by Sean Spencer
seans13@hotmail.com
 

CATEGORY:  SRA

RATING:  NC-17 Slash (Sk/M)

WARNING:  Explicit but always loving consensual sex between members of
the same sex.

SPOILERS:  none

KEYWORDS:  Skinner/Mulder, Slash

ATXC:  no

ARCHIVE:  yes

SUMMARY:  The six-year honeymoon is over as Mulder and Skinner really
start living together.  Bombers, books and boxes abound.  As do cookies
and chocolate.
 

DISCLAIMER:  Walter Skinner, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are the
intellectual property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions and FOX.
Neither infringement nor copyright is implied or should be inferred
from their use in this work of fiction.  All other characters are mine.
 

The FBI Director Louis Freeh appears here in a FICTIONAL capacity only.
Words coming from his mouth are my creation.
 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I'm back, folks out there in fanfic land.  I now have PC access after a
lull of exactly 27 days.  It's very hard not to have a PC when you have
all these ideas running in your head.  I still have quite a few
Baccarat Fragments and Baccarat Pieces to write but RL and lack of PC
access does get in the way.
 

As in all the other Baccarat Figurines stories, this one begins almost
immediately after Baccarat Figurines III.

Please be reminded that the Baccarat universe veers off after season
two so no Skinner getting nightmares about old nasty ladies while
sleeping with women he picks up in bars(?!), no bathrooms cleaned, and
no mace on his poor face.   Unfortunately, he doesn't get to beat up
Krycek nor cuff him to the balcony.  Mulder likewise doesn't get to hug
and kiss Scully in cold hospital corridors while Scully in this
universe never gets cancer.  Eddie Van Blundht never graces Mulder's
apartment, either.
 

Mulder, however, gets obsessed with Skinner's shoes.
 
 
 
 

CHAPTER ONE

VISIONAL SCAN
 

Walter Skinner regretfully closed the door of their "other" apartment
on the tenth floor.  He then rode up the elevator back to the
seventeenth floor.  He made a few more phone calls, trying to clear up
and understand the mess.  From what he gathered, Ashcraft and his
family with two young girls were away for the weekend.  The bomb was
small, but still did considerable damage to their garage and the girls'
bedroom, which was situated above the garage.  The fire was controlled
now and evidence was being gathered.
 

However, from the initial reports of the bomb squad, the same type of
bomb was used in New York. Furthermore, the small militia group had
called the local police and claimed responsibility for it.
 

Prompt as ever, the security team arrived within the hour as promised.
They did the standard sweep, checking of the phone lines, familiarizing
themselves with the layout of Skinner's apartment and building.  There
were three of them, two of whom the DD knew quite well and had been in
his detail a few months back.  He tried not to flinch as they
thoroughly covered the apartment, looking out the windows to see if
there were any buildings across the street to be worried about.  One of
them was now attaching
surveillance equipment on his phones with the ever amiable
Taylor looking on with interest.
 

This was the first time that any of his bodyguard detail ever came up
here, save for that fateful night with Gutierrez.  He knew that it was
just standard precautions but at the same time, because he had so much
to hide, he just couldn't help feeling somewhat violated.
 

The men were slightly taken aback when Skinner had barked at them when
they even checked Mulder's study.  He was tense that they might find
some implicating things in the mess, that somehow, they might glean
whose room it was because quite a few of the larger books were about
alien encounters, ghosts (a present from Uncle Charles), and crop
circles. There was even a telltale bag of sunflower seeds by the
computer. To Skinner it was as if the whole place had a big sign that
said, "Fox Mulder owns this room!" None of the three men however seemed
to notice those small details.
 

Skinner, of course, was now going back to work. Two of the men led him
to the car. From now on until they decided to lighten up security,
Skinner would always have two security escorts every time he left the
house.  And when he was home, one would always be within the "domicile"
as they called it to check phone calls and people who went to the
apartment while the other one would stay at the apartment entrance to
keep an eye out. The third man, Agent Smith, was their superior and had
just wanted to be filled in on the details of Skinner's household.
 

The next few days kept Skinner on his toes so much that his apartment
was just a place to stay for a few hours of shuteye.  The agent for the
night was given the den to stay in.  Skinner was able to call Mulder
only once at his apartment. The Deputy Director had to use his
cellphone so that security was unaware of the call.  As expected,
during times like these, when they were separated, Mulder buried
himself in work to distract himself. Security was as tight as ever for
the next two weeks.
 

But with his work slowing down as the investigations already had a
momentum of its own, Skinner found himself slumped in the den with a
drink in his hand.  It was already ten in the evening and he sure was
missing Mulder's warm body.  He looked over at the snoring Agent
Delaney and grimaced. Although he was able to establish rapport with
his security men, the most difficult thing to accept was the need for
having these men and women in his apartment during the nights.
 
 

The doorbell rang.  That would be Delaney's replacement. Seeing that
the agent was still snoring away, Skinner resignedly stood up and
answered the door.  He gave a start when he saw that it was Gutierrez.
 

It had been sometime since Gutierrez was assigned to him. He greeted
the agent affably; he was the only one he was really comfortable with
because Gutierrez was the only one who knew about him and Mulder.
Gutierrez seemed mortified to find Delaney sleeping on the job and
kicked the more junior agent's leg impatiently.
 

"Sir, I'm going to be on the night shift every three days," Gutierrez
pointedly said with a solemn face.  He was still shaking Delaney awake.
The more junior agent finally awoke, embarrassed to have been found out
sleeping on the job. Skinner thanked the groggy agent with an ironic
tone in his voice and eagerly saw him off.
 

Gutierrez looked at him expectantly once Delaney left. Skinner stared
back at the agent and thought of what to do. Frankly, all he could
think of was that Mulder had been all alone for the past two weeks
downstairs on the tenth floor.
 

"If you will excuse me, I'll just go down to...to see Mulder," Skinner
said intent on going down to the tenth floor.
 

"But, sir, once you leave this apartment, I'd have to follow you,"
Agent Gutierrez gently reminded him, that his job description at the
moment required that he was to follow the Deputy Director once he left
his domicile.
 

Skinner nodded grimly and picked up the phone instead. Gutierrez
excused himself back to the den and stayed there with Taylor, stepping
out briefly to check that it was Agent Mulder indeed who rang the
doorbell a scant five minutes later. It felt very good to have Mulder
back in Skinner's arms again.
 

By now, Mulder couldn't care less about the presence of another person
in the apartment.  All he wanted was to sleep in his own bed beside
Skinner. The apartment downstairs only had a couch and it was a stark
reminder for Mulder of his living alone in Hegal Place years ago.
 

Once their bedroom door was securely closed behind them,
all clothing was divested as fast as they could and refamiliarizing
with each other's mouths, necks, chests, abdomens, arms, legs, and all
the other important parts ensued. Gasps and groans, clamped down
through clenched teeth, were muted but no less exciting if heard by any
voyeur.
 

Mulder was underneath Skinner in no time, wriggling and writhing as
their union grew more heated. It just felt so good to have this
unexpected rendezvous. As it was, Mulder had been resigned for the past
two weeks that the tightened security was going to last for quite a
while and he was reduced to twiddling his thumbs in front of the small
television downstairs.  That was why he had practically run up here
when Skinner had called to say that it was Gutierrez on duty.  All
reservations about seeing Skinner in the presence of Bureau personnel
were pushed aside because he wanted to banish the hollow feeling he
always had in his stomach whenever Skinner was away from him.
 

Each push and withdrawal of Skinner's member up his nether parts were
eliciting groans, especially the withdrawal part which was the one that
Mulder found was more satisfying. For each pull of his lover's member,
Mulder groaned as he tried to clamp down on him, so that each loved
inch could be gripped.  It drove Skinner wild; he tried to take his
time, but it was all for naught.  He just couldn't help it as the
tactile reality of having Mulder back in his arms was overwhelming him.
He buried his nose in Mulder's hair, wanting more than anything to just
melt into the younger man.
 

"Oh...Fox," Skinner inhaling deeply of his lover's scent.
 

He came before he wanted to, quite aware that Mulder was still to reach
orgasm.  Mulder didn't mind, instead turning in the cramped space
underneath Skinner, the latter's softened moist penis smearing along
his thigh and hip.  It was always made him feel even more special
sometimes when Skinner came before him, because it just meant that
Skinner was so hot for him.  That was always flattering.  Mulder held
his lover close to him as Skinner's own shuddering ceased.
 
 
 

"Sorry about..." Skinner whispered, but Mulder's fingers went over his
lips to shush him.
 
 
 
 

"It's okay," Mulder murmured.  He didn't want Skinner to apologize.
Somehow, they rolled on the bed and Mulder ended up on top, skin to
skin, their hearts thudding in their chests which even seemed to be in
rhythm. Then for the first time in their years together, not counting
the single time when Skinner was briefly selfish when he first became
Deputy Director, the older man fell asleep with Mulder still hard
between them. And for the first time in his life, ever since he had a
sex life, Mulder didn't mind.
 

The agent ached, of course, but just being together was enough for him.
He was, in fact, hungry but he didn't want to go wandering downstairs
where Gutierrez was.  It still gave him the creeps that so many people
were now familiar with their apartment.  Still naked, Mulder
reluctantly got off his sleeping lover and, after cleaning up in the
bathroom, puttered around in Skinner's bureau.  He knew that there were
stashes of chocolates there, which Skinner claimed he kept there for
Mulder's sake, still not wanting to admit that he was a chocoholic.
Mulder grinned when he saw a big bar of Nestle's Crunch.  He also
noticed that the older man's chocolate stash was becoming more
elaborate.  He laughed quietly that there was even a chocolate bunny
left over from last Easter.  Skinner got it bad.
 
 

Mulder went back to bed under the covers.  His erection had now
subsided to a more comfortable proportion and didn't distract him as he
unwrapped the Crunch and broke off pieces as he ate it, watching
television at a low volume.  He was surprised when the chocolate was
all gone in such a short time.  That would only reinforce Skinner's
erroneous observation that it was for Mulder that he kept the treat in
the bedroom.
 

Suddenly, turning his head, the agent noted new lines on Skinner's face
even in repose.  The last two weeks were hard on him, with the
increased workload and the tensions of having to live apart and having
to watch his every move with people perpetually underfoot in the
apartment. Mulder was abruptly aware of Skinner's age and he was
inexplicably upset.
 

The Deputy Director was past fifty now, although he was very fit.
People Skinner's age died all the time, even those who took care of
themselves like his lover did.
 
 

The chocolate was now a leaden weight in Mulder's stomach;
statistically, Skinner would most likely die before him
and leave him all alone. Although the passage of time had been kind to
the Deputy Director, gray strands were now evident in his temples and
on the hair of his chest and pubis. He didn't feel it important to dye
his hair. Right now, the older man was sleeping soundly, buried in the
three pillows he preferred. He had kicked off the covers in slumber and
his well-shaped leg was exposed. Mulder sat up and tenderly put the
covers over him.

It took Mulder a while to get to sleep, his unnamed anxieties eating
away at him.
 

All thoughts of Skinner's mortality, however, were
forgotten early the next morning.  It was still dark outside when
Mulder felt someone nudging him awake.
 

"Fox, hey, Fox," Mulder heard a voice and sat up abruptly, thinking
that he was still in the tenth floor apartment, his head bumping into
Skinner's nose in his haste.
 

"Ow!" the older man exclaimed.  Fortunately, nothing was broken or
bloodied.  Mulder was looking around confusedly then remembered that he
was back in their apartment and that it was five in the morning.
 

"Why'd you wake me so early?" Mulder asked blinking in the lamplight.
 

"Come on," Skinner said, kissing Mulder on the chin.  "The next shift
is at six and you have to get out of here before Gutierrez leaves us. I
want you now, honey.  It'll be two days before we get to be together
again."
 

Mulder kissed Skinner's nose in apology and gasped when he felt the
older man's hand on his penis.
 

"Right there, Walter! Please keep it..." he couldn't finish as his
lover stroked him. Mulder's morning erection was now rock hard under
Skinner's knowing hand. Mulder gave himself up to sensation, vaguely
noting that Skinner had turned back the covers and had lain beside him,
looking down at his body with his hand perpetually busy on the younger
man.
 

It didn't take long for Mulder to get aroused, because he hadn't come
in two whole weeks.  The only person who ever really loved him was now
sitting up on the bed and was reaching for something.  Then Mulder was
suddenly aware of Skinner putting something cold and wet in his hand.
The agent opened his eyes and saw that the older man had put Astroglide
on it. Automatically, Mulder reached down for Skinner and was about to
go for his lover's penis.
 

"No, Fox," Skinner said, taking Mulder's hand and putting it on his own
crotch.  "I want you to make yourself come. I'll watch."
 

"What?" Mulder stared back at him dumbly; it was after all early
morning and his comprehension still left a lot to be desired no matter
how high his IQ.
 

"Make yourself come for me, Fox," Skinner whispered in his ear and
started kissing and sucking his earlobe.
 

Mulder looked uncertainly at the DD.  He'd never masturbated in front
of anyone before, not discounting the times when he'd touched himself
while Skinner was inside him.  Mulder then looked down at his hand
again, which was glistening with the lubricant.
 

"I want to see you come, honey," Skinner repeated.

To speed things up, after all they only had a scant hour, the older man
put his hand on Mulder's and helped him along in the beginning.  Mulder
was doing it halfheartedly, still highly uncomfortable at first.  For
him, masturbation if done by your own hand was a solitary activity, and
having someone watching him, even if it was Skinner, felt as if he was
getting caught, like some immature kid especially with the lights on.
The older man saw that Mulder was again inhibited and thought of
something to do. Skinner stood up and opened the closet door, which had
a mirror on its other side.  He then positioned himself such that he
was leaning against the headboard and gathered Mulder into his arms so
that both of them were visible on the mirror, but Mulder's body was the
one fully visible.
 
 

"I want to see you and I want to you to see yourself, baby," Skinner
urged him.  "Come on, you can do better than that. It's just the two of
us here, like always."
 

"That's it...see how big you're getting..." Mulder had a clear view of
his nude body leaning against Skinner.  He could feel the older man's
erection against his back.  As he started getting into the spirit of
what he was doing, he felt his hand enclose his penis into the most
familiar stroke of all.  Of course, no matter how good one's lover was,
the only one who could stimulate yourself the way you really wanted to
was your own self. He was starting to feel less shy as Skinner
whispered more encouraging words in his ears.  Skinner's tongue licking
his ear also helped a lot.
 

"It's just the two of us here, Fox, and I want you to love yourself for
me," Skinner encouraged the younger man.
 

Skinner smiled kindly at him as he saw Mulder start to squirm against
him, such that his own erection bumped against the agent's back.  He
knew that it was all right when he saw Mulder's eyes closing in
pleasure as he pleasured his own body.  Skinner watched Mulder's hand,
noting how differently each of them held their own members. Mulder was
now furiously masturbating and was quite aroused. Whenever his own eyes
opened, he saw himself, now moist with a fine sheen of sweat, leaning
against Skinner while enclosed in his arms. Skinner reached his hand to
Mulder's scrotum and gently cradled the now swollen testicles.
 

"You're so big now, Fox,"  Skinner murmured into the agent's ear.

Mulder panted as he felt his lover's kind hand on his scrotum, quietly
accepting the way he was stimulating himself.
 

Somehow, being allowed to pleasure, to love himself, while his own
lover was there for him was catching up with Mulder.  It felt
different, but still felt good. Very good.  The agent allowed himself
to gasp and groan without inhibition.
 

"That's it, Fox, that's what I want to hear," Skinner smiled at him
gently, both of them looking in the mirror now. Skinner's other hand
was now reaching for his small nipple. The DD could see Mulder's legs
rigid before him and his toes curling as the his now unsolitary
pleasure was instead making him feel so open and vulnerable but still
oddly cherished.
 

But with his body's needs catching up to the two-week lack of coming,
Mulder felt the pace of his own hand
increasing. He was fully into it now as Skinner cupped
him.  Then he groaned heavily as he had his orgasm.  As he spurted, he
vaguely was aware that Skinner's lips were on his neck. Mulder was
still catching his breath and luxuriating in the feeling of closeness
when he felt Skinner's burgeoning erection.
 
 

"I want you in me now, Walter," Mulder said, glancing at the bedside
clock.  It was weird having to hurry, to have a deadline.  Both of them
shifted positions and Skinner finally had him underneath with his legs
parted.  The mirror was forgotten by this time.  Both of them moaned at
their bodies' joining, and Skinner had to close his eyes as the
pleasure suffused every inch of his being.
 

He ran his hands over Mulder's hair and neck, kissing every inch of the
agent's skin, the skin he could reach.
 

"God, you smell so good," Skinner whispered, his bristling cheek
tickling Mulder's neck.  The pulling and the pushing, the thrusting and
the withdrawing, each of them felt so close to each other.  Finally,
Skinner couldn't take it anymore and grunted as he ejaculated.
 

"Thanks, Fox."
 

They reluctantly pulled apart and Mulder hurriedly took a shower and
got dressed in sweats.  Once out of the bathroom, he saw that Skinner
had put on his dressing gown.
 

"I'll check if the coast is clear," Skinner gruffly said.
 

He went downstairs and saw that Gutierrez still remained in the den.
Mulder followed and before they parted, Mulder kissed the older man.
Skinner didn't miss the agent's creased forehead and the closed
expression on his face.
 

As Skinner shut the door, he shook his head ruefully. Somehow,
everything seemed bizarre.  It was just like in college when he was
sneaking girls out of his room and making sure no one was the wiser for
it.  Here he was fifty years old and he was still essentially at it.
Maybe some things just never change but he was too old for this.
 
 

The frustrations incurred by the present set up suddenly came to a
head. It took all of Skinner's will power to stop from yelling at the
next agent who happened to be there at the wrong place but at the right
time, exactly at six o'clock.
 

Gutierrez scratched his head in extreme puzzlement as it became obvious
that the DD was angry.  Skinner marched upstairs in a huff once the
replacement agent was let in.
 

Gutierrez and Agent Harris then did the drill of handing over the
watch. As Gutierrez left the apartment, he was still going over
everything he did and wondered what went wrong with Skinner. Did he and
Agent Mulder get into a fight?  Did they feel that he invaded their
privacy? After all, he had stayed in the den the whole night. He
wondered if it had been right volunteering for this assignment and
choosing the night shift. When he'd heard that the DD had 24 hours
security, Gutierrez had taken pity on them, especially after seeing
Mulder's morose countenance in the parking lot. Now Gutierrez didn't
know what to feel.
 

CHAPTER TWO

MAGIC SWEETS
 

The close security watch on the Bureau's key personnel lasted for one
and  a half months. Although he was preoccupied with the official
investigation of the militia bombings, Skinner was climbing up the wall
by the first few days and was ready to throttle anyone who crossed his
path. Kimberly was in a tizzy and didn't know why her boss was forever
in a bad mood. It seemed that every time something went wrong, no
matter how minor, Skinner would call her in and reprimand her.
 

Fortunately, Skinner was a fair man and zapped everyone in his way, not
just Kimberly.  It got so that Assistant Directors quaked in their
shoes whenever he called a meeting. Almost every sentence emitted by
the Deputy Director dripped with sarcasm and occasionally, to
Kimberly's dismay, venom.
She had never seen him like this before and surmised that it might be a
mid life crisis.
 

But shouldn't he be past that by now?  When was mid life anyway?  Maybe
it was due to the lack of a wife, she concluded and thought about how
she could remedy this.
 

Nothing worked.  She used to be able to cheer him up by baking her
monster chocolate chip cookies.  Her husband and kids were crazy about
them and to her delight, even her boss was. Giving Skinner one or two
whenever she felt that a bad blow up was forthcoming used to keep the
dark clouds away from his face. Only a few personnel knew of the magic
of her chocolate chip cookies and when Skinner was an AD, Agent Scully
used to supply her with packets of the chocolate chips so that Kimberly
could bake a steady supply of the confection.
 
 

But lately, the cookies seemed to have lost their magic powers.
 

Finally, just when Kimberly was seriously thinking of setting up  her
boss with a blind date, since she was that desperate, a breakthrough
occurred in the militia bombings. It was then that Skinner seemed to
regain his even temper and was back to work with renewed zeal. Although
he worked sixteen to eighteen hour days, paradoxically he was less
grumpy. Even after years of working for him, Kimberly still could not
understand her boss sometimes. And when the suspects were identified
and rounded up, that  was when Skinner started smiling again at her.
She knew that he rarely smiled at other people at work. That was what
made that genuine rare smile so special.

Then when she gave him a whole batch of cookies to take home with him,
and when he really laughed, that was when Kimberly knew that the
cookies were magical again.
 
 

The 24 hour tight security was finally called off. Skinner broke with
his usual caution for once and called Mulder at work down in the
basement to tell him the good news.
 

Scully could see the tension go out of Mulder's shoulders
as he listened over the phone.  She could tell that Mulder was talking
to Skinner, by the way his voice sounded.  She knew about their
intolerable living situation for the past month and commiserated with
him. But it was quite pleasant for her when her partner had to live by
himself in the tenth floor once again. For a while, they got back to
working on their reports late into the night a few times, just like in
the old days. The Pooh bear even looked over them as they worked, just
like when they used to do the same thing in the Hegal Place apartment.
Somehow, it was a nostalgic time in their lives as partners.
 

"I'm glad, Mulder, you can go home now," Scully said to her partner
once the agent put down the phone.  The transformation on his face was
remarkable, she had to admit. His eyes were shining and he wasn't
crouched over the desk in misery like before.  She saw him look at his
watch three times.
 

It was only three thirty.
 

"Okay, Mulder, I'll hold the fort here," she said.  "You go home and
have a good homecoming."
 

"Thanks, Scully, I owe you one," Mulder didn't waste anytime getting
the papers on his desk somewhat straightened and rushed out the door
without pulling on his coat.  She smiled amused that he almost seemed
to run out of the room. She knew about Mulder's and Skinner's problem
of having to sneak around, that they were  only able to meet whenever
Gutierrez was on duty. Kimberly had even called her to find a solution
to Skinner's uncharacteristic bouts of rage at the world but Scully had
to keep her silence.
 
 

"I don't know, Kim, I have no idea why this has been happening," Scully
said innocently, rolling her eyes at Kimberly's simplistic notion that
what her boss needed was a woman.  Scully had wanted to yell at her,
What he needs is a MAN! But she could only sympathize with Kimberly's
plight.
 

After all, she herself had often wondered if she would have found out
about her partner and Skinner if it hadn't been for that car crash. She
could still remember looking dumbly in disbelief at her partner's chart
on that fateful day. Usually, one just overlooked the personal history
stuff; after all, Mulder had a straightforward illness, a flail chest.
However, the portions in the chart she normally skipped suddenly stood
out.  It was the phrase "monogamous" that caused her scanning eyes to
slow down.  What followed, "homosexual relationship, anal receptive
practices" caused her to draw in her breath.  As she walked numbly out
of the ICU and saw Skinner huddled pitifully on the uncomfortable
straight backed chairs, everything fell into place.
 

She only asked Mulder once about why not tell the world who his lover
was, why both Skinner and Mulder felt it important to stay in the
closet.  It was on a case in North Dakota, even before the militia
bombings, where each of them were lonely for their own lovers.  They
had to stay longer than expected in another backwoods town. They were
in a greasy spoon, with Scully's upper lip curling in distaste at the
booths, the yellowed menu, the smell of the place.  But they had no
choice. Both of them were tired, there was no place else to go at this
time of night.   And both of them were looking at their rings from time
to time, Scully at her wedding ring on her  left hand ring finger,
Mulder at his signet ring on his left little finger.
 
 

"Why, Mulder?" Scully asked suddenly, staring into space.
 

"Why what, Scully?" Mulder queried, after a full thirty seconds of also
staring into space.  He was trying to integrate the evidence they'd
gone through a few hours ago and Scully's sudden question caught him in
the middle of thinking about the way the bodies were buried.
 

"Why don't you and Skinner come out?"  Scully finally said. "Isn't that
what everyone seems to be doing nowadays? Wouldn't it be easier for
both of you if you could go where you wanted all the time, touch each
other all the time and all that?"
 
 

Suddenly she felt like crying, feeling so sorry for her friend and her
former boss.  They were both good men, doing so much good in the world,
not harming anyone except for occasional ego bruisings by Skinner on
the rest of the Bureau. And they couldn't even walk down the street
with their hands clasped in each other's, just like she and John always
did and took for granted. They also had to watch their backs, and every
move in the "straight" world had to be carefully thought out.  She knew
she was just missing her own husband in this time of night, in this
hole in the wall town, that this was a case of transference if she ever
saw one. But for the first time since the day she learned about Mulder
and Skinner, she suddenly had a small inkling of what they really had
to go through everyday.
 
 

"I don't want to talk about that right now," Mulder said, a grim tone
creeping into his voice.
 

"I'm sorry, Mulder," Scully said as their awful food came. "I know it's
too personal a decision to talk about here in North Dakota."
 

She didn't know that she'd touched off a minefield just then. For the
rest of the next few days, when both of them were stretched to the
limit in this boring town, with its boring people and that Godawful
motel, with the dumb sheriff, Mulder was short with her. She knew that
it was her fault so she just remained as cool as she could.  But on the
way back home to DC, in the close confines of the plane, Mulder had
apologized and confided that it was even harder to come out now than
when Skinner was an AD.  No matter how tolerant people seem to be, no
matter that they say it doesn't matter, Mulder will still be looked on
as someone Skinner seduced in the past and was only keeping the X-files
because of the protection afforded by Skinner.
 
 

"We have to go around the country all the time, meeting with the
regional Bureau personnel, Scully," Mulder continued. "I already have a
hard enough time sometimes convincing them to listen to what I have to
say. To them I'm just Spooky, with a reputation as you so aptly put it.
Once everyone finds out that the Deputy Director sleeps with me, it
would be the end of dealing with anyone on an equal level.  Maybe it
would be different if we just deal with ordinary crimes. But being with
the X-files involves enough weirdness in itself and we get a hard
enough time getting an adequate budget."
 

They made up on the flight and Scully felt comfortable with him again.
She knew better now than to ask about very sensitive and personal
issues in the dead of night, in the middle of nowhere.
 
 

Ever reliable John was at the gate and Scully had a happy reunion with
her husband.  The wistful expression on Mulder's face caught her eye as
he looked on as she and her husband kissed.  Although she was happy to
be home, it again struck her how difficult it must be for Mulder.
 

"Agent Mulder," both he and Scully whirled at the familiar voice.
Skinner stood by an "Authorized Personnel Only" door. The
transformation in Mulder's face was remarkable. Although the Deputy
Director was trying to appear businesslike, Mulder's face was smiling
at the pleasant surprise.
 

"Agent Scully," Skinner nodded at her courteously but she could see the
glint of humor in his eye.  "Agent Mulder and I have to discuss proper
procedures.  We'll just pass through
here if you don't mind.  After all, what's the use of being DD if you
can't have access to security corridors?"
 

Scully could see them through the small glass window.
She didn't miss her partner putting his arm around the Deputy
Director's shoulder just before they turned the corner.
 

CHAPTER THREE

TELEPATHIC SEX AND TAILORING TAYLOR
 

Mulder had his hips on the pillows.  His legs were against Skinner's
heaving sides.  It was wonderful to be back in their apartment.  They
had an early dinner and were continuing to celebrate being back
together.
 

"Walter.." Mulder grimaced with pleasure and his eyes closed. Skinner
was pumping in and out of him and Mulder could only hold onto his
lover's broad shoulders. Skinner pulled his upper body away from the
younger man and looked down between them.  The agent was close to
coming but Skinner wasn't.
 

"Fox. . ." Skinner murmured to writhing man beneath him. The younger
man was now arching his hips off the bed as he wanted to present more
of himself, to give more of himself to his lover. Skinner put a firm
but gentle grip at that spot on Mulder's penis, just before he knew
that Mulder was going to come. Mulder shuddered underneath him as
Skinner managed to delay Mulder's orgasm.
 

"Fox--tell me what you feel," Skinner stopped all movement and looked
down at the agent.  Mulder's eyes opened, his chest heaving.  Walter
was doing it again, he thought.  He sometimes surprised Mulder right in
the middle.
 

"W-what?" Mulder gasped, shifting his hips so that Skinner would
continue.
 

"I want you to tell me exactly what this feels like for you," Skinner
made a deep very slow, very, very slow thrust. Mulder's breath caught
in his throat as his back arched. "Come on, Fox, I want some
adjectives."
 

"Close--God, Wal--!"
 

"What else, Fox, the way it exactly feels I want. . ."
 

"Full stretched out, aaah.."
 

"Big..thick..long.."
 

Each adjective that came from Mulder's lips was rewarded by a slow deep
thrust from the older man.
 

"Warm..no, hot!"
 

"Heavy..uuh.."
 

"Am I too heavy?" Skinner's concentration wavered for a minute,
concerned that he was crushing Mulder too much.
 

"N-no.!  Don't..I meant a nice heaviness...a pleasant.. .aaaah. . .!"
 

"Feels good. . ."

"Fox, you have to do better than that," Skinner teased lightly.  He was
sweating by now, but he liked the way Mulder seemed to get wilder.  It
did indeed feel so good when they were together like this, especially
with Fox being so out of control while he was in control.
 

"What's all that..aaah!" Another thrust. "..education for?"
 

"I..feel wanted..feel needed.."
 

"You got that..right,"  Skinner grunted.  God, how he needed him, not
just now but for the rest of his life.
 

"Open..safe..protected..loved!"
 

It was too much for Mulder.  He could feel Skinner's slick hand  on his
raging penis and he tried to reach Skinner's ass to drive him even
deeper.  His back arched, his neck arched, his hips snapped off the
bed. The bedsheets were hopelessly rumpled, with a lot of it under
Mulder's frenzied grip.  He groaned wordlessly when he felt Skinner
occasionally brushing his nipple with the same slick hand.
 

The older man could see the cords on his neck, taste the faint
saltiness of his skin, feel the long muscles underneath him tensing up,
hear the frantic whimperings and smell the spicy scent Mulder only
released just when he was about to come.  Skinner had them at an
agonizingly slow pace as he savored the effect each thrust had on the
younger man.  It was so wonderful to be the only one able to give
Mulder this pleasure, which in turn heightened his own pleasure a
hundredfold.  The agent groaned heavily as his orgasm was triggered.
 

Mulder couldn't speak anymore.  He felt like his coming would never
stop. Skinner held him close, feeling the wetness and warmth between
their bodies.
 

"Walter, aaahhh. . .!"
 

Just before Mulder finished, Skinner released his own warmth and
wetness, his life, into his lover's soul.
 

Both of them shuddered in completion and Skinner collapsed onto Mulder.
After a while, they showered heated kisses on each other and Skinner
never felt so privileged in his life. Mulder's sharing of himself at
this most intimate moment, what he felt like when Skinner was in him,
when they were one, that was the closest another person can feel
without telepathy.
 

They cleaned up after that, removing the evident traces of their love,
the semen, the lubricant.  After a minute, Mulder rushed to the
bathroom and used it.  The agent was pleasantly tired when he got back
to bed, but to Skinner his expression was unreadable. Maybe he was
coming back to his own self, Skinner surmised.
 

But Mulder brightened when Skinner whispered, "Oh, how I love you,
honey.  Thank you, Fox."
 
 

Just as predictable as ever, Mulder went off to dreamland in a short
time.  Skinner reached for his briefcase, which was just at the
bedside, put on his glasses, turned on the bedside lamp and worked with
the television at a low volume.
 

Although he didn't know it, his concentration was much better after
having sex.  He could plow through a stack of papers in nothing flat
when he worked in bed.  He just had to be vigilant when Mulder rolled
over in his sleep. More than once, he'd had to hand over a bunch of
crumpled papers to Kimberly.
 

After a while, Skinner paused and listened. There was a scratching on
the door.  He stood up and let Taylor in. The dog circled once, then
twice, then slept on the floor near Skinner's side of the bed.

...........
 

"We have to, Walter," Mulder said, although his voice wasn't as firm as
he'd like it to be.
 

"I told you, no!" Skinner sat stubbornly in the living room, refusing
to look at Mulder.
 

"We've talked about this before," Mulder repeated.  "It's getting
worse.  What if something happens next time?"
 

"I've thought about it, just as much as you have," Skinner wanted to
shout, but he gritted his teeth to keep his voice in an even tone.
 

"Walter.. ."
 

"No, I said!"
 

"But...will you listen?"
 

"Let's talk about it another time!"
 

"You said that last time.  I just want you to listen to the voice of
reason," Mulder persisted.  It didn't escape his notice that Skinner's
legs were crossed.
 

The object of their argument was seated on the floor by Skinner's feet.
Skinner balefully looked at Taylor, whose wagging tail thumped
rhythmically on the carpet.
 

Mulder sighed and sat down, his shoulder slumped. Sometimes, it was so
hard arguing with Skinner, but this was one thing he was almost
vehement about.  He scratched his sweaty hair, pulled at his sticky T-
shirt and looked at the scratches on his bare arm.  His present grubby
state was courtesy of the dog.  Mulder did his usual evening run with
Taylor and everything was okay until the dog became amorous and run off
when Mulder had sprained his foot. Mulder had tried his best to search
for the dog but after an hour, with his ankle swelling, he had to call
it quits and went back home.  He spent the next three hours calling the
dog pound, hoping that Taylor might be there.
 

Fortunately, an irate dog owner a few blocks away made a
call.
 

Mulder was just too grateful to have the dog back and had rescued
Taylor.  So when Skinner got home that night, he saw Mulder slumped
angrily on the couch with his leg in ice, looking at Taylor.
 
 

It wasn't the first time that happened, of course. Taylor had been
giving them problems lately.  He more than once delayed their leaving
the cabin when he'd run off again and he took his own sweet time
getting back there.  Mrs. Jackson had complained that she couldn't
handle him anymore in their morning walks.  It was then that Mulder had
mentioned the word "NEUTER".
 

Skinner was shocked at first.  The dog he had as a boy never underwent
that procedure because he lived in the old house, where there was lots
of space and it was generally a safer world.  He knew that Mulder was
right; a very nice, friendly and healthy dog like Taylor could easily
be dognapped in the city no matter how careful they were. Furthermore,
they were living in an apartment where
Taylor was confined at home for hours. But every time Mulder brought up
that "N" word, Skinner could only cringe.
 

Mulder had put off the old argument and had given cold hard facts for
Skinner's consumption. Somehow, despite all his dog training books, he
never got around to reading the chapters on neutering and spaying.
Mulder searched the Net and printed out some information that showed
how dogs didn't suffer, only benefited from the surgery, easier to
handle, etc.  Skinner read his report, of course, but still put off
thinking about it.
 
 

So now, he was avoiding the issue again.
 

"Will you stop crossing your legs!" Mulder said in irritation.  "You're
projecting your own castration anxieties on your dog, Walter."
 

"Don't use your psychology on me, Fox," Skinner threatened, although he
uncrossed his legs ever so slowly.  "Just because it's convenient for
us doesn't make it right for Taylor."
 

"Of course it's not right but it's the only solution, save giving him
away to some little kid in the suburbs," Mulder drew a deep breath. "I
guess it's just a stupid mistake on my part, as usual.  I should have
gotten you a smaller dog, maybe even a bitch."
 

"Fox, don't go on one of your guilt trips again," Skinner admonished.
As usual, the agent was turning the issue round and round and upside
down until he was the one at fault again.
 

"What if we visit the vet and discuss it with him?"  Fox didn't show
how glad he was that his little ploy worked. Making it his fault never
failed to get his way with Skinner. And talking to experts, in this
case, the vet, always seemed reasonable enough to Skinner.
 

An appointment was made and both of them trooped to the vet with Taylor
in tow.  Skinner was crossing his legs again as he listened to the vet
and Mulder had wiggled his eyebrows at him when he didn't miss those
legs. Skinner forced himself to uncross his legs, annoyed with himself.
Mulder finally cheered when the vet mentioned that neutered dogs had
twice as long a lifetime as intact dogs.  It was then that Mulder
really saw that Skinner's interest was peaked.
 

The vet even made arrangements for putting Taylor to stud for a couple
of months so that his good genes could continue in future lab puppies.
After all, Taylor came from a long line of dog show winners.  That was
something that clinched it for Skinner.  He really was projecting too
much of himself on the dog, Mulder thought in amusement.   So, for the
next few weeks, various female labs were graced with Taylor's eager
presence.
 
 

Finally, the big day arrived and Skinner took Taylor back to the vet.
Mulder accompanied the DD, in case Skinner fainted at the prospect of
his dog actually undergoing that irreversible procedure.  Overall,
however, Skinner behaved impeccably and Mulder didn't have to carry him
home.
 

Taylor stayed overnight for observation and once back home, he had it
easy with Skinner making sure he took his medicine and not taking his
usual long walks. When there was evidence that the roaming and mounting
behavior ceased, Mulder eventually breathed a sigh of relief that the
neutering was successful.
 
 

CHAPTER FOUR
 
 

WARDROBE WORD-OF-MOUTH WONDERMENT
 
 

Mulder was seated on the floor.  He was sorting out the old clothes
stuffed in the closet in his study.  Spring cleaning finally couldn't
be put off anymore.
 

Actually, it was the first time they were going to do spring-cleaning
even if they've been here in the Crystal City apartment for years now.
Mrs. Jackson already finished with the kitchen things and Skinner
already sorted through the closets in their bedroom. Mulder was now
doing the tail end of the cleaning by choosing which clothes were
headed for charity.
 
 

He was still scratching his head at the piles of clothes he seemed to
have accumulated through the years. Considering that he rarely went
shopping for things, he couldn't figure out how he had so much.  And
for the life of him, he couldn't understand how he could have so many
black sweaters and black jeans.  He even had three sweaters of an
identical shade of blue and two yellow sweaters.  The old sweats he
used for running years ago was making a respectable pile of clothes
that had to be thrown away.  The two leather jackets he kept.
 

He used to like leather jackets because it made him look good and
Skinner couldn't resist him so much when he wore them.
 

He returned the jackets and the least faded pair of
black jeans and the best looking black sweaters. Those he would keep.
After all, it was always fun seducing Skinner. All he had to do was
wear the black get up and muss up his hair a little and stick out his
lower lip.  Such an attitude never failed to produce the desired
effect. But of course, he could only muss up his hair effectively if it
was cut short; the older man didn't like his hair mussed when it was
too long.
 

Skinner never had to wear anything special to seduce Mulder, however.
All he had to do was get dressed in his usual going to-work clothes and
put on his eyeglasses and it was enough to get Mulder's hormones
racing. And of course, he hardly had hair to muss.
 

He saw a blue baseball cap in the corner of the closet. The white
initials of NICAP suddenly reminded him of the early years with Scully.
They had a lot of arguments then with Scully not as tolerant of his
ideas as she was now.
 

All the socks with holes and all the old underwear were put in the pile
of clothes to be discarded.  Some of the T-shirts that could still be
used went to the charity pile.
 

After going through the closet, Mulder went over to the shelves by the
wall.  He really had to get rid of some of the books here to make way
for the new pile that just kept accumulating on his desk.
 
 

He was about to go over the books when he saw his fox and soldier
collection, still on the top two shelves, still important to him.
 

He paused and looked them over, one by one.  It was a feat for him that
the whole collection was still complete,
intact after all these years, with not one piece bearing a scratch. He
fingered each one, remembering somewhat vaguely when Skinner had sent
each one to him.  The very first one was the small porcelain fox,
Lladro, with the characteristic whimsical appearance of that porcelain
manufacturer.  He only later found out how difficult it was to look for
foxes. Skinner had said that most of the figurines were wolves or dogs
and very few were foxes. Mulder never knew the effort that each
purchase of the fox figurines took on Skinner's part.
 

The soldiers of course were easier to find with varying sizes and
colors.  Some were antiques while the others were stylized and modern.
Mulder remembered how excited he was when the first fox arrived in the
mail.  Then when the packages came with regularity, always after coming
home from an out of town case, he started looking forward to going home
to that dank, dark apartment.  Of course, the Pooh bear wasn't here. He
kept it in the drawer of his night stand table. It was never far from
him, just the same way that Skinner was never far from him when they
slept together.
 
 

Mulder suddenly recalled how carefully he packed these when he thought
he was returning them to Skinner for good.  Even with all the turmoil
and anguish he felt that time, he couldn't throw them against the wall
and reduce them to fragments of porcelain, crystal or wood. Instead,
he'd packed them one by one, painstakingly wrapping each and making
sure the pieces weren't broken when he'd dropped them off at Skinner's
doorstep that night.
 

"I see you're finally clearing up your closet."
 

Mulder turned his head to the voice at the door and shook his head
sheepishly at Skinner.  They didn't go to the cabin this Saturday
because they agreed that Mulder should do his spring-cleaning.  The
older man was still in his usual white shirt and tie because he'd gone
to the office for the morning; he'd already done his cleaning. He
grinned when he saw that a lot of space was cleared from
the closet.
 
 

Then he casually reached into his pocket and took out a small box.
 

"Oh, I saw this at the mall," Skinner said, handing the package to
Mulder.  "I just had to buy it because you know how hard it is to get."
 

The box was Baccarat again; inside, cushioned on the flat piece of
cotton, was a tiny but unmistakable fox, not a wolf, not a dog, but a
fox.  Mulder carefully placed it on the shelf beside the others and
then launched himself on Skinner
 

"Thank you," he said, then he grabbed Skinner's chin and kissed him
deeply.
 

Mulder's sudden move overbalanced them both and Skinner fortunately
landed on the pile of discarded clothing, which was enough to cushion
his fall.  Skinner wondered what brought this along but he wasn't
complaining.
 

Mulder was kissing him and the older man just opened his mouth and
moaned as the agent's inquisitive tongue was now in his mouth, lazily
going over his palate and teeth. Then he felt Mulder continue his
kissing.  On his jaw, lingering on his neck and then he felt his tie
being loosened.  It was such an unexpected and pleasant windfall that
Skinner didn't mind that Mulder was going so fast.
 
 

"Fox. . ." he breathed and closed his eyes as the younger man
unbuttoned his shirt and ran a wet tongue onto  his nipple. Mulder was
fumbling with his belt now while kissing the flattened scar on his
abdomen.  The trousers were going to be creased but at this point,
Skinner wasn't worried about that.  In no time, Mulder's mouth was on
him and was eagerly suckling his growing erection.
 
 

The agent's warm, enthusiastic mouth was too much for Skinner and he
was now panting helplessly as he was brought to heights of sensation.
He squirmed as the persistent tongue stayed on that special spot, that
sensitive vein just underneath his member.  He felt his hips lifting
off the floor involuntarily as he offered more of his body to Mulder's
mouth. Skinner's consciousness was reduced to the very concentrated
area of nerves of his penis.  In no time, he was coming, groaning and
moaning as his semen was swallowed by Mulder.
 
 

"As I said, thanks for the fox," Mulder grinned and lay on top of
Skinner as the older man was catching his breath. The agent continued
to kiss Skinner, sharing his own taste with him.
 

"I like surprises, Fox" Skinner chuckled; his heart was continuing to
hammer in his chest. "But this one takes the cake."
 

The agent smiled and hugged the older man.  This time, he didn't even
have to wear his black getup.
 
 

CHAPTER FIVE

TUXEDO BEEF
 

Walter Skinner glanced at the clock on the dashboard and cursed
silently to himself.  He was very late.  It was already seven p.m. and
he still had another stupid dinner tonight.  To top it off, his blind
date had canceled at the last minute and he would have to go alone
again.  He hated these dinners but he hated it more if he had to go
stag.
It didn't help any that Agent Delaney was driving so slow.
 

Skinner drummed his fingers on the armrest, hoping that Delaney would
take the hint.
 

Delaney finally pulled up to the drive and the DD almost leapt out of
the car.  Delaney was supposed to wait and take him to the dinner.
Skinner was already unknotting his tie in the elevator.
 

He hurriedly shed his topcoat and suit jacket and went upstairs.  He
didn't even have time to greet Mulder, who he assumed was in the den
from the way the television was blaring.
 

Skinner hurriedly freshened up in the bathroom, splashing water on his
face and neck, brushing his teeth and gargling some mouthwash.  He
stripped to his underwear and flung open his closet.  That was when he
realized he was in trouble.
 

His tuxedo wasn't in the closet.
 

Skinner drew a deep breath and checked again, methodically going
through each plastic covered suit from the laundry. Still somewhat
hopeful, he
checked Mulder's study, in case the agent left it there. Still no tux.
 

Inwardly, he was beginning to seethe.  He rushed downstairs and in the
dining room, he saw that Mulder had set two places for dinner.  That
was when he knew he was not just in trouble, but in big trouble.
 

"Fox!" he barked on his way to the den.  The television was at maximum
volume but the agent was asleep on the couch. Skinner roughly shook
Mulder's shoulder.
 

"Didn't you get my tuxedo from the cleaners?"
 

"What?" Mulder asked.
 
 

"I have a dinner tonight.  Didn't I tell you to pass by the cleaners on
your way home?  I told you I might be late."
 

"Shit!" Mulder clapped a hand to his forehead. "I thought your dinner
was tomorrow!  I'm sorry, Walter!"
 

"Well, sorry's not good enough, Mulder," Skinner was gritting his teeth
in frustration.  "Now, how am I going to attend that dinner?"
 

Mulder warily eyed the older man.  He knew that his lover was hopping
mad, from the way he had used his last name to the color of his scalp.
 

"I told you, I'm sorry," Mulder calmly repeated.
 

"I'll call to see if they're still open."
 

"You very well know that the cleaners close at seven," Skinner said.
"Fox, I just asked you for one thing today, that you get that damn
tuxedo.  That was all I asked of you!"
"

I'm sorry, Walter," Mulder said evenly.
 

"Why'd you forget?" Skinner growled.  "It's a simple thing. I said to
get it after work!"
 

"Didn't you hear me?!"  Mulder started yelling. "I. . .AM. . .SORRY!"
 

Mulder stormed out of the den and Skinner heard the front door slam.
 

Skinner reached his breaking point.  If it was one thing he couldn't
stand, it was someone in the wrong yelling righteously at him. All he
could think of was that it was an important dinner, he had no date, and
he was going to be very late from the way things were going and no tux.
Plus Mulder yelling at him.
 

Skinner then stomped up the stairs, making sure that he made a lot of
noise doing so.  He was muttering to himself as he got dressed.  He
would just have to use his darkest suit.
 

"Spoiled rotten." Skinner muttered.  "Can't even remember the simplest
things. . .selective amnesia."
 

He was just tucking his shirt into his trousers when Mulder
came into the bedroom and threw a tuxedo at him. Skinner grabbed it
before it fell to the floor.
 

"That's from the guy at 1401," Mulder said tightly, refusing to look at
Skinner.  "It's clean.  I'm sure you won't get cooties from it. You
have the same size."
 

The agent left the room.  Skinner grudgingly looked over 1401's tux and
noted that it was newer than his.  Seeing that he had no choice, he put
it on.  Before he left for the dinner, he checked and realized that the
apartment was empty.  Mulder and Taylor were both gone.
 

The dinner was barely tolerable, of course. Skinner had to endure the
empty seat beside him and the person on his right was boring as hell.
The whole evening was boring as hell. Likewise, the food was atrocious,
something the chef was very proud about, something that was supposed to
be fish and "Californian", that was some sort of blend of Japanese and
Italian spices.  He left as soon as was decently possible.
 

Skinner got home to the dark apartment and tossed his keys onto the
sideboard.  The bedroom was dark as well, which was unlike Mulder who
usually left a small lamp burning when Skinner was going to be late
getting home. So when Skinner turned on the lamp, he was not surprised
to find the bed empty of Mulder.  Instead, the bed had his tuxedo on
it, still in the plastic bag from the cleaners. Skinner hissed through
his teeth and rolled his eyes, surveying the empty bed.  He got out of
his borrowed tuxedo and went to look for Mulder.
 

He thought Mulder would be in his study, but the couch there was empty.
Skinner shook his head as he headed for the den. He relaxed a little
when he heard Taylor's familiar snuffle when the dog looked up as the
light from the hallway gave a faint glow into the dark den.  Mulder was
asleep on it with the spare blanket, the blanket that Michelle Lister
used a few months ago, covering even his head.
 

It must be uncomfortable on the couch since it was shorter than Mulder
was, whose body's outline under the blanket revealed how scrunched up
he was.  Skinner thought for a minute and then reached down and gently
shook Mulder's shoulder.
 

"Come on, Fox, let's get to bed," Skinner whispered.  The agent didn't
even look up from his cocoon, just squirming away from Skinner's hand
on his shoulder.
 

"No," the muffled voice insisted from under the blanket. Mulder's
refusal just irritated Skinner and added more fuel to his already bad
temper. He'd be damned if he was the one going to apologize.  After
all, who was the one who forgot the tuxedo that he had to wear some
stranger's tuxedo?
 

"Suit yourself," Skinner angrily muttered and walked out of the den and
shut the door behind him.
 

When Skinner woke up the next morning at his usual early hour.  By the
time he left for work, Mulder was still presumably sleeping in the den.
The workday kept him so busy that he didn't have time to think about
their fight.
But as soon as he got home, Mulder still wasn't there. Taylor was
already antsy so Skinner went out with him for the evening walk.  It
was already seven when he got back but the answering machine had no
messages from Mulder. After dinner, Skinner worked on his papers but at
nine, still no Mulder. He usually called if he was going to be later
than expected. So at ten, Skinner finally folded and called Scully.
 

"Uhm, Agent Scully, you aren't working late on something with Fox. .
.Mulder are you?" Skinner cleared his throat.
 

"No, sir," Scully answered.  "He left work at five.  We just did some
reports today; we don't have any new cases lined up, sir."
 

"Thanks," Skinner said.
 

"Is there anything you'd want me to do?" Scully offered.
 

"Just call me if he calls you," Skinner said, uncomfortable that Scully
had to know that they were in the midst of a fight.  He shouldn't have
allowed Mulder to sleep in the den.
 

If there was one thing they always said, it was to resolve a fight
before bedtime.  He didn't do that last night.  Instead, it had just
simmered the whole day between them.
 

It was almost midnight when Taylor pricked his ears at the sound of the
front door opening. Skinner checked from the landing of the stairs and
saw that it was indeed Mulder.
At least from what he could see, Mulder hadn't been drinking.
 

"Hi," Mulder said to him tightly as he peeled off his coat. Instead of
going up as he should, the agent headed for the den.  It seemed he
intended to continue last night's melodrama.  "If you must know where I
was, I was at the movies."
 

Skinner followed Mulder into the den.  Once inside, the agent remained
a distance from him and remained standing with his arms crossed over
his chest.
 

"So you're planning to stay here tonight again?" Skinner asked, trying
to sound casual about it. The younger man nodded but stayed where he
was.
 

"Shouldn't we talk about this?" the DD sighed as he sat
down.  Mulder remained silent.  "Should I begin?"
 

They usually tried to end their rare arguments with one party telling
his side of the story.
 

"You always do," Mulder finally said in a low voice.
 

"Well. . ." Skinner began. "I was already late and Amy called and said
she was not going to make it so when I got here and. . .found that the
tuxedo was gone, I guess I just blew up."
 

Mulder drew in his breath.
 

"I'm not mad about that stupid tux," Mulder said.  "You and I know that
I made an honest mistake about forgetting to go to the cleaners. But I
really hated the way you made me feel."
 

Skinner paused, looking up at Mulder.  He thought it was going to be a
bratty spiel on Mulder's part.
 

"I already told you I was sorry, four times I told you," Mulder said,
in that same low angry voice. "But you just kept harping on it.  Didn't
you think I didn't know about how frantic you were, that you were going
to another hated dinner without the proper clothes?  I knew, and I also
knew that the cleaners were already closed.  You didn't have to dig it
in.
 

"It's just that when we're in an argument, you're always right and I'm
always wrong," Mulder finished.  "I'm always the one who does the
stupid, dumb things while you're always doing the correct thing.  It's
like you're still the AD while I'm the green agent.  It's always like
that, isn't it? Is it because you have this power over me?"
 
 

Skinner was appalled when he saw Mulder how furious Mulder was.
 

"What power?"  Skinner managed to say.
 

"Maybe it has a lot to do with the fact that I'm much younger than you,
that I'm lower than you in the totem pole in the Bureau, that I have
less money than your little pinkie, that I'm always the bottom, that I
reveal more of myself to you when we make love, that you clean me up
after we make love.  Maybe it has a lot to do with me sometimes not
even being able to control myself in bed that my SHIT gets all over the
place. . .that you always have to rescue me from men from the beach and
the Safeway and the drive-in, that you always bring me home from the
hospital, that you always take care of me.
 

"THAT...I.AM.. .NOT...YOUR...EQUAL!"  Mulder finished with his voice
raised.  He got out of Skinner's reach when the older man attempted to
take him into his arms.  "Don't touch me! Stay away from me!"
 

The older man found himself leaving the room, ironically following
Mulder's entreaty. Skinner's mind was in turmoil, wondering why Mulder
would ever feel that way. He composed his thoughts like always and
tried to think of what to tell Mulder.
 
 

After a few minutes, he returned to the den, hoping that Mulder's anger
had dissipated. Skinner found the agent with his head in his hands.
When Mulder looked up, Skinner found that his eyes were dry with two
patches of color on his cheeks.
 

"You're perfectly right, Fox," Skinner began. "That you're not my
equal."
 

Mulder flinched.
 

"You're not my equal because you infinitely mean more to me than I do
to myself, Fox,"  Skinner's voice shook with emotion.  "I feel the need
to take care of you, to protect you, to love you. . .because as I wrote
in that letter years ago, you're precious to me.  Please. . .I just
want you to remember that I wrote that because I meant it.  I'm sorry
if my need to take care of you makes you feel stifled.  I'm sorry about
the way I made you feel when I got mad about that damned tuxedo."
 

Skinner couldn't continue.  He brushed angrily at the tears that
threatened to overflow.  All he could think of was how angry both of
them were, of how Mulder could think that way of him, of how Mulder
could think that of his own self.
 

"Walter," Mulder said.  "I didn't mean to make you cry."
 

Skinner nodded grimly and Mulder heard him go up the stairs.
 

Now, Mulder didn't know what to feel.  He just made the older man cry
and that never happened before. Skinner also apologized to him, and
that in itself was rare.  And Skinner had practically told him in his
own words about how he felt for the agent, instead of having a head
start and writing it down on paper like he did before.
 

And it all started because of one STUPID tuxedo.
 

It was usually Mulder that was hurt when they had these pointless
arguments and it was usually Skinner who came to him and made it up to
him. Now it was his turn.  Maybe he was getting better at this; he'd
stopped clamming up and keeping all the hurt inside like he used to do.
It just so happened that unleashing it hurt Skinner in turn.
 

Mulder went upstairs but into his study first. He unlocked the bottom
drawer, where he kept things even from the older man.
 

It contained rough drafts of the revision of his will, Samantha's pink
bunny that she had when she was a
baby, the baseball his dad had given one Christmas but they never
played catch with, letters from Phoebe when they used to write to each
other, all the birthday and Christmas cards from his mom, and the most
prized of all, Skinner's letter on their fifth year anniversary.
 

While all the letters in the drawer were still in their envelopes and
were now yellowed with age, Mulder had kept this one in a clear plastic
sheet to preserve it forever from greasy fingers and spills.
 

He read the letter again and then returned it into the bottom drawer of
his desk before locking it.  When he got to the bedroom, Skinner was
buried in his pillows.
 

Mulder crawled into bed a few minutes later.
 

"Apology accepted," Mulder whispered as he kissed Skinner's neck
because his back was turned away from him.
 

Skinner turned on his back and looked at Mulder. They kissed
again. They held each other as they finally fell asleep.
 

END OF BACCARAT FIGURINES IV (1/3)

BACCARAT FIGURINES IV (2/3) by Sean Spencer
seans13@hotmail.com
 
 

DISCLAIMER IN PART ONE
 

CHAPTER SIX

PURPLE DEFLATION
 

Fox Mulder rubbed his eyes as he waited at the carousel. It was two
a.m. at the National, another case closed, another red eye back home.
Of course, the flight was delayed for two hours. When he'd called
Skinner from SeaTac, his lover had offered to get him from the airport,
but Mulder had declined, saying that it was too late for Skinner.
 

It had been lonely on this case.  Scully was sick with the flu and
Mulder had gone alone to Seattle to investigate the two alleged
abductions.  At least with Scully by his side, Mulder always had
someone familiar to talk to, someone who wasn't a stranger out there on
the West Coast, who didn't think that his intuitive leaps of logic were
too eerie. But with her sick back home, Mulder had to deal with the
local sheriff who resented federal meddling.
 

So after long hours of field work, he'd had to go back to the motel all
alone, eat his meals alone, bounce theories in his head alone.  It was
times like these that he acutely missed having Skinner in bed with him.
He didn't even have Scully to bug.  She'd reassured him that she wasn't
pregnant.  God, how would his life be if Scully became pregnant and her
condition made it more difficult for her to travel on a biweekly basis?
AD Wilson might even give him a new partner.
 

So once Mulder collected his luggage from the carousel, he
went to the parking lot.  The airport had that uncomfortable, weary
look to it, when the swing shift wasn't so friendly. It just made him
more exhausted. Mulder
had to force himself to stay awake as he drove home in his Cherokee.
It wouldn't do if he had another accident.  That was the last thing he
needed right now.
 

Mulder got into the apartment, tossed his bags any which way, and
headed upstairs after drinking a long cold glass of milk.  Skinner was
asleep on the bed, the hour too late for the DD to have waited up for
him. Even Taylor barely glanced at him, the pricking of his ear the
only indication that the dog was aware of his presence. Getting home
after a long flight with everyone asleep, even the dog, was sure
lonely, too.
 

Their fight had long since been forgotten and things were resolved
between them.
 

The agent stripped, even removing his boxers, brushed his teeth and
hurriedly washed.  All he could think during the flight home was
getting into his own bed and now he couldn't wait. Mulder was just glad
that it was a Friday, no a Saturday by now.  He crawled into bed,
eagerly spooning onto Skinner's sleep-warm body and fell asleep
immediately.
 

When Mulder woke up the next morning, he knew that it was late from the
angle of the sunlight streaming into the room. A glance at the clock
confirmed that it was eleven o'clock already. Skinner's indentation on
the bed was cold. Mulder cocked an ear and correctly surmised that
Skinner was downstairs.  He stayed in bed and just luxuriated in the
feel of sleeping in on a Saturday morning.  They could still go to the
cabin that afternoon.
 

Skinner's head poked into the room a few minutes later. He smiled in
greeting when he saw that Mulder was awake.
 

"What time did you get in?"  Skinner asked, sitting by the bed and
giving Mulder a kiss.
 

"Two," Mulder yawned and rubbed his eyes.  He stretched on the bed as
Skinner ran a hand lightly on his side. "I'm starving."
 

He got out of bed and after using the bathroom, shrugged into Skinner's
bathrobe with the serious intention of raiding the kitchen.  He found
that Skinner had made some eggs for him which he wolfed down with lots
of toast and coffee.
 
 
 

"Walter, why do you need a J1222 form if you need to file a 398?"
Mulder asked as Skinner poured orange juice for him. The older man sat
across from him as he watched Mulder eat. "No, I didn't antagonize
Seattle regional, Walter, not
without Scully for my back up.  I just couldn't understand why I had to
fill out a six page form in order to ask for permission to use a life
raft."
 

Skinner's eyes narrowed.  He didn't want to know why Mulder had to use
a raft in the first place, did he?.
 

"You were in the water?" Skinner asked, trying to hide his concern.
"Who was with you?"
 

"I didn't go alone, Walter," Mulder rolled his eyes. Skinner was at it
again.  "I had two junior agents with me and we had the ranger as a
guide.  And I didn't get seasick because of the rapids."
 

"What rapids?!"
 

"We were looking for the cave where the purple longhaired cougar was
allegedly sighted."
 

That Skinner didn't want to know.  How would people, witnesses, know
that it was a cougar if it was purple AND long-haired?  He looked
closely at Mulder's face and saw that the agent was serious, that he
wasn't pulling Skinner's leg.
 

"If you must know, we got tufts of the purple fur and I'm sending it
over to the labs to see if those have the 5th and 6th nucleic acids.
And I even got a sample of the green blood. The ranger thinks that the
purple cougar might have given birth in the cave.  So now he's on the
look out for at least two purple cubs."
 
 

"Wait a minute, Fox," Skinner slowed him down. He was totally lost.
"What has this got to do with the two abductions?"
 

"There was purple fur at the crime sites," Mulder explained in
exasperation.  Sometimes, Skinner could be so dense even if he was the
Deputy Director.  "Purple cougars are known to savor human flesh,
especially toddlers."
 

"But how do you know that there are at least two...purple...cubs?"
Skinner asked.
 

"Because, I told you that there was green blood found in the cave with
remnants of a dichorionic diamniotic placenta which indicates fraternal
twinning, according to Scully. But that wasn't what I asked you about.
You can read my report about the cougar later.  Now, why do I need a
J1222 for a 398?"
 

Skinner relaxed and launched on the legalities of proving
one's ability to swim on paper.  How it wouldn't do if a field agent
investigated something in a body of water and
it turned out that said agent didn't have the necessary water survival
skills.  These bureaucratic red tape, Skinner had all down pat, as part
of Bureau management.  When he finished, Mulder was looking at him
blankly, as much at sea as Skinner was in understanding why purple
cougars had anything to do with the abductions.
 

Mulder's plate was empty in no time but it was obvious that he was
still hungry.  Skinner rooted in the refrigerator and found some of
last night's leftovers and heated these in the microwave.
 

"Thanks," Mulder said when Skinner put down the leftovers. "You know,
those purple long-haired cougars are renowned for their survival
skills. Imagine something so vividly colored living in the Northwest,
eluding capture all this time.  I think I'm going to write an article
for Omni once the lab tests on the fur comes out. It's the first time
that a lab analysis is going to be done on their fur, you know."
 

One thing that can be said about living with Mulder, Skinner mused as
the agent continued.  It sure wasn't boring.  It was a lot nicer
hearing about these strange cases than having to read them on official
reports. These things do sound like they come from the National
Enquirer once they're written down.  And it was easier to listen to it
as a lover than as an AD. Cases like these used to give him countless
headaches.
 

Sometimes, when Mulder talked about his field work, Skinner missed the
field work himself, too.  Of course, he was a field agent once, years
ago.  Now he was stuck behind the desk and conference tables most of
the time. But even in his long years as a field agent, never had he
encountered cases quite like Mulder's.
 

"And if there's a postpartum purple cougar out there, there must be an
adult male purple cougar somewhere, too. After all, the fur makes them
mammalian, doesn't it?  I just wish that the placenta hadn't
disintegrated in my hands like that.  It would have been perfect for
analysis. It sure smelled awful, though."
 

Skinner listened with amusement as Mulder voiced his theories regarding
the elusive purple cougar.  It was times like these that Skinner was
convinced that Mulder was treading a fine line.  Once the agent
finished eating, Skinner rinsed off the dishes and placed them in the
dishwasher. Meanwhile, Mulder took a shower.
 

Once the agent was ready, they set off for the cabin. Taylor was all
excited once he saw that they were getting into the old Range Rover. It
meant that he had long hours away from city concrete. Mulder likewise
looked forward to the cabin. This time, he let Skinner drive. They got
there by mid afternoon.
 
 

Taylor shot out of the car the moment the door was opened, relishing
the freedom the cabin provided. After stretching their legs from being
cramped in the Rover, Mulder challenged Skinner to one on one.
 

It was what they had been doing lately.  Mulder had installed a hoop
and backboard over the garage and on most weekends they were here, a
game of basketball ensued. Mulder was smug that he was ahead, way
ahead.  Skinner, as goal oriented as ever, sought to win each time.  It
provided a nice workout for him, too.  Sometimes, of course, the games
deteriorated to plain wrestling matches that sometimes ended up in the
house, where wrestling turned into something else.

................
 

It was now Sunday night.  Mulder and Skinner talked things over and
decided to stay over until early tomorrow morning. Lots of things
needed to be done in the cabin, where the two were doing minor repairs
on their beloved house. So after a whole day of doing little paint
jobs, unclogging of stopped up drains, repairing the leak in the sink
in the garage, unsticking stuck doors and oiling squeaky hinges in the
kitchen, the two lovers found themselves finally in bed.
 

Skinner was watching the late news, while Mulder was still wired after
a day of almost unending activities around the house.  He was
impatiently kissing Skinner's chest, worrying one nipple with his mouth
and running a thumb over the other one.  Mulder looked up and saw that
the older man was still watching television.
 

"Come on, Walter," Mulder said in exasperation. He gently removed the
DD's glasses so that the near-sighted man would shift his focus on
Mulder, instead.  "We last made love even before I left for Seattle."
 

That was more than five days ago.  Last night, Mulder was too tired.
Now, he was tired but not so much.  He was busily trying to peak
Skinner's interest.  Mulder then got on top of Skinner to block off the
television completely and continued with kissing the older man. Skinner
squirmed to turn off the television with his remote.  He let Mulder's
tongue leisurely explore his mouth and let out a moan as their tongues
played against each other.
 

Mulder concentrated on the kissing.  He was preferring this activity
lately, how sometimes, kissing could make him closer to Skinner than
making love.  Occasionally, their mouths strayed to eyes, ears, necks
and foreheads but having each other's pliant mouths was the best.  From
his position of lying on Skinner, Mulder could feel that Skinner's
erection was still at half mast so his hands strayed down between them
and kneaded gently on his lover's member. Pajamas and underwear were
discarded in short notice as their kissing heated them both up. Skinner
really liked where things were going. Mulder was now under him after
they rolled on the bed.  Mulder was trailing kisses on his chest and
their hands were busy on each other's bodies.
 

"I'll just turn over," Mulder murmured, lying on his stomach and
parting his legs.  That was when it hit Skinner that he had a problem.
Normally, he would be hard as a rock by now, but it wasn't happening.
 

"Please, Walter, I want you in me now," Mulder was still waiting and he
turned his head in puzzlement when the older man wasn't applying the
Astroglide onto strategic parts by now.  The agent saw the tense look
on Skinner's face.
 

The younger man wondered what was taking so long.  Maybe Walter wanted
him on his back.  But as Mulder turned and brushed up against Skinner's
groin, Skinner still wasn't hard as he would usually be.   So he
reached down but Skinner reared his hips away.
 

"Uhm, maybe I don't feel like it tonight," Skinner said, embarrassed.
"I'll just..."
 

The older man hastily applied the lubricant on his hand. Before Mulder
could say anymore, he writhed as Skinner expertly masturbated him.
 

The agent became preoccupied as Skinner swiftly brought him to
culmination, catching his emission at the right time onto a washcloth.
Mulder shuddered.  It was too quick but it was enough for now.  He
looked questioningly at Skinner but the older man turned away and went
to sleep.
 

CHAPTER SEVEN
 
 

I SPY
 
 

It was four weeks later and Mulder was worried. He looked over
Skinner's sleeping form.  The older man was sound asleep and his soft
snores could be heard from under the pillows.  Skinner was burying
himself in the pillows lately. Whereas before, he just had two under
his head with the third one by his side, this time, two of the pillows
were over his head. When Mulder woke up in the morning, he would
occasionally find a pillow between them.
 

They had tried to make love three times since that night in the cabin,
but Skinner couldn't. He brought Mulder to orgasm with his mouth or
hands, but he himself couldn't get hard enough.  They hadn't truly made
love since before Mulder got home from his purple cougar investigation.
Mulder wondered if this was what impotence was. Was Skinner impotent?
 

Mulder screwed up his face as he tried to recall if the same thing ever
happened to him.  He had vague memories of a night with Phoebe when he
had too much beer in his university days.  Beer even back then used to
hit him hard. Then he recalled another time with Deborah, when he
really wanted it to happen but nothing worked. The embarrassment and
humiliation were overwhelming; they broke up soon after even if Deborah
swore that she didn't mind.
 

Skinner probably felt the same way as he did back then. The
older man pretended that he really didn't feel like making love and he
would turn away once Mulder had his orgasm, instead of cuddling
afterwards like usual.  At first, Mulder thought it was a phase.  After
all, they did work hard on the cabin that Sunday.  But the next time
they tried, it was also a weekend when he knew that the older man was
well rested. Still no erection.
 

Then the next two times, they tried, it was becoming mechanical.
Skinner just seemed to want him to come as fast as possible.  Mulder of
course, being younger, did come as fast as possible.  After all,
Skinner knew his body.  But it was different.
 

Mulder couldn't bring up the possibility of going to the doctor.  If
Skinner already had a hard time with Taylor's neutering, Mulder
instinctively knew that talking about the "I" word with Dr. Cormier
could be devastating for him, to say the least. They skirted around the
issue, each one convinced that they didn't mind.
 

They were pretending that they didn't mind until the issue was so large
between them that Mulder could swear that it had a size, shape and
mass, and it was lying down with them right now.  If he could scrunch
up his eyes, he could probably see it with a big label on it. Take your
pick if the big letter "I"  meant "issue" or "impotent".  He could
swear that that letter "I" was even looking at each of them and
snickering to its heart content.
 

Because he didn't want to make Skinner feel bad,  Mulder had just
wanted to cuddle an hour ago. Instead, Skinner thought that Mulder was
making demands on him. So before he could say anything any further,
Skinner's hand had sneaked down into his boxers and brought him to an
unpleasant orgasm. The older man had persisted even when Mulder was
trying to pull away.
 
 

It was like he was back at Oxford with Phoebe. Since she was his first
lover, he didn't know much; in fact, he was ignorant as hell.  One of
their first encounters was just like tonight.  Of course, in his
stupidity, he thought that real loving sex was exactly like that and
frankly wondered what the fuss was about.  After all, he was just
nineteen then and repressed as anything.  Mulder still couldn't believe
how a physiological release could feel so different depending on the
overlying psychic overtones.
 

From the few things he had researched and read surreptitiously, they
all said not to make it a big deal between a couple.  But, damn it, it
was a big deal.  It was a BIG DEAL.  Making love had always been
important to them and always been a time to reaffirm their devotion,
affection, sharing, passion and warmth for each other.
 

Of course, in the beginning, Skinner had brought him to wonderful earth
shattering orgasms without expecting anything in return.  But Mulder
was past that by now.  He
had grown in this relationship in more ways than one and had come to
realize that Skinner used to do that for him
because he was so needy back then.  Nerdy AND needy.  What a deadly
combination. But for the past few years, their making love had been a
mutual give and take of pleasure. It was always best when both of them
were fully involved.
 

Mulder didn't know if the older man was also reading stuff on his own.
Probably was, too. But it was somehow embarrassing to go to the
bookstore to purchase a book on impotence. Especially if you were a
man. If Mulder bought one, he could say that it wasn't for him; Skinner
could likewise say the same thing.  But of course, the cashier would
just nod and snicker behind his or her back. However, if a woman,
Scully for example, bought the same book from said bookstore, she would
get sympathetic glances and probably be patted on top of her little
head for all her efforts in helping her lover.
 

Wait a minute, would Scully actually do it for him?  Nah, he would
never do that to Skinner, letting his petite partner know that all was
not right with his Walter.  He also didn't want to ruin Skinner in
Scully's eyes, she who had this big impression that Skinner was some
sort of insatiable sex machine.
 

The younger man tried to think up of diplomatic ways to tell Skinner
that they would need to go to Cormier.  He was still at it when
troubled slumber finally claimed him.
 

............
 

Skinner woke up early the next morning, earlier than usual. He didn't
even stretch on the bed to get his muscles going. He just got up and
left Mulder's sleeping form without even looking at him.
 

Damn him.  Sometimes, Mulder could be so insensitive, even with his
tendency to tear up easily.  It was all a front for his being self
centered.  He didn't have to throw himself at Skinner last night,
knowing full well that he was having problems.  The older man still
couldn't shake the anxiety gnawing at him. Fortunately, Mulder had been
satisfied with masturbation lately.
 

As he took a long shower, Skinner thought about his past sex life.  A
big part of his self image had been his sexual prowess and now it was
all shot.  Ever since high school, he'd been open to experimentation.
Even up to now, Mulder didn't know that Skinner's expertise was
obtained from his late teens when he was in Vietnam and had wild R and
R's in Okinawa, Subic and Bangkok.
 

It was there where eager girls with silky long black hair and lithe
copper bodies willingly tutored him. There were occasional copper
bodied boys as well.  It was there in those R and R's where he was able
to learn about his own body and its responses and other people's bodies
and their
responses.  It was there that he learned that anyone, absolutely anyone
could have multiple orgasms into oblivion. And he knew how to elicit
those step by step just like playing a fine taut bowstring on a violin.
One of the reasons that he and Sharon lasted so long despite their
incompatibility was due to his skills.  Of course, his parents' morals
had a tight hold on him by then so he had drawn the line with animals,
children and rape, unlike some of the other men he knew.
 

He was just lucky that he never caught anything because of their
sergeant's insistence that condoms always be used. Fortunately, Private
Walter S. Skinner of the United States Marine Corps along with his
buddy the even wilder Private First Class John, a.k.a Jack, Reilly had
listened to Sergeant Hansell.  Those grainy STD documentaries had
shaken them as their sergeant always managed to find a new one and made
sure that his squad was updated.
 

That was why Skinner was quite clear in what would work between him and
Mulder.  That was why he got angry when Mulder had suggested handcuffs
so long ago.  He knew exactly how those things would make you feel and
he didn't want Mulder's more tender psyche to fall into that trap. That
was why he was absolutely sure that he and Mulder had the best, that
nothing was better than having very loving and mutual sex with someone
you cherished.  And if there was one thing that was ingrained in his
mind, it wasn't the number of orgasms one could achieve that made sex
so important; rather it was the physical and emotional closeness that
resulted that was important.
 

It was inevitable, of course, that with his varied sex life,  he would
sometimes not get hard when he wanted to.  It happened, sure, just like
to any man, but never this long nor this consistently.
 

Skinner angrily soaped up himself in the shower and, in his
frustration, threw the soap against the tiles.  The now misshapen soap
didn't even make a satisfying clatter. He just didn't know why Mulder
had to dig it in, that he would ask for sex at the most inopportune
time.  He shampooed his hair and rinsed off, standing in the almost
scalding shower spray.  When he had enough, he stepped out of the
shower and dried off.  As he pulled clothes from the closet, he didn't
bother to do it quietly.  If Mulder could be insensitive, he could,
too.
 

Unconsciously, he was making more noise than he normally would. Mulder
awakened at the noise and made his displeasure known by grabbing a
pillow and pulling it over his head. It wasn't lost on Skinner, who saw
Mulder's movements and even made more noise until Mulder groaned in
irritation.
 

There, Skinner thought as roughly he pulled at his particularly squeaky
sock drawer, that's for last night.
 

The clatter was too much for Mulder who finally leaned back tiredly
against the headboard and watched Skinner.
 

"What time's it?" Mulder asked.
 
 

There he goes whining again, the brat, Skinner thought as his jaw
clenched.
 

"Five thirty," Skinner curtly answered.  He relented however, when it
dawned on him with sudden clarity that he was acting just like a brat
himself.  He went about getting dressed quietly and Mulder was able to
lie back down in bed and sleep.
 

Because it was so early, he didn't wait for his ride to the Hoover.
Instead, he took his own car and drove to work.  He would just inform
his security detail once was there and tell them not to bother to go to
Crystal City this morning.
 

It was times like these that he really missed his dad. Daddy would have
listened and would have known what to do. Intellectually, Skinner knew
that he probably needed to go see Cormier, but it would be better if he
could talk about it with someone beforehand.  Skinner's throat
tightened.  He shouldn't be bawling in the car or else he'll just get
into an accident. Somehow, it was something he couldn't tell Jack over
the telephone either.
 
 

He was cranky the whole day and Kimberly was walking as if on
eggshells. She just bore it like always, and just hoped that whatever
was going on with her boss would clear up in a few days.  He was sure
touchy for the past month.
 

After a few minutes glancing over his papers, Skinner realized that all
was not well at the Atlanta regional field office.  He mulled over the
reports sent to him, conflicting data about budget deficits confounded
by numerous OPC investigations of personnel.  He didn't even need to
think about for a long time.  He only thought about it for a minute,
thirty seconds at the most.
 

"Kimberly," Skinner called her over the office intercom. "Please
arrange with Travel that I'm going to drop in on Atlanta.  I think I'll
stay there for three days.  Don't notify them.  I want it to be a
surprise."
 

"Yes, sir," Kimberly's filtered voice answered. The DD's assistant
sighed with relief.  That meant a few days of respite.
 

Mulder got home that night much later than usual because he wanted to
watch Scully's autopsy.  He gave a start when he saw Skinner's luggage
by the front door.  He forced himself not to panic and found his lover
upstairs talking on the phone.  Once Skinner hung up, he went over to
Mulder and gave the agent a brief peck on the cheek.
 

"I'm going to Atlanta tomorrow," Skinner explained. "Something's fishy
going on there and I need to find out."
 

"Oh," was all Mulder said, trying to hide his relief. "I'll just take a
shower before dinner. I think I can still smell Scully's autopsy on
me."
 

"Sure," Skinner said, lying on the bed as he flipped through the
channels and finally settled on a sitcom.  He could hear Mulder in the
shower and once he finished, Skinner noticed how Mulder wrapped his
towel around his waist before he went into the bedroom and got some
clothes from the closet.  He didn't used to do that. Skinner's
irritation flared for a moment but he didn't say anything.
 

Dinner was relatively okay because Skinner's relaying of his suspicions
of the Atlanta office preoccupied Mulder. Usually, Skinner even kept
such sensitive information from Mulder, especially since they were just
suspicions on his part.  But he had to talk of something and this one
was juicy enough to distract both of them from the main thing weighing
on their minds.
 

Once dinner was over and the dishes were in the dishwasher, Mulder
turned his attention to his beloved aquarium. Skinner, meanwhile had to
review his files on Atlanta so that he could grill the regional head
once he got there.
 

It was late by the time he finished and he was just glad that Mulder
went to bed ahead of him. However, once he got in bed and Mulder turned
to him in his sleep, Skinner had to admit that it was always nice
having Mulder in his arms.
 
 

For the next few days, not having Skinner around was somewhat of a
relief for Mulder.  Skinner calling every night from Atlanta was even
pleasant, a change of pace for both of them. Things were even worse
than Skinner feared in Atlanta, and he had to stay over the weekend. He
stayed a total of eight days there and when he came home, it was to an
empty house.  Mulder had been in Duluth since two days ago on a case.
Skinner had to spring Taylor from where he was boarded and at least,
the animal was profusely happy to see him.  Once home, the DD then
checked Mulder's precious fish to make sure that none died during
Mulder's two-day absence.
 

. . . . . . . . . . . .
 

Mulder was in B.Dalton, searching for that all important book.  He had
finally made up his mind that he really had to buy a book.  After all,
no one in Duluth knew him so he might as well take the plunge no matter
what the cashier thought.
 

He had hoped to go to the mall by himself, but for some
reason, Scully decided to come along even when he didn't want her with
him.  She said that she was going to Dayton's to buy something.
 

So Mulder perused the shelves until he got to the one set of shelves
labeled Sex and Health.  He looked to the right and left to make sure
that the coast was clear before he approached his intended set of
books. He finally found one that seemed promising and grabbed it.
 

Mulder was scanning the book and was beginning to get engrossed in it.
When a young couple started browsing alongside him, Mulder became
uncomfortable, since the book he had in hand had quite a prominent
title, leaving no doubt as to its contents.  He took the book and read
it over to the Travel shelf.
 

"Hi, Mulder."
 

Mulder nearly jumped out of his skin.  He turned around and found
Scully right behind him, with a lot Dayton's green paper bags in her
two tiny hands.  He hid the book behind his back.
 

"Thinking of traveling somewhere?" Scully asked.
 

"What?"
 

"Are you and Skinner planning a holiday?" Scully asked again.  It was
then that Mulder remembered that he was in the travel section.
 

"Yes," Mulder grabbed a Frommer's Guide to Paris.  "We're thinking of
Paris."
 

"Oh, how romantic," Scully said, walking over to the Science section.
 

Mulder went over to the cashier with the Frommer's Guide and Impotence
and You.  He stared down at the cashier belligerently, daring her to
think her worst of him.  She didn't notice at first, too busy with the
scanner.  But as she was putting the book into a paper bag, she noticed
"that" book and looked into Mulder's face.  He kept staring her down and
was satisfied when she looked away hastily.
 

Let her think he was impotent, Mulder thought.  At this point, it didn't
matter if the whole world thought he was impotent as long as it would
help Skinner.
 

"What'd you buy?" Scully made a grab for his package, but fortunately,
Mulder was able to keep it out of her reach.
 

"It's the Paris guide and the Rome guide," Mulder partially lied.  "I
think it would be fun to go there."
 

It took two more days before the case was wrapped up. Mulder still
called home and talked to Skinner every night he was in Duluth.  It
seemed that they were glaringly polite with each other.
 

But once he was home, Mulder was just too weary to think much of
anything when he warmly kissed and embraced Skinner. He was just too
glad to be home.  He took a shower to wash away the grime of travel and
had to write his report because Wilson expected him to hand over even
just a rough draft tomorrow.
 

Mulder fell asleep at his desk again and Skinner shook him awake to
tell him to go to bed.  It was only nine o'clock but he was just so
tired. Mulder simply shut his eyes once he was in bed and fell into a
restful sleep.
 

Mulder's luggage was still strewn around the room, getting underfoot.
So Skinner took it upon himself to unpack the agent's luggage.  He was
sorting out the socks, underwear and shirts headed for the laundry when
he saw the white book with its title.
 
 

Skinner at first was furious.  He had the mind to wake up the younger
man.  But curiosity got the better of him and once Mulder's luggage was
cleared away, Skinner felt he had no choice but to read the book.
 

The DD read Impotence and You, shutting out everything, even Mulder's
talking in his sleep.  When he himself got too tired, he put the book
down, wrapped his arms around Mulder and fell asleep as well.
 

The next morning, Skinner felt Mulder surreptitiously patting his
groin. The older man smiled to himself and pretended to move in his
sleep. Mulder withdrew his hand at once and lay against him.
 

It was then that Mulder saw The Book on Skinner's night stand.  At
first, he thought it was just an illusion under the dim dawn light.
But as he craned his neck, he knew that it really was the book.
 

"Okay, Fox," Skinner murmured sleepily.  "Let's make an appointment
with Cormier this afternoon."
 

Skinner wasn't as anxious with seeing the doctor than if he went there
without some in depth background information. That morning, when Mulder
was checking to see if he had a morning erection, which was separate
from an erection of frank sexual arousal, it had fueled Skinner's
suspicions that there was hope after all.  The visit to Cormier just
confirmed the diagnosis.  The doctor readjusted Skinner's dose of
propanolol, which he took for his hypertension.   A
medication for angina was added, which he was supposed to take for two
weeks.  Cormier explained that although Skinner didn't have angina,
this particular tablet had been found to have a pleasant side effect in
men.
 

"Walter, just because I cuddle up to you sometimes, that doesn't mean I
want sex," Mulder said that night.  They had talked about Skinner
misreading the agent that last time. "The last thing I want is for you
to feel pressured by me. It's the same way when we were first together;
you never forced me in anything.  You were always asking if it was
okay, what we were doing."
 

"Okay, honey," Skinner said, looking at Mulder's eyes as they each lay
on their sides in bed.  "I'm glad you bought that book."
 

It was next week before Skinner was confident enough to try things out.
He woke up with a more than respectable erection in the middle of the
night.  He was very hard, as a matter of fact.  It had been almost one
a half months since they really last made love so when Skinner was
nudging Mulder awake quite insistently, Mulder was so eager but had to
restrain himself so as not to intimidate the older man.
 

Skinner took his own sweet time, wanting this to be extra special.  He
knew that his erection was going to last and he wanted both of them to
savor the moment.  He slowly undressed Mulder while the agent undressed
him.  Mulder was kissed while Skinner was also kissed.
 

"It's back, Walter," Mulder murmured unnecessarily as he applied
Astroglide on his partner as the older man did to him also.  Skinner
groaned heavily as he slowly sank into Mulder, the warm silky passage
so long missed.
 

"Baby, I love you," Skinner said.  Mulder's legs were drawn up over
Skinner's shoulders.  "You've been so good to me."
 

Skinner poured all his skills into this particular act; after all, he
had to show that he still had it.  Each stroke was perfect, perfect in
its depth, each grind of his hips into Mulder just allowed maximum
prostate massage, each withdrawal of his rampant member almost to its
complete length, each word of encouragement further inflaming both of
them.
 

Heavy breathing, panting and sighs eventually turned into cries of
delight as the tension between them built to the next level of arousal.
Skinner's teachers of long ago would have been very proud with the way
he had Mulder under him, releasing frenzied involuntary cries and
whimpers of pleasure.  Strategic points on Mulder's anatomy were
compressed such that his orgasm was delayed and he was taken to ever
increasing heights of sensation as Skinner stopped and restarted
everything.
 

"Walter, I can't take it anymore," Mulder arched his back as he felt
Skinner abort another wave of impending orgasm in him by gently
pressing on his penis.  Mulder's eyes were glazed as the pleasure was
more than overwhelming him, causing tears to overflow as he was denied
again.  The bone deep searing heat in his pelvis had built up to an
incredible degree.  It had never been like this before. "Please,
Walter, make me come."
 

Mulder could hardly speak.  All he could understand at this point was
that Skinner's big, thick, long penis was relentlessly but ever so
leisurely going in and out of him, that it was the most unimaginable
sensation, that it was a well-loved searing heat that filled him to
perfection, that every inch of his skin tingled.  Even the very roots
of his hair felt different.  Mulder's incoherent cries were very loud
now, well past caring what the neighbors might think.
 

Skinner finally released his hold on the underside of Mulder's member,
and joyfully let go as well.  Even in the midst of Mulder's orgasm,
Skinner went at him hard and fast and furious and deep.  Both of them
were too far gone as raging testosteronal instincts took over.  It had
never been so raw and primal between them, two very vital healthy men
going at each other, the very essence of male to male love. The bed
shook and Mulder had a series of orgasms, each one after the other at
such a furious pace that he didn't know it was multiple.  All he knew
was that it seemed quite prolonged.  Skinner's heavy groans and growls
even filled up his ears.  Sensory overload ensued and he blacked out
just as Skinner roared the arrival of his own.
 

When Skinner's eyes opened and as he slowly regained his breath, he
realized that Mulder indeed had blacked out. Mulder was limp as Skinner
dismounted.  The older man chuckled tiredly as he rose and went to the
bathroom to clean them both up.
 

The same thing first happened to Skinner so long ago in Bangkok where
the lady he had chosen turned out to be the most skilled courtesan of
the house.  The mama-san had allowed him to have her at the ordinary
price instead of the thousands of dollars she normally commanded
because they had fancied his youth and cleanliness, they said.  It was
the other way around, however; it felt like she was having him. He had
blacked out at that time, too.  He used to think that it was just
storytelling when some of the guys said it happened, but he knew better
after that.
And Skinner was very pleased with himself that he could elicit such a
degree of response from Mulder.  He cleaned up the unconscious younger
man and once done, scooped him into his arms and embraced him hard.
 

Mulder woke up a full half-hour later, all his muscles languid, feeling
drained but happy.  His pelvis had that deep pervading congestion, a
feeling he was associating with another soul-shattering bout of sex
with Skinner.
 
 

"Walter, did I black out?" All Mulder remembered was having
an incredible prolonged ejaculation then when he saw Skinner, he saw
that the older man was watching CNN and was in his pajamas.  He
distinctly remembered that both of them were nude when they started to
make love.
 

"Yes, you blacked out," Skinner chuckled.  Mulder got on top of him,
still wanting some contact.  "Thank you, Fox."
 

"Shouldn't I be thanking you?  I never came so hard that I blacked
out."
 

"No, I do appreciate you seeing me through this," Skinner said as he
kissed Mulder's hair and running a hand over his bare back and
buttocks. "That you bought that book, even when it must have been
humiliating for you.  You also went with me to see Cormier when I could
have gone alone. Then you waited until I was ready for you."
 

"Isn't this what it is about?  Seeing each other, being with each other
during times like these?"

"Yeah, just keep reminding me, okay?"

End Chapter 7