The coffee was surprisingly good, the conversation unforced and informative, and they even found the tail end of a hockey game on television that engrossed them almost completely. Almost. Mulder’s revelation and declaration sat between them like an uninvited party guest—not entirely unwelcome, but unexpected and a little demanding.

Skinner finished his coffee, swore at the referee’s ‘two minutes for tripping’ call, and suddenly discovered he had a lapful of Mulder.

Mulder grinned up at him in his goofy, yet somehow endearing way, and Skinner brushed an errant lock of hair from his forehead, mindful of the bandage, and what lay beneath it.

“Okay?” Mulder asked.

“Very okay,” Skinner replied, stroking him again, then sitting back with a sigh that Mulder joined him in. Mulder turned his head slightly, to see the TV, and Skinner saw him wince, but didn’t comment.

The game ended almost immediately, Mulder made some inane comment about the statistical likelihood of the Leafs ever beating the Flyers again in his lifetime, and Skinner shut off the TV. Mulder looked back at him questioningly.

“It’s late, Mulder.”

“It is,” Mulder agreed easily, taking one of Skinner’s hands in his own and playing with his fingers.

“I should probably go. You should probably get some sleep.” 

Sitting there on the couch, offering to go but obviously not wanting to, Skinner looked shy, vulnerable, and to Mulder, very, very attractive. He tickled the palm of Skinner’s hand for a moment, then kissed the knuckles and set it aside. He looked up at the older man solemnly.

“I-I’d like it if you would stay, Walter,” he said. “I’d probably like it a lot.”

“A lot a lot?” Skinner teased, trying for a smile. Instead, he got a curt nod, and then Mulder was sitting up, still mostly in his lap, and a soft kiss was pressed to his cheek as Mulder’s arms went around him. Skinner turned in the embrace, found Mulder’s mouth open and waiting, and their tongues touched as the kiss immediately deepened. Skinner cradled Mulder gently, and Mulder kept his own arms tight around the other man’s neck. For long moments, they remained that way, focused solely on experiencing one another through taste. Skinner pulled away carefully, and Mulder shuddered and drew air noisily into his lungs, then expelled it with a moan as Skinner nuzzled and licked and peppered his face with tiny kisses.

Skinner held Mulder close with one arm around him and a big hand splayed across his back, while he let his other hand trace random patterns over Mulder’s sweater-covered chest and stomach. 

Mulder kept his arms wrapped tight around Skinner’s neck, and pressed into the older man’s large hand when it slipped under the sweater to continue the caress over his bare skin. He shivered and sighed as his nipples were discovered, petted, pinched, then abandoned, and the hand moved down his body, tickling and scratching. He turned his face away with a small cry when he felt the weight of Skinner’s palm skim over his burgeoning erection.

Skinner paused immediately at the sound, drawing back with concern, although his hands stayed where they were.

Opening his eyes with a confused frown, Mulder gave Skinner a critical look, and got the same in return.

‘What am I doing?’ Skinner thought, taking in Mulder’s appearance. The younger man was flushed with arousal, but his coloring was hectic, and a little unhealthy looking. And the red of his cheeks, coupled with the gold flecks that were sparking in his eyes, only combined to contrast jarringly with the white bandage on his head. A closer look revealed pale pink scalp around the wound, where his thick dark hair had been shaved away, and the beginnings of a barely healed incision in the midst of it, one that Skinner knew deepened and widened into a far more serious wound beneath the stiff gauze.

“Oh, Fox…” He was barely aware of speaking the words aloud, but Mulder’s reaction brought him back to his senses. He felt hips shifting, and Mulder pressed his cock into his hand with a wordless groaning plea. His arms never came off of Skinner’s body, although they had slid down from his neck to his shoulders, leaving space between them.

“Are you sure?” Skinner brought his hand up to the bandage hesitantly, a look of desperate unhappiness on his face. “I mean, your head…”

Mulder sat up a little straighter, still using Skinner’s arm to support himself, but with less weight. 

“There are more mysteries on heaven and earth, etc., Walter. And most of them I’m not sure of. Hell, these days, I’m not even sure of my own name sometimes—or at least it feels that way. But the one thing in this whole crazy world that I am sure of, is, and let me be absolutely clear on this; I want to fuck. Or be fucked. By you. Now.”

That unhappy look on Skinner’s face didn’t fade, as Mulder had expected it to. Instead, Skinner pressed his mouth to Mulder’s in a bruising wet kiss that had Mulder gasping for air again and shoving his crotch purposelessly upwards as their tongues dueled and clashed.

The kiss ended as suddenly as it had began, and Mulder found himself struggling for air as Skinner pulled him into a bone crushing embrace. He tightened his own grip on the other man, rested his head on one large shoulder, and a moment later he felt warm breath in his ear, and heard whispered words.

“Fox…”

Mulder almost made a comment, something about three times in one night, but thought better of it and held his silence.

“I think you’ve already been fucked enough, don’t you?”

He pulled back from Skinner with a monumental effort. “That’s not what I mean—“

Skinner kissed him again, softer, but no less thoroughly, leaving him speechless and panting.

“Mulder, you read my mind. You know how I feel.” As he spoke, his hand found its way back between Mulder’s legs, took up a feather light stroking motion there, arousing, but soothing, too. He didn’t want Mulder to be completely distracted. “So you have to know,” he continued, “that if we go into that bedroom tonight—and I won’t lie to you, I’m hoping like hell that we do. But if we do, I am most assuredly not going to be just ‘fucking’ you.” 

One of Mulder’s hands left Skinner’s shoulder and came to rest on the side of his face. Skinner turned his head abruptly, nipped at his fingers, turned back. His dark eyes implored his lover. 

“So, knowing that, I’ll ask you again, are you sure? Are we doing this?” He found Mulder’s fingers again, began licking and sucking at them, seeming to focus solely on that task, but there was an inquisitive and demanding gleam in his eyes, one that Mulder recognized, and appreciated, not just for the concern, but for all the emotions that were lying under that concern.

“Semantics, Walter,” he argued. He gave Skinner a smoky look, eyes half closed, but not vague—lust was clouding over his hazel pupils, not confusion. “Fuck. Screw. Bang. Boink. Tab A Slot B—“

Skinner grinned suddenly; he hadn’t heard that one before.

“Pork. Skronk. Play Hide-the-Salami, dance the horizontal tango, take a hot beef injection—Christ, I don’t care what we call it!” he pulled his fingers away from Skinner’s mouth, put both hands on the back of the larger man’s neck, and leaned in until their foreheads were touching. “Walter, I want you,” he declared quietly but firmly. “And I love you.”

Skinner blinked rapidly as tears threatened.

“Both,” added Mulder. “At the same time.”

They grinned stupidly at one another. Mulder brushed a tear from Skinner’s cheek, then disengaged himself and stood shakily. He reached out for Skinner as his balance skewed, and Walter was there. Mulder turned in his lover’s arms and pressed his body insistently against him, rubbing a now quite impressive erection against a hip, feeling the same thing in return.

“I don’t think I need those mind reading skills to guess what’s going on in your head right now, Walter.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?” Skinner growled, distancing himself just enough to begin tugging Mulder towards the bedroom.

“Frequently and fervently,” Mulder replied with a laugh. He stumbled in the doorway of the bedroom, and Skinner caught him.

“Steady, Mulder,” he whispered close to his ear.

“S’okay. It’s an equilibrium thing. The planet is now a cruise ship to me, and I haven’t quite got my sea legs yet.” Now he was leading, pulling Skinner towards the unmade bed in the corner of the room.

“Love Boat?” Skinner asked, arching an eyebrow, lips not quite turned up in a grin.

“Titanic,” Mulder shot back.

Skinner shoved him carefully down onto the bed, stepped back, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “There’s a ‘going down’ joke somewhere in there, but you’re no Kate Winslet.”

Mulder snorted laughter through his nose, pulled his sweater off and threw it onto the floor, then leaned back on his elbows and grinned saucily up at his lover. He watched Skinner remove his shirt, and then pants, and the grin got wider.

“Well, come on then, "Jack", and show me who’s king of the world!”

Skinner groaned at that, but didn’t hesitate to move onto the bed, pushing his lover back as he did so, so that they both lay diagonally across the mattress. After a few minutes of kicking at covers, fumbling with pants and tentative kissing and fondling, both men were completely naked and completely aroused.

Skinner shifted and Mulder twisted and they managed to center themselves on the bed without losing contact with one another. Skinner mouth found that spot on Mulder’s neck that made him shiver, and Mulder’s hands took up a piano concerto of movement over Skinner’s back and ass, stroking and squeezing in time with the sounds of approval coming from the big man. A groaning, moaning wrestling match, like nothing seen on the WWF ensued, heated and heating, until Skinner emerged victorious, sitting up straddling Mulder’s hips.

Mulder looked up expectantly as Skinner leaned forward, mouth opening invitingly, and frowned when the man reached past him for the pillows shoved up against the headboard.

“Wha--?”

“Shush.” Skinner lifted Mulder’s head, slipped one pillow, then a second one, under it, forming a cradle of sorts for his head and neck. Mulder closed his eyes, grateful, feeling tears prick the insides of his eyelids. He started to say something else, and Skinner shushed him again, brushing a hand over his lips, then covering same with his mouth in a slow lingering and thorough kiss that ended with a whispered “I love you” only when lack of oxygen had them both gasping for air.

Skinner followed this with tiny kisses down Mulder’s chin, and over his cheeks, across his jaw, and down his throat.

“Sterno cleido mastoid…” Mulder sighed.

Skinner’s head shot up, and he gave Mulder a worried look, thinking perhaps there was too much pressure on his brain, or some such thing. 

“What?”

Mulder twisted his head back, bared his throat, making the “tube muscles” on either side stand out in sharp relief. “What you do to my sterno cleido mastoid, Walter…”

Skinner laughed shakily. “Only you, Fox…”

Before Mulder could complain about being called Fox for the fourth time tonight, Skinner was back on his throat, nibbling, nuzzling, and driving all thought from him but the need for his lover’s touch.

Skinner resumed his oral tour of Mulder’s body, using lips, teeth and tongue to blaze a trail over the contours of his lover’s chest, moving restlessly from side to side, making sure every bit of skin was tasted, approved of. Mulder twisted frantically under him as he took long moments to suck on his nipples, then tug on the hard points with his teeth, still gentle, but more demanding. Skinner pressed down on his shoulders, holding him still.
Mulder made some noise of complaint, strained against him, then fell back with a groan and a shudder as his chest was abandoned and Skinner slid down his legs to suddenly bury his face between them. A yelp when his legs were thrust apart, and then a sound that had no name beyond a Muldernoise, something like a constant growl/purr as Skinner’s mouth went to work on cock, balls and ass with the thoroughness he’d shown for Mulder’s upper body.

Skinner felt Mulder’s hands brush the back of his head, and he pushed them down on the mattress. Mulder’s long fingers immediately entwined in the sheets, tugging and squeezing convulsively, and he spread his legs further, knees drawing up to give Skinner more access. After only a few more moments of this, Skinner felt Mulder’s balls drawing up close to his body, and he pulled back, wrapped a big hand around his straining erection, squeezed the base firmly.

“Ohhhhhhh….” Mulder thrashed helplessly. “Please…..”

“How are we doing, Titanic?” Skinner teased, but Mulder could hear the straining note in the older man’s breathing, and knew he wasn’t alone in his desire. Not by a long shot.

When Skinner repeated the entire procedure, Mulder forgot about everything that had happened to him completely, for the first time since that first headache in the boss’s office a lifetime ago.

A lick to the crown that nearly fishtailed his lover, and then Skinner moved off to the side, to find condoms and lube. With the added motivation of a lover in the throes of near-orgasm, his task was completed in short order, and moments later he was kneeling between Mulder’s legs again, warming lube in his hand and sheathing his own hard cock in latex.

With occasional licks to the slick head of Mulder’s cock, Skinner took his time teasing his lover open, relishing the sight, scent and sounds of his lover at the peak of arousal. Part of him was nearly overwhelmed by the thought that he might never have been here again, that he might have lost Mulder forever. Added to that, the admission of more than just a casual interest on both their parts, and he knew that this coupling between them was going to be like no other. They had come to this bed almost like wedding night virgins, both of them open and vulnerable, but secure in their love for one another. 

Between that thought, and the constant litany of pleas and demands that were coming from his lover, Skinner found himself unable to prolong the wait. Not that there was any need for it. Mulder was as open and ready for his lover as he’d ever been. Still, Skinner moved slowly, scrutinizing his lover’s face carefully, mindful of all that he’d been through, and watching for any sign of discomfort. 

After the initial pressure of entry, which made Mulder’s breath hitch in his throat, the younger man opened his eyes, captured his lover’s attention, and shoved his hips upward, taking him completely within himself, provoking a mighty groan and a pistoning of hips that Skinner was incapable of controlling.

He pushed Mulder’s legs up further, enabling them to be face to face, and took Mulder’s mouth softly and thoroughly, establishing a rhythm with his tongue that was matched by the rhythm of his hips as he thrust into him.

Mulder knew it wasn’t going to take long. Already, the friction on his cock, trapped between their bodies, was making him shake, and when Skinner’s careful thrusts struck the gland deep within him, he groaned into his lover’s mouth and bucked wildly upwards, his hands fisted so tightly around the sheets that he thought he felt his knuckles cracking.

When Skinner felt the first hot pulse of Mulder’s orgasm, and the tightening of his muscles around his cock, he pulled his mouth from Mulder’s with a shout and tried desperately to force more of himself into the tight heat that was his lover. Moments later he could feel his own orgasm boiling up and over and through himself, and he wrapped his arms tight around Mulder’s shoulders, pressing as much flesh between them as was possible. 

Only when he felt himself slipping out of Mulder as the younger man lowered his legs did he let up his grip. He pushed himself up on arms that suddenly felt nearly incapable of supporting him, and looked down at Mulder, whose eyes were closed. With what felt like the last of his strength, Skinner rolled off of his lover, tossed the used condom, not knowing if he’d hit the garbage, not caring either, and touched Mulder’s cheek tentatively, almost reverently. Mulder shivered and opened his eyes, said something completely nonsensical that Skinner understood completely, and shut his eyes again. 

A brief struggle pulled the sheet Mulder had been mangling out from under the two of them, and he made a perfunctory effort at cleaning up the sticky goodness between them. He almost thought Mulder had fainted, and this caused him a moment of concern, but as the sheet brushed over his cock, one eye opened, a shiver ran through him, and a sated smile creased his swollen lips.

“Now you look like Kate Winslet,” Skinner whispered, throwing the sheet off the bed and finding the blanket that had wound up crumpled but unsullied at the foot of the bed. 

“Near, far, wherever you are…my hard-on…” Mulder murmured sleepily, and they shared a laugh.

“The original lyrics?” Skinner asked as he drew the other man into his arms.

“mmm…Scully was here tonight.”

Mulder’s eyes were closed again, so he missed the ‘where the hell did that come from?’ look on Skinner’s face, and only felt the kiss on his forehead and heard the whispered “Oh?”

“I told her that she was my friend, and she always told me the truth. But Walter…”

Skinner waited, wondered if he’d finish the thought, and was about to give it up as a lost cause when more words came.

“You are my lover, and you show me the truth. My lover…”

“Always, Fox.” Another kiss, this one soft on the lips, and both men felt more than saw the smiles on their faces.

“Hey, Walter…?”

“Fox?”

“Titanic was fun. Can we play Pearl Harbor in the morning?”

Mulder fell asleep warm in his lover’s arms, riding a wave of love and soft laughter.