"…I don't need to try to explain I just hold on tight and if it happens again I might move so slightly to the arms and the lips and the face of the human cannonball I need you I want you…"

Skinner gently closed the bathroom door, cutting off the sound of Mulder flipping channels on the TV, and stared with some dismay at the tiny room, and equally tiny bathtub.

The tub was small and cramped, a washed out almond colour with day-glo orange rubber daisies stuck to the bottom of it. Skinner decided that staring too long at them would either blind him or render him sterile, so he glanced at the faucet instead, giving it a dubious look, then turned on the taps.

More than a trickle, though far less than a torrent, the water being forced through the taps was lukewarm at best, despite the fact that he'd opened the hot tap all the way.

Beggars can't be choosers, though Walter as he quickly stripped out of clothes that smelled of gas stations, dust and junk food. At least the water was running clear.

He stepped into the tub, sneered once at the daisies, and fumbled with the shower knob.

The showerhead leaked rust for a moment, then the water pressure kicked in, and the spray hit him square in the chest.

No amount of adjusting, pounding or swearing would raise the water up any higher, and he was just about to give up and say to hell with the whole thing, when Mulder stepped into the tub behind him.

Two strong arms went around his waist, and he could feel the other man press his body tightly to every inch of him.  In the cramped confines of the tub, it was likely that there wasn't any choice, but Skinner chose to feel flattered.

Mulder rested his head on Skinner's shoulder, and they both looked at the water splashing Walter's chest. From the next room over, they heard the sound of a toilet flushing, and the water pressure dropped dramatically, then crawled its way back up to about two thirds of it's original strength.

Walter sighed.

"It's not exactly the Ritz," Mulder agreed. He ran his hands along Walter's sides and bit softly at his shoulder.

Walter tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and thought it could be worse.

"I'd ask you to turn around," Mulder whispered, "but I don't think there's room enough in here for that." He reached around to Walter's stomach, pressed his palms flat against rock hard abs for a moment, then slid his hands up to Walter's chest and back down again with such exquisite, deliberate slowness that Walter was already hard by the time his skilled touch reached his cock.

"Oh, man, that's good," he groaned.

"It should be. I've had enough practice on myself."

Walter's laugh turned into something wordless and needy as Fox stroked him softly but relentlessly.  His awareness was narrowing to focus solely on his groin and the pleasurable sensations emanating from it, but he was still dimly aware of the growing excitement of the man behind him.  Grasping at a last coherent thought, he forced Mulder's hands away.

"Hey!" Fox exclaimed. "I was playing with that."

Walter grinned and turned suddenly in the confines of Mulder's arms, using the daisies to keep from slipping. Only then, with the still running water of the shower splashing his shoulder blades, did he realize that the hot water was pretty much history.

"Let's get outta here." Walter emphasized his point by taking hold of his lover much the same way the younger man had done for him.

Mulder didn't need to be asked twice.

Walter shut the water off and they clambered out of the tub, barely paused to dry themselves, paused a little longer to kiss deeply, then scrambled for the bed—

Which was, of course, hard, too short and smelling of commercial detergent.

Neither man cared.

Walter saw that Fox had put the necessities out on the nightstand, presumably before joining him in the bathroom, and he offered his lover a simple thank you for his foresight that consisted mainly of forcing Mulder over onto his back and biting and kissing his chest while stroking his cock.  He thought maybe Fox was trying to say something like you're welcome, but, just to make sure that he understood how truly grateful he was, Walter headed south, where his mouth joined his hand, and Mulder nearly came off the bed.

"Oh—oh—oh—" He seemed to be stuck for words, and while having his balls cradled gently in Walter's strong hand, and his cock completely swallowed in Walter's hot mouth didn't exactly make him any more articulate, it did change the sounds he was making into something more affirmative.

"Yes, oh, yeah, oh yeah…"

Slipping gently away, Skinner crawled up the bed to grab the inevitable condom and lubricant.

Without thought, Mulder began to roll over onto his stomach.

Skinner caught him on his side, held him tight to his body for a moment, then released him to roll on the condom and warm the lubricant in his hand, whispering, "Don't move."

Mulder froze in the act of reaching for himself.

Walter regarded his lover's back for a moment, noting with some satisfaction and increased arousal the way that Mulder was holding himself so still, holding his muscles so tight that they were fairly sizzling with unreleased energy, causing little shivers to race up and down his body.

With one finger, he tracked one of the shivers from the base of Mulder's skull to the tip of his tailbone, leaving a slick trail of lube to join the sweat starting to form on his lover's back. Mulder shook harder, and an incoherent noise somewhere between a gasp and a groan, tumbled from his mouth.
"You were right," Skinner whispered close to his ear as he slipped a finger inside him," I'm glad we stopped."

Mulder's reply was to throw one leg  over him and thrust back greedily.

After a few more moments of stroking and stretching and finding that certain place that made Mulder suddenly find religion, or at least cry out for God, Skinner held him firmly with strong hands on both hips, and with one hard thrust was deep inside him.

He felt more than heard Mulder's gasp at the initial burn of entry that no amount of foreplay could prevent, and he reached around the younger man, placing one hand on his stomach in a reassuring hug, and stroking his cock, which had begun to flag at the pain of penetration, with the other. He held himself completely still except for his hands, and felt the shift and play of Mulder's muscles as he gradually adjusted and his arousal re-awakened.

A sibilant hiss, which had originally begun it's life as "I love you Walter Skinner" but had lost something in the translation, passed Mulder's lips and he pushed forward into Walter's hand, now slick with both lube and pre-cum.

Skinner pulled him back with that firm hand on his abdomen, and Mulder pushed forward again, stroking himself with Walter's hand and conveniently sliding up and down Walter's cock at the same time. The sensation was unlike anything Fox had experienced before. Walter was still holding himself motionless, letting the increasing pressure and movement of his lover carry him towards orgasm. He squeezed Mulder's cock harder as his thrusting became more erratic, and continued pulling him back after every stroke.

To Mulder, it was like being rocked by the ocean, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through him as he was tossed to and fro like a rowboat on stormy seas.  Just as he was about to cum, Walter pulled him back one last time, but didn't release him to push forward. He clung tightly to him, released his cock to softly stroke his balls, and thrust brutally into him, his hips barely moving, his cock buried in him to the hilt.

They came simultaneously.

Mulder blinked sweat out of his eyes and moaned as he felt the last warm pulsing of Skinner's cock inside him, and the stroke of crisp hair on his back as Walter took great lungfuls of air, and his chest shifted behind him. Mulder's breathing was just as ragged, and for several minutes neither man spoke. Finally, Mulder moved a little, smiled stupidly at nothing, and whispered, "That never happened before."

He felt Walter pull carefully out of him and leave the bed, and he shivered with the loss of contact, the loss of heat. Skinner was back in moments, however, with a warm wet cloth. He touched Mulder's shoulder, and the younger man rolled bonelessly onto his back. Walter matched his grin as he reached forward and wiped him clean with great care. Again he disappeared, and Mulder closed his eyes, not opening them until he felt the covers being pulled out from under him, then tugged up to his chest, followed by a squeak of protest from the bed as Skinner fell heavily beside him.  Mulder snuggled into warm waiting arms, and then both men looked down at the end of the bed, where their feet were sticking out from the covers and hanging a good six inches over the edge.

Mulder sighed

"I don't know if even the Ritz could have made that any better." Skinner whispered into his hair, and Mulder laughed a little.

"I'm glad you're here, Fox," Skinner added.

"Where else would I be?" Mulder looked up at him, gave him a dazed post-coitus grin and a sloppy kiss on the chin, then tucked his head back down onto the other man's broad chest.

Skinner reached over with one hand to shut off the bedside lamp, and felt that, while the journey was just beginning, he'd found the first sign of his destination.