This will probably make more sense (muuuaah - *sense*!, she cried wildly) if you've read "Airport" first.

DISCLAIMER: Lots of disclaimers this time: besides the usual CC stuff (yeah, Chris, calm down, they *are* yours!),

- Bathtub!Walter and his fantasies belong to Mik. He allowed me to borrow this scene from his great "Mr. Skinner" series (love you, Mik!),

- Mick Skidmore belongs to Halrloprillallar. She gave me permission to borrow him from her beautiful story "Semper fi, Ski" which I highly recommend,

- all catastrophies are courtesy of Carolyn Nilsson.

Thanks a lot, friends, for sharing your toys!

SUMMARY: Skinner and Mulder finally get together. Hot sex, loving memories, food abuse.

NOTES: This story is for you, Carolyn. You know why. (hee hee)

After I had read "Semper fi, Ski," Skidmore followed me around for several months. I just couldn't get him out of my mind. You will meet him again in some of my future stories, thanks to Hal's generosity.

Wonderbeta by The Great Sergeeva, eternal thanks! Remaining errors are mine alone (and I damn wish Walter was, too).

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

Airport II: Skinner

by Blue Mohairbear

September, 99

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

"... Walter...?"

I snap back into reality.

"Sorry, Irene." To my dismay, I feel myself blushing. Shit.

Irene grins.

Let me tell you something: big sisters are a pest. Oh, I know, they spend half their lives whining and telling the world that it's us, the little brothers, who are the real nuisances and how they have to spend all their precious time babysitting us brats instead of being allowed to sit on the front porch with their giggling girlfriends and playing *family* with their dolls and, later, mooning over some football player. Believe me, I know all about it - I *am* a little brother. The worst thing about them is: they *know* you. And if they are evil, like, say, Lucy Van Pelt, they use it against you.

Now, I've always been lucky - Irene knew and knows me and never used it against me. I'm no Linus. To be honest, she isn't *such* a pest. In fact, we always had a very loving relationship. It's just that.... at this moment, I wish she didn't know me so well. And I wish she hadn't witnessed that scene at the airport. I mean, me leaving her in the middle of a crowd of arriving passengers to run after a man and - yes, what? I'm not sure what she saw. I don't think she saw more than me gripping his wrist and pulling him away. I hope she didn't even see *that*.

"So, are you?"

"Am I what?" I growl, but that's wasted on Irene.

She rolls her eyes. "Going to tell me what that was about. I mean - you are obviously happy to see me, you hug me, and all of a sudden you freeze up, stare into the distance, mumble something and - whoosh- you're gone. So?"

I swallow. No way I can tell her. Not yet. Maybe later. Much later. I'm not even sure all this has really happened. Walter Skinner acts spontaneously and changes his life completely in the time of two minutes - *please*.

"I'm sorry, that was rude. But it was important-"

"I bet it was," she says smugly.

I'm clenching my jaws again. My dentist has absolutely forbidden any jaw-clenching. If she could, she would threaten me with severe punishments. On the other side, she probably has bought a brand new mommie car by now just from the money of my bills.

"Irene," I say warily. "I saw one of my agents and I had to pass on an important information-"

"*That* was one of your *agents*?"

Shit. She *has* seen him.

"Yes." I let that sound as dismissively as I can and try to lure her onto a new track. "Now, how is Jeremy?" Normally, the least little mention of her younger son is enough to launch her into an enthusiastic outburst of maternal love and pride. Not this time.

"Come on, Walter, share. That agent of yours is one of the most gorgeous creatures I've ever seen. I may be over fifty, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid or blind. And you *work* with him? How do you do that without losing your mind? I think I'd run after him, too, if I were you."

"Irene," I sigh. I don't want to tell her that I've lost my mind already. Not to mention my heart. And, like I said, Irene knows me well. She knows about Mick. The only other man in my life - the only one until now, if you don't count a few secret and hasty affairs - but I'm just not ready to talk. I'm much too busy working out for myself what I did half an hour ago.

I try to fight an oncoming headache and only just avoid crashing into a cab. The driver flips me the bird and shouts obscenities through the open window. I wave an apology and try to get the last thirty minutes into something like order in my head.

*Did* I pull Mulder into a storage room at the airport? Did I kiss him senseless as soon as the door fell shut? Did I hear him moan into my mouth and did I feel a wonderful hard cock being pressed and rubbed against mine - which, by the way, was no less hard? And, most important question of all - did I tell Mulder I *wanted* him? I wanted a *relationship* with him? I sigh again. A deep sigh. Yes. No doubt. Yes to all of the above. A hand touches my arm.

"Sorry, Walter. I didn't mean to pester you. Peace?"

I look at my sister and have to grin. She knows I can't and won't withstand her Bambi eyes and her pleading voice. I feel a little guilty. I've been looking forward to her visit for weeks and now I wish she hadn't come so I had time to think. Time for Mulder. And it's only Saturday and I won't see him before Wednesday. I sigh again and pat her knee.

"It's okay, Irene. It's just... I'm not ready to talk, ok?"

"I understand perfectly, Walt. No problem. I shouldn't have pushed you. Old habits, you know."

She laughs. I have to chuckle, too. Her rich dark voice soothes me, like it has always done. I loved it when she read to me in the evenings when I was a little kid and terrified of the monsters under my bed. What I have to fight right now are not monsters, but thoughts of the beautiful and brilliant, terribly annoying and incredibly sexy man I'm in love with and whom I just told I wanted him in my life. And who has told me he wanted me, too. It's going to be a matter of real discipline to quell those thoughts now and Irene won't be able to help me here. I feel shitty because I wish she would... well, vanish, and Mulder would appear in her place.

"What about a luxurious lunch?" I ask, already busy trying to compensate my guilt.

"There's a new Thai restaurant not far from my apartment. It's fantastic. You'll love it."

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

Yes or no? To call or not to call? I'm pacing my livingroom, throwing glances at the phone. This is stupid. It's twelve thirty and Irene has crashed after a dinner that was as rich as the Thai lunch and after hours of talking and looking at pictures of family members, friends and pets.

I'm sure he's still awake. Everybody knows that Mulder doesn't sleep. What if... what if he's mad at me? What if he feels I've coerced him into something he doesn't really want? I wasn't exactly subtle this morning, dragging him into that room and pouncing at him. My god. I didn't even say a word to him, I just fell on him and kissed... oh Jesus. That mouth. Those little noises he made. Shit. There. I'm hard again. This has been going on for weeks now. I think about Mulder - I get hard.

It's been going on for four months now, to be exact. Since that evening when I found myself soaking in the tub after a long and hard day, trying to jerk off with a nice sexy fantasy to get relaxed enough to sleep. I thought about Scully. That is - I *tried* to think about Scully. The person who kept coming into my head with a maddening and annoying stubbornness was... Mulder. And suddenly it was *him* I was kissing in my fantasy, *him* I was stroking, *his* slick heat I was gliding into, *his* voice moaning my name... When my orgasm hit me with a force I hadn't experienced in a very long time, I knew I had to think through a few things. It was everything but easy to finally admit that this was about more than sex. That I was in love, not only with a man again after all those years, but with my most difficult and annoying subordinate. I had some weeks of tough soul-searching to come to terms with that.

Then, suddenly this morning, I was holding him in my arms, I was *really* kissing him, he was kissing me back and everything seemed simple and clear and easy for a wonderful fifteen minutes. Twelve hours later, I'm back wallowing in doubts and fears and insecurities. I was way out of line this morning, I exposed myself in a way that could seriously endanger our working relationship. Shit, it could cost us both our jobs. Maybe even our lives. And what if he doesn't really want me?

On the other hand... he kissed me back, he was hard, he moaned, he clung to me, *and* he told me he wanted me. Just to think of the way he looked at me at the gate when I held Irene in my arms and kissed her... Jesus. That was a glorious moment when I realized he must have feelings for me. That my feelings might be returned. The rest of my actions were carried out on autopilot. I'd never have done anything like that, if I'd had the least bit of common sense left. Dragging my agent into a storage room at an airport - not only an ordinary public place, but it had to be a fucking *airport*! - and kissing him stupid as soon as the door was closed... insanity. But, I have to admit, it was the most wonderful insanity I've ever acted on. If Irene hadn't been waiting for me, I'd have ripped off his clothes there and then and devoured him on the spot.

My cock is so hard now it hurts me. Maybe I should take the edge off before I call him. I'm afraid my hormones could make me tell him things... I can't rush this, as much as I want him. I don't know anything about his experience with men and can't risk scaring him off. Well, it's been a long day and I need a shower, anyway.

I'm not surprised that it's quick. Quick and violent. By the time I step under the hot stream of the shower, my cock is purple and dripping with need. A few strokes with my well-soaped hand, the thought of Mulder's mouth under mine, those delicious moans he made when I kissed him, his erection rubbing against mine --- Mulder naked under me, his hot skin --- god --- I come hard, only just biting back a shout, and I watch the white ropes of semen splashing against the tiles in a state of dazed mindlessness.

Soon, soon I won't be doing this alone anymore. I'll have a beautiful, hot, sexy playmate in my bed. And not only in my bed, I hope. I want this man to make a complete mess of my life. I want him to drive me crazy night and day. Oh, and he will, I'm sure. I'll let him do anything, as long as he is with me. As long as he lets me share his life. And, I guess, coming from me, that counts for something.

I hope he hasn't changed his mind. I take a deep breath and call him. He answers immediately, right after the first ring. Seems like he's been near the phone all evening. A good sign. As soon as I hear his voice, my heart starts galloping in my chest. This is ridiculous. I feel like a fucking teenager.

"It's me."

"Oh - hey." He sounds delighted. "What are you doing? Looking at family pictures?" Delighted, but... cautious. Trying to be neutral.

"Yeah. We did that. Irene's younger son has a baby, you can imagine how many pics I had to coo over."

"You're a great-uncle?" He chuckles. "Uncle Walter. That's cute. Boy or girl?"

"Girl. Four months. Her name is Savannah." I realize that we are both nicely avoiding the Hot Seat. I clear my throat and go right at it.

"Look - I need to know... are you still ok with this?" I hold my breath. His answer comes quickly, as if he had waited for that question.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." I feel incredibly relieved.

"Good. That's good." He sounds equally relieved.

"Yeah."

Silence.

I suppose we guys just aren't very good at stuff like this.

Then, suddenly, almost defiantly, he says, "I've been thinking about you." A warm, happy feeling begins to spread in my stomach. I think this wasn't too easy for him to say.

"Yeah, I'm thinking about you, too," I say. I grin. "Irene is getting really suspicious." He chuckles.

"So the offer for dinner on Wednesday is still valid?"

"You bet," I say. What I don't say is that I'm busy thinking about dessert.

"And what's it gonna be for dessert, Walter?"

How does he do that? Damn profiler.

You, I think. "What would you like?" I ask.

"More of what I had this morning. Much more." His voice sounds low and velvety and oh, I'm glad I took that shower. I swallow and take a deep breath.

"You'll have that," I say. "As much as you want." My voice sounds scratchy and my cock is stirring again. I can't believe how often I've been getting it up, these last weeks. I haven't been this enthusiastic in years. In many years. I hope I'll remain in this condition for a while.

"Good," he breathes. Only that, but his tone is telling me so much.

"Listen, Fox," I say. "I'm going up to the cabin with Irene. She and her family want to spend the summer holiday up there and we need to check and repair a few things. We'll stay until Monday. Then Irene wants to visit friends and go shopping. So I don't know when I'll be able to call again."

"'S okay," he says. "Call me on Wednesday when you're back from the airport."

"Okay. Will do. Night, Fox."

"Night, Walter. And..." I hear the grin in his voice. "... pleasant dreams."

Brat, I think. "You bet. I will."

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

I wake up because my right arm hurts. I try to move it and can't. It's buried under something hot and heavy and my heart remembers before my brain does. A feeling of pure, stupid happiness floods me as I open my eyes. In the first dim morning light, I'm looking at the man who is draped half over me, his head on my chest, burying my arm under him. He is soundly asleep. My left hand is buried in his dark silky hair. I suppose that's how we fell asleep last night. Or rather, this morning. I have to suppress a chuckle, don't want to wake him. That happy feeling explodes somewhere around my heart and spreads through my whole body like a brushfire. My hand tightens in his hair and I press a kiss on his forehead. He sighs and snuggles closer, but doesn't wake up. I'm touched that he can relax enough to sleep so deeply beside me. And I ask myself when he will wake up and take care of my hard-on. Incredible enough that I'm hard again. He made me come three times last night and I'm near fifty.

Last night... oh Jesus.

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

I had all this so nicely planned. First: dinner, loosen up a little. Then we would talk about the... airport incident. I would explain what I wanted and ask him what he wanted and we would work out a way to handle this relationship, a way that would be okay for both of us. And then, hopefully, I would take him to bed. That was how I had planned it. Neatly and orderly. The Skinner way, I guess.

Except that it didn't happen the Skinner way.

When I heard the doorbell, I put the water for the pasta on and went over to open the door. Yes. There he was. Finally. In jeans and a leather jacket and a tight grey t-shirt under that. God. He looked downright fuckable and I was hard in a second. He held a bottle of wine in one hand, I remember that, but all I really saw were his eyes, blazing green in the light of the hallway and I saw a mix of shyness, insecurity and longing in them. But he must have read everything he needed to know in my face before I could even say 'Hello', because he was suddenly inside and he kicked the door shut and then he was all over me.

The only other time in my life that I have come in my pants was when I was fourteen. Back then, it was the most mortifying moment of my short existence. I wanted to die on the spot. This time, it was one of the most precious and intense moments I have ever experienced. There he was, lying on the carpet in my livingroom, my Mulder, squirming and moaning in total abandon under the ministrations of my hand around his cock and my lips on his neck. His eyes closed, those luscious lips parted, cheeks flushed. So beautiful. I've never seen such a wonderful, arousing picture before and I wanted him, I wanted him so badly. But he was so hot and so wanton, I just couldn't bring myself to break off and move upstairs into my bed. I knew he would come in a few moments and I knew I didn't want that so soon but I just couldn't stop. He felt so good, he smelled so good, he... he was just wonderful.

What undid me in the end was... well... he screamed when he came. His whole body stiffened, his hips arched up, he dug his fingers into my shoulders - and he screamed. My name. He screamed my name. That just shut down my brain, and with it, all control. I was totally helpless when my orgasm literally steamrollered me. All I could do was cling to him while the forceful waves jerked my body against his thigh. I remember moaning into his silky hair, gasping his name over and over while the waves didn't seem want to end. He held me, still shuddering in the aftermath of his own lust, but he was there for me and he caught me when I finally collapsed into his arms, completely wrung out. We didn't speak for a long time, just held each other, stroking lightly wherever our lazy hands would reach.

After what seemed hours, we looked at each other. I kissed him and he grinned at me, a really sweet, satisfied and happy grin. And we laughed. There was no awkwardness, no embarrassment. Just tenderness. A sort of happiness. And, yes, trust.

"We should have done this a long time ago," I murmured, kissing him. And that was when the lights went out.

It was dark. Not the darkness you have when you switch off the lights in your bedroom. There is still the dim shimmer from outside, from the thousands of citylights. This here was darkness. It was totally, completely dark.

I felt him tense in my arms, breathing in sharply. There was a moment of absolute silence. Then we both began to speak at once.

"What the hell - "

"Hey, what is - "

The first sounds of bemused neighbors sounded in the hallway, questions were shouted, doors were banged.

"Power failure," we both said simultaneously.

I didn't want to get up and let him out of my arms. Even the thought of getting up and looking for the flashlight was too much. But what had been hot and sticky in my pants at first was now cold and sticky. And I was afraid his t-shirt had got its part; too. He had shot pretty forcefully and it had looked great. At least the few seconds I had been able to watch before I had come myself.

"I'll get the flashlight and we'll take a shower," I said and kissed him again. I just couldn't let go of him, he felt so good. With a purring sound, he embraced me and nuzzled my jaw.

"Ooh, sounds romantic. What about a bubble bath by candlelight?"

I snorted and felt him grin against my neck. Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I could see him laying beside me, stretched out like a lazy cat. In the hallway, doors banged shut again, the voices receded. Surely the power would be back in a few minutes. I kissed him again and cautiously got up. Found my way around the silhouettes of the furniture to the window. The street was completely silent. No lights, no people. The windows in the buildings around were dark. In some of them I could see the round white-golden eyes of flashlights wandering around or the soft flickering of candles. The rest was blackness.

A pair of arms slid around my waist, lips nuzzled my ear. I leaned back against Mulder's hard slender body. Let my fingers wander over the strong, finely built hands, up the forearms, where the soft light hair tickled my fingertips. The heat of his body seeped into my back and suddenly the memories flooded me. The memories of the last time when I had stood like that, with a lover holding me like Mulder held me now, his chin resting on my shoulder. Content and relaxed, but strong.

Mick. Oh god, Mick. Mick, who had broken my nose in a fight, then covered up for both of us. Who had become my best friend after that. And later, in Vietnam, my lover. And my love. It's amazing how it still hurts, after almost thirty years. But I guess that's not unusual when you have to watch helplessly as the person you love is shot in front of your eyes in a stupid rice paddy in Vietnam. Murdered by VC snipers you'll never get to see. All that blood. Spraying fountains of dark red, blossoming on his chest while his body first jerked up as if a giant fist had shoved him in the back, then fell in slow motion, folding down like a puppet whose strings have been cut. I shuddered and took a deep breath.

"Hey." A soft kiss behind my ear brought me back into the present. To my new love. Whom I must not lose. Not lose. Not this one. I turned around and embraced him fiercely, so hard he gasped. I buried my face into his neck. Couldn't speak, just clung to him.

Mulder may be crazy sometimes and he believes in alien shapeshifters and UFOs, but he has a sharp and analytical mind. A profiler's mind. And he's sensitive and loving. He did the only and right thing. He didn't ask. He just said what I needed to hear.

"I love you, Walter."

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

We took a quick shower in the white beam of the flashlight. There was still enough warm water and I enjoyed when he washed all the sticky stuff off me. Not to mention that my cock enjoyed the caresses of Mulder's soapy hands immensely and got hard again in the blink of an eye, but I didn't want to rush it this time. The next session would take place in my bed. And we would take our time. Plenty of time. I finally had him naked, and he was incredibly beautiful, lean and strong, a runner. A cheetah. I wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him from head to toe. On the other hand, I hadn't eaten anything since eleven. And I figured I would need my strength for the night. I hoped I would.

"I'm hungry," I said while we rubbed each other dry. "What about dinner? Oh shit." I had forgotten that I couldn't cook anything with the power out.

"No problem," Mulder said cheerfully and kissed me. "Let's call for takeout."

"The phone doesn't work, either, Fox."

"Oh. Right. Walter, do you think -"

"Don't even go there, Fox. This is just a power failure, no alien invasion or else." I kissed him and that proved to be a really effective way to silence him. I thought again that I should have done this long ago. I probably could have spared us a lot of useless discussions. He withdrew, panting.

"I'll get us some takeout and then we'll go to bed. Damn, I'm equally hungry *and* horny. Didn't I bring some wine?"

I remembered vaguely that he indeed had brought a bottle of wine, but... Finally, we found it on the desk beside the phone, next to my glasses. I couldn't remember taking those off, either.

Eating and then bed. Sounded good. I put my glasses on and grabbed the flashlight and my keys. Ran into Mulder who couldn't find his jacket and I took full advantage of the collision and kissed him again. And couldn't stop. God, I couldn't get enough of the man, of kissing him, holding him. I couldn't believe he was really here, warm and solid and squirming so delightfully in my arms, almost vanishing in the T-shirt I had loaned him. He moaned into my mouth and in seconds, we were both hard again and making out like teenagers. Just as I was about to suggest we skip the damn dinner and go upstairs, one of our stomachs gave a loud protesting growl. I chuckled, Mulder groaned.

"Okay, okay," he said, unwillingly pulling back from my mouth. "Let's go, but only -" he

licked over my lips - "because I think we're both gonna need our strength tonight."

"That a promise?" I purred into his ear, slowly rubbing my palms over his nipples.

"Ah... oh... ah, yeah," he sighed, leaning into the touch.

"Good," I said, willing myself to pull away from him, "let's go, then."

We were not the only ones who were going to live on take-out that night. It was dinnertime, after all, and people were hungry. Only four blocks further, the power was on. So it really was just my close neighborhood. We agreed on Chinese, sweet-sour chicken for me and chicken with peanut sauce for Mulder. I didn't really care about the food anymore, all I wanted was Mulder. Only the fact that I hadn't eaten for almost twelve hours now kept me from simply pouncing on him and cuffing him to my bed.

What a nice picture, by the way. I'd have to think about that.

The power was still out when we got back. In the beam of the flashlight, we stumbled into my apartment. When I searched for the lighter to light the candle, I heard Mulder give a startled shout - and then he fell hard against me, clutching my shoulder in a painful grip. I lost my equilibrium, instinctively grabbing at him for a halt, which was idiotic, of course, and then we both tumbled down on the floor, Mulder landing half over me. He knocked the air out of my lungs. I heard the crackling of paper and carton between us and before I could say "shit", I felt it, hot and sticky, soaking through my t-shirt, burning hot on my skin.

Mulder felt it, too. And it cracked him up. I've never really heard him laugh, and just for that delighted, childlike laughter I was gladly ready to get the skin over my stomach burnt a bit. It sounded wonderful, Mulder laughing like the carefree little boy he most probably never had been.

"Fell over the damn jacket," he gasped, still laughing. Then he found my mouth and he kissed me and I was ready to forget we were lying on the carpet of my living room - again, damn -, only this time with squashed Chinese food between our bodies. His kiss was hot and demanding and soul-searing. He took possession of my mouth as if it were the most desirable thing on earth and he completely focussed on kissing my brains out, sighing and moaning into my mouth.

At that moment, the power returned. We both groaned, blinking like owls, as the sudden light blinded us. The refrigerator in the kitchen gave a clicking sound and immediately began to hum. I looked down at my stomach and sadly noted that my t-shirt was ruined by sticky sweet-sour Chinese sauce and the second pair of jeans of this remarkable evening was ready for the washing machine.

"Another pair of jeans," I sighed. "I think I begin to see a pattern here, Fox Mulder. You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

He grinned. Cute. Beautiful. Blinding.

"Ohh yeah," he purred. "I'd do anything to get you naked and then to prevent you from ever getting dressed again, Walter."

My cock twitched painfully. It obviously loved that statement. Little slut. I wanted to get up, take a quick shower and then get him into bed. Into my damn bed, finally. Because, unlike my new love, *I have* got one, you know. But, damn you, Mulder, he shoved my shirt up, grabbed a few fingers full of the still pretty warm stuff from the damaged foot carton and deliberately smeared it all over my stomach. He stifled my protest with a kiss and then began to slowly and thoroughly lick the stuff off of me.

If I had thought I had been hard before I had to think again. In nanoseconds, I was *really* hard and close to bursting in my pants again. God. Mulder was going to make my fantasy true - that is, one of my favorite fantasies of him. Of course, that vision originally had not included any foodstuffs, Asian or else. But it definitely *did* include Mulder's mouth and the middle part of my body. In a very close connection.

And he *was* going to make it true now, in the midst of a chaotic mix of a crumpled leather jacket, a torn and squelched bag of Chinese food, another one that was still intact but began to leak suspiciously - chaos which, under normal circumstances, would have driven me crazy. But I realized that letting myself being driven crazy by Mulder's hot mouth was much more fun.

Mulder's mouth, Mulder's beautiful luscious lips, Mulder's tongue. A tongue that just now began wandering down my stomach, circled in my navel, which made me gasp because I'm ticklish there, and down and along the rim of my jeans. One of the hands that had been tenderly stroking my thighs wandered up and opened the button and then, slowly, the zipper. Oh my god... would he really...? I groaned at the mere thought of my cock in his mouth.

But he took his time, painstakingly licking every little bit of sauce off of me, giving happy little humming sounds. Every single one of those hums whipped my pleasure a few notches higher. I was lying there, helpless under the assault of electric jolts of lust rocking my body and fogging my brain up. With an uncoordinated, weak movement of my hand, I tried to get him to my aching cock, desperately trying to communicate to him that I would lose it very, very soon now, not matter what he did. I was beyond forming articulate words, I was pure lust and arousal.

Finally, my devilish lover had mercy on me. That's the dim thought that filled me with deep relief when I felt him pulling at my jeans. But instead of just freeing my despairing cock and sucking it, he seemed to want the jeans completely off. Unwillingly, I complied as he patiently pulled them down and off, together with my shoes and socks.

I couldn't believe it when he reached for that damn food bag again and retrieved a piece of pineapple, dripping and slippery with sauce.

"You like pineapple, Walter?" he said, with a voice so husky with desire that I dug my fingers hard into his shoulder, so violent was the shudder that wracked me. He closed his eyes briefly, then grinned at me, wolfishly and with glazed eyes.

"You do. That's good," he whispered roughly. "Because...I like it, too, Walter. I *love* pineapple."

I didn't know what to say and I doubt I would have been able to remember how to use my vocal cords - but he didn't expect an answer, anyway, because he took that still-warm piece of fruit and stroked it slowly up my cock. It felt smooth and rough at the same time and when the fibrous texture came in contact with my oversensitized cockhead, I nearly passed out. I wasn't even able to groan anymore when I watched Mulder trailing that piece of pineapple around my glans.

He lifted my cock with his other hand and collected the glistening pearls of precome from the slit, using the pineapple slice like a spoon. With a sultry look at me from under incredibly long eyelashes, he licked his lips, opened his mouth, then slowly, slowly stuck his tongue out and took the fruit in his mouth. His eyes closed in delight as he chewed it with obvious relish and swallowed. I stopped breathing. My chest hurt. My cock ached and burnt. I knew I would die now and just hoped he would let me come before I expired.

He looked at me and knew.

"You don't have the slightest idea how hot and sexy you are, do you? You drive me crazy, Walter."

And without further ado, he bent down and took me into his mouth. Hot. Wet. Tight. That did it. This time, it was me who screamed, *I* screamed *his* name, and I came hard and long and forcefully, bucking up deep into his throat, and it was so good, so incredibly, unbearably good.

I somehow managed to haul him up to me and kissed him, greedily sucking on his tongue. If I had been able, I could have come once again just from the feeling of raw power that flooded me as I tasted my come in his mouth.

Groaning, far gone, looking at me with totally dilated eyes, he reached down, opened his zipper and freed his cock. I pulled him over me, kissed him fiercely, grabbed his ass and pressed him hard to my belly, his straining dick like a hot steel rod on my skin.

I encouraged him as he rocked against me, as he jerked his groin into mine with hard stabs, moaning mindlessly, shoving his cock through the puddle of my come that had escaped his mouth, and I whispered hot and dirty things into his ear. He came almost instantly, fast and hard, with a shout that ended in painful sounding little whimpers and sobs, shuddering violently in my arms. Oh, the sensation of his hot semen spreading between our bodies was delicious. He collapsed on my chest, panting heavily, and I stroked his neck, weaving my fingers lazily through his silky hair.

It took a while until both our breathing became more regular. I wondered what had happened to all the bones in my body; there didn't seem to be any left.

"I feel like a Beanie Baby, " Mulder murmured sleepily into my ear. "Totally floppy."

That would have cracked me up, but I was even too beat to laugh. I managed a weak chuckle and hugged him.

"I love you, Beanie Baby," I said. That was out before I realized it. A rush of confused emotions flooded me.

I *knew* I was in love with him, I'd *shown* him, but I hadn't explicitly *said* it yet. Feeling and knowing it, and saying it out loud were two completely different things. It wasn't easy, saying those words loud, to a man, after so many years. And yet it felt and sounded so right. Like it had felt with Mick. And, sad to say, it never had sounded quite *so* right with Sharon.

This time, Mulder wasn't aware of the little battle of feelings I was fighting. He groaned, then chortled and pressed a sleepy kiss on my cheek.

"You call me that in the office and I'll shoot you. Oh. Shit."

"What?"

"I just realized I'll have to get up really early. Office. Work." He gave another groan and buried his face into my neck.

"Well, *I* don't," I said smugly. I couldn't resist.

"Huh?"

"I've extended my leave. Don't have to be back until Monday."

"Well, thanks for letting me know," he grumbled.

I laughed and hugged him. "I've extended yours as well."

"Huh?" Come dumb, Mulder was just irresistible.

"I called Kim this afternoon and told her you had to go to Chicago. Urgently. Private business. You won't be back before Monday." I grinned.

He propped up on his elbows and looked down on me, frowning. Then grinned, wickedly.

"You *lied*, Walter? To keep me in your bed? You mean Walter S. Skinner, surly, tight-assed AD, lied to Kim and to Personnel to keep his subordinate in his bed?"

I tried to scowl at him.

"I didn't lie, Mulder. You *will* spend the time until Monday morning in Chicago, believe me."

He was wide awake now, his curiosity in full gear.

"Walter, what-"

"You'll see later," I growled. "Now get up, I need a shower."

After a nice, hot and lazy shower, which, incredibly, left us both half hard again, I made the pasta I had prepared earlier. I was really hungry now. I refused Mulder's disgusting idea to just put the unharmed chicken in peanut sauce into the microwave. The pasta sauce was ready, it just had to heat up, the pasta itself was happily dancing in the bubbling water a few minutes later. The dinner - or, better, the midnight snack - wasn't very formal. No nice dishes, no expensive wine glasses. Just a hot snack in the kitchen, in briefs and shirt, our knees and feet touching under the table. It was comfortable and... yes, nice. Just plain nice. I could get used to this, I thought.

"So, what about that Chicago thing, Walter?"

"Yeah, you're right. Time for Chicago," I said lazily. I felt pleasantly tired, warm and satiated. I hadn't felt that good and thoroughly content in... years. *Years.* Too long. I would have to see to it that I'd feel like this more often now, I decided. I got up, took Mulder's hand and tugged him up. Kissed him.

"Let's go to Chicago," I whispered into his ear. When we came into my bedroom, he looked around with interest, then sat down on the bed, bouncing up and down. Let himself fall back, spreading all over the bed, grinning at me.

"Now, do I find the tickets under the pillow or are you gonna---oof!"

I was over him and kissing him before he had a chance. Had I been tired a few minutes ago? Had I felt lazy? Boneless? Satiated? I couldn't remember any of that. Mulder was moaning and squirming under me, rubbing a swollen bulge against my hip and sucking my neck and I was all hot and feverish and quickly spreading brushfire again. Mulder's fresh smell, the tickling of his soft hair in my face, the little moans and sighs he made, all that drove me crazy in seconds. Months of inner battles and hot fantasies seemed to want to erupt here, tonight.

I stripped his briefs off and did what I had wanted to do all night: I slowly sucked his beautiful cock into my mouth, letting it glide as far as possible back to my throat and again between my lips, stroking it with my tongue all the way along. The enthusiastic shout that followed made me grin around the hard velvety shaft. It had been a while since I had done this, but I found it as easy to relearn as swimming or riding a bike: there are things you just don't forget how to do.

Mulder spread his legs, giving me better access, and chanting little monotone and nonsensical songs that mainly included the words "God" and "Walter". And I didn't mind in the slightest hearing my name and God's coming in one breath from his lush lips. I began to suckle on his cockhead now, tasting his precome, rubbing my tongue over the heart-shaped underside. His balls felt hot in my hand, hot and velvety and a bit furry, and I enjoyed rolling them in my palm, eliciting moans and musical mantras from my lover.

When I felt them harden and Mulder got desperate, bucking up into my mouth, clamping down on my wrist and the sheets, I sat up, ignoring his complaining whine, and surveyed my prey. There he lay, staring at me with his gorgeous almond shaped eyes. They looked a dark hazel in the light of the bedroom and were glazed over with lust now.

I let my fingertips slowly travel down his slim muscular body, over the hot and silky skin. Softly pinched his nipples, hard little pebbles, brownish pink. The hard, flat belly. He had the lean, but strong body of a runner and swimmer, not as bulky as mine. Panting, he shifted into my touch, tried to meet my fingers wherever he could. He was incredibly beautiful, and he was mine.

Mine.

All mine.

Finally, finally, mine.

And suddenly... I had to have him. Here. Now. I had to have him, I needed to have him, so badly. The need flooded me with a frightening, all-consuming power. It was overwhelming, like some primal urge that drove me to grab and possess him. It shut all my higher brain functions down. I was reduced to a primitive and overpowering need to claim him.

I think I wasn't able to speak coherently, but he saw the change in my face and he knew.

All he said was "I know, I know, it's okay, come here."

And then I don't exactly remember what happened, I just know that he held me as I grabbed him, he didn't say a word when I bruised him and then, finally, I had him, I was sinking, gliding into him, into his burning tight heat, it felt like our whole bodies were engulfed by a field of hot and throbbing air, and I moved and thrust into him and I claimed him and I went deeper, into him, into his heart, into his soul, and then he cried out and it was my name again and it sounded beautiful from his lips and he pulsed in my hand and around my cock and I came, so hard I forgot how to breathe. And then nothing.

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

"You gonna tell me about Chicago now?" His voice is sleepy, but amused.

"Hey," I say. I slowly roll him over and kiss him. A lazy, wet, loving good-morning kiss. He buries his face in my neck.

"Maybe you should wait until I have brushed my teeth."

I chuckle.

"I don't think any of us had enough time to develop a morning breath. We didn't sleep long enough for that. It was about three when we-"

I stare down at him. God. What have I done? I have attacked him, I have... just... *taken* him.

"How are you?" My voice is scratchy. He smiles and strokes my jaw.

"Listen, Walter," he says very seriously. "It was great. It was wonderful. It was the best I ever had, really. I'm a bit sore, but-"

"Damn. I knew it," I say grimly. I could shoot myself. What have I done? I have never, never been like that before.

"Fox, I'm-"

His hand is over my mouth before I can say it.

"Don't say you're sorry, Walter, or I'll shoot you." He gives me a warning look from still-sleepy eyes. "What you did was exactly what I *wanted* you to do. I *wanted* to be yours. It was good. It was great. You should know, because you cleaned me up afterwards. Ok?"

I nod, mutely. Yes, now I dimly remember fetching a washcloth and cleaning him. I must have been cold out right after that.

"Ok," he says, and takes his hand off my mouth. Smiles. A lazy, sleepy, and incredibly sexy smile. "Now, about Chicago..."

I grin. "You never give up, huh. You are there."

"In Chicago."

"Hmmm." I nuzzle his neck.

He sighs.

"Walter... do I have to torture you or are you gonna spill?"

I have to laugh now.

"The bed," I say. "The model is called 'Chicago'. So you are in Chicago, and I didn't lie when I said you'd be there until Monday morning."

For a moment, he is completely still under me. Then the first giggles begin to bubble up from under my chest.

"I don't believe this. Oh god." He is laughing now, that wonderful carefree little-boy laughter.

"So you are planning to keep me here. And if I want to leave your bed?"

"Then I'll just have to cuff you to the headboard," I say. And hold my breath. Have I said too much? Maybe this wasn't such a smart thing to say and I have squicked him off now.

But... with amazement, I watch his eyes slowly glaze over.

"Oh," he says huskily. "Nice plan." And I feel his cock swelling and twitching against my belly. Now what do you say. My Mulder has a thing for bondage. I grin and lick slowly along his jaw, down his neck. He arches up against me. Seems like we are going at it again. Unbelievable, after that night.

"Plan?" I say. "Nothing of this went as I planned it until now."

He grins and kisses my nose.

"I'm sorry, Walter, but I'm afraid from now on, this is gonna be the theme of your life. Get used to it."

Well...

I think I can do that. But for now, there are more important things to do. And to plan.

~~~~THE END~~~~