Walter Skinner walked into his house, and immediately thought his cat was being killed, then discovered he was mistaken when he nearly tripped over said cat where it lay sprawled on the floor, soaking up the last sunbeam of the day. He did a clumsy dance to recover his balance and avoid stepping on the fat orange tabby, and received a baleful glare and a hiss for his efforts. Then the cat stretched mockingly, and sauntered off in the direction of the aquarium in the living room.

The ongoing battle between Walter’s two favorite furry woodland creatures had escalated to the Mollie-eating stage, with the result being Walter playing reluctant referee between a feline with a taste for sushi, and a fox who thought said feline should *be* sushi.

The sound of cats being strangled continued, even after Walter had established his pet’s safety. He kicked off his shoes, and then suddenly grinned, recognizing the sound. He tossed aside his coat and briefcase and could make out words:

“My baby takes the morning train, he works from nine to five and then, he takes another home again, to find me waiting for him…”

Shedding his suit jacket and loosening his tie, Walter moved through the living room, knocked the cat off the shelf where it was sitting, patiently torturing the contents of Mulder’s aquarium, and carried on into the hallway. He left his tie on the thick cream-coloured carpet, a behavior modification within himself that simultaneously pleased and annoyed him. 

“He takes me to the movies, to a restaurant. We go slow dancin’, anything he wants…”

He stopped at the entrance to what had originally been designated the office, or the den, but was now simply Mulder’s Room. A wave of déjà vu so powerful it nearly made him dizzy swept over him as he looked around the room.

On the far wall, a familiar fuzzy UFO poster, slightly dog-eared now, still declaring "I Want To Believe",  and marked with a sticky note proclaiming “You Are Here” over the supposed space ship. Next to it, unremarkable metal shelves nearly groaned under the weight of a plethora of books, files, magazines, videos and DVDs. Similar shelves lined another wall, but held less important-looking items of a more personal nature that ranged from a basketball badly in need of some air to a tiny white porcelain vase holding two dried roses. The shelves on the third wall were wooden and sturdy, and were home to a variety of electronics, including a small stereo unit, a combination TV and VCR, and piles of random junk and wires that could possibly be used to build a robot, if anyone was so inclined.

Fox Mulder sat at a desk in the middle of the chaos with his back to the door, using a stylus on a computer screen, wearing expensive headphones and singing for all he was worth:

“…he works all day, to earn his pay, so we can play all night!”

Walter’s grin intensified. He quelled an immediate desire to end the terribly off-key rendition of Sheena Easton’s early eighties pop classic just long enough to unbutton and roll up his shirt sleeves, then he stepped into the room, moving quietly, although Mulder remained oblivious to him.

“My baby takes the morning train, he works so hard—AAK!”

A ferocious bear hug from his lover cut Mulder off in mid-note, caused him to drop the stylus, and made him jump. Two strong arms kept him firmly in his seat, but his sudden movement made the headphones twist and sit askew on his head. An ear was revealed and Skinner swooped in to nibble at it while Mulder struggled in his embrace.

“Jesus, Walter, you scared the crap outta me!” he exclaimed, struggling less as Skinner bit at his sensitive earlobe, then nuzzled the soft skin behind it.

“Don’t give up your day job, puppy,” he whispered, giving Mulder’s ear a final lick and letting up his grip on the man. Mulder spun his chair around, removed the headphones and tossed them onto the desk, then stood up and put his arms around Skinner.

“I didn’t expect you home so early.” He left the rest of his thoughts unspoken, but he couldn’t hide the frown or the blush staining his cheeks, and Skinner couldn’t help but smile at his discomfort. 

“I’ll make you a deal: I promise I won’t tell Scully about this secret obsession with eighties bubblegum pop, and you promise not to try and sing. I thought you were killing my cat when I came in.” He softened the words with a lingering kiss, and Mulder reciprocated enthusiastically, although when Skinner stepped back, his lover still had to have the last word, even if said word was a little breathless.

“Speaking of which, Walter, he fished the diver out of the tank three times today! I swear, I’m going to send him to Hop Sing’s if—“

Skinner cut him off with another kiss, adding a firm body rub to the proceedings, and by the time he was finished, the cat could have been wearing a goldfish necklace and rumba dancing in the empty tank for all Mulder could have cared.

“So.” Skinner fought to control his own breathing, marveling at how, even after all this time, all they’d been through, this man could still do this to him, still bring out hidden reserves of passion in him that he thought would be quelled by domestic life. “So,” he tried again, “how’s the work?”

Mulder shrugged and turned back to the forgotten computer, saying, “I think this semester will be a little better. The new students seem genuinely interested in the curriculum, and not just hearing a bunch of ‘spooky’ stories.” He shut down the computer and pushed his chair in, then took Skinner by the hand and tugged him towards the door. 

Skinner allowed himself to be led back to the living room, ignored Mulder’s “tsk” of disapproval at the way his things were strewn about, and pulled his lover into his arms when Mulder sat him down on the couch.

Another oxygen-stealing kiss, this one involving undoing a few more shirt buttons, but this time Mulder pulled back first, his eyes going to the end of the couch, where the cat was perched, deliberately digging his claws into the arm of the couch and giving them a malicious look.

“Stanley hates me,” he complained.

“You tried to sell him to the delivery boy last time we had Thai.”

“It was a joke.”

“I don’t think Stan found it funny.” Skinner’s smile gentled his words. He reached behind himself, found one of the throw cushions and targeted the cat. Stanley flew off the arm of the couch with a yowl that bespoke more of wounded pride than wounded tail, and fled the room with the sound of Mulder’s laughter chasing after him.

Mulder smiled at Walter and said, “Thanks.”

“Consider it a gift.”

“For what?”

“Congratulations, Fox Mulder. You have officially been living in sin with an older man for—“ he paused dramatically, “Six months. Today.” He took Mulder’s left hand with his own and relished the tiny sound their matching rings made as they touched.

“Oh, crap. I didn’t—“

“Don’t borrow guilt, puppy,” Walter admonished gently. “Remember, I’m the sentimentalist in this family.”

Mulder still looked faintly unhappy. “So what does that make me?”

“The wanton sex slave with a heart of gold, of course,” Skinner replied, grinning lecherously.

“Nice. Thank you, Walter.” Mulder’s tone was sarcastic, but a part of him took the comment as praise, and he couldn’t be angry.  After a moment, he leered at his lover and declared, “I didn’t buy you anything.”

“Fox, I don’t expect—“

Mulder put his hand over Walter’s mouth, still smiling wickedly,  and said, “I’ll just have to improvise.” He pushed Walter back on the couch and slithered into the older man’s arms. 

“My mother always said home made gifts were the best kind.” He removed Skinner’s glasses gently, set them on the coffee table, and then went to work on the rest of Walter’s shirt buttons with single minded determination.

“Fox—“ Whatever protest Skinner was going to make was smothered by a moan as Mulder found a nipple to lick and bite. He continued playing with buttons while he sucked and bit at Skinner’s chest until his shirt was wide open, then he moved lower, tasting the flesh of his lover’s stomach while his hands made short work of Skinner’s pants.

“Fox—“he said again, the word coming out groaning and harsh as Mulder’s clever hands, those hands that he had surreptitiously admired for so long, the long strong fingers and smooth palms, those hands were lifting his hips, sliding his briefs off of him to tangle around his ankles with his pants, and cradling his ass as Mulder slid to the floor and took his hardening cock in his mouth.

There was no prelude, no hesitation, no subtle licks or kisses. Mulder simply eased himself all the way down Walter’s penis, slowly but with the same deliberation with which he’d removed the older man’s clothes, then back up until he held only the head trapped between lips swollen from earlier kisses. He looked up at Skinner then, eyes wide and dark with all the passion and all the love he knew how to convey, and Walter gasped aloud at what he saw shining there. Then Mulder tipped his head back down and resumed his slow, thorough sword-swallower imitation, and Skinner could only groan again and reach for his lover’s head.

Mulder pulled his hands out from under Skinner’s body and caught the older man’s fingers before they could tangle in his hair. He gripped Walter’s hands like a drowning man, holding them down to either side of his body, and used only his mouth on Skinner’s raging erection, sucking harder as he stroked the man firmly and relentlessly with his mouth. He worked his tongue, his teeth, his throat, and Skinner’s cock grew and twitched in response. 

A final lunge, and he held himself firmly in place, mouth clamped to the base of the large penis. Skinner’s hips came up off the couch, and the press of his cock at the back of his throat made Mulder swallow reflexively again and again. He clutched Walter’s hands tightly with his own and pressed his tongue firmly to the underside of Walter’s cock. He felt the first warm spurt bathe his throat and he sucked greedily as Walter repeatedly thrust into his mouth, moaning and crying out his name.

Only when he felt Walter softening in his mouth did he let up his grip, both with his mouth and with his hands. Now came the gentle licks and kisses that Walter was used to, only this time they were not a precursor, but rather a tender finish to an ultimate act, not just of lust, but of love too. 

Mulder reversed himself and licked his way back up his lover’s body, loving the feel of Walter’s muscles jumping and sizzling under his knowing tongue like water on hot coals. When he reached the man’s large chest and lapped at a nipple, he felt Walter’s arms come  around him and drag him up so that they were face to face, with Walter lying sprawled out on the couch, and Mulder half on and half off it. Mulder grinned into his lover’s dark,  glazed eyes.

“Wanton sex slave says ‘Happy Anniversary, Master.’”

He felt the rumble of laughter in the body beneath him, and tasted it with a soft open-mouthed kiss, then tucked his head under Skinner’s chin and whispered, “I love you.”

“You’re heart of gold is showing, wanton sex slave,” Walter replied.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Skinner thought he should reciprocate, Mulder had a stray thought about what they should have for supper, but both of them were simply content to lie together for the moment, knowing that there was no rush, that there would be time enough, strength enough and love enough to see them through. A lifetime to share together…