before. But I leave that thought behind, and concentrate instead on the motion of Mulder's finger. This one, it comforts me, gentles me. Home.

"Home," I say with a sigh, knowing Home will leave, believing Home is never really gone.

"Okay. You got them all now? Because we're going to do them as fast as you can." He takes a deep breath, and I take one too. "Ready?" I just grunt. "Go!"

This one's easy. "None." It's gone. This one's blunt. "Market." It's not complicated any more. I don't have to think about the rhyme. I know them well; they're friends of mine. This one stabs my prostate, then disappears. "Roast beef." This one's short. "Wee wee wee." This one comes in upside down, and moves with intelligence. "Home." Now they fuck me rapidly, without order. I call their names happily. "Roast beef! Market! Home! None! Home! Wee wee wee! Market! None! Roast beef! Home! Market! Roast beef! Roast beef! Roast beef! Roast beef!"

"Can you come from this, Walter? Huh? Can you? I think you should try."

The Roast beef attack ends as Mulder alternates fingers again. I fuck the pillows and they fuck me. "Home! Wee wee wee! None! Home! Roast beef! Market! None! Market! Roast beef! Home! Wee wee wee! None! Home!" With each cry of 'Roast beef!' comes a shooting pleasure at the base of my cock, and in the end I stop saying their names and just come, shooting my load hard into the softness underneath me. I jack my hips a few times and then collapse with one of Mulder's fingers still inside me, caressing me.

I know it, of course. It is Home. I am Home, Mulder is Home, we are Home. Mulder bends over and kisses my ass, sweetly, and continues the stroking as I try to catch my breath.

"So, do you like the Piggy game?

I reach one arm back and grab him, pulling him up to lie flat beside me. With my other hand I tug the wet pillows out from under me and throw them onto the floor. I am exhausted, and I do these things slowly, but eventually I have hauled myself up enough to lean over him, to look at him, kiss him once, and then fall back down to rest my head on his shoulder.

"See there? I told you I know what you like." He kisses my forehead, and wraps his arm around me.

Piggy game, I think. Yeah. Liked it. Oh, yeah. New friends. Later, when I can talk, I'll tell him all about them.

- end -

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