by Amazon X
alter Skinner awoke and rolled over, expecting a warm body beside
him. He found cold sheets. Reaching over to pat the area only
confirmed that he was alone in the bed. Reaching for his glasses,
he slid them up his nose and looked around. There were no sounds
from downstairs, but that didn't mean Alex wasn't down there.
Walter was sure Alex hadn't left the condo before telling him.
It was supposed to be simple. Walter shot Alex in the head, or that's what Mulder thought. Then, when the dust settled and the plans were underway to stop the invasion and a weakness was found for the super soldiers, Alex would come back and he and Walter would live happily ever after. That's what Walter thought.
Mulder came back, after Doggett searched for two years for him. Mulder was under the impression that he was putting William in danger. When William failed to thrive, became very sick and died, Scully withdrew into her own world. Walter visited her, taking her to church each week with him. He read to her, kept her up to date with family news, but he knew she would never be the same.
Walter got out of bed and slipped into his robe. He padded quietly down the stairs and saw Alex sitting at his desk, surfing on his laptop. He stood watching for a while, not speaking or moving. Alex surfed on, typing occasionally, but mostly reading. Skinner knew this couldn't be right. Alex should have noticed him in the first moment he stopped on the steps.
"Hey, Alex, why didn't you wake me?" he asked, descending the rest of the stairs. Alex looked up and it took him a moment to smile.
"Good morning, Walter," he said, carefully.
Walter looked him over and said, "What are you reading?"
Alex's hands were too quick in closing the web page before Walter could walk over and look. "Nothing, just reading the news. I've made coffee and what would you like to eat?"
Walter scrubbed a hand over his face and watched as Alex walked ahead of him into the kitchen. "Some eggs, I think. And a couple of slices of toast."
"Of course. I'll just be a minute."
"OK, I'm going to read my email while you're in there, OK, Alex?"
"Of course, what ever you like, Walter," he called back. Walter could hear him starting to cook. He sat at the laptop and opened the internet browser history to see where Alex had been surfing. He'd spent quite a bit of time staring at the Encyclopedia Britannica site. He was looking at the section on Christmas and the customs and traditions. Why would Alex look at that? He had spent countless Christmases at Walter's condo after he'd moved in. He didn't need to look up and traditions, they had their own. Christmas eve was cooking together, making love by the tree and falling asleep on the rug. Christmas morning was opening presents nude and making breakfast together. Curiouser and curiouser.
He closed the window and did a quick check of his email and walked to where Alex was dishing out perfect plates of eggs. "That looks delicious, Alex," he said, stepping up behind the other man. He slipped his arms around Alex's waist and hugged him tight. "Breakfast can wait, lover. Right now I want you. Right here, on the table."
"But...wait...the dishes..." Alex started to say but Skinner reached out and swept the dishes from the table onto the floor. Alex turned a neutral face on Skinner and dutifully bent over the table, pulling his pajama pants down.
"No, baby, turn around. I want to see you," he said. Alex shifted around while Walter reached over for the butter. He smeared it on Alex's ass, pulled open his robe and shoved his half-hard cock in. Alex opened to him without even the slightest preparation. He did, however, clamp down like a virgin on Walter's cock, ensuring he became rock hard in moments. Walter looked down at his lover, and knew it was wrong. Alex was panting, moaning, grabbing at the table, but his eyes looked dead, like a doll's eyes. Alex was disconnected from the whole thing. This was very wrong.
Walter reached out, trying something, anything, stroking Alex's soft member. It sprang up hot and thick, immediately in his palm, and hips thrust up to meet his hand. "Yeah, that's it, baby, come for me, come for Daddy," he crooned down to the man writhing uninterested under him. Ropes of thick fluid shot up, painting Alex's belly in an abstract pattern that Pollock would be interested in. Skinner pressed a kiss to Alex's lips, but abruptly pulled away when Alex responded, giving just the right amount of pressure with his tongue. Skinner shook his head like a confused pup.
He stepped back, tying his robe closed and said, "Who are you? You're not Alex. Not my Alex."
The man on the table sat up and changed his expression for the first time in half an hour. He had the temerity to look confused. "Walter? I'm Alex. Your Alex. Who else could I be?"
Walter backed up until he reached the counter top. "You are not the Alex that I love. You can't be. The man I've made love to for the past decade would never have stood for me being called his 'Daddy' in a million years. Who are you?"
The man stood and pulled his pajama pants up. He stepped toward Walter, but the bigger man held his hands up to ward him off. The younger man stopped in his tracks and had the unmitigated gall to act surprised. "Walter, I think you just need to eat and relax and we can discuss this calmly and rationally. Like adults. OK?"
He turned to bend over and pick up the broken plates and spilled food from the floor. Walter took his chance. He pulled the roasting fork from the butcher block and with strong forearm arc reminiscent of John McEnroe, he plunged it into the back of the being's neck. It all went to hell from there.
The green foam poured out of the wound and Walter began to choke immediately. The acidic stench forced him out of the room and out onto the balcony, despite the biting December wind. He sat out there and waited, sitting on the concrete floor of the balcony, the way he'd once made Alex sit, like a dog, and waited. Of course, that night as soon as Mulder was gone, Alex was invited into the condo to sleep with Walter.
He sat out there, ignoring the telephones that rang, both his landline and cellular. He ignored his numb limbs, deadened by the frigid gale swirling about his barely-clothed body. He'd stopped shivering and was letting the tingling of the blackness edging his vision take over when strong hands hauled him off the floor and all but carried him up to his bathroom and into a hot bath. The voices seemed familiar, soothing, friendly, but he couldn't be sure of anything anymore.
His glasses had been removed, but he could see well enough to know it was Mulder and Doggett in his bathroom. At least, it sounded like them. He just stared at them, ignoring the questions and entreaties to tell him what happened. It wasn't until Doggett pulled his pocket knife out and cut both his and Mulder's hands to reveal the red blood, and showing the smooth backs of their necks that Skinner relaxed and let the warm water bring him back to reality.
"So they replaced Alex on you, didn't they?" Mulder said quietly, running a wet sponge over his former boss' shoulders.
"How...I mean, when..." Walter stopped speaking when Mulder smiled at him.
"Walter, I can read minds, remember? Yours, anyway. I knew you loved him for a long time. I know that the murder was faked. I know that he loves you, but that's all he'll let me see. I didn't know that was a clone." Mulder handed Walter back clean glasses. The look on the younger man's face was that of pure sorrow.
"What does my kitchen look like?" he asked, trying to move forward, before the tears got to him.
"Like you broke a car battery. The table is almost dissolved. The tiles are broken, but not completely gone."
"Italian marble. I suppose we can clean that up easy enough."
Doggett entered the room with three mugs of hot black coffee for each man. He nodded to his boss before handing him a mug, gave one to his lover and sat on the closed toilet lid with his own. "So, how do we find Krycek for you, sir?"
Walter laughed. "Leave it to you to cut out the bullshit and get to the point, John. I don't know. I don't think I should. Maybe the message is clear. He shouldn't belong to me."
Mulder, in an newly characteristic self-sacrificing move, began undressing, stepped into Walter's ultra-deep spa tub and settled beside him, draping his long limbs around Walter's shoulders. After a few moments of shock, then understanding, Doggett followed suit, taking up residence on Walter's abandoned left side. Both men held their boss as he wept, something neither of them thought he was capable of doing.
They helped him out of the bath, into his warmest pajamas and into his unmade bed to sleep. Walter was not surprised to awaken after dark, not that late since it was the middle of December, and his robe was thrown across the foot of his bed. He found his slippers beside the bed on the rug, both which he put on and went down to his living room where he heard a television playing the Knicks-Wizards game.
"Hey, Walt, you're awake," Mulder said. "Come on, watch the game with us. The Knicks are up by six."
"No, the kitchen..." he started, but Doggett held a hand up.
"We took care of that. Aired the place out, pried up the bad tiles and put some wood down over it. Got some linoleum over that. Temporary until you get a tile guy in there. Got some Japanese on the way, too. Even bought some beer. Siddown, boss. Have one."
Mulder had gone to the kitchen and returned with an open bottle of Sam Adams for Walter. He sat in his easy chair and watched with them, watching them just as much. The two men started out hating each other. In their quest to find the truth, avenge their families and rid the FBI of the alien threat, as well as the world, they grew to love each other. Another reason Scully withdrew so deeply. None of the men she thought would give her unconditional emotional support wanted to love her romantically. Not even Walter.
They shared Doggett's house, Mulder consulting on the X-Files through a dummy organization so that no one would know it was Mulder and were quite happy. They'd even acquired a dog they called Spot, appropriate for a Dalmatian. It would run with Mulder every morning, but was as deaf as a post, as most Dalmatians were. Mulder didn't care. He loved Spot all the same, and irked Doggett by letting the dog sleep on the bed.
Walter drank beer after beer, ate his shrimp and chicken tempura, and his green tea ice cream, but tasted none of it. He listened to "Jack" and "Moldah" talk about the game, the teams, the players, the floor with the ice under it at Madison Square Garden, anything to keep from thinking of the dead, flat green eyes that made their way into his apartment two weeks ago, informing him that he was there to stay, forever.
Walter had been so pleased, so excited, that he quickly rationalized the lack of interest as due to Alex's fatigue from his missions. It wasn't until a few days later when Walter had mentioned one of their "special baths" that he seriously noticed a difference. That Alex had no idea what to do, where the bubble bath was, nothing. He didn't know what their reunion breakfast was, pancakes and raspberries. He didn't even remember where Walter kept his stash of clean clothes. He did know all of Walter's erogenous zones, though. It was as if he'd been programmed as a sex doll, not as a person. And whomever had programmed him didn't think they had an actual relationship, but were just fuck buddies.
It broke Walter's heart to know that his Alex was gone, but it also soothed him to know that it wasn't a game, the love they shared. If the beings that had Alex didn't know about any of their traditions, they didn't know that Alex loved Walter, and that he loved Alex back.
"How do I find him?" Walter asked himself, not realizing he spoke out loud.
"Dunno, boss. Moldah, what do you think?" Doggett answered.
Walter looked up with reddened eyes. Mulder looked back at him. And the path was clear.
TAKOMA PARK, MD
HEADQUARTERS OF THE LONE GUNMEN
John Byers looked up from his computer as Jimmy Bond admitted the three men to the basement offices of the Lone Gunman Newsgroup. "Good day, gentlemen. My associates are..."
"Cut the crap, Byers," Walter interrupted. "Have you found him?"
"No," Langly said, mouth full of corn chips, still typing furiously on his keyboard.
"Sorry, man," Frohike said, taking papers from the printer. "His usually hidey holes are gone.
"There's no electricity connected, no cable, nothing," Byers took over. "Four of them have new tenants, the other three are dormant and have been for some time. And there has been no activity on the three Swiss bank accounts he has. He could live quite comfortably, if he ever comes out of hiding."
"He's not hiding, you assholes! He's been taken! Can't you understand that? They have him somewhere! I want to know where my lover is, and I want to know now!" Walter was bordering on hysterical.
Thoroughly stung, all three senior Gunmen took offense to the outburst, but Jimmy stood beside Walter and reached out to pat his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mr. Skinner. We're doing the best we can. Whoever took him put him somewhere that we can't find. Do you think there are remnants of the Consortium that have him? Or maybe he's been returned to the Russian gulag?"
Walter shook his head sadly. Mulder spoke for him. "Alex has assured us he's dismantled both. We have no reason to believe he wasn't completely honest. One thing we never counted on was Alex having a more global picture in mind when it came to the fight he was waging on his own. He'd seen both the European and the American parts of the Consortium. He knew how widespread this was. And he needed to play us against them in order to topple the entire structure."
"Lofty aspirations for one man," Byers noted with a bit of admiration mixed in with the regret.
"He succeeded, Byers," Walter spat. "Don't forget that. The threat is nullified. He was coming home to me when he was replaced."
"And who replaced him?" Jimmy asked. "I mean, if he fixed everything, then why did someone send you a clone? There must be more left to do."
"Then we'll do it," Mulder said, emphatically. "Keep looking. We'll be back in the morning."
"I can't," Walter said.
"Why not?" Mulder demanded.
"Tomorrow is Sunday, Mulder. I take Dana to mass every Sunday morning."
The room went quiet. "We'll find him, Walter," Doggett said. "I promise. We'll find him for you."
ST. AGNESS' CONTINUED CARE FACITLITY
ALEXANDRIA, VA
Walter sat reading "Anne of Green Gables" to Scully, who sat in her wheelchair in the library. Several other residents had gathered as well, with their attendants to listen, as had become a weekly tradition. Usually, Walter read with great energy, acting all the different voices, enjoying himself and pleasing the listeners. That day, he was quiet, flat and tired. He hadn't slept well and the priest was new, lecturing on and on about the sins of the flesh.
Walter ignored the homily and held Dana's cold hand. Her hands and feet were always cold. He did his best to massage heat back into them, but he wasn't up for it that Sunday. Even the nurse aide could see Walter was straining to maintain his composure to read, so she rescued him. Abruptly, she stood from her chair beside her charge and walked straight to where Walter sat. She reached out, surprising him, and put her hand on his forehead. "Mr. Skinner, you're running a fever. I think we should stop now. If you're contagious, our entire residency can catch it."
The other aides started removing patients and one was kind enough to take hers. Scully's aide came and took her away to her room. When the room was empty, Walter looked up that the woman who had handed him two Tylenol and a glass of water and said, "You are an angel. Was I doing that poorly?"
"Something happened, I can see it all over your face. Go see Dana, then go home."
He did. Then he didn't. He went straight to a bar. And then was poured straight into a cab and helped by his doorman to his couch. Where he promptly passed out.
The next morning, Walter was awoken by a ringing in his head. When he realized it was the phone, he was damned ready to hurt someone. Once he'd finally stumbled over to the phone, after dumping over both his coffee table and the contents of his desk, he'd firmly decided that if it weren't a case of life or death, he was going to make it a case of death. The voice on the other end of the line was enough to make him shake.
"Walter, it's Dana."
He stood, unsteadily, trying to comprehend what he was hearing. The woman had spent two years in a depressive fugue state. "I...Dana? It's really you." He knew the voice as well as anyone he'd ever spoken to in his life. He quickly walked to his kitchen to start coffee, looking at the calendar tacked to his fridge and saw that it was three days until Christmas. A miracle for the holidays.
"Walter, I...I think I know where Alex is."
He fumbled to regain his hold on the phone. That information rattled him so deeply, he barely was able to stand up straight. "How do you know this?" he asked.
"I dreamt it. I mean, my sister came to me. Melissa told me he was in a silo with William. I don't know. You have to call Mulder and ask him where that silo was located where we were apprehended."
"Black Crow, North Dakota. Dana...William isn't..."
"Walter, I know that my son most likely died that night in my bed, beside me, refusing to not only drink from a bottle but also my breast. I'm...Melissa was clear. If I ignore this...would you believe it more if it came from Mulder? Maybe less?"
Walter thought about it for a moment. She was right. Scully never jumped to a conclusion in her life. If she believed this strongly in her dream, she must have reasons. "Call Doggett and Mulder and have them bring you to the Gunmen's place. I'll meet you all there in a bit. I have something to do first."
HOLY CROSS CEMETERY
GLEN BURNIE, MD
Walter sat on the bench facing his wife's grave. He had laid the flowers across the layer of browned grass and just stared as the frigid wind blew around him.
"Sharon, if you can help me in any way, I need it now. I need a sign, something, anything. I want him back. If there's any chance that I can have my Alex back, and Dana can have her son...please. I'm begging you."
He took in one last deep breath, letting the steam pour in billows from his slack mouth before heaving his weary frame from the frozen marble. His ass thanked him profusely. As he walked back to his car, a small, dark movement caught his eye. It was surely to late in the season, and far too cold for squirrels to be out. He turned and caught the back end, and unmistakable long, thin tail of a rat scurry into one of the drainage sewers by the curb. He looked up at the thick clouds that were giving way to a bright blue sky, allowing warm sunshine to pour down on him. "Thank you, Sharon."
He drove quickly to the Gunmen's warehouse, and was rejoiced to see Doggett's truck there. Scully's wheelchair was still in the back. He was met at the door by Frohike, who smiled and said, "We're lucky men, you know. Miracles don't just happen every day."
"I know, Mel, I know," Walter answered and went straight to where Scully sat, falling to his knees before her. She held out her arms to him and he hugged her tightly.
"I heard you every time you were there, Walter. A little wisp, but I knew you were there. Like when Mulder would come by every day with Spot."
"I thought you ran every day," Doggett accused.
"I did. I ran to the car, drove to the residence, ran to her room...you know. I'm sorry."
"Shoulda told me. I'd have made arrangements to go with you more, asshole."
"You two can talk about this later," Byers broke in. "I've already started a search on heat distribution in the silos of Black Crow, but there's a lot going on in the ground there. We'll need something more substantial to go on. Otherwise, you're looking at a search of over one hundred and fifty silos there."
"Cant you search for his bio-signature or something?" Mulder asked. "Maybe William's?"
Langly laughed at his optimism. "What the hell is a bio-signature? You think we can just hack a satellite, point it at North Dakota and it'll start pinging Alex and William in a hole? Doesn't work like that, my friend. This isn't the movies. In reality, like where we are now, the satellites can only peg heat or electric impulses. We can't just pinpoint people."
"Wait!" Scully shouted, trying to stand. Walter wrapped his arms around her and levered her up. "I still have the chip in my neck. Doesn't Alex have one as well? I mean, I think he told me that, once, when he came to see me."
Walter looked down at her, deeply into her eyes. "He came to see you? At the residence?"
"Yes, I think several times. He sang to me in Russian, I think. And I know I remember him touching my neck and saying he had one, too. Please, check mine, get the wave it emits and see if that helps. If he has William..."
Frohike had dug out what looked like an average metal detector wand and waved it by Scully's neck. "I've modified this to read electronic signals. I can download the frequency and scan the area. We should get a reading."
Frohike connected a cable to the wand then to his hard drive. He typed a few commands and they waited. Walter sat beside Scully, holding her hand. Mulder pulled a hair up to the other side and took her other hand. Doggett stood back and watched. Walter knew Doggett understood that this was about their son and not about a romance that wasn't meant to be.
"Silo ten thirteen." Langly announced. "He's in the empty missile shafting. I can't see if he's got company, and the heat signature is fairly dim. You guys better hurry."
BLACK CROW, ND
SILO 1013
Walter leapt from his truck, racing to the door of the silo. He was sure it was locked, or sealed with concrete, anything that would bar his entry and stymie him. It was just like fate to tease him like that. But the door swung open and the movement triggered the lights. Weapons drawn, all four trained agents entered the silo, technical assistance bringing up the rear. Jimmy even came along, knowing they may need him for part of the rescue.
Adrenalin pumped through veins as they secured their route around each corner and down stairwells. As they covered each new yard of territory, both Scully and Walter prepared for the worst. Mulder wasn't sure he wanted her there, but she wouldn't be dissuaded. "I may have been an invalid before, Mulder, but I am going, and I'll be capable of rescuing my son. I assure you of that."
Turning the final corner, all eight searchers stopped. There was the tell-tale yellow "radioactive" triangle on the dark red door. It was wedged closed with a huge metal spike shoved into the doorjamb. Walter immediately grabbed for it, but Mulder held him back. "Let the professionals scan for booby traps," he warned.
The Gunmen swarmed the area, scanning with tricorders, or whatever they were, all the while, Walter fairly bounced on the balls of his feet. As soon as the Gunmen stepped back, nodding approval to enter, Walter bounded forward. Doggett stopped him cold. "Walt, look, whatever's in that room, I'm not emotionally attached. If it's good, I'll call you in immediately. If it's not...just let me go first."
Walter nodded, but Scully grabbed his sleeve. "I want to know whatever it is."
Doggett nodded and entered the room. It wasn't but three seconds later that he heard, "Clear! Clear! Get in here!"
Barreling through the door first, Walter found himself in a rounded cavern with a huge pit in the middle. There was a narrow ledge around the circumference, and across the expanse, a dark body, clad in filthy jeans and a black leather jacket huddled with a dark green mass about its middle. Walter rushed over, overtaking Doggett with Scully hot on his heels. The dark head looked up and the bright green eyes sparkled up at him. "Hey, Walt, fancy seeing you here," Alex rasped.
His voice sounded like heavy-grade sandpaper. The lump in his lap stirred a little and whimpered. The boy's clothes looked ragged and institutional, like toddler scrubs. Scully reached down and pulled him up. Two sleepy blue eyes opened and the little cherub mouth smiled. "Mommy," was all he said. Scully turned and the boy was lost between her and Mulder.
Doggett knelt with Walter on either side of Alex to help the weak man up. The cavern was cold and damp, and Walter knew both were probably suffering from hypothermia, dehydration and exhaustion. He tried to lift the man, but age, and his depression of late sapped much of his strength, as well as driving straight through from Maryland to North Dakota.
Jimmy and Doggett came around the other side and with six arms, Alex was sufficiently supported and carried out of the silo. Ensconced in the back of the truck in Walter's arms, he opened his eyes again, looking up at Walter's face. "I missed you."
"Shhh, save your strength. We'll have plenty of time to talk when you're well." Walter turned toward Doggett who was driving and said, "There's a Holiday Inn a few miles past the next town. Make sure someone gets us all rooms near each other. Dana, I hope you remembered..."
"It's in with my luggage."
"Good."
"Take me home, Walter, please," Alex whispered before falling asleep.
CRYSTAL CITY, VA
NEW YEAR'S DAY
Walter slowly drifted awake, aware of the warm body draped across his chest. He tightened his arms around Alex's waist and kissed his hair until the younger man blinked awake. The sleepy smile and subsequent snuggle brought a great sigh of contentment from Walter. "Good morning, my love," he whispered in Alex's ear.
Alex rubbed his roughened cheek against Walter's furry chest, eliciting giggles of delight from both men. A kiss to each nipple was granted before Alex moved to press his mouth the Walter's. "Good morning, my darling. We sound pretty sappy, huh?"
"I like it. How are you feeling?" he asked, stroking Alex's cheek.
"Better. I needed the rest, and the food."
At the motel, Walter had let Alex rest after Scully examined him, and he had bathed the man. Alex slept through Christmas in that bed, only waking to be assisted to the bathroom, or to take sips of broth and nibble on crackers. When he was ready to travel, a day or so later, Skinner loaded him into the truck and drove them back to Virginia, stopping when he was tired to sleep for the night in another motel. They talked a lot on that drive back, about what Alex had gone through while the clone was prepared to be him.
"They kept asking how you liked blowjobs, or what position you liked to fuck me in. They thought we were only screw partners. I mean, they didn't think we even had conversations. I knew you'd see through the clone. What did you do to it?"
"Stabbed it in the neck with the roasting fork," Walter said, casually, as if announcing the time.
"What!? That was a set! It's ruined now!" Alex tried his best to sound hurt, but soon both men were laughing. "It was hard. They took blood, urine, brain tissue. They had William since his birth, I think. How they got him from Scully, I don't know. But they didn't hurt him."
Skinner had stopped him. He knew there was time to talk later, time to tell Scully that William had been observed and not hurt. What he really wanted to do was get into a warm bed with his lover and not get out for days. Alex wanted to make love immediately, but Walter knew better. He knew that Alex was in no shape for anyone to make love to him. He said he was only in the silo for about five days, but the water bottle the lab asshole had left was mostly rationed to the boy.
Mulder and Doggett had seen Scully and William safely to Washington and then returned with close to every available agent the FBI had to swarm the complex. They found everything and everyone. The computer records alone had the cures for seven known diseases, including AIDS, cancer and syphilis. Mulder and Doggett would go down in history. The last leg, and hope, of the Consortium was vanquished.
Walter didn't care. He knew he would have a ton of reports to write, meetings to attend, sanctions to be answered, but he didn't care. He'd called his assistant to write him a letter to give notice of his vacation. He was taking three weeks off to care for Alex. The man seemed to have a constitution like a dog, hurt one moment, jumping around, wagging his tail the next. Walter was amazed.
New Year's Eve was spent with the two men curled around each other on the couch, watching bad spaghetti westerns and drinking far too much champagne. Walter and Alex had the same reaction to champagne, sleepiness and limp cocks. They kissed, they licked, they sixty-nined, and nothing worked. They decided it was better to get a good night sleep. And in the morning light, they felt much better.
"Walter, I think it's time you fucked me. We've kissed and touched, jerked each other. Last night's abortive blowjobs weren't fun. But I think it's time we went back to what we like best."
"I firmly agree with that decision," Walter said and rolled over to cover Alex with his body. He began kissing Alex with all the pent up passion and excitement of over six months without him, the two weeks he spent with the clone and then the week after alone. All that time he'd wanted to be with his beautiful lover, his Alex, his true love.
Alex responded under him, writhing and moaning under the assault of the lips tongue and teeth of the only man he'd ever submitted to. They touched each other with fervent hands, stroking each body part they could reach. Alex had almost thought they had settled into a mutual masturbation session, like they had spent a few days ago, but Walter soon flipped him onto his stomach. After a dab of lube and a condom quickly rolled on, Walter gently slid into Alex's hot, tight asshole.
"God damnit, Alex, that is heaven," Walter whispered into Alex's shoulder.
"Mmmm, my ass is heaven. I wonder what your ass is like," he whispered back.
"If you can hold it until I come, you can find out," he said and began moving.
After two hours of taking turns fucking each other over and over, both men collapsed on the bed, letting the late morning sun shine on them. It was a cold January morning, colder than it had been in weeks, but it was a clear day. It was clear enough for both men to see that belonging together was destiny, fate, kismet. It was something both men would discuss and decide upon for years to come.
The End Merry Christmas, Aunt Ursula!
