CORDON ROSE

By Sergeeva [29^th Feb. 2000]

Rating: NC-17

Category: SRH, M/Sk slash

Summary: Walter takes Mulder off for an educational weekend.

Disclaimer: Skinner, Mulder and Scully are all the creation and property of CC,1013 and Fox. No infringement is intended.

Huge thanks to: Xanthe for instant beta, and for saying all the right things J

Author's note: This was written as a birthday gift for my darling m.butterfly. Fondest wishes, sweetie - I hope it makes you smile! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday, 4.50pm, Feb. 25^th.

The J. Edgar Hoover Building

"Bye, Mulder, I'll see you Wednesday."

Scully grinned and raised a suggestive eyebrow, as Mulder hefted his weekend bag and turned to leave the office.

"Have fun, whatever it is you're getting up to..." She winked. Mulder couldn't believe it.

"I told you, I don't know where we're going. Walter just said pack for four days and that it would be a learning experience. You know him, it's probably some ghastly 'survival in the wilderness' thing, or pot-holing, or something equally macho and unpleasant... Why can't we just spend the weekend on the couch watching TV, or in bed, like normal couples..."

Scully opened her mouth to make the obvious retort, then shook her head and smiled again.

"You love it when Walter takes charge, you know you do, Mulder. And I don't just mean what you think I mean..." She swiped a case folder at his head, blushing faintly. "Go now, before I get any more inappropriate mental images of my partner and my boss. I'm sure Walter will make sure you have a good time... argghh! I'm just digging myself in deeper here, aren't I? Just go!"

Mulder pretended to look shocked and made a choking sound. In the doorway, he turned and assumed an exaggerated confidential tone:

"Actually, I'm the boss in the bedroom, if you want to know."

Scully hurled the folder at him. "I don't want to know, Mulder. Leave. Now."

A wicked grin and he was gone, his laugh filtering back to her from the corridor. She rose and began collecting up the scattered pages of the file. It still boggled her, but as unlikely as it seemed, Mulder and Skinner were not only lovers, but blissfully happy lovers, and she was happy for them both. And she couldn't help but speculate sometimes about what they... no, don't go there, Dana...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday, 6.30pm,

a road somewhere in Maryland.

Skinner was driving and Mulder was enjoying the view. It was almost dark and the passing landscape didn't interest him - he was watching his lover. Walter was still in his work clothes, as was Mulder, but he'd shed his suit coat, loosened his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Mulder was twisted round in his seat, his head tipped back against the support of the seat-belt, eyes half closed, observing. His gaze travelled slowly over Walter's rugged profile, down the powerful chest and flat stomach to the long, muscled thighs. He made a measured and appreciative inspection of the way Walter's fine wool pants draped across his lap, across the soft mound of Walter's genitals. Mulder closed his eyes and thought about how he hoped to make a much closer inspection once they reached their destination.... He fervently hoped it wasn't going to be a tent in the woods or a primitive cabin with no creature comforts. Four days and five nights with Walter was such a luxury he wanted to make the most of it.

He opened his eyes, wondering if Walter had noticed his dreamy, aroused expression. Sliding lower in his seat, he flexed his hips and gave his awakening cock a bit more room, continued his roving exploration of delicious corded forearms and big hands gripping the steering wheel. Walter glanced over at him:

"I though you'd fallen asleep. We're almost there." His voice dropped an incredible octave lower still... "I'm really looking forward to my bed tonight." Mulder could actually see the dark pupils dilate, making Skinner's sable eyes even more mesmerising. He swallowed, dazedly:

"Oh, so there is a bed, then?"

Skinner snorted. "What were you expecting? It's February, Fox, and I'm not ready to risk rheumatism yet, even for the prospect of alfresco frolics with you." He patted Mulder's thigh, sliding it into a long caress from knee to hip. "Actually, we'll be basking in five-star luxury for the next four days, starting with a gourmet dinner tonight, to get us in the mood."

"Get us in the mood? I don't think we need any help there, do we? You're being awfully mysterious, Walter, but I like the sound of all this luxury..."

"Oh, you'll be earning it, Fox. We have a busy four days ahead of us."

He refused to say any more and Mulder almost started to sulk, when they pulled off the road and started up a long driveway lined with big old trees. Up ahead, Mulder could see the lights of a big house, and soon they pulled up before an impressive Colonial mansion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening

"A cookery school! I can't believe you did this, Walter!" Mulder flopped down on the end of the king-size bed and held the glossy brochure at arm's length in disgust. Skinner continued calmly unpacking, hanging his suit in the closet and laying out navy chinos and a pale blue Oxford shirt to change into. Mulder propped himself up on his elbows and watched his lover strip off his white work-shirt and roll up his tie neatly. Walter's back view was distracting: smooth muscles bunching as he bent to lift a handful of socks from his bag, black briefs making his narrow hips and firm ass look even tauter. Mulder swung himself up off the bed and stalked over to the other man.

"Do I have to, Walter? " he wheedled, slipping his arms around Skinner's waist from the back, blowing moist breath in his ear. "You're a great cook already, so why do I have to learn how to make fussy, fancy food? This is just going to be so embarrassing. Can't we just stay here and not go to the classes? Huh, Walter?" He cupped his palms over Skinner's firm pecs and began to massage seductively, nibbling at Skinner's neck all the while.

Skinner sighed in a mixture of arousal and frustration. "You'll enjoy it, Fox. I thought it would be fun if we did it together, and it's not fussy fancy food, it's 'delicious, imaginative dishes to tempt and impress your partner'. Come on Mulder, indulge me. You won't make a fool of yourself. You always run yourself down, but you're a sensualist, Fox and that's a prime requirement for cooking well... You'll see - it will be fun, and useful, and romantic..." He turned in Mulder's arms and gave him a long, intense kiss.

When he'd caught his breath, Mulder felt a lot more mellow, but he couldn't resist a last whinge. "You sound worse than the brochure, Walter, are you sure you're not on commission here?"

Skinner just grinned and kissed him again, a wet smack on the cheek, followed by a swat on the rump. "Get changed, Fox. Dinner is in twenty minutes and you want to look your best to meet our fellow students." He snagged his toilet bag and headed for the shower, tugging his briefs down as he went, leaving Mulder fanning himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A dozen heads swivelled to look at the new arrivals as they entered the elegant dining room. A dozen female heads. Mulder pinched Walter's ass hard as they headed for the two vacant seats around the long oval table. Skinner gave a pained yelp, and covered it hastily with a cough, as they approached the head of the table and the smiling woman rising to greet them.

"Mme. D'Auberville, I'm sorry if we're late." Skinner held out his hand to the tall grey-haired woman and turned slightly to introduce his companion. "My partner, Fox Mulder."

A ripple of something went round the table, and Mulder felt himself colouring under the scrutiny of all those smiling eyes. He was going to get Walter good for this bright idea.

"You're most welcome Mr. Skinner, Mr. Mulder. And please just call me Phillippa. You have a charming accent, Mr. Skinner, but since my divorce I've dropped the 'Madame'. My cooking skills are the only legacy of my French husband I'm keen to hold on to." She softened the uncompromising words with a smile and showed them to their places.

Introductions were made and conversations struck up as the soup was served. Mulder's natural curiosity was soon engaged by the disparate group of their fellow-students. There were several glossy young women, looking to polish their domestic skills in the cause of snaring a suitable husband. They were almost indistinguishable to Mulder - all flicking back their long shiny hair, playing with their platinum tennis bracelets and fixing their Barbie-doll faces covetously on both him and Walter. He shuddered, reflexively, and leaned over to say something to Walter. Keep your hands off my man, was the message he wanted to send loud and clear.

Most of the rest of the women were older, but there the similarity ended. Marsha Gullick was an anthropology professor who had just come back from two years in the rainforest and said she wanted to pamper herself for a change. Sally Aronson was a widow in her 40s who was learning to be self-sufficient with style, Katherine and Marian Weston were two sisters who shared a home and took a new course in something every year. Ella Wilder was looking after her pernickety aged father and hoping to please him with palate-tempting delights, Cara Russell was a magazine editor with a new boyfriend. Louise Westendorff's husband had just been promoted and she was going to have to entertain his boss... They all had their reasons for wanting to learn how to cook well, and they were all clearly dying to know Fox and Walter's story.

Skinner was chatting to his neighbour on the other side, one of the debutantes who was hanging on his every word with flattering attention. Mulder wondered if Walter was flattered, then dismissed that thought as ridiculous, as a warm, heavy hand settled on his knee, under the table. He was impressed with how well Walter was holding his own with all this chit-chat, reserved as was. He supposed the big man approached it with the same energy and commitment he brought to his job, and after all, he wouldn't have made it to the rank of AD without acquiring some polished people-skills. It was good to feel his possessive hand, though. Not that Mulder needed reminding where his heart lay.

Cara Russell drew a long red fingernail down his arm, reclaiming his attention. She leaned in close, moistening her crimson lips, and sending waves of heavy perfume in Mulder's direction. "So, Fox Mulder, what's the story with you and Walter, then? I mean, I realise you're together, so you needn't feel threatened..." Mulder had the grace to feel guilty, and ducked his head a little. " ...but why are you here?"

"I'm asking myself that, to be honest." Mulder pulled a wry face. "Walter is the cook in our household and he's damn good at it, but he seems to think it would be good for me to hone my own limited talents too... I suppose he wants a night off occasionally. Um... I mean..."

"It's okay, I know what you meant. I think that's rather sweet. Especially for him to come on the course with you, too. Cooking together can be very... pleasurable, you know. Very intimate, sensual even."

That was the second time this evening the idea of cooking as a sensual activity had been mentioned. Maybe this weekend wouldn't be so bad after all, Mulder pondered, and there was still that huge comfortable bed upstairs, and five glorious nights with Walter, away from paperwork, phone calls, late meetings, work-related stress... He let his hand settle on top of Walter's, out of sight under the crisp linen tablecloth, shifted his leg sideways until his thigh was alongside Walter's, smiled widely at Cara.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walter flicked off the main light, leaving the bedroom lit only by the two silk-shaded lamps on the nightstands - a soft golden glow that made Walter's naked body look even more edible than usual, as he straddled Mulder and bent to kiss his way down from throat to nipples. Mulder groaned lustfully, and arched his back, pushing up against Walter's unhurried licks and nuzzles.

"Are you going to be okay with this, Fox?"

For a second, Mulder was too blissed to understand the question... "Unnh? With this?... Ohhhh, don't stop... Oh, you mean...?" He lifted one hand from Walter's head and waved it at the room, encompassing the whole weekend. "Yeah, I think I am, Walter. And you never know - I may turn out to be the next Escoffier."

Walter's eyebrows rose, but his comment was smothered as he bent over Mulder's navel then moved on southwards, and coherent conversation was lost in giggles and moans.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday, 10am, Feb. 26^th

Having got distracted in the shower after breakfast, the men were last to arrive again. The group had already taken its places at the island units in the big kitchen, two students to each unit. Two of the young women had split off, so that the remaining two positions were each sharing with one of them. Mulder and Skinner exchanged a wry look and separated to their respective stations.

Mulder's counter-companion was an immaculately groomed young woman who introduced herself as Victoria. She was just out of William & Mary with a degree in Fine Arts, dating an investment banker, her future all mapped out: marriage, babies, success. While she and Mulder did unspeakable things to their roasting chickens and patisserie, they discovered mutual friends in The Vineyard, a shared dislike of sailing and a shared passion for C. S. Lewis and The Twilight Zone.

Phillippa moved amongst the tables, explaining and advising and in some cases, shaking her head despairingly. There was much laughter, and more than a little ladylike cursing, and the morning flew by. Whenever Mulder glanced over to where Walter was working, he got a wide, fond smile on his face. With sleeves rolled up and hips wrapped in a striped chef's apron, Walter looked perfectly at home. His partner was a leggy blonde with big green eyes, who seemed to need Walter's assistance rather too often for Mulder's liking. Watching the big man gesturing some action across their counter top, their arms brushing, Mulder suddenly became aware of Victoria watching him...

"You're head over heels, aren't you? I recognise the signs." She grinned up at his startled blushes. "It's okay, we all felt a flutter when we first saw you two, but it was clear last night that you're both extremely 'spoken for'. You can't blame us for trying - two gorgeous men like you and Mr. Skinner. We almost started some most unladylike squabbling over who would get to share with you today. How did you two get to know each other, then?"

After his initial embarrassment, Mulder decided he was proud that his love for Walter was so clear to see. Without giving away exactly which branch of law enforcement they worked in, he regaled Victoria with outlandish tales for the rest of the morning. When they broke for lunch, he grabbed Walter and assumed a mock-stern expression:

"Enjoying the hero-worship, are we?"

"You can put that pouting lip away, Mulder. We both seem to be having a pleasant time. Collette was having trouble with her rubbing in technique, but she's never even boiled an egg before, so that's hardly surprising..."

"Oh, it's Collette, is it? Well, Tori is rather good at pastry, and she's got an interesting theory about reincarnation too..."

They looked at each other, squaring off like a couple of testosterone-pumped adolescents, and burst out laughing.

"They're okay, aren't they?" snorted Walter, wiping his eyes, "not quite the airheads we did them the disservice of assuming they were... just a bit..." He paused, struggling to find the right word.

"Young?" suggested Mulder, setting himself off into hiccups again. "Are we getting old, Walter?"

"You - old? - never! Now me, I've been rusting away for ye..."

"Stop that." He slid his hands down Walter's firm chest. "Not even as a joke. You're awesome. In fact, " he leaned in to kiss Skinner, winked, "I want to be you when I grow up."

Walter's face was a picture. He made as if to strangle Mulder, then kissed him back, amidst the girlish applause of their fellow students.

Over lunch, Phillippa outlined the program for the rest of the course. That afternoon, they would tackle some of the trickier stuff: omelettes, soufflés and sauces. On Sunday, they would learn how to set a perfect dining table and Phillippa would demonstrate some classic dishes. On Monday they would cover presentation, garnishes and side dishes, and on Tuesday they would each cook two dishes of their own choosing, to from part of a grand graduation banquet on their last evening.

Mulder rolled his eyes pleadingly at Walter during this, but Walter just smirked and mouthed 'Es-coff-ier" at him. Mulder watched him scribble something on his menu card and flick it across the table to him. He read: 'Just as well you already found the way to this man's heart - I don't think my stomach can wait that long.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening they all repaired to the lounge bar after dinner. Phillippa excused herself to do some paperwork, so they all felt they could talk about the day's class more freely. Sally and Ella both admitted to being in awe of Phillippa's calm efficiency, Marsha was feeling guilty for dropping a bowl of eggs, Cara had them in hysterics describing how her soufflé just kept expanding like the Instant Pudding in Woody Allen's "Sleeper"... Mulder said his soufflé looked like a week-old omelette and his omelette was about as fluffy as a mouse mat, and as for his béchamel... Rounds of drinks were bought, someone turned the stereo on and Louise suggested dancing.

"Now I hope you guys can dance, because we all want a go..."

Mulder tried to get out of it, but Walter informed the company that Fox was a pretty good dancer, as long as someone else led, so they all dissolved into laughter again and Bernice and Imogen, two of the shiny young women, dragged then to their feet. They gallantly partnered all the ladies and duty done, were going to make their escape when Tori piped up:

"Aren't you going to take Walter for a spin, Fox-sorry!-Mulder? We'll give you the floor, won't we ladies?" An enthusiastic chorus of affirmatives was forthcoming.

The song that was playing was something gentle and not too slow, and Mulder thought Walter was looking perfectly adorable with scarlet ears and wide uncertain eyes, so he took advantage. He stepped up to Walter, closed his gaping jaw with an affectionate finger and took him in his arms. They didn't smooch and they didn't nestle the way they would have done had they been alone, but they looked into each other's eyes as they swayed together and when the song ended there was a collective sigh from their rapt audience.

Later on, as he lay in bed, head pillowed on Walter's chest, Walter's warm hand stroking his back, Mulder had to admit that this weekend was turning out to be decidedly enjoyable after all.

"Thanks for bringing me, Walter. I haven't met so many nice women in a long time. We're bonding too, like one big happy family. Good night Katherine, good night Tori, good night Chelsea, good night Julia, good ni..."

"Goodnight John-Boy." And he was firmly shut up with a kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday, 9.30am, Feb. 29^th

"I haven't been this nervous since my finals in Oxford. I probably won't need this stuff ever again, but I want to get this certificate so much."

"Hang on there... I'll be expecting a gourmet meal, complete with folded napkin waterlillies and co-ordinated floral centrepiece, at least once a week from now on. I thought you realised that was part of the arrangement." Skinner was standing in the bathroom doorway; muscled arms folded across his mighty chest, trying to look severe.

Mulder just wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. "If you're gonna go all superhero on me, you really want to lose the shaving foam and swap the deliciously inadequate towel for a swirling cape. On the other hand..." He pounced from across the room, snapped Walter's towel from around his hips and pushed him back against the door frame, rubbing his own, already-clothed body against Skinner's naked, shower-fresh one. "Boy, you certainly know how to cure nerves," he purred, a short while later, licking his lips.

"I aim to please." Walter looked pretty happy himself. "Now pull your pants up and let me get dressed."

"So romantic...! You do know what today is, don't you?"

"You mean apart from Martha Stewart Meets the Chainsaw Massacre?"

"Ha. Ha. It's Leap year Day, February 29^th. When the ladies get to do the proposing."

"You're not thinking... they wouldn't!"

"No, they wouldn't, but someone might... " He tapped the side of his nose mysteriously, and tucked his shirt back into his jeans.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was an air of excitement in the kitchen all day, and much less talking than usual. Each student was working to a carefully-planned timetable, cooking two complete dishes without Phillippa's help. Mulder was sharing with Marsha Gullick today, and she was making Bouillabaisse and croquembouche. Mulder's nerves had come back full-force once he was downstairs in the atmosphere of tension. The smell of Marsha's court bouillon was making him feel queasy and he sliced his thumb on a paring knife. Phillippa gave him a chef's blue elastoplast and sent him outside for a breath of air.

Walter looked up in concern as Mulder left the room, then quietly laid down his spoon and followed his lover out onto the terrace. Mulder was sitting on the stone parapet, gazing out at the landscaped grounds, feeling a bit ridiculous. Skinner didn't speak, but just sat down beside him. After a moment, he took Mulder's hand, unwrapped the kitchen towel from his thumb and held out his hand for the elastoplast. When it was firmly wrapped around the wounded digit, he kept hold of Mulder's hand and tugged gently to get Mulder to look at him.

"You okay? None of this matters, you know. It was just supposed to be a bit of fun."

"I know, but it's the way I am. I can't just do stuff casually, I have to do it well... My dad used to say..." The warmth of Walter's hand rubbing over his was calming him. Their breath plumed white around them in the February chill.

"Mulder, I'm not your dad. I don't need you to be the best at everything. I love the way you give it all 110%, but I won't love you any less because you can't roast a duck or make meringues. Are you doing this because you think it matters to me?"

"Um... not exactly, though I do want to make the most of your great idea... I know this was just meant to be a fun weekend, but I really would like to be able to make you a romantic dinner sometimes, without having to resort to take-out from 'Le Toile D'Argent"... I guess I'm just wound up because it matters to me." He looked uncertainly up into Walter's kind eyes.

"I'm not looking for a perfect wife, you idiot. Can't you tell that I think you're great just the way you are? I love cooking and you don't, it's that simple. I enjoy cooking for us, and when I'm not in the mood, then we can eat take-out and that will be fine too. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel you were lacking, in any way. We don't have to stay..."

"No, I want to go back inside and finish this. I am actually enjoying the cooking and I'm going to make something that will blow your socks off. Phillippa says you only need a couple of things that are your speciality, your party pieces that you do on special occasions. I think I've found what mine are. Come on, I'm ready to go back in."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening...

The dining room looked wonderful. The oval table was laid with crisp white linen, silver flatware and crystal glasses. Menu cards and elaborately folded napkins marked each place setting and the centre was adorned with lavish arrangements of white roses, evergreens and long pale green candles. The diners were looking just as elegant and beautiful: the ladies in long gowns and the gentlemen in tuxes. Walter had produced Mulder's Armani tux from a suit carrier, along with his own Hugo Boss one. The avid gazes of the ladies told them they were looking good.

Their dinner was laid out on a long table beside the terrace doors, twenty-eight exquisite offerings of soups and canapés, pates and salads, roasts and fragrant stews, entrées of all kinds, puddings and cakes and desserts. Marsha's croquembouche was the centrepiece - a delicate pyramid of fifty tiny choux buns, filled with vanilla cream and glazed with clear golden caramel. Marsha was beaming with pride and accepting the congratulations of all on her Certificate for Outstanding Achievement. Everyone had passed and Phillippa had handed out the handsome engraved award certificates before they took their places for dinner. After a toast to good food, and to Phillippa's teaching skills, they all rose to make their selections from the feast.

Mulder was scanning the table for Walter's contributions: a spiced Moroccan tagine with a plaited loaf of herb bread and an ice-bowl filled with lemon ice cream. He helped himself to a ladle-full of the rich stew and a hunk of the crusty bread, some of Louise's leg of lamb and a few of Cara's spinach and ricotta ravioli. Ella looked at his messy and laden plate and looked over her glasses at him. "Mind you don't spill any of that on that dazzling shirt, now." Mulder looked down at his shirt-front. Walter had brought the shirt too, made luminously white by whatever secret method he used on his own legendary shirts. Mulder felt as if a spotlight was shining up from under his chin. He carefully carried his plate back to the dining table, to find Walter looking very mellow.

"This is superb, Fox, really delicious! And I can't wait for my dessert, either - you must have read my mind and picked my favourite foods." He cut off a mouthful of Mulder's tenderloin of lamb with rosemary and redcurrant stuffing, speared an asparagus tip and brought the succulent mouthful to his lips with real relish. His eyes closed as he slowly chewed the morsel, savouring the flavours. "Mmm-mmm. Can I make a special request right now, to have this for my birthday dinner?"

Mulder flushed with pleasure and nodded, eagerly, "It's really okay is it? Not too much rosemary, is the stuffing moist enough?"

"It's great Mulder, you can relax now. How's the tagine, anyway?"

They ate happily and went back for seconds and thirds and everyone agreed that they were all geniuses in the kitchen. They had worked hard this weekend, and nearly everyone had early departures in the morning, so the party broke up around 10.30, addresses were exchanged and it was like the last day at summer camp.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bathroom was still steamy from their shower, and Walter was peering into the slightly misted mirror over the sink, trying to shave. Mulder was towelling his hair and looking appreciatively at Walter's naked back view. The fact that Walter was shaving again before bed was having a marked effect on Mulder's libido. The sensation of Walter's silken cheeks against his thighs or his ass or the inside of his arms was something that reduced Mulder to incoherent squeaks and moans and tonight, after their exhausting day, he was really moved that Walter would make this considerate gesture for him. He rubbed a palm thoughtfully along his own jaw and thought about the various tender parts of Walter's anatomy that he might like to get close to tonight. He reached for the shaving foam.

A short while later they were both lying on the bed, face to face, kissing. Walter had one long leg hooked around Mulder's thigh, rocking their groins together as they embraced. Mulder's free hand was cupped around the back of Walter's head, stroking the smooth skin and fine hair as their tongues softly danced. It was slow and tender, rather than frantic and hungry. Deep appreciative tastes of each other, in the spirit of the evening. Mulder sighed blissfully and rolled back to study his lover's face. Walter's eyes were so dark and soft and full of love. He raised himself on one elbow and leaned down, to kiss each eyelid and on, over cheekbones and chin and soft, shaven throat.

"I... mmn... love you... ummnn... Love you... Walter... "

Walter let him browse his way from nipple to nipple for a little while, his gasps of pleasure making Mulder smile against his skin, which made Walter gasp even more.

"Ahh... I... hhhm... oh, that's good... unngghh... yesss! Aaahhhh, Fox... I love you too..."

Mulder slid off the bed, felt around on the carpet for something and clambered back on, head to toe with Walter. He settled his cheek on Walter's thigh and contemplated the soft heavy scrotum and semi-erect cock. Walter smelled warm and clean and familiar with the unique scent of pheromones and body chemistry that made Mulder's senses reel... He was still gazing dreamily at Walter when a hot tongue slid along the length of his own rising cock. Rolling his face into the warmth of Walter's groin he gave himself up to the ecstasy of that sensual slide, back and forth... Moist, caressing heat around his balls, bouncing them softly on the cushion of a lush tongue, squeezing gently with smooth lips. Flicks of a tongue-tip up the length of his penis, probing at the vein, mapping the swell of the ripe head, the tiny opening, sucking at him... All he could do was throw his head back as the wave washed over him, hissing air into his oxygen-starved brain as he spilled himself, while Walter's inescapable mouth grew gentle on him, licking him up, licking him clean, kissing his tingling flesh.

He almost fell asleep under those loving licks and the tender hands stroking his hips and belly. But Walter's beautiful cock was hard against his cheek and through the fog of satiation he remembered a wicked little plan he had... He reached down groggily for a plate he'd set beside the bed. Walter was watching him curiously. He picked two half pecans off the slice of pecan pie; his own lovingly baked dessert. Pushing Walter flat on the bed and arranging his bent legs to his own satisfaction, he settled between his spread thighs and smiled hungrily at the mesmerised man. Deliberately, he laid the two sticky pecans on Walter's scrotum and sat back, beaming.

"Nuts," he said. "Mine, my nuts, all for me!"

The soft point of the pie wedge was glistening with dark brown sweetness. Holding the slice carefully, he swiped the sticky filling in a swirl around Walter's sleek, powerful cock. Crumbs of the piecrust scattered amongst Walter's dark pubic hair, Mulder just managed to set the disintegrating slab of pie down on the plate before it squished all over his wide-eyed lover. Holding Walter's fascinated gaze, he dug his finger into the rich dark caramel of the pie and scooped up a glossy dollop. It melted against Walter's heated flesh, slicking the straining muscle with mouth-watering stickiness.

"Fox Mulder's X-tra Special Dessert. Scientifically proven to be good for your heart..."

He licked his lips and slurped up the first pecan. Walter gave a strangled groan and Mulder dived for the second nut. This time, he sucked on the sensitive sac, running the fragments of crunched pecan on his tongue over the soft skin. Walter made some very satisfactory noises.

"Lovely nuts," Mulder smirked.

The licking clean of Walter's cock took a deliciously long time, and the experiment had to be repeated so that Mulder could practice smoothing the caramel on and off. Walter clenched fistfuls of the sheet as Mulder's lingering attentions drove him higher and higher... Mulder held his hips, loving the involuntary thrusts Walter gave as he was sucked hard.

"You're...uhh-hh... killing me, Fox," he stuttered, "have mercy... aaahhh, now, pleeessse!"

Mulder reached under the bucking pelvis and grabbed two handfuls of hard, smooth buttock. Kneading firmly he held Walter steady and took him as deep as he could, swallowing to massage the head of that long, hot cock. It was too much for Walter; he arched back on the bed, his eyes rolling up, and let out a roar like a bull. Grabbing blindly he caught one of Mulder's wrists and slid his hand into his lover's. Mulder held on tight and rode out Walter's orgasm. The sweetness of the caramel was cut with the taste of Walter, and it was delicious.

"Well, I have to say, that was the best pecan pie I've ever had."

"Mnnn... it cert'nly....uhh... gez my vote..." Walter's sleepy, slurring voice was like a lion's purr. The big body was glistening with saliva, and stickiness and sweat, the broad face was flushed and smiling. Mulder looked down fondly.

"Don't go to sleep just yet, there's one more thing to do... " He levered himself up off the bed and padded into the bathroom, coming back with damp washcloths and fresh towels. He washed Walter's sticky body, kissing his shoulders, the hollow of his throat, his armpits, his chest... and then cleaned off himself. With some effort he rolled Walter's considerable mass and tugged the sheet out from under him. Apart from a few crumbs of piecrust the bed was clean enough, so he slid in beside his lover and tucked his head in against the broad shoulder, the way he liked.

"Are you still awake, Walter?"

"Mmhh-mm."

"Just a minute more, lover." He aimed a sloppy kiss in the general direction of Walter's chin, his own senses fighting the onset of sleep. "In honour of February 29^th, I propose..."

He paused, dramatically. Walter opened one unfocused brown eye.

"Whaaa?"

"Not that, we don't need words to say all that... I propose - that we do this again next year!"

"Anysing you zay, beautiful... now can I go ta zleep?"

"Yeah. Sweet dreams, Walter."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wednesday, 3pm, March 1^st

The J. Edgar Hoover Building.

"So will you come, Scully? Walter says I need a wider audience for my cooking."

"You'll be... cooking?"

"Yeah? What's so strange about that?"

"Nothing, Mulder, nothing at all, but when did they re-open the X-Files?"

THE END