When Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner answered his knock, Mulder's mouth went dry, his heart slowed and almost stopped, and his cock stirred.  Walter was naked to the waist, his huge, wide shoulders tapering to impossibly trim hips.
    Mulder noticed the rich carpet of chest hairs, only the tips of which showed the faintest trace of grey. The nipples were rosy and erect. The blonde, supple carpenter's apron he wore hugged his bare thighs like a second skin. The Stanley hammer, slung in its hoop, looked to Mulder like a pallid phallic symbol, paling, he knew, to the real thing nestled behind the leather.
    He tried to clear this throat, but he could only croak, "Hi."
    "You're a bit late," the A.D said.  "Traffic heavy?"
    "Yea, a real snarl up," Mulder said sheepishly.
    He reached out his index finger and lightly traced the dark stain on his lover's left nipple—tracing circles around it.  His boss's hand joined his own for a moment and just rested there.
    "Am I going to have to get you a bib, Walter?"  He smiled and his eyes twinkled.
    The A.D. looked down and reached up a finger to the glasses which had slipped down to the end of his nose and pushed them up again. He laughed. "No, I don't think so.  It's just a splash of varnish, it'll come off."
    "Maybe I can lick it off later," Mulder teased.
    "I'll look forward to it."
    Skinner stepped back a few paces to let Mulder into the apartment.  "I haven't started dinner yet but it won't take long.
    Mulder passed him the bag he had brought with him.  When Walter opened it and pulled out the bottle of clear, crisp, German wine he had brought, a look of approval worked its way onto his face.
    "Great," he said, "none of this sissy French stuff for us."
    He turned toward the kitchen and Mulder's throat went bone dry again; Walter was completely naked under that piece of leather—no shorts, no underwear, nothing but flesh. The huge muscle in each cheek of that well-developed ass rode up with each step he took, in tandem. "Oh, Jesus," Mulder thought, "years of running and years of swimming have produced nothing to compare with that."  He watched as the muscles rippled up his lover's back as he approached the kitchen.
    His mind wandered back to one of the darkest times of his life—watching his lover dying from the nanocyte attack, weeks before, and his feeling of absolute powerlessness to stop it. He marvelled at the speed with which Walter had recovered, looking almost better now than he did before.
    "Mulder, come and join me," the A.D. shouted from the kitchen.
    Walter was slicing mushrooms delicately for such a large man, the muscles of his arms so obvious and sensual in their movement.  Mulder stepped up behind him and spooned his crotch into his lover's ass, showing him just what this sight was ding to him. He licked Walter's neck getting a groan for his efforts.
    Skinner leaned his head back and rested it on Mulder's shoulder. The younger man's hands roamed over his chest and stomach, gently warming the flesh they caressed.  Walter smiled sweetly, enjoying every second of this attention. All thoughts of the dinner he had planned vanished from his mind, replaced by the sensation of long, poet's hands feeling him; kneading his thick, tired muscles; touching him in places deep inside—places that had slept for far too long.
    Mulder nibbled and licked his ear; he sucked hard on Walter's neck, leaving his mark. Mulder groaned deep in his throat, his hips gyrating and thrusting, mimicking his own urgent desire.
    "Walter," he said breathlessly, 'I want to fuck you."
    "Oh! God, Mulder. I wanna' be fucked!"
    Mulder stepped back a pace and untied the apron and it dropped heavily to the floor.  The A.D. was now blissfully naked, wanton in his beauty, delectable in his flesh. Mulder's hands were everywhere now.  Caressing his ass, rubbing his back.
    Mulder dropped to his knees, placed his nose between his partner's cheeks and inhaled.  He hands kneading and probing, he gently spread Walter and took his first taste.
    Skinner groaned and relaxed into Mulder's hands. When his agent's tongue breached that tight muscle for the fist time, the breath Walter was holding escaped his lungs.
    "Oh, Mulder, that feels so good."  His whole body shivered with anticipation. "What about dinner?"
    "First," Mulder replied, "an appetiser."
    The sounds of Mulder's licking and sucking were filling the smallish galley kitchen, only being rivalled by the hoarse groans of his lover.  Skinner braced himself on the counter and crouched down a bit to give Mulder complete access.
    When Mulder reached around and grasped his hard, turgid cock and gave it a few pulls, his legs almost buckled. Mulder didn't slacken his oral assault but, in fact, deepened it. With each new breach of the tight ring by Mulder's nubile tongue, Walter groaned anew, each louder than the one preceding it. As Mulder's tongue strayed to his balls, the A.D. soared, higher and higher on the wings of sensation.  As each ball was enveloped, in turn, in that moist, hot place, the large man soared again.
    Mulder hoisted himself up without removing his hand from Walter's cock and spooned his entire body against him.  His tongue licked again at his partner's hairline and Skinner shivered.  Walter heard the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle being opened, a zipper being lowered, and the thud of trousers and belt hitting the floor.  He felt Mulder's bare flesh being pressed against him and the agent's cock tapping at his rear entry and sighed.
    "God, Mulder, that feels so good," the A.D. said through clenched teeth as he ground his butt against the younger man.  "Fuck me, Mulder, get on with it."
    Mulder chuckled playfully as he took Walter's ear into his mouth and sucked.
    "Patience is a virtue, Walter," Mulder said, laughing teasingly. His hand strayed again to Walter's ass, playing with it, the other hand maintaining that sweet torture on his boss's cock.
    "Lube?"
    Walter's face showed the smallest trace of panic until he noticed the bottle of olive oil sitting on the counter.  He picked it up, hesitantly, and passed it to Mulder.
    "Extra virgin, Walter?" Mulder asked.
    "Of, course," came the quick reply.
    Mulder took the bottle and dribbled a bit of the slick oil into the palm of his hand and rubbed it into his partner.  He slicked up his index finger and placed it against Walter's tight ring of muscle.
    Walter felt a small shiver working its way down his back, and when Mulder placed his finger against the small hole he pushed back forcefully until the finger was buried deep within him, as far as it would go.  He groaned.
    "Anxious, aren't you?" Mulder said.
    Skinner could only nodded in agreement.
    When Mulder replaced the finger with his cock, the A.D. repeated the same movement burying Mulder deep within his body.  He remained still for a moment, getting accustomed to the intrusion.
    Slowly Mulder began to rock and the muscles of Walter's arms flexed with his attempts to hold onto the counter top, his mind spinning with the pleasure of being violated this way and wondering, not for the first time, why this should feel so good.  As Mulder's cock scraped his pleasure spot he grunted in bliss.
    Mulder's hand was busy with the big man's cock, knowing just what to do to give the maximum pleasure.  Walter was close—very close—and Mulder was slamming into him for all he was worth, the sounds of flesh against flesh filling the small space.
    Walter felt the burn begin, starting at the back of his neck then travelling the whole length of his spine, finally reaching and pooling in his balls.  He felt his whole body tighten, the muscles of his abdomen spasm, and the forceful eruption threatening to overtake his senses.
    He felt, too, Mulder's release as he shot spurt after spurt of semen deep in his ass as he grunted his name. He looked down and saw his own thick, ropy semen shoot in spasm after spasm and land on the recently sliced mushrooms.
    Mulder's head was resting on Walter's shoulder and he was laughing. "An interesting seasoning there, Walt. I hope you don't' do that for all your dinner guests."
    Walter grinned.  "Yea, I guess I won't need salt."
    Mulder softened and slipped out of him. Skinner turned and claimed Mulder's mouth. Then, in a bruising kiss, he allowed his tongue to find and taste all the secret places in his lover's mouth.
    "That was great, Mulder.  I haven't felt this relaxed in a long time."  His eyes were dreamy, barely focused, and his face showed the tenderness he was feeling.
    Mulder just looked at him, dazed, wanting nothing other than rest and a few hours of sleep. "Oh, I promised, didn't I?" Mulder said as his mouth sucked on Walters stained nipple.  Mulder felt it harden in this mouth, felt the tight nub elongate, and heard the A.D. sigh. When he licked it a few more times he said, "There, all clean."
    The A.D. smiled and held Mulder's arm while he stepped out of the pants that had pooled about his ankles.
    "Come with me, Mulder, I have something for you," he said as he led his agent into his workroom.  He passed Mulder the long, narrow box upon which he had just recently applied the last coat of quick-drying varnish.
    "It's for your pencils.  Now that you have the X Files back, you can't be throwing them at the ceiling."
    Mulder looked at him in puzzlement, wondering how in the hell his boss had known that.  He looked at his present and smiled when he saw the small Fox engraved into its cover.  He took his thumb and pulled back the cover along the grooves that he saw there.  Inside was a small heart, and from the latch at the top of it he realised that the cover could swing out.  He tried it, and it did.
    He looked inside the heart, his breath catching slightly as he pulled out a silver key and looked at it.
    "What's this?"
    The A.D. didn't answer quickly, instead he just stared into his lover's eyes, not wavering, nailing him with his gaze.
    "It's a key, Mulder.  The key to my heart."  He smiled teasingly.  "No, Mulder, it's a key to this apartment.  It's for you."
    "But...." Mulder tried to reply but Walter cut off his words.
    "It's not a commitment, Mulder—just a convenience, but if you don't want it...." Walter reached out his hand to reclaim the key, but Mulder's fist folded over it and held onto it tightly. Instead of taking the key, Walter took his lover's hand, squeezing it; he brought it forward and placed it on his chest. No words were spoken—no words were needed.
    Walter saw the look of worry on Mulder's face.  He took he hands and framed that face he loved, and leaned in for the most chaste of kisses. Mulder physically relaxed as Skinner moved and captured Mulder's nose in his mouth, sucking on it, cleaning it of sweat and salt.
    No one had ever done something so imitate with him before and Mulder's eyes hazed over with tenderness and gratitude.  The A.D. pulled him to his chest and used his hands to push their groins together, again. Mulder could feel Walter's breath tickle his ear as he said, "Now I think we'd better cook dinner." 

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