Title: 24/7 - Part 26: Here, There, And Everywhere

Fandom: The X Files

Pairing: Mulder/Skinner

Rating: NC17 

Category: BDSM Slash

Summary: Master and slave face a final crisis in their relationship
which may change things between them forever.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to all the people who have
been so supportive of this long series. They are too many to mention
them all by name but you know who you are: the people who sent
feedback, bondage bears, feedback, pictures they'd made themselves,
quotes, poetry, pictures that reminded them of the series...oh, and
did I mention feedback? <g> Thank you!

Thank you: Special thanks go to Emma, who was instrumental in the
inception of this story and who has been a valued sounding board ever
since. The prison sex is for you! A massive thank you also to Phoebe,
who has beta read several of the chapters with her usual unerring eye
and attention to detail. And finally, a big thank you to CD, Blue-
Spirit, Sergeeva and JenR who have brought so many of my fantasies to
life in pictures.

Feedback: Yes please!!! The friendly variety is always welcome at
xanthe@xanthe.org And hey, if you've been reading this for 26 whole
chapters and have never sent any - now might be a good time to start!
I love getting feedback - writing takes a lot of time and even more
effort, so it's wonderful to hear that people enjoy what I do :-)

Length:  Also available as a plain text file and a zip file.

Zine: 24/7 will soon be available in zine format. Please keep
checking back to this site for updates on where and when you can buy
it.

Check out the Final Chapter Picture Page. 

Notes: I've created a 24/7 Fan Page as a memento of all the great
things that have been sent to me during the writing of this series.
The 24/7 favourite moment polls can be found here. Quotation courtesy
of Alex. 24/7 is an erotic fantasy and NOT a BDSM resource guide. The
truth is sometimes exaggerated, or played with, for dramatic effect.
For more information, please visit the 24/7 BDSM Glossary.

Warning: The usual BDSM sex warning although there's nothing any
worse in here than in any of the previous 25 chapters!

24/7 
By Xanthe

 "A truth, still apparent, though disregarded, that
 things move violently to their place, but calmly in
 their place.  To put it another way, everything has
 its right home, the region that suits it, and, unless
forcibly restrained, will move thither by a kind of
 homing instinct."
   J. Winterson
   "Art and Lies"

Chapter 26
Here, There, And Everywhere
By Xanthe


"I want you to get dressed," Skinner told his slave early one
evening, a week after he had branded him. Mulder gazed up at his
Master in surprise from where he was lying, naked, on the bed. The
last week had passed in something of a haze for him; he and his
Master had been in love for a long time now, but they had never been
this close or as intimate with each other as they had since the
branding. Still on vacation, they had spent every day for the last
week completely wrapped up in each other, making love, talking, or
just lying in each other's arms lazily, enjoying their closeness. 

Mulder felt more than happy - he felt deeply and profoundly
contented, existing in a state of total bliss. It both was and wasn't
the branding - he had loved his Master before he had been branded,
and they had been happy before his branding too, but somehow the
branding was a culmination of all those feelings that had gradually
been building inside him since Skinner had taken him as his slave ten
months previously. Now he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he
not only belonged to and with his Master, but that Skinner understood
him down to his core and was strong enough to take him and all the
emotional baggage that came with him, and to love him no matter what. 

Strangely, the branding had not, in Mulder's mind, been so much
about himself proving his love to his Master by taking his mark on
his body, but instead it had confirmed to him that Skinner was strong
enough to be his Master - and so much more besides. Skinner hadn't
backed down from such a challenging expression of his love for his
slave, and Mulder had known in that moment of being branded, that he
had at last found someone strong enough to be his soulmate.

"Dressed?" Mulder blinked, feeling confused. He hadn't been clothed
all week, save for the dressing covering his brand, and he would,
quite happily, never be clothed again. He felt free in his nudity,
and he loved the sensation of being constantly available for his
Master's use. 

"Yes. We're having a few guests around later," Skinner told him,
striding over to the closet.

"We are?" Mulder got up, feeling like an idiot for being so slow on
the uptake.

"Yeah." Skinner glanced over his shoulder and grinned at his slave.
"You don't have any idea what day it is today do you?" He said.

"No." Mulder shrugged. "Should I?" He asked with a frown.

"It's New Year's Eve," Skinner told him. "And since you missed out
on your branding party, I thought you'd be dying to show off that
brand of yours to at least some of your friends."

Mulder's stomach did a flip; he had been enjoying his closeness with
Skinner so much that he didn't want to be jolted out of it in this
way. The thought of the apartment being crowded with people was
unbearable, and made him feel stifled. Skinner must have noticed his
expression because he caught hold of Mulder's shoulders and held them
firmly.

"Don't panic. It's just a few of our closest friends," he told his
slave. Mulder brightened.

"Ian and Perry?" He asked eagerly.

"Yes." Skinner nodded. "And Elaine and David." 

"That's it?"

"Yes...well, except for a couple of mystery guests who may or may
not show up." Skinner smiled mysteriously.

"Mystery guests?" Mulder frowned. "You know how I hate mysteries,
Master."

"Hmmm, yes I do. You seem to have built a whole career on that
particular character quirk," Skinner grinned. "But I'm afraid you'll
have to wait. Now go and take a shower while I lay out the clothes I
want you to wear."

He turned Mulder around, pointed him in the direction of the
bathroom, and gave his ass a hearty slap for good measure. Mulder
gave a little yelp of complaint but he was grinning as he scampered
to the shower. He wasn't sure when Skinner had organised this little
party, as he was sure that they hadn't spent a second outside of each
other's company for the past week, but then his Master moved in
mysterious ways his wonders to perform, and Mulder knew better than
to question him on the subject. 

He showered and washed his hair swiftly, suddenly excited at the
prospect of being able to show off his brand to their friends. He'd
only been able to see the brand when his Master had changed the
dressing covering it, but he got a thrill out of it every time and
was looking forward to being able to dispense with the dressing for
good soon. True, the brand wasn't exactly looking very beautiful at
the moment, being scabbed over as it healed, but he was too proud of
it to care much about that. Nobody had yet seen the brand except for
himself and his Master; Perry and Ian had been supposed to drop by
the day after Christmas, but Skinner had felt that Mulder was still
on too much of a post-branding high to receive visitors. Beside, it
just felt right that Master and slave spend some time alone together
after the branding. However, their vacation time was drawing to a
close, and although Skinner had been able to finagle them a few extra
days they had to return to work shortly, so Mulder supposed now was a
good time for his Master to re-acclimatise them both back to the
everyday world again.

Mulder skipped out of the bathroom, full of excited anticipation -
only to stop short when he saw the outfit his Master had laid out for
him on the bed. 

"No!" He said. "No, no, no, no, no. Absolutely not."

Skinner grinned at him. "Ah, the little slave thinks he has a choice
about what he's going to wear this evening. How amusing."

"I'm not little, it's not amusing and I'm not wearing this!" Mulder
said firmly, waving his hand at the turquoise, gold-trimmed, gauzy
and totally transparent harem pants lying on the bed, together with a
gold harness. A pair of aqua blue, pointy-toed slippers was laid out
on the floor beside the bed. This wasn't the outfit that Skinner had
dressed him in when they'd stayed at Murray's beach house, but it was
very similar, and, to Mulder's eyes at least, just as repulsive.

"Of course you are." Skinner gave an infuriating beam of a smile. 

"What are you wearing?" Mulder's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You're looking at it." Skinner gestured to his chinos and the thin
polo neck sweater he had on.

"And Elaine, David, Perry and Ian - they're just coming in jeans and
casual stuff too, aren't they?" Mulder demanded. Skinner's grin
broadened.

"Yes, I should think so." He nodded.

"So why do I have to be dressed up like...like...?" Mulder glanced
at the obnoxious outfit again, floundering for words.

"Like some kind of exotic slaveboy?" Skinner raised an eyebrow. "Oh,
I don't know - maybe because that's exactly what you *are*, boy. My
exotic, branded, *obedient* slaveboy." The inflection on the word
obedient wasn't lost on Mulder. He had only been seen by one other
person apart from his Master in a harem pant outfit and that had been
someone Mulder didn't know, so although it had been embarrassing, it
wasn't nearly as bad as this...and yet...on some level, Mulder knew
himself to be deeply turned on by the scenario. He wasn't seriously
questioning his Master's orders - they both knew he'd wear the harem
pants but they both enjoyed his protests all the same - it added
spice to their relationship. Skinner reached out and placed a hand on
the back of his slave's neck, both reassuring and threatening at the
same time. "You know, I could have sworn that you signed a contract
submitting yourself and your body to my total care and control," he
murmured, in a deep, sexy voice. "Hmm?"

"Yes, Master," Mulder whispered, completely in thrall to that rich,
dark, masterful voice. He loved it when his Master got all uber-top
on him; it made his spine tingle and his stomach do somersaults. 

"So," Skinner purred, running a hand possessively over Mulder's
body. "I think it's time you got dressed in this nice outfit your
Master has so thoughtfully provided for you. Right, boy?" His hand
closed over one of Mulder's butt cheeks and squeezed, firmly and
affectionately, just enough to make Mulder squirm. Mulder considered
continuing with his protest but he was too turned on by the way
Skinner was holding him.

"Yes, Master," he murmured meekly. Skinner released his slave,
giving him a firm little push in the direction of the bed, and Mulder
went and picked up the gauzy fabric laid out for him. There was a
time when he would have been horrified to be displayed publicly in
such a costume, but now that he was being more honest with himself,
and he was more relaxed in his slavery, he couldn't deny that he felt
a sexual thrill at the thought. He was glad his Master always
insisted on him obeying his orders even when he baulked; Skinner
usually knew what was best for his slave - and Mulder invariably
ended up enjoying whatever his Master demanded of him.

"I thought the harem pants would be best because they'd show off
your brand," Skinner told him, in a low, husky, seductive voice,
coming up behind him and caressing his buttocks again with the casual
caress of an owner touching his property. "And I want everyone to see
your brand so there's no point in you wearing jeans. Besides, I've
always wanted to show you off in harem pants to a wider audience."

Mulder made a little face, but only for the sake of it. Skinner
roared with laughter and turned his slave around to face him. 

"Okay, little one, I'm going to take your dressing off. You can keep
it off all evening - I want Perry to examine how it's healing in any
case. Remember that you don't have the dressing on though - don't go
bumping into things or it'll hurt."

"Trust me, Master, I know exactly how much it hurts," Mulder said in
a heartfelt tone. 

Skinner stopped what he was doing and bestowed a gentle kiss on his
slave's lips. There was no need for him to say anything; he was
simply acknowledging what Mulder had gone through in order to have
his Master's mark imprinted so permanently on his skin, and what it
meant to both of them that he did. 

"All right - get dressed," Skinner said when he released his slave.
Mulder glanced down at his newly revealed brand with a dreamy sigh.

"You'll be able to see it just as well through the harem pants,"
Skinner pointed out, holding up the virtually transparent scrap of
gauzy fabric. "In fact, it'll look even better seen through the gauze
while it's still healing."

"Yes, Master," Mulder agreed softly, unable to continue pretending
that he wasn't enjoying every single second of this. "Uh,
Master...will there be any other...uh, accoutrements you'd like me to
wear." He thought of the butt plug his Master had inserted last time
he had worn harem pants.

"No." Skinner shook his head. "I don't want anything to detract from
that brand - or your pride in bearing it on your flesh. Enjoy
tonight, Fox. You have my permission to show off."

Mulder gave a little grin of delight at that news and began to dress
himself swiftly in the outfit he both loved and hated.

"You will have to wear make up though," Skinner added, just as
Mulder finished dressing himself. "Mascara, eyeliner and some lip
gloss to make that pouty lower lip of yours shine and shimmer so
appealingly."

"Oh god," Mulder sighed, but he was grinning despite himself and
submitted quite happily to his Master's ministrations until Skinner
was finally satisfied with him. Then his Master stood Mulder in front
of the mirror and had him take a good look at himself. Mulder's heart
usually sank at moments like this, but now it did a flip of
excitement. He did, he had to admit, look pretty damn good. The harem
pants clung to his long legs, accentuating them, and the brand was
visible through the transparent fabric, yet also tantalisingly
covered, so you could only get little glimpses of it as the fabric
rustled and rippled when Mulder moved. The little gold harness showed
off his nipple rings to perfection, and his gold collar nestled at
his throat, complementing the harness. The pants weren't open at the
crotch and buttocks like the pair he'd worn at the beach house, and
Mulder guessed that was why Skinner had selected them for this
evening - beautiful those his slave was, it might be a little
distracting if his charms were so completely on display during a
casual dinner party. The slippers finished the outfit, and Mulder had
to admit that he did look fabulously exotic with the eyeliner and the
lush lips. He totally understood why his Master couldn't resist
kissing him passionately several times, resulting in him having to
reapply the lip gloss as a result. Mulder had never had much interest
in his physical appearance before becoming Skinner's slave, but his
Master was beginning to make him understand the importance of
presenting himself to his best advantage, so that his Master always
had something good to look at. Mulder had never viewed himself as a
particularly good looking man, but over the past year he had
gradually come to see himself through his Master's eyes and now he
was ready to admit that it was a compelling sight. He was so shocked
by his lush appearance that he was still busy gazing at himself when
the doorbell rang. Skinner grinned. 

"That will be Ian and Perry - I told Perry to get here early so he
could take a look at how your brand is healing. Why don't you go and
greet your guests?"

"*My* guests?" Mulder grumbled good-naturedly as he went to open the
door, wincing dramatically at the way his pants flowed with his legs
as he walked, making him feel utterly ridiculous. "Yeah, right,
because I invited them, didn't I? I had a choice in the guest list.
I..." He gave a yelp as his Master delivered a firm slap to his
backside which felt almost naked, covered only by the thin layer of
gauze, and then grinned and cast Skinner a delighted glance over his
shoulder. The truth was that he loved acting up just a little, in
order to get his Master's attention - and it was rare for him not to
have his Master's attention, as he well knew. Mulder scampered along
the hallway and opened the door to his guests without so much as a
twinge of embarrassment. He knew that not so long ago he'd have found
being dressed like this in front of others excruciating, but the last
ten months with his Master had shown him he had an exhibitionist
streak, and he had stopped being ashamed of that fact. 

His Master was right - it was Ian and Perry. Ian took one look at
him and his face broke into a huge grin.

"Oh god. Your Master is fiendish!" He proclaimed, stepping inside
and motioning Mulder to do a twirl. Mulder obliged, grinning himself.
Yes, this was ridiculous, but it was amusing too, and these were his
closest scene friends who had seen him at both his best and worst -
and in various stages of undress as well. There was nothing about his
current costume that would shock them - although he did feel a twinge
of humiliation at the way his virtually transparent outfit displayed
his body so publicly while everyone else was comfortably covered up. 

Perry raised his eyebrows heavenwards at Mulder's costume, and
stepped around the two subs to present Skinner with a bottle of wine.
The tops chatted for a few minutes while Mulder submitted to the
indignity of having Ian laugh shamelessly over his costume, and then
Skinner beckoned Mulder over.

"Fox, come here - I want Perry to check out your scar," he said with
a click of his fingers. Mulder went obediently to where his Master
was standing and knelt beside him.

"Ah. You'll have to teach me that trick," Perry muttered with a
rueful glance in Ian's direction. "*My* sub just laughs when I give
him orders."

"Well, it does take some discipline - and a considerable amount of
training," Skinner commented, glancing down at Mulder who felt his
ears beginning to flush. "It's hard work...but the rewards make it
worthwhile I think. Don't they, boy?" His hand brushed Mulder's head
and Mulder leaned into his Master's blunt, caressing fingers. He
never could resist it when Skinner fondled him.

"Yes, Master," he replied, smiling up at Skinner somewhat hazily.

"Hmm, well, he seems different..." Perry mused. "Not that he wasn't
obedient before but...well, no, let's be honest, he did have his bad
days." He glanced at Skinner and Mulder remembered all too well the
dark days after he'd mutilated the wound Krycek had left on his
chest. "But...I don't know, he seems to be practically glowing this
evening. Can a branding make that much difference, Walter?" Perry
frowned.

Skinner shook his head. "I don't think it was the branding so much
as what it symbolised for both of us after all we've been through,
Perry," he replied. "But we're in a good place right now. It feels as
if everything finally came together last week when I branded Fox.
We're both still a little high on those feelings I guess."

"I can see that." Perry glanced down at Mulder appreciatively.
"Okay...well, let's take a look at the brand in question, shall we?" 

Skinner nodded, clicking his fingers at Mulder again, and pointing
to the couch. Mulder slid his harem pants down a little way and sat
on the couch, and Perry fished his glasses out of his pocket, perched
them on his nose, and sat down beside him. He leaned forward and
examined the brand silently, without touching it. He observed it for
several long seconds, before finally glancing back up at Skinner
again.

"Is it okay?" Skinner asked, and Mulder didn't miss the note of
anxiety in his Master's voice. Perry smiled, and removed his glasses.

"It's healing perfectly, Walter," he proclaimed. "I can see you've
been following my instructions to the letter. There's no infection -
it all looks like it should...and it's very well done too. A nice,
clear mark." He nodded approvingly.

"Ah, I love it when he's in Doctor mode," Ian murmured to Mulder
conspiratorially, leaning over his shoulder to gaze at the brand.
"He's so..."

"Masterful?" Mulder raised an eyebrow. Ian grinned.

"Well, I guess it shouldn't come as any surprise that *that* turns
me on," he said with a shrug. "Seriously though, Mulder - the brand
is beautiful." There was a note of reverence in his voice. 

"You'll be wanting one now," Mulder replied. Ian glanced at Perry
who had stood up and was busy talking animatedly to Skinner, and then
back at Mulder.

"I don't think that's something I could persuade Perry to do," he
said with a little shrug. "He's great, Mulder, but let's not pretend
he's anything like the great god of a Master you've landed yourself
with. Perry..." Ian shrugged again. "We get on really well, Mulder.
He's the nicest person - incredibly easy going and we have a lot in
common, but he's never pretended to be as into the scene as I am. He
does things to please me, but, well, I think branding would be a step
too far..." He paused, and then gave a little sigh, "For me as well
as for him," he finished. Mulder frowned.

"I thought..."

"I know...but the truth is that I think I prefer living vicariously
through you than actually doing some of this stuff myself. It's a
good fantasy...but, not many of us can pull it off in real life the
way you and Walter have, Mulder. It took me a long time to admit that
to myself but it's true. Some of us have to settle for being mere
mortals, and for living a more normal kind of life. There have been
times I've envied you so much, my friend, but the truth is that I
couldn't handle the kind of relationship you have with Walter. It
works for you two, but it'd be too much for me. I'm glad someone is
out there doing it, and I'm glad that I've stopped beating myself up
about the fact that it isn't me." He gave a wistful little smile.
Mulder gazed at him, still frowning.

"I had no idea you were envious of me...Christ, when I think how
badly and how often I've screwed up..."

"Oh, you've screwed up spectacularly!" Ian agreed, with a laugh.
"You've lived the life for all of us, Mulder, screw-ups not
withstanding. Your life has been a rollercoaster, one huge drama
after another, but I'm more of a steady, even keel kind of guy and I
couldn't cope with all the shit you've been through. It's taken me a
long time to appreciate that fact."

Mulder gazed at his friend uncertainly. Ian's words bothered him on
some level. He knew what Ian meant - his life thus far, and not just
the past ten months either, *had* been a rollercoaster ride. Maybe he
was addicted to the constant dramas and thrills, but, as he gazed
across the room at his Master, he had the sudden sure knowledge that
Skinner was not, and he felt a pang of guilt for taking this
basically quiet, kind, steady person, and dragging him into the
endless highs and lows that life with Fox Mulder entailed. He hadn't
thought about his life in these terms before, but suddenly he
wondered whether Ian might be the one who had got it right, who had a
sense of proportion about his sexual needs...and yet, he wouldn't
give up being his Master's slave for anything. 

"Being Walter's slave isn't *what* I am," he murmured to his friend,
"It's *who* I am. Everything that's happened over the past ten months
has basically arisen from me struggling to come to terms with that
essential fact. Ian, you might have envied me all this time, but I
envy you the way you've always been so comfortable with your
sexuality. I might have Walter, but I've been all over the place
emotionally on this journey I've been on. I've only recently come to
terms with the more...uh, extreme aspects of what I need, and what he
gives me. I couldn't have sat here, dressed like this, a few months
ago, and yet the truth is that I love it, deep inside. I'd have
fought him about it not so long ago though - fought myself really I
suppose, because I didn't like myself for having these fantasies."

Ian's eyes were suspiciously misty and he patted Mulder awkwardly on
the shoulder.

"Maybe we should talk about football or something now," he said, in
a slightly choked voice. 

Mulder laughed out loud at that and they changed the subject but he
was still mulling over what Ian had told him. Supposing, he wondered
to himself, that he was addicted to this kind of life, to the
rollercoaster, the constant highs and lows? Supposing he was
incapable of ever just settling down and living peacefully? Supposing
he would always keep on sabotaging this relationship by continually
creating some new crisis for himself and his Master to deal with?
Mulder didn't want to put either himself or Skinner through some of
the wilder stunts he'd pulled over the past 10 months ever again and
yet...the profiler in him was worried that it was so much a part of
his pattern of behaviour that he'd never be able to break it.

The doorbell rang again a few minutes later and he jumped, startled
out of his reverie. He was pleased to be able to push these troubling
thoughts aside, and was keen to show off his brand to the new
visitors so he got to his feet eagerly and went to the door to find
Elaine standing there, with her sub, David, in tow. Elaine rarely
ever dressed informally - she was a woman who loved to show off her
voluptuous figure and long, golden hair whenever she could, and she
was therefore clad in a tight-fitting, blue velvet dress that matched
the colour of her eyes - it was very similar to the one she'd worn to
his abortive branding party only not as dressy. She wasn't a slender
woman, and the dress hugged all her curves in a way that was
incredibly sexy. David certainly couldn't take his eyes off her. He
was dressed impeccably too, in charcoal chinos and a shirt the exact
same shade of blue as his Mistress's dress - although Mulder had the
feeling that, like himself, David might have been ordered what to
wear.

"Well, you're looking better than when I last saw you, Mulder,"
Elaine said, sweeping him up against her ample bosom and bestowing a
firm kiss on his cheek. Mulder shook David's hand and then allowed
Elaine to examine his brand through the gauzy fabric of his harem
pants. "It's beautiful, my dear," she told him, patting his arm
fondly. "And thank god it finally happened. I always said you
wouldn't really be content until Walter put his brand on you and
now...well, looking at you now, I know I was right."

"Yeah." Mulder could feel himself flushing slightly. "It's such a
big deal, Elaine. I had no idea how much of a big deal until it
happened."

"I knew, and I think Walter knew...but you've always been a little
clueless about your own needs, my dear," she said gently. Mulder
couldn't argue with that statement, and at that moment the doorbell
rang again.

"Ah, that'll be Walter's mystery guests," he grinned. His Master
appeared in the hallway, and Mulder glanced at him for permission to
greet their new guests. Skinner nodded, and Mulder took a deep breath
and then opened the door. Hammer was standing in the hallway, and,
next to him, leaning heavily on a walking cane, was Murray. He was
dressed in one of his usual flowing kaftans, in a bright red and gold
pattern, but even the voluminous folds of the garment couldn't hide
the fact that he had lost weight during his recent serious illness.
His cheeks were a little pale and sunken, but his eyes sparkled as
brightly as ever with that insatiable zest for living that nothing,
not even a serious heart attack, could suppress.

"Ah, I see that the young cub has been taken by the scruff of his
neck and finally offered up to the fiery kiss of the iron!" He
proclaimed loudly, pointing at Mulder's brand with his walking cane.

"Oh god!" Hammer raised his eyes heavenwards. "This is the first
time he's been out since I got him back from the hospital, and I knew
he'd ham it up."

"Murray?" Mulder shook the grizzled top enthusiastically by the
hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, my dear boy! I'm back! The rumours of my death were greatly
exaggerated," Murray announced, in a loud, stage whisper.

"I don't think anyone thought you were dead, Murray," Skinner
disputed, laughing as he came forward to greet his friends. "But
you're certainly looking a damn sight better than you did when I last
saw you."

"And that," Murray declared in a loud voice, "is despite the true
hideousness of hospital food, and this new diet Hammer has me on
which is fare only suitable for those of the lapine persuasion."

"He means rabbits," Hammer said, making a face. "He's been
complaining about the new diet non-stop from the moment I got him
home."

"There was a time," Murray said, in that deep, booming, dramatic
voice of his, "when a submissive knew his place - but this boy here,"
He tapped Hammer lightly with his walking cane on his backside,
"Hardly even listens to his Master these days," he lamented.

"Murray, when you talk everyone listens as you well know," Hammer
replied, and Mulder noticed how tenderly he took Murray's arm, and
helped him slowly into the other room. Murray might be able to put on
a good show, but it was clear that he was still recuperating from his
heart attack.

At some point, and Mulder didn't know when as he was sure he hadn't
let his Master out of his sight for the past week since his branding,
Skinner had managed to stock the fridge with food. Maybe he'd ordered
it online one night while his slave slept, Mulder thought as they ate
a simple pasta dish with salad, followed by a delicious chocolate and
coconut pie. The conversation around the dinner table was lively, and
Mulder felt himself falling silent. He gazed at the talking, laughing
faces around him and wondered whether he'd ever get used to this kind
of easy normality. These people, somehow, slowly, and without him
even realising it, had become his friends, and he'd never really had
any friends before, except for Scully and Skinner himself. He felt as
if he was really part of this gathering, that he actually belonged in
this easy, dinner party intimacy, and yet that tiny, doubtful voice
inside questioned whether he could be happy like this in the long
term. If occasions like this were his life, instead of the dramas
that had marked it so far, would that be enough? Would simple
friendship and the company of people who knew and accepted him be
sufficient for him, or would he always hanker after something more?
Did he need those battles with Krycek, and his endless quest to chase
his own tail looking for answers to questions he had long since
stopped understanding? He didn't know the answer even to that
question, and was relieved when his Master noticed his silence and
clicked his fingers to call his slave to his side and kneel beside to
him. Mulder felt a sense of calm seep into his bones as he knelt
there, excused from any obligation to be sociable, but all the same
he knew this wasn't the answer he had been looking for. He couldn't
use his Master to hide from the doubts he had about himself and his
own personality, but for now, at least, it was relaxing to have
permission to switch off from his problems. He enjoyed listening to
his friends' conversation, and it was easier not to feel he had to
contribute; with Murray and Elaine present it was hard for anyone to
get a word in edgeways in any case. After dinner their guests went to
sit in the living room, but Skinner hung back and looked down on his
slave.

"Is everything all right, Fox?" He asked softly. "You went very
quiet."

"I know. I was...a bit overwhelmed," Mulder admitted. 

"That's fair enough." Skinner nodded. "It's been just you and me all
week and it must have felt strange to you suddenly seeing all these
people."

"Yeah." Mulder managed a wry smile. He hadn't lied to his Master,
but he hadn't told him the whole truth either - he wasn't ready to
share these doubts just yet. He wanted his Master to have some peace,
and he didn't want to worry Skinner that there was even a possibility
that he'd take off at any moment and embroil them both in another
crisis just because he was addicted to a rollercoaster kind of
lifestyle.

"Come on - we've left our guests for long enough." 

Skinner motioned with his head and they walked into the living room,
where Ian was giggling hysterically over something Murray had said,
while Hammer was shaking his head in mock embarrassment. Mulder
waited until Skinner was seated, and then knelt beside his Master,
resting his chin on Skinner's thigh as he usually did. 

"I have an announcement to make," Elaine proclaimed when everyone
was settled. Mulder lifted his head, feeling like a curious puppy.
Elaine glanced at David and Mulder lifted his head even higher -
David had an expression of anticipation in his eyes as he gazed back
at his Mistress. "I'm delighted to announce that there's going to be
a wedding!" Elaine said. "A scene wedding of course!" She added with
a grin. "I've decided to make an honest man of David and take him as
my husband." There was silence for a moment and then the room
reverberated to the sound of congratulations, and Murray saying over
and over again, "My, my, my!" as if he'd never heard such
extraordinary news although he didn't *look* very surprised so Mulder
guessed that he probably already knew. 

"A scene wedding?" Mulder questioned, wondering what that would
entail.

"Oh yes." Elaine gave a broad grin. "Murray and Hammer have kindly
lent us the use of their house for the ceremony, and Murray is doing
us the honour of conducting the ceremony himself." She leaned over
and patted Murray's hand affectionately and Mulder couldn't help
smiling at how delighted Murray looked. He guessed that having
something like this to prepare for, and an audience to impress, was
exactly what Murray required to aid in his recuperation. "I will have
a carriage, drawn by real human horses..." Elaine continued.

"Can I volunteer to be one of your ponies?" Ian interrupted eagerly.

"I'd be delighted, dear," she replied, patting his head fondly.
"You'll have to be dressed appropriately of course." Ian's beaming
smile made it clear that he had been hoping that would be part of the
deal. "I'm having my dress made especially for the occasion - and
David is working on his own outfit." She paused, and brushed her hand
gently over her sub's cheek. Mulder was grinning inanely now; David
was a quiet kind of person, but Mulder had no doubt that the other
sub adored his Mistress with every bone in his body - and that he was
exactly the right man for Elaine. "I'm hoping that that all my dear
friends here today will join us on our big day," Elaine said,
glancing around the room.

"When is it?" Walter asked, a note of anxiety in his voice. Mulder
frowned, wondering what *that* was about, and watched as his Master
got out his diary and started flicking through it.

"Six weeks." Elaine pointed to the date in Skinner's diary over his
shoulder, and he breathed a visible sigh of relief. 

"We will be going, won't we, Walter?" Muder asked softly.

"You bet," Skinner replied, squeezing his slave's shoulder
affectionately. "Elaine, David, this is wonderful news. I'm delighted
for you both."

"I had one more thing I wanted to ask of you, Walter dear," Elaine
said. "You and I have been friends for a long time, and while this
won't be a conventional wedding, I would be very pleased if you'd
walk me to the altar."

Skinner got to his feet, and bestowed a little kiss on Elaine's
hand. "I'd be delighted," he said in a suspiciously husky voice.
"I'll visit Elliott next week and ask him to make me something..." He
paused, and grinned, "appropriate to wear," he finished. "And I'll
ask Donald to make something equally fitting for my slave," he added,
casting a glance at Mulder. 

"Oh god," Mulder muttered under his breath. 

At that moment they were all distracted by Murray's booming voice
informing them that it was exactly midnight and the new year was upon
them, and there was a wild scramble to fill glasses with champagne
and make a toast. Then, finally, an hour or so later, their guests
took their leave of them, and Mulder and Skinner were alone together
once more.

"Thank you, Master," Mulder said, as he closed the door behind Ian.
"I enjoyed this evening."

"You're welcome, boy." Skinner bestowed a kiss on Mulder's cheek as
he passed him on his way back into the living room. Mulder hesitated,
and then ducked into the hall cupboard, and drew out a large package,
bound up with string. He followed Skinner into the living room, and
handed him the parcel. "What's this?" Skinner frowned. 

"Your Christmas present," Mulder replied, with a guilty grimace.
"I'm sorry - I've been meaning to give it to you all week but we were
so..." He waved his hand in the air and Skinner grinned in
acknowledgement, understanding the gesture, "That I kept forgetting.
Then I thought that as it was a bit late for Christmas, it'd make a
good New Year present instead. So - Happy New Year, Walter." He
settled down at his Master's feet to watch him open the parcel.
Skinner's blunt fingers made short work of it, and he peeled back the
paper to reveal the painting underneath. Mulder held his breath,
hoping that his Master would like it. Skinner gazed at it wordlessly,
but the expression in his eyes told Mulder all he needed to know. 

"Fox...how...no, *when* did you...?" Skinner glanced from the
painting to Mulder and back again. The picture depicted, in a few
skilful lines, Skinner, gazing down lovingly and protectively at his
slave, who was staring back up at him with an expression of
appropriately worshipful adulation on his face.

"There was an artist at that fetish fair you took me to," Mulder
grinned. "I commissioned him to do it and he made a few sketches
without you noticing. I also sent him some polaroids so he could
flesh it out some more. It isn't as perfect as if we'd sat for him
but I wanted it to be a surprise, and..."

"It's beautiful," Skinner said, shaking his head as he gazed at the
picture. It *was* pretty good in Mulder's opinion. He'd been very
impressed when he'd first opened the package; it wasn't so much the
details of their features that the artist had captured, as the
expressions in their eyes, and the way they were looking at each
other. It was the perfect representation of the Master/slave bond,
and that was why Mulder loved it so much.

"I thought we could hang it in the Playroom," Mulder suggested.

"I think I'd prefer to hang it in the bedroom - where we can see it
every day," Skinner replied. "Come here." Skinner beckoned him over,
and planted a loving kiss on his slave's mouth. "Thank you," he said
softly, and then, without missing a beat, he said, in the same
breath: "Wanda." 

Mulder was surprised by the command, but he knew better than to
hesitate or question the order, and immediately knelt down in front
of his Master, lowered his harem pants, and held his butt cheeks open
so that Skinner could enter him and use him. He loved being used like
this, and his cock was half hard just from hearing the command and
knowing the intent behind it. He leaned his upper body against the
coffee table, and waited to feel his Master's hard cock pushing into
his ass - so he was completely taken by surprise when he felt a warm,
wet tongue pushing inside him instead. He gave a little squawk and
almost lost his balance, but his Master's hands on his hips kept him
steady. Skinner was an expert rimmer, and Mulder quickly surrendered
to the sheer pleasure that skilful tongue was giving him. He moaned,
and his cock was so hard it was leaking, but he knew better than to
expect it to be given any release.

"Keep holding yourself open for me," Skinner growled, drawing back a
little. "I want to really taste my slave's fine ass." 

Mulder shivered, desperately turned on, and then moaned as Skinner's
tongue dipped back inside him again, reaching even further this time,
and exciting him even more. A few minutes later, after he'd been
thoroughly rimmed, Skinner drew back, and Mulder opened up his legs
and anus even further as he felt his Master's hands on his buttocks
and then the familiar sensation of Skinner's thick, stiff cock
sliding into his body. Usually his Master went hard and fast during
these Wanda sessions, but on this occasion he went slowly, almost
gently, his hands playing over his slave's body like a musical
instrument as he slid in and out of his anus. Mulder moved his hands
forwards and gripped the coffee table desperately as Skinner's slow,
gentle thrusting reached a climax.

"You can come, Fox," Skinner said and for a moment Mulder wasn't
sure he'd heard him right. He was rarely allowed to take his own
pleasure during a Wanda session - the whole point of them was for him
to make himself available to his Master for Skinner to use for his
own pleasure, with no thought for his slave's enjoyment. 

"Master?" Mulder panted, wanting to be sure that he'd heard correctly.

"I said you can come," Skinner purred into his ear on a forward
thrust. "Any time you like, boy. Consider it a New Year's present."

Mulder didn't need telling twice. He reached down and massaged his
hard cock to climax with a few strokes. He heard and felt his Master
come inside him, and then Skinner rolled over onto the floor, taking
his slave with him, his big arms pulling Mulder close against his
chest.

"Oh god that was good, Master," Mulder murmured.

"Mmmm. It was," Skinner grinned.

"If surprising." Mulder glanced at his Master. "You've often given
me the Wanda command, Master, but you've never varied how you use
that command - until tonight."

"Tonight I thought I'd surprise you, the way you surprised me with
that beautiful present," Skinner said, tracing a finger over his
slave's lush mouth and inserting it a little way inside. "It was also
something by way of a reward. You've improved a lot since the early
days but I never thought I'd get you to the stage where you submitted
so quickly and obediently, and so often, to that particular command.
I always said that when you did it would show how completely and
happily you had accepted your slavery - and it looks like we've
reached that stage. Happy New Year, Fox." 

Mulder smiled, and snuggled in close to his Master. "Happy New Year,
Walter," he replied softly, tracing the outline of one of Skinner's
nipples through his sweater. "You know, this time last year I wasn't
your slave. I didn't even know you hid this surprising alter ego
under those stiff white shirts and that surly office demeanour."

"I'm not surly!" Skinner protested mildly.

"Sure you are," Mulder grinned. "That's partly why I fell in love
with you. Doesn't it freak you out though, thinking back to just a
year ago and realising we weren't together then? I spent last New
Year's Eve on my own, staking out a haunted house and freezing my ass
off in the middle of nowhere..."

"On your own? Without backup?" Skinner gave him a dangerous nudge.

"It was a year ago, Master, before I became your slave," Mulder said
quickly. "I was *bad* then." 

"Hmmm," Skinner said, giving him a speculative look, as if he wasn't
entirely sure that Mulder was exactly *good* now.

"Anyway," Mulder said, continuing hurriedly, "My point is that I had
no idea that in just a year's time..." He hesitated. "My life would
go from being a train wreck to being pretty damn perfect," he
finished with a grin.

Skinner grinned back at him. "If I had the energy I'd fuck you
again, right now, just because you're mine and I can and yes, *that*
still gives me a thrill, boy."

"Ah, and I thought my Master, the sex god, was always up for it."
Mulder snaked his hand down the front of Skinner's pants to his cock.
Skinner stopped it on its way there with his own hand. 

"I might be too exhausted to fuck you, but you can rest assured that
my right arm is *always* available to hand out a good spanking," he
warned. 

"Ah, promises, promises," Mulder teased, and then wished he hadn't
as Skinner suddenly sat up, pulled his slave over his knee, and
administered several hard spanks to his backside. Skinner hadn't
spanked him for over a week, as he had been very wary about damaging
his slave's healing brand, but he arranged Mulder carefully over his
lap and laid into his ass with a very firm hand until Mulder was
wriggling animatedly.

"I'm sorry! I take it back!" He hollered. 

"Now I bet you wish you were back staking out haunted houses on your
own without backup," Skinner commented. Mulder went suddenly still.

"No," he said softly, his ass glowing with pleasure at being so
roundly and thoroughly chastised. "I'm exactly where I want to be,
Master."

Skinner gave a little laugh, and his spanks degenerated into more
playful caressing of his slave's bottom, until finally he just sat
there, stroking Mulder's ass with those big, strong hands of his. "Me
too, boy," he murmured softly. "Me too.

*-*-*-*

It felt strange to go back to work a couple of days later, dressed
in his usual work suit, knowing that he wore his Master's brand on
his skin. Mulder couldn't help brushing his hand casually over his
thigh when he was walking, and got a thrill each time as he
remembered that he was an owned, branded slave, with the most
magnificent Master in the world. It had taken him a long time to
reach this stage, where he was so happy in his slavery and no longer
fought it, and he wondered, as he bounced down the stairs to his
office, whether his new found peace of mind would alter his thirst
for his work. He knew he had thrown himself into the X Files in order
to both pursue and avoid some of the big questions he had about
himself, and now he was so content, and his Master had helped him to
figure out his feelings both about his sexuality and his guilt over
his lost sister, he wondered whether he might have lost his edge.

"Hey stranger...how was your Christmas?" Scully asked him the moment
he stepped through the door.

"My Christmas was..." Mulder paused and gave a stupid smile.
"Fantastic," he finished.

"Hmmm, I can see that. You're looking all...goofy." 

"Goofy?" Mulder questioned in an outraged tone. "I don't DO goofy,
Scully. I'm far too cool."

He ignored her giggle of sheer disbelief, and her muttered, "Dream
on, Agent Mulder, dream on," and sat down at his desk and began
sifting through the paperwork that had built up in his absence.

"Ahem," Scully said. Mulder glanced up. Scully raised an eyebrow.

"Oh. Uh, how was your Christmas, Scully?" Mulder asked hurriedly.

"Busy," she replied mysteriously. Mulder sighed. 

"Okay. I'll bite. Why was it busy?" 

"Because I moved into John's apartment," she told him.

"You moved in?" Mulder asked in mock-incredulous tones. "Without a
wedding ring on your finger, Dana Scully? And I thought you were a
good little catholic girl!"

"Well..." Scully actually blushed, "We did think - should I move in
with him, or should he move in with me - but there's more room at his
place for a baby...so his place won..." She trailed off, blushing
even more furiously.

Mulder stared at her. "A baby?" He repeated, stunned. She bit on her
lip, still flushing from the roots of her red hair to the tip of her
chin.

"A baby," she repeated softly, her eyes shyly finding his.

Mulder just sat there, trying to figure out how he felt about this.
She stood by her desk, staunchly holding her ground and yet clearly
worried about what his reaction would be. He would be lying if he
said he didn't feel a pang of something deep inside. He'd always had
the feeling that in a different universe he and Scully might have
been together and then this baby would be his... and yet, he knew
that he wouldn't trade the life he had with his Master for anything.
Maybe many other universes existed, and in one of them he and Scully
were together and had a baby, but he wondered whether, fundamentally,
he could ever be happy in such a world, the way he was happy in this
one. He suspected not, and felt a shiver run down his spine - it was
the same feeling he'd had when he learned about the spaceship that
had abducted Gibson Praise; he'd felt the strangest sensation that in
another universe he had been taken by that ship. He felt the same way
about Scully's baby. It was as if they were all acting out variations
on a theme, and some constants came up, like the spaceship and the
baby, while others varied wildly, like his relationship with Skinner,
and Scully's with Doggett. 

"Scully, that's wonderful," he said, quietly and sincerely, getting
up and taking her in his arms. He buried his face in her soft, red
hair and inhaled the scent of her, a scent he knew so well. "I'm so
happy for you," he whispered. 
 
"Thank you," she replied, rubbing his back with her hands. "I'm
glad. I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it. I know you have so much
going on in your own life right now...but all the same...there was a
time when..."

"When it could have been you and me? Yes. I know." He nodded. "But I
think that would've been wrong, Scully. This is right. This is the
right way for it to have happened."

She gazed at him, startled. "You say the strangest things, Mulder."

"I just have this feeling." He waved his arms around helplessly.
"Don't you have it too, Scully?"

He stared at her and she bit down on her lip, and then took a deep
breath.

"I...I have to admit...Mulder, you probably know this but John had a
son with his ex-wife...and the little boy was abducted and murdered.
When I found out I was pregnant...I didn't understand how it could
have happened. You and I both know that..." She gazed at him, and
then shook her head. "Well we both know it *shouldn't* be possible,
but somehow it's happened, and so easily...I have to wonder whether
this child was meant to be, for John as well as for me. For him
because he lost Luke, and for me because I thought that after all
that's happened to me I couldn't have children." Her eyes were bright
with tears which she blinked back. He knew how much this admission
had cost her, and gave a little nod. 

"It's not so hard to believe, Scully," he told her simply. "After
all we've seen, how can it be so hard to believe?" He thought of
himself just under a year ago, running around blindly on a mission to
self-destruct, and ending up, somehow, at the feet of the one person
in the world who was strong enough and who cared enough to pick him
up, take care of him, and help him sort out his life. What were the
chances of that happening? Sometimes it was hard not to believe in
the guiding hand of fate. 

She gave a sigh of relief. "That's just it, Mulder. That's how I
feel. I'm not questioning this - I feel too happy."

"Good. That makes two of us then," Mulder said, squeezing her hand
and then releasing her. "I'm gonna be an Uncle!"

Scully giggled at that and Mulder sat back down at his desk. He
started working his way through the pile of paperwork that had built
up in his absence, and then came across a stack of files, opened a
couple of them, and frowned.

"What are these?" He asked, holding up the contents of one of the
files.

"Those? Resumes!" Scully told him cheerfully.

"And why would I need to wade through resumes?" Mulder asked
ominously. "You're not leaving me are you, Scully?"

"No." She shook her head. "But we're busy down here, Mulder, and
I'll need to go on maternity leave in a few months so you'll need
some help, and..."

"I managed fine before you showed up, I'm sure I can manage fine
again when you go off and have your baby," he said with a frown. "I
don't want anyone new in here asking stupid questions. It took me
long enough to train you," he added slyly.

"Hah! It was the other way around more like," she muttered. "Mulder,
I'm sorry, but we're having help and that's that."

Mulder's eyes narrowed. "Did you go over my head on this?" He
demanded. Scully pursed her lips and made no reply. "Oh god. You went
to Skinner didn't you?" He sighed. "And he approved this?" 

"Yes. He thought it was a good idea. He thinks you work too hard,"
Scully said.

"We'll see about that." Mulder reached out a hand to pick up the
phone when there was a brief knock at the door and his Master entered
the tiny basement office.

"Agent Scully. Agent Mulder." Skinner nodded at each of them. "Ah, I
see you've found the resumes, Agent Mulder. I thought you'd be
calling me about now so I decided to save you the effort."

"There have been times, god knows, when the X Files department has
needed help - usually when I have to go through my expenses report in
front of that strange committee you always bring in when I go
particularly over-budget." Mulder frowned meaningfully at his boss
and Master. "So if there's any extra money going around I'd rather it
was channelled into the work and not into hiring another person."

"I thought you'd say that, but there are more X Files cases now than
ever before, and you could do with an extra pair of hands around
here," Skinner said pleasantly. "You work too hard, Agent Mulder, and
while you might have been happy running yourself into the ground
before, now that you're more, uh, settled, in your home life, you
aren't putting in the hours you once were - so the cases are building
up. To be honest, the X Files department has always been undermanned -
but while you were doing the work of two people the FBI was taking
advantage of that fact. It's time that stopped. You're too important
to us for us to mis-use that unique mind of yours. Accept the help,
Agent."

"Is that an order?" Mulder challenged, suddenly acutely aware of the
terms of his contract. He knew what his Master would say if he argued
with him privately about this: You're my slave everywhere, boy, not
just at home or in the bedroom - you knew what the deal was when you
signed on, and I expect your obedience here, there and everywhere.  
And, in truth, was Skinner even saying anything unreasonable? He was
actually paying Mulder a compliment by giving his department more
help - and Mulder had to admit that it would be useful having someone
else to handle the workload.

"This one is called Monica Reyes and she supposedly specialises in
satanic cults," Mulder groaned, holding up a resume. "I bet all these
resumes are similarly kooky. I'll get applications from every nutcase
working in law enforcement."

"Hey, spooky, who are you calling a nutcase?" Scully said. "I came
to work here didn't I? And you started the department and look at all
the names you've been called."

Mulder glared at Scully and then tried to glare at his Master, only
to find Skinner's dark brown eyes gazing back at him with just a hint
of danger in them. Mulder swallowed hard, and tried to think this
through. He trusted his Master to know what was best for him at home,
and Skinner had never let him down there - maybe it was time to trust
that he knew what was best at work too. Mulder knew he had a tendency
to throw himself into his work to the exclusion of everything else in
his life, and he also knew that his Master would only let him do that
up to a point; the moment Mulder looked as if he was heading for self-
destruct, Skinner would haul him back in. Sometimes that experience
was painful, and sometimes it just made him angry, but Mulder knew
that he trusted his Master with all of his life, and not just his sex
life. 

"Okay, okay." Mulder held up his hands with a sigh. "I give in."

"Thank you, Agent," Skinner said softly.

Mulder glanced at his Master from under his eyelashes, and then
brushed his hand meaningfully over his thigh, just where his brand
was. Skinner smiled, noticing the gesture, and briefly touched his
fingers to his stiff white shirt, which Mulder knew hid the
exquisitely beautiful fox tattoo on his chest. They shared a little
moment, just the two of them, both of them acknowledging the bond
between them and how that had influenced Mulder's decision, and then
Skinner nodded at his agents, and left the room.

Mulder spent the next few days alternately interviewing candidates
for the new position in the X Files department and catching up on the
case files that had been left on his desk over the holidays. He fell
back into his work so quickly that he knew he had been worrying about
nothing before; he still loved his job, only now he'd achieved a
better balance between his work and his home life. He was surprised
to find that Monica Reyes actually turned out to be a fascinating
woman with a lot of relevant experience and an open mind - and she
won him over, much to Scully's disgust, by telling him how she had
been following his work for years, and how in awe of him she was. He
gave her the job on the spot.

*-*-*-*

Later that week, Skinner took his slave to be measured for his
wedding outfit. Mulder almost laughed out loud when he saw his old
friend Donald, now looking for all the world like a younger Elliott.
The two men wore matching grey suits, with the same pink
handkerchiefs and ties. They looked immaculate - and completely and
utterly besotted with each other.

"So, how's it working out, Donny?" Mulder asked as Donald measured
him for whatever outlandish outfit he was sure his Master was going
to make him wear. "I mean, with Elliott?"

"It's perfect," Donald breathed, a rather silly smile spreading
across his face. "Thank you so much, Mulder."

"Don't thank me - I'm pretty sure it was Walter who got you two
together. I just got you drunk." Mulder grinned, remembering that
entirely memorable night. "Did Elliott tan your hide for that by the
way?"

Donald flushed a shade of vivid pink, all the way up to his
earlobes. "Mulder!" He hissed.

"Well, you watched my Master spank the hell out of me, so I don't
see why you should be so coy about it," Mulder chided. "Come on,
Donny - spill the beans."

"It's private," Donald hissed. "But yes...he was a little, uh, firm
with me. He still is - but only when I play up for his attention and
I don't usually because... spanking *hurts*, Mulder. You never told
me that!"

"Well, duh!" Mulder shook his head. "It does hurt, Don, but...it's a
good hurt." He grinned.

"Well, I like the idea of it more than the reality...although I love
it when we play act it. I hate it when he does it for real because I
don't like knowing that I've upset him or disappointed him in some
way. I just want him to be proud of me."

"Hell, I'm sure he is, Don," Mulder grinned. "I can tell just by the
way he looks at you."

Donald gave a cheerful little smile in return and his cheeks flushed
an even deeper shade of bubble gum pink. Mulder chuckled - Donald was
the easiest person in the world to tease.

"So, tell me, Don," Mulder said, lowering his voice into a whisper,
"what does Walter have planned for me to wear to this wedding?"

Donald straightened up and put away his tape measure. "I can't tell
you that I'm afraid, Mulder," he said, with a totally professional,
and entirely evil smile. "I've been sworn to secrecy. One thing I do
know though is that you're going to attract one hell of a lot of
admiring glances." And with that he sauntered out of the cubicle,
leaving Mulder to reflect on the fact that Donald wasn't the only one
who was easily teased.

*-*-*-*

Mulder spent a busy few days in New Orleans with Monica Reyes,
investigating a case of apparent bodily possession by an otherworldly
entity.  Reyes proved to be an able, if sometimes slightly annoying
person to have around, with her endless questions and sunny
disposition. Mulder found her new-age outlook on life thoroughly
exasperating, and was keen to dispel any preconceptions she might
have that working on the X Files was going to be some kind of a
spiritual journey. In his experience, the X Files were about getting
your shoes covered in acidic green slime and taking regular trips to
the hospital, and he didn't want her to be in any doubt about the
reality of their work. A part of him was secretly hoping she'd give
up and he'd be able to report back to Skinner and Scully that she
hadn't worked out, but, much to his annoyance, she seemed to love her
first case, despite his best efforts to make the whole thing seem ten
times more frightening than it actually was.

They returned to the office, where Monica began submitting the usual
expenses report for a new pair of shoes and a cell phone, under
Scully's expert and well practiced tutelage, and Mulder began typing
up the case report. He waited until Scully and Monica had left the
office to visit the cafeteria, and then reached for the phone.

"Skinner," his Master answered tersely.

"Hey. It's me - I'm home," Mulder replied. "Miss me?"

"You've only been gone 3 days," Skinner pointed out.

"Bet the bed's been kinda cold without me though."

"Wanda functions very well as a hot water bottle."

"Hah. Well, I know you missed me, and I'm sure as hell you missed
my, uh, more personal services," Mulder riposted seductively.

"And I sure as hell hope Scully and Reyes aren't there with you
right now listening to this," Skinner replied.

"Nah - they went in search of muffins...which is, of and by itself,
an X File. Before Reyes came along Scully only ate low fat yoghurt -
now she can't exist without regular infusions of pastries every few
hours. There used to be a time when I could bribe her with muffins
but now she eats several a day that just doesn't work any more,"
Mulder said mournfully.

"She *is* pregnant," Skinner reminded him. "She's eating for two now."

"Hmmm. So what have you been doing in my absence?" 

"I went back to my old gym - did some boxing." Skinner's voice
sounded distracted.

"You beat someone to a pulp without taking me along to watch?"
Mulder asked mournfully. "You know I love it when you do all that he-
man stuff."

"I didn't beat anybody to a pulp. I got creamed. I'm completely out
of practice."

"You okay? Were you hurt?" Mulder frowned, finding it hard to
imagine anyone besting his tall, strong Master in a fight.

"Just a little banged up. A couple of bruises but I'm fine," Skinner said dismissively. 

"So, any chance of you leaving early tonight?" Mulder asked, with
what he hoped was a purr in his voice. "I could rub something into
those bruises..."

"Sorry, Fox," Skinner said, with a regretful little sigh. "But I'm
snowed under here - I can't seem to finish this mountain of
paperwork, and I've got one hell of a headache that won't go away."

"Sounds to me like you need some attention from your favourite
slaveboy to relax you," Mulder suggested in a throaty voice. Skinner
gave a wry, deep chuckle but it sounded strained. "You sure you're
okay?" Mulder asked anxiously.

"What? Yes...just...I have to work, Fox," Skinner said in a distant
tone of voice, and with that he finished the call. 

Mulder sat and stared at the phone despondently. That wasn't the
welcome home he'd been hoping for; he knew he'd only been away for a
few days but right now, as in love with his Master as he was, that
felt like a lifetime.

With a sigh, he turned in his chair and began wading his way through
the little pile of case notes and evidence he had brought back with
him. He worked steadily throughout the afternoon, until the phone
interrupted him at about 4pm.

"Agent Mulder!" A breathless, frantic voice said on the other end of
the line.

"Yes...who is this...?" Mulder stood up, a cold premonition seizing
him. He had the feeling that something was wrong - very wrong. 

"It's me...it's Kim...I...Agent Mulder..." She sounded distressed
and tearful.

"Kim - what the hell is happening?" 

"It's the Assistant Director," she whispered, and Mulder felt his
heart fall several feet into the soles of his shoes - and stay there. 

"What's happened...? No, wait...I'm coming up there."

Mulder dropped the phone and ran for the elevator. He waited for it
to arrive for all of 6 seconds before deciding he couldn't stand
there any longer and took the stairs instead, climbing them 3 at a
time. As he ran, a hundred worse case scenarios flitted through his
mind, the worst of them all shoving their way to the front and
refusing to go away: Maybe Krycek was back...maybe he'd come back
seeking revenge, had somehow got access to the building and had put a
bullet through Skinner's head. Or maybe those bruises Skinner had
mentioned were more serious than he'd realised. Maybe it had damaged
his heart. Mulder charged along the 5th floor corridor, barely able
to breathe from anxiety, ran towards Skinner's office, threw open the
door, charged inside, and stopped short, utterly shocked.

His Master was lying on the carpet in his office, with a makeshift
pillow under his head. His face was white, the colour of chalk, and
his eyes were closed, but what was truly shocking was the network of
dark purple veins that criss-crossed his face, like a lattice. Mulder
had never seen anything like them in his life before.

"He just collapsed," Kim said tearfully, from where she was kneeling
beside Skinner's body. "One minute I was talking to him, and the
next...his face started to go like this..." She waved a hand at the
dark lines covering Skinner's face, "...and he went down like someone
physically yanked his legs out from under his body. I've called for
the paramedics...I put my sweater under his head..."

"Walter?" Mulder ran forward and knelt down beside his Master.
"Master?" He whispered softly, placing his fingers against the big
man's neck. The raised dark veins pulsed almost obscenely beneath his
fingers, but he was relieved that at least his Master was still
alive. Skinner made no move though, and he didn't open his eyes.
"Walter?!" Mulder said again, more firmly this time, taking his
Master's head in his hands. There was still no response and he looked
up helplessly at Kim.

"Damnit, where are those paramedics?" He yelled.

"They're on their way," she replied, her voice catching in her
throat. "Will he be okay? He has to be okay. He's the nicest
man...the best boss I've ever worked for..."

Mulder grabbed one of Skinner's hands and held it tight, not caring
whether Kim or anyone else saw or heard him. "You can't die now,
Walter," he hissed. "Not now. Not when everything's so good. Christ,
we went through all the shit we've been through just so we could
reach this point, and you are not going to die on me now. You are
NOT!" He said forcefully. There was no reply; Skinner remained
oblivious to his slave's entreaties. "Christ, what the hell *is*
this?" Mulder wondered out loud, his long fingers sweeping across the
broad expanse of his Master's head again, examining the raised,
pulsating veins. "I've never seen anything like it." It had the
feeling of an X File - and Mulder had encountered enough of those in
his time to be able to identify one when it was right beneath his
nose. He tried desperately to remember whether any of the files in
his basement office contained information on something like this, but
his worry made it impossible for him to focus, and a few seconds
later he was pushed out of the way as the paramedics swept into the
room. He watched, helplessly, as they examined his Master, drew blood
samples for testing, and then strapped Skinner onto a gurney. Mulder
jogged alongside his Master as they took Skinner downstairs and into
a waiting ambulance.

"Sorry, sir," one of the paramedics said, blocking his way as he
tried to get into the ambulance. "You'll have to follow on behind."

"Like fucking hell! I'm coming with him," Mulder replied, in a tone
of voice that sent shivers even up his own spine, and seemed to have
a similar effect on the paramedic, who backed away, startled. "I'm
his next of kin," he said firmly, suddenly thankful for the fact that
Skinner had been so insistent on clarifying his slave's legal status
in the wake of Murray's heart attack.

Skinner didn't move during the journey to the hospital, and he was
still comatose when they wheeled him into the ER. Even then, Mulder
refused to be separated from his Master. When they tried to get him
to go into another room he point blank refused.

"I won't leave his side," he said, shaking his head. I'm his slave,
he thought to himself. If he dies I'll sit beside his goddamn grave
until I die too. He felt a stab of intense pain in his chest at the
thought of his Master dying. He wasn't sure he could live without
Skinner - he couldn't physically imagine a life without his Master in
it, not after all they'd been through this past year, and not now,
when he was more in love with his Master than at any point before.
Supposing there was some kind of hideous symmetry about all this?
Andrew Linker, Skinner's top, had died after helping Skinner towards
an understanding and acceptance of himself and his sexuality.
Supposing this was history repeating itself? He pushed that thought
away, and watched, as if from a great distance, as the doctors
swarmed all over his Master. 

"Sir?" A sturdy, no-nonsense, black doctor took hold of his arm and
forced him to look away from the scene in front of him, where his
Master was having tubes inserted into his arms, and to look into her
eyes instead.

"What is it? What's happened to him?" Mulder asked.

"We don't know," the doctor said gently, seeing his obvious distress.

"You don't know what's wrong with him?" Mulder shook his head
incredulously. "Christ - surely he can't look like that and it not be
obvious what the hell is wrong with him!"

"Nobody's seen anything like it, sir," the doctor told him. "We're
making him more comfortable while we wait for the results of some
tests."

Mulder couldn't even follow what she was talking about. Everything
seemed hazy. All he could see was his Master, lying pale and prone
under a hospital sheet. "But...he was fine...I spoke to him earlier.
He had a headache...he said he had a headache but he was fine...I
don't..." He paused and pulled himself together. "Is he going to be
okay?" He asked quietly.

"We don't know yet," she replied honestly. "It's touch and go right
now but we'll do all we can for him."

"Touch and go..." Mulder repeated. "Are you saying that he could die
from this? Could it kill him?"

"Yes, Mr. Mulder. He could die," she told him quietly, and Mulder
felt the icy fist that had been wrapped around his heart since he got
Kim's frantic phone call, tighten its grip. "He's got severe
circulatory problems to the extent where..." The doctor opened her
mouth again, hesitated, and then continued. "It might be necessary
for us to amputate his extremities," she told him. 

"What?" Mulder stared at her blankly. "What the hell do you mean?"

"His arms and legs...if the blood flow gets worse then there will be
tissue death - we might have to amputate his legs, and possibly his
arms, to save his life. It might be necessary. We might need you to
agree to the operation." Her brown eyes were sympathetic but that did
nothing to lessen the horrific import of what she was saying.

Mulder closed his eyes and tried to visualise how his Master would
feel about that. So much of Skinner's personality was invested in his
sheer, physical presence - he couldn't imagine how his Master would
cope with being disabled. Would he rather be dead than crippled for
life? Or would he prefer to survive, whatever the price? Would he
blame Mulder for giving them permission to operate? Or would he be
grateful that Mulder had made such a hard decision for him? How would
it affect their relationship, Mulder wondered? Not in a selfish
sense, but simply in terms of practicalities. Could Skinner even *be*
his Master in such circumstances? And could Mulder treat him as one?
How much of both their perceptions of their roles rested on the fact
that Skinner was able to physically subdue Mulder as part of a sex
game and simply in the course of their daily lives, even down to the
spanking he handed out to Mulder every day? Mulder knew it would
alter their relationship irrevocably, but he also knew that he didn't
care about that. He loved Walter Skinner, the man, and not just the
Master, and Mulder knew he wanted to keep the man he loved alive at
any price. It didn't bother him that Skinner would be handicapped -
he just wasn't sure that he could face life without the other man's
calm, sturdy presence. He knew that was selfish, and that made this
decision even harder for him. Would Skinner want to be kept alive at
any price? What would the other man want? He trusted Mulder to make
this decision for him, and if he couldn't then who the hell  could?
Who knew Skinner as well as he did? He'd lived with the man for
nearly a year; lived with him, worshipped him, loved him...he was
Skinner's slave for god's sake! If he didn't know then nobody would.
If only it wasn't such a hard decision to make.

"Will it keep him alive?" He demanded, opening his eyes again. 

"We're not sure. We think it'll help improve his chances..." The
doctor began but Mulder interrupted her, shaking his head violently.

"No - if you don't know what's causing this, if you can't even be
sure that this will help, then no. There's no way I'm authorising you
to chop off his damn legs if you can't tell me it'll save his life.
I'm not putting him through that."

She backed away, perhaps shocked by his vehemence, but he knew that
in this instance he'd made the right decision. It might get harder if
the option was raised again, if and when they had any more
information, but for now he knew this was the right decision to make.

They transferred Skinner to the ICU, and Mulder took up position in
a chair beside his Master's bed, unable to take his eyes off
Skinner's chalky white face, with those throbbing dark veins as
raised and as angry looking as ever, hoping to see some sign of life.
The hospital staff kept pumping the big man full of a cocktail of
different drugs but still Skinner remained unconscious. The longer
the hapless medical staff was unable to identify the cause of
Skinner's illness, or an effective treatment for it, the more Mulder
was convinced that they wouldn't find an answer in conventional
medicine.

He made what felt like hundreds of calls - to Scully first, and then
to Perry, because they were both doctors. Scully told him she'd come
straight over. Perry couldn't leave work immediately, but
he made Mulder outline what had happened - and couldn't find any
fault with the treatment Skinner was receiving. In fact, he seemed as
flummoxed by it as the hospital staff. Mulder had never heard the
laid back doctor sound so concerned - usually nothing could phase
him, but on this occasion he had no answers.

Mulder phoned his Master's sister, Tabi, next. If this really was
life threatening then Skinner's family should be here. He hated the
way her voice broke in distress when he gave her the news. She said
she'd be there as soon as she could, and Mulder left contacting the
rest of Skinner's family up to her. From what he'd learned about
them, he doubted whether they'd rush to be at his Master's bedside,
and that made him so furious he didn't even want to think about it
with everything else that was going on.

Various other people started to arrive in response to his calls;
first Scully, accompanied by Doggett, and then Elaine swooped in,
clutching a thick, navy blue cardigan around her ample curves. All
around him there was a haze of shocked faces, and all he could hear
was the sound of his own monotone voice, explaining and explaining
and explaining, telling the same story over and over again as if it
wasn't happening to him, as if none of this was real. 

Scully scanned Skinner's medical notes with a professional eye and
then turned back to Mulder.

"Mulder, these readings are impossible. It's almost as if he's been
infected by some kind of poison - but an active one - the readings
keep changing all the time, as if someone is pumping doses of it into
him which is impossible." She glanced around the hospital room.

"That sounds familiar. I think I've read..." Mulder paused, trying
to recall something he'd seen in one of his files. "Shit...I think I
know what this is..." He strode towards the door but when he got half
way there he paused, faltered, and glanced back. His Master was still
comatose and Mulder was torn. He didn't trust anyone else to solve
this. Nobody was as good an investigator as he was, and yet...he
didn't want to leave his Master either. Supposing Skinner died, and
Mulder wasn't there with him when it happened? Or supposing that
scalpel-happy doctor stuck her knife into him when he wasn't there to
agree to an operation - or to refuse one either? Or supposing Skinner
woke up and asked for him? Supposing he woke up to find his slave
wasn't there? Mulder couldn't think of a greater failure of his duty
as a slave to not be there for his Master when Skinner called for him.

"I can't go," he said, turning back to Scully. "I can't leave him.
Scully, you have to do this for me. You and Monica - and John too if
you'll help?" Mulder glanced at Doggett. The ex-marine nodded firmly.

"We're here for you, buddy - and for him." He jerked his head in
Skinner's direction. "We'll do whatever it takes."

"There's a file - something about nanotechnology," Mulder told them.

"Nanotechnology on a biological level is still in the theoretical
stages," Scully frowned. 

"Officially." Mulder shrugged. "Unofficially..." He shrugged again.
"There was an X File about 18 months ago, Scully. A woman in Tahoma
died and her body looked pretty much like his does right now. Her
arteries had literally been packed with carbon - you could have used
them as a pencil. Suppose she was a test subject? Supposing they were
trying to see just how much damage they could do with the technology?"

"But - how would Skinner have been infected, Mulder?" Doggett asked,
frowning. 

"No - that's the wrong question," Mulder replied brusquely, meeting
Scully's shocked, blue eyed gaze. She knew. "The right question is
*why* was Skinner infected. The how is easy enough - if this is what
I think it is then someone wearing contaminated gloves could have
brushed next to Skinner anywhere - on the metro, in an elevator - all
it would take is contact with his bare skin - his hand, or wrist.
Scully, you need to check 'nanotechnology' in my files. I've got it
cross referenced on microfiche," Mulder told her. She managed a faint
smile at that. She often teased him about the incomprehensibility of
his microfiche filing system but he always knew where everything was.
"Look it up," he instructed. "Find that file. Follow any leads you
have on it. I think...no, I'm fairly positive, he *has* been
poisoned, Scully."

She nodded, and hustled off with Doggett by her side. Mulder watched
her go, still seriously torn. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps he
*should* go. Supposing they were unable to solve this case without
the benefit of his genius in this particular line of work? Supposing
his Master died because Mulder hadn't taken on the case himself?

"Hush," Elaine said, putting a hand on his shoulder, and he turned
and gazed at her blankly. "You're doing the right thing," she said
soothingly, and he wondered whether the machinations of his brain
were that transparent, written all over his face. 

"I'm trying," he said hoarsely. "It isn't easy. All my natural
instincts are..." He shook his head. He'd always been active,
restless, needing to seek out the truth - that was as much part of
his personality as his new persona as Skinner's slave. Now he was
seriously torn between the two warring parts of his personality. The
slave wanted to stay with his Master. The investigator, the FBI
agent, the relentless seeker after truth, wanted to get out there,
and do something useful.

"No, it isn't easy," Elaine told him, squeezing his shoulder softly.
"But you're doing everything right, Mulder. I'm proud of you - and he
would be too if he knew how well you were handling this."

"I don't feel like I'm handling anything. I feel like I'm holding on
by the skin of my teeth," he growled, turning back to Skinner and
sitting down beside him again. He had become so accustomed to the
ugly dark veins throbbing in his Master's face that it took him a
moment to realise that something had changed; the veins were darker,
standing out more on the other man's face, raised, livid and black,
in stark contrast to his Master's pale skin, and Skinner's breathing
was becoming more laborious.

"Oh shit!" He hissed.

"What is it?" Elaine was by his side in seconds. 

"Call the medical staff in here...no! Wait!" Mulder hesitated,
something Scully had said to him coming back to him. "She said it
looked as if someone was pumping doses of it into his bloodstream and
that's the only thing that can explain the fact that his condition is
worsening like this. There's someone here. Someone is doing this to
him right now," he said, racing towards the door.

"Mulder! There's nobody here!" Elaine protested, glancing around the
room. 

"You don't understand - once the nanocytes are in his bloodstream
there doesn't have to be someone physically standing next to him to
activate them. They have a range so whoever is doing this has to be
in the building, but they could be in the hallway, or in the
elevator, or anywhere nearby," Mulder told her in rapid tones.
"Elaine - stay with him."

He ran out of the door and into the hallway, drawing his gun as he
went. He was barely out of the door when he caught sight of a man
disappearing around a corner. He shouted at the man to stop but he
just burst into a run. Mulder followed him, running as hard as he
could. His Master's life was at stake here, and that lent him speed.
He saw the man disappear into a stairwell and ran after him, chasing
him all the way down to the parking garage four floors below. Mulder
emerged into the dimly lit garage, panting hard but grateful for the
fact that he was in such good shape, owing partly to his Master's
excellent care of him and carefully prescripted diet and exercise
regime. He had lost sight of the man, and walked cautiously between
the cars, his gun raised. A sound alerted him and he threw himself
down, slid across the garage, and ended up crouched behind a car,
using it for cover. There was silence, and then a car slowly purred
across the garage towards him, and stopped right next to the car he
was hidden behind. A door was opened, a silent invitation to him, and
he stood, equally silently accepting it.

He stepped inside the car, and wasn't surprised when the doors
closed smoothly behind him, and he heard the click of a lock. The man
who had lured him down here was seated in the front seat, next to the
chauffeur - Mulder didn't recognise either of them but he knew the
man in the back seat - not well enough to know his name, but sure as
hell well enough to know that he was an enemy.

"Good day to you, Agent Mulder," the man said, in his usual
exquisitely cultured tones.

"I'm surprised," Mulder drawled in return. "I thought they'd send
that cigarette smoking son of a bitch to have this particular
conversation."

The Englishman gave a wry little smile. "I do hope I'm not a
disappointment," he said, those smooth tones hiding a core of hard,
cold steel. Mulder sat back in his seat.

"That depends on what you want," he replied.

"We heard you were back on the X Files. You've been poking around
again. It's tiresome." All pretence at civility was gone - the voice
was as hard as the snap of his Master's cane. 

"I've been doing this for a long time. It's always been tiresome for
you," Mulder replied.

"Ah, yes, but over the past year you've been..." the Englishman
paused and then gave a deliberate little smile, "shall we say
distracted? We've enjoyed not having you on the X Files but whenever
you returned..." He gave a heavy sigh. "Well, you've become
less...predictable than you used to be," the Englishman murmured.
Mulder gave a short bark of laughter.

"You mean I haven't been as easy to manipulate," he replied,
thinking of the plane ticket Krycek had bought to try and get him to
investigate that UFO in Oregon a few months previously. "Maybe I
finally learned my lesson." And it had been learned the hard way, he
thought to himself, remembering a warehouse in Seattle, the sharp
blade of Krycek's knife slicing into his chest, and that long dark
night of the soul as he waited for his Master to find him.

"We did prefer you when you were more...suggestible, yes." The
Englishman inclined his head. 

"So you did this?" Mulder felt a tide of icy anger rise inside him.
"You poisoned Skinner in order to manipulate me?"

"Poison is a strong word." The Englishman shrugged. "What we did was
implant several thousand dollars worth of very expensive technology
into his bloodstream."

"You're killing him," Mulder snapped.

"We can reverse the effects at any time - he might be left with a
few, minor side effects, but..." The Englishman shrugged. "Basically
he'll be unharmed." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small
palm pilot which he placed on his knee. "With one press of this
button, we can reduce the carbon build up in his bloodstream," he
said, fingering the palm pilot with one elegantly manicured
fingernail.

"It's a leash," Mulder said slowly. "You're leashing me - if I don't
do what you say, then you'll hurt him."

"Ah, well, I've heard you understand all about leashes," the
Englishman said, in a knowing, smirking tone. "This shouldn't be such
a difficult concept for you to grasp."

"For how long?" Mulder asked, keeping a tight grip on his anger. 

The Englishman raised an eyebrow. "We won't be asking for our
expensive technology back immediately," he commented. "In fact,
there's no reason why it can't remain in Assistant Director Skinner's
bloodstream for a very long time."

"You've gotta be kidding me." Mulder shook his head. "You're
leashing me for an entire lifetime?"

"I've heard that you're not averse to such arrangements," the
Englishman replied, with just a hint of prurience in his voice. "Who
knows, you might find our leash more comfortable than his. I'm sure
we can duplicate your current contractual circumstances if you'd care
to leave him and come into our warm and welcoming fold."

"What?" Mulder could hardly believe what he was hearing. 

"You have certain needs. We can take care of them." The Englishman
shrugged. "We've always been very good at taking care of those who
help us," he continued, with an air of lofty superiority. 

"You wouldn't know where to fucking start," Mulder growled. Did it
always have to come back to this? Was his sexuality such a problem?
Did the outside world really think he could be manipulated, judged
and held hostage because of who he chose to sleep with and the way he
chose to enjoy sex? Did this man in front of him really think his
entire life revolved around his sexuality to such an extent that he'd
trade someone he loved for it?

Mulder bit back his anger and despair, and tried to think this
through rationally. What would his Master want him to do? What did
*he* want to do? What were the implications for their future together
if he agreed? He clenched his fists uselessly as he pondered that -
did he and his Master even have a future together if he refused? And
yet...Skinner had always refused to be held hostage, over his
sexuality or anything else. That wasn't something he'd found easy but
it was something Andrew Linker had taught him, and he'd taught him
well. Mulder knew that a life with them both dangling on the end of
the Consortium string would be no life at all - for either of them -
and he knew what Skinner would instruct him to do if he was here
right now. The question was - could he do it? 

"No," Mulder said finally, needing to say the word, to make it too
late to take it back, knowing he could be condemning his Master to
death. The Englishman raised an eyebrow.

"No?" He queried.

"No," Mulder said, with more finality in his voice. He leaned
forward. "I'm sure you've heard the phrase, 'a servant cannot serve
two masters'," he said. "It simply isn't possible for me to be what I
am to him, and to work for you. He wouldn't tolerate that and neither
could I."

"Then join us. We'll find you a new Master." The Englishman looked
as if he found the idea appealing. Mulder shuddered.

"Not on your fucking life," he snapped.

"The alternative is...extreme." The Englishman fingered the palm
pilot menacingly.

"Kill him then," Mulder replied, and this time, it was *his* voice
which held a core of pure, raw steel. "But if you do," he continued,
"I will hunt you down, all of you, and I will kill you myself, with
my own hands, starting with you. You know a little of my capacity to
love - I'm sure you know what losing my sister did to me, and how I
devoted my whole life to tracking her down. I have this amazing
capacity for obsession you see, and I never have been and never will
be as obsessed with anyone else or as in love with anyone else the
way I am with Walter Skinner, so if you kill him my own life won't
matter to me. I'll pursue you until the end of my days, and, if I die
in the process, I'll make damn sure that every single newspaper in
the world understands why - and who killed me." His voice was a
savage, even monotone, and he meant every single word of what he said.

"Very impressive." The Englishman sat back, and gazed at Mulder with
eyes full of a new respect. "It would seem that you've changed, Mr.
Mulder. However, this new maturity you're showing leaves us at
something of an impasse."

"Agreed." Mulder nodded.

"So...perhaps I could suggest a compromise?" The Englishman gazed at
Mulder thoughtfully. 

Mulder inclined his head. "I'll accept nothing less than a total
cure for him - you give me the means to clear the nanocytes from his
blood totally and completely. I won't have this hanging over him," he
said firmly.

"In exchange for what?" The Englisham enquired. "You've already told
us that you're not for sale - so what else do you have to offer?"

Mulder took a deep breath. "The X Files," he replied. "Or at least,
my presence on them. I'll resign. Immediately. Someone else will take
over but that'll be your problem, not mine."

"You'd give up the X Files?" The Englishman looked intrigued.

"Yes. I don't promise to stop investigating anything I damn well
choose, but I'll do it without my FBI badge, and without the power
and authority of the FBI behind me," Mulder replied.

"You've fought for years to keep the X Files," the Englishman said,
pursing his lips as he considered this. "Are we really to believe
you'd give them up like this, without a fight?"

"To save his life? Yes. I would. Without even thinking about it -
but that's the last goddamn concession you bastards get out of me,"
Mulder replied, in a low, deadly tone. "Well? Is this a decision you
can make yourself, or do you need to call someone?"

The Englishman refused to rise to that bait. He just chuckled and
shook his head. "Oh, I'm perfectly qualified to speak on behalf of my
associates. You have yourself a deal, Agent...no, *Mr* Mulder," he
grinned. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

"I wish I could say the same," Mulder replied grimly. 

The Englishman snapped the palm pilot shut and then held it out.
"Everything you need to know is detailed in here," he said. 

"Fine. The minute the doctors have confirmed that his blood is
clear, my resignation will be..." Mulder paused, and then sighed, and
passed a hand over his eyes, "On his desk," he finished, wondering
whether Skinner would even accept the letter he had to write, and yet
knowing that neither of them, Master or slave, had a choice. His hand
closed around the palm pilot, and it was only then that he felt a
pang of finality about his decision. Had he done the right thing? He
wasn't sure he could imagine a life without the X Files - they had
defined him for so long. What was he without them? *Who* was he
without them?

Your Master's slave - what else do you need to be? A little voice
whispered inside his head. Was that enough though, Mulder wondered to
himself? Or had he, in saving Skinner's life, somehow destroyed the
glue that helped keep Master and slave together? 

****

It took the doctors, working closely with Scully, 12 hours to reduce
the nanocyte activity in Skinner's bloodstream and another 12 to
eliminate it altogether - yet still his Master remained unconscious.

"Why the hell doesn't he wake up?" Mulder snapped at the doctor,
wondering whether somehow the Englishman had double crossed him.
Sleep deprivation was making him more paranoid than usual, and he
longed to have his Master back.

"His body has been badly stressed by the experience," the doctor
replied. "We can't tell if he'll regain consciousness after what's
been done to him - we just don't know. We don't have any data to go
on."

"Christ, this is a fucking nightmare!" Mulder growled, slamming his
hand against a wall. 

"Even if he does wake up...we don't know what residual effects the
nanocytes might have left him with," the doctor told him softly.
"This is so completely outside our experience."

"He's strong, Mulder," Scully added, and he could tell she was
trying to reassure him by the tone of her voice, but she didn't know
anything either - nobody did. Nanotechnology on this level didn't
even officially exist yet so how could they know for sure that
Skinner would recover from what had been done to him? The Englishman
had mentioned 'a few, minor side effects' but what the hell did that
mean?

"If he's so strong why the hell hasn't he woken up?" Mulder demanded
of them both.

"We don't know." The doctor shook her head. "Like I said, this is
completely outside our experience. It could be any number of reasons -
it could just be the level of stress to his system, or it might be
that he was run down before this even happened and he isn't
recovering as quickly as we'd like as a result of that."

"Run down?" Mulder repeated blankly. He had always seen his Master
as this big, invincible top - it had never occurred to him that
Skinner might actually find the role so exhausting that it was having
a physical effect on him. 

"Also, you should be aware that there are indications of an
inexplicable residual nerve inflammation that may or may not be a
result of the nanoctyes," the doctor added gently. 

"Which means?" Mulder looked first to the doctor, and then to Scully
for an interpretation. It was Scully who gave it to him.

"Which means that even if he regains consciousness, he might never
walk again," she told him softly. "Or at least it might be hard for
him. He might never regain full mobility.

Mulder bit down his anger. He would be grateful if his Master just
survived, but was *this* what that English bastard had meant by 'a
few minor side effects'? Had he given Skinner back his life, but in
the sure knowledge that he wouldn't be able to enjoy it in the same
way as he had before?

Mulder glanced back to where Skinner was lying on the bed. His
Master's face was no longer criss-crossed with those ugly, raised
veins, but his skin was still deathly pale, and there were dark
shadows under his eyes. Mulder knew that if the Englishman were here
right now, he'd squeeze his hands around the man's throat and never
let go for what he'd put his Master through.

People came and went, a succession of worried frowns and whispering
voices.  Mulder was dimly aware that Skinner's sister, Tabi, was
there, her face almost as pale as her brother's beneath her tan. Her
dark curls were tied behind her head and she looked tired and
concerned, her face a mirror of the way they were all feeling right
now. She came and went, just as Doggett and Scully, Elaine and Ian,
Hammer and Perry and everyone else came and went, and he barely even
noticed them. Every single ounce of his being was focused on the man
lying on the hospital bed, as if he could will Walter to get better
by sheer force of his devotion alone. People tried to talk to him but
he ignored them, and eventually they all left. All except one.

"Mulder." He was aware of Elaine, standing beside him, her hand on
his shoulder. She was the only one in the room. "He'll pull through,"
she told him, squeezing hard, forcing him to acknowledge her.

"Maybe he won't. You heard the doctor. He's run down." Mulder gave a
low, bitter laugh. "I'm not fucking surprised either after the year
he's had."

"It's been the best year of his life," she told him, drawing up a
chair and sitting facing him, beside Skinner's bed.

"Yeah. Right. I've given him the runaround all year, Elaine - we
both know that." Mulder gazed sightlessly at his Master's pale face.
"And then this happened to him - because of me, and my fucking quest.
First it nearly ruined Scully's life, and now his - and let's not
even talk about what it's done to my life. I shouldn't love people,
Elaine. I'm like the fucking kiss of death. Like Typhoid Mary.
Wherever I go I end up causing pain and loss."

"He chose you," Elaine said softly. "He chose to be involved with
you and it's not as if he didn't know that you came with some
baggage." She gave a little smile, but he couldn't return it. "He
knew what being your Master would entail," Elaine insisted in a
firmer voice. "He accepted that duty because he loves you and he
wanted you in his life. He knew it wouldn't be easy."

"Well that's a goddamn understatement," Mulder growled. They were
silent for awhile. Her hand stroked his where it lay on the bed
beside Walter's pale arm.

"He had a cold just before Christmas," Mulder murmured. "And all I
could think about was the damn branding...and then there was
Murray...he was worried about him...and I just gave him more to worry
about."

"No. That's not true. I've never seen him so happy. Walter's strong.
He'll get through this, you'll see," Elaine said, squeezing his
fingers firmly.

"He was happy with Andrew," Mulder said softly. "He was happy being
the Guardian, doing his job, having all those young men worshipping
at his feet before I came along."

"No. He wasn't," Elaine told him. "He was just treading water until
you were ready to ask him for what he wanted to give you. He was
content, yes, but not happy. Not the way he is with you. I saw him,
Mulder. I was his friend. I know how many lonely evenings he spent.
We often had dinner together and although he was fine on the outside,
he seemed...just a little lost on the inside. He was waiting for that
one big, transforming love of his life and he found it." Her fingers
curled around his, impressing that point upon him. 

"Transforming...?" Mulder frowned.

"Yes. Did you think that all that had been happening this past year
was him transforming you? Him changing your life?" She shook her
head. "You've changed his just as much. You've changed him."

Dozens of memories crowded Mulder's mind. He remembered the first
day his Master had brought him back to his apartment, and how
arrogant, stupid and selfish he had been back then. He had honestly
thought he could play Skinner, treat him like every other top he'd
been with, consume him and then move on when, as was inevitable,
Mulder felt a need to jump ship before his tops grew tired of him and
rejected him. Only that hadn't happened; Skinner had taken every
single piece of shit Mulder had thrown at him, and somehow remained
strong, steadfast, and utterly implacable. The more Mulder had
wriggled, like a fish on a hook, the more Skinner had calmed him,
utterly refusing to let him go, until he'd finally allowed himself to
be reeled in. It had never even occurred to Mulder that he might have
been a positive effect on Skinner's life. To him, it was as if
Skinner had appeared in his life out of nowhere, swooped in when he
was heading for the certainty of an early grave, and forced him to
face up to himself. 

"I guess I hadn't even thought what Walter might have been getting
out of the bargain," he commented. "Well, besides all the sex and
worship," he said, managing a faintly ironic grin for the first time
since this nightmare had begun.

"He got a lot more than that, trust me," Elaine said, returning his
grin with one of her own. "Mulder..." she began and he saw the
anxiety in her eyes.

"Elaine, you don't have to worry about me," he told her softly.
"What Walter knows, what *I* know, is that despite all the shit I
seem to attract, I'm as tough as old boots inside." He gave her a
little smile. "I'll be here for him, Elaine."

"The doctors say he might be an invalid," she reminded him. "Can you
live with that, Mulder? He won't be your fantasy sex god any more.
He'll just be..."

"What he's always been," Mulder interrupted her. "My lover, my best
friend, the person who knows me best...and my Master. He'll always be
that, Elaine, even if he never walks again. He's my Master, and I'm
his slave - it's as simple as that." And it really was. Nothing that
happened could ever change that one fact; it was the bedrock on which
his life was built. "He's not just my Master for show, for the scene,
for some kind of sex game - he's my *Master* and I'm his slave.
That's all there is to it." 

Elaine didn't say anything. She just took his head in her hands,
pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then left the room.

Mulder felt strangely serene after their conversation, as if he was
existing in a dream. He believed that he and his Master belonged
together, that they were united by some force he couldn't even begin
to understand, and that he was lucky; in other universes, in other
places and times, this hadn't happened, and he and his Master were no
closer than colleagues who occasionally butted horns. In this
universe, he felt that he'd lucked out, and found the one person in
the world who he was meant to be with. There was nothing left for him
to do but accept whatever happened next, just as had learned, over
the past year, to give up his own selfish whims, and accept his
Master's will. He was a slave, first and foremost - Walter Skinner's
slave - and that was the role he would fulfil to the best of his
ability. Everything else came from that. 

Mulder busied himself in that role for the next few days. He read to
his Master, bathed him, massaged his limbs, and oversaw every aspect
of his treatment. He no longer fretted about the future, or what
would happen if Skinner didn't regain consciousness or never walked
again. Instead he just focused on his slavery and on tending to his
Master, until, a week after Skinner had first collapsed, Mulder was
sitting in silence beside the bed, stroking his Master's hand softly,
when he felt the faintest pressure on his fingers. He glanced up,
surprised, to find his Master's fingertips gently squeezing his own,
and then Skinner's eyelids fluttered open. Mulder held his breath,
and a few seconds later his Master's deep brown eyes focussed on him,
and Skinner gave a tired little smile.

"Hey," Mulder said softly.

"Hey," Skinner murmured. "Wass happening?"

"You clearly got jealous of my status as the dramatic one in this
relationship, and felt a need to stage a theatrical hospital visit of
your own," Mulder told him dryly. 

"I...I was talking to Kim..." Skinner frowned.

"Yes - and then you collapsed. You've been out cold ever since. It's
been a week. You were infected with a poison - courtesy of the
consortium," Mulder told him softly. "But you're going to be fine."
He stood up, leaned forward, and planted a gentle kiss on Skinner's
cool forehead. "Master," he whispered softly under his breath. He
felt Skinner tense as the full implications of what Mulder had told
him sank in.

"The consortium?" he hissed.

"Yes." Mulder sat down again. "But it's okay. I took care of it."

"Took care...how, Fox?"

"It doesn't matter," Mulder told him. "You're the only thing that
matters right now."

"You okay?" Skinner croaked, gazing at his slave anxiously. "They
didn't hurt you?" 

"I'm fine," Mulder told him firmly. "You're the one who's in a
goddamn hospital bed, Walter. You have to stop worrying about me and
concentrate on getting better."

Skinner gave a wry chuckle at that. "Old habits die hard," he
murmured. Then he frowned. "My legs..." He glanced down. "They're
tingling. They feel kind of prickly."

"Yeah." Mulder nodded slowly. "The poison affected the nerve
endings, Walter," he said gently.

"What the hell does that mean?" Skinner attempted to sit up, and
then gave a grimace and sank back down again, weak as a kitten.

"It's okay. It just means that you're going to need some physical
therapy to get walking again," Mulder told him, placing a hand on the
big man's shoulder. "And it might be tough - but you will do it. I'll
help you."

Skinner's face looked grey against the white hospital pillow and his
eyes were shocked.
"I can't walk?" He whispered, a shadow falling across his face.

"You will walk," Mulder told him firmly. "Only it might take some
time. You have to take it easy, Walter."

"I...can't walk." Skinner looked haunted and devastated at one and
the same time. "I can't...I don't want to go through this again,
Fox." Mulder frowned, wondering what his Master was referring to. "I
was just talking to Kim...I...poison?" Skinner looked to Mulder for
confirmation, totally confused. Mulder took hold of his Master's hand
and squeezed, gently. 

"Yes, but it's okay, Walter. It's going to be okay," he said softly,
stroking Skinner's fingers affectionately with his own.

"You look like shit," Skinner observed, gazing at his slave
searchingly. "Christ - I've been out for over a week? Are you sure
you're all right?" 

Mulder shook his head, and gave a wry little chuckle. "Oh no, I told
you, you don't worry about me, Walter. I'm fine and I think you've
done your share of worrying about me and taking care of me these past
10 months. Now it's my turn to take care of you," he said firmly, but
with the utmost respect. Mulder squeezed the other man's fingers
again. "I mean it, Walter," he said. "Just relax and get better. You
don't have to take responsibility for everything."

"Sure I do," Skinner muttered. "I'm the Master, remember?"

"And I'm the devoted slave, remember? It's a two way street, Walter.
You're my responsibility as much as I'm yours, and your health and
wellbeing are my first, last and only consideration." Mulder
shrugged. "It's really that simple. Now let go, Walter, and let me be
the slave you and I both know I can be. Let go and I'll catch you,
Master."

Skinner gazed at him blindly for a moment, and then gave another
little sigh, closed his eyes, and lay back on the pillows, and
already, by the time Mulder called for the hospital staff a few
minutes later, he thought that some of his Master's pallor had gone,
and the other man's face had lost that spectral sheen.

Mulder took his Master home a couple of days later; he was out of
immediate danger and there was nothing more the hospital could do for
him. They strongly encouraged him to go to a rehab facility but he
refused point blank, and Mulder was confident in his ability to take
care of his Master so he didn't press the issue. Mulder figured that
with Hammer, Perry and Scully as their closest friends, he wouldn't
lack for help and advice on nursing and generally taking care of his
Master. Skinner faced a difficult recuperation though, and nobody was
sure whether he would walk again or not, and if so how long it would
take. He seemed pleased to be home, but he was still weak and got
tired easily, and, more worryingly, he seemed gripped by depression.
He sat in bed, with Wanda curled up beside him, looking pale and
listless. Mulder wasn't unduly worried; he knew that Skinner coped
with huge personal crises by withdrawing into himself, just as his
slave coped by hitting out and flaring up. It was just the way they
were. All the same, he hoped this mood wouldn't last for too long.

Mulder continued to do what he'd started doing at the hospital; he
bathed his Master, massaged his damaged limbs, prepared Skinner's
food, read to him, talked to him, and generally took care of him.
When Skinner was resting, Mulder knelt by his bed, in position, in
case his Master needed him, and he went about his duties with
devotion and dedication. He didn't surprise himself, and he didn't
think he surprised his Master either, but he knew he surprised their
visitors. 

Ian paused by the front door after one his visits and gazed at
Mulder with a serious look in his brown eyes.

"Mulder, things might not go back to the way they were before," he
warned. "You're acting the slave for all its worth right now, but
supposing he doesn't fully recover? Supposing he's never able to be
your Master again? Not properly anyway - what happens then?"

Mulder shook his head. "Ian, you don't get it. I'm not *acting* the
slave - I'm just being what I am. You know, once, last summer, when
we were at Murray's beach house, Walter said something to me that
I've never forgotten. He accused me of only behaving like a slave
when he was behaving like a Master. He asked what came first - the
chicken or the egg - the slave or the Master - and he said he wanted
us to move on from where we were, so that we each of us inhabited our
status with confidence, knowing what we are. Right now he's tired,
he's weak, and he's recovering from an illness that nearly cost him
his life - he might not have the energy to be the Master, but that
doesn't mean I'm relieved of my obligations to be his slave. On the
contrary - now's precisely the time to show him that I can uphold my
part of our deal, no matter what...and that's exactly what I intend
to do. He deserves that, Ian. He's been my Master 24/7 for 10 months
without a break. He's never once told me he's too tired to care, or
pushed me away and told me to sort out my own life. This is the least
I can do in return - the very least." 

Ian gazed at him in surprise. "I didn't know it went this deep for
you," he said. "I guess...I always thought it was a sex game - at
heart."

"It never was. He told me that at the beginning but I didn't
understand what he meant then. I do now," Mulder replied.

Mulder hired the best physical therapist he could find to help
Skinner walk again, but it was hard work. His Master did his
exercises to the best of his ability, his wide forehead furrowed with
lines of grim determination, but he still seemed stunned by what had
happened to him and by how quickly both their lives had been turned
around. He withdrew even further into himself, and did no more and no
less than his physical therapist ordered, as if it were an unpleasant
duty to be endured rather than a real opportunity to get his health
back. Mulder longed to see just a glimmer of the man he'd come to
know and love over the previous 10 months but Skinner was like a
stranger, and barely spoke to him. Mulder continued to do his best
anyway; he still tried to give his Master his early morning wake up
call, even though Skinner's cock had stopped responding to his
enthusiastic ministrations, and he still knelt by his Master's bed,
waiting to fulfil the big man's every need. All the same, he couldn't
help wondering how long this would last - and whether Ian had been
right, and his Master was gone forever. Mulder began to wonder
whether there was something else he should be doing, or whether
Skinner just needed time - his Master was recuperating from a life
threatening illness after all. It was bound to take awhile before he
felt right again.

Tabi visited whenever she could get time away from her work
commitments. Mulder didn't have the energy to try and hide what he
and his Master were to each other but she didn't seem phased by
Mulder's attentions to his Master, and seemed to take his slavery in
her stride, which was a relief, as the battle for her heart and mind
over the issue of his sexuality wasn't one that Mulder could face
right now.

After one particularly painful visit, during which Skinner had
barely even managed to exchange a few words with his sister, Tabi
took Mulder to one side.

"Mulder...I know you mean well, but I don't think this is working,"
she told him.

"What?" He asked cautiously. "What isn't working?" 

"You - you're being incredible, totally supportive...but it isn't
working. He needs something different. He needs an incentive to get
better. While you're seeing to his every need he doesn't have one -
and I think, deep down, that he's afraid of trying to walk again."

"Afraid?" Mulder frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He's afraid that if he really tries, if he gives it everything, and
*then* he fails, then it'll be real, and he'll know for sure that he
can't walk again. Right now, he's just going through the motions, and
he can cling to the hope that one day, somehow, a miracle will happen
and he'll get his mobility back."

Mulder thought about this for a moment, and then took a deep intake
of breath. "When he was in the hospital, he told me that he couldn't
go through this again. What did he mean?"

"He was talking about Vietnam," she told him quietly, sitting down
on the couch and tucking her legs underneath her body. "He was badly
wounded, Mulder, and when he came back he wasn't the loving, kind big
brother I remembered. He was angry and bitter. He was only 18 years
old and he felt he'd lost his entire life. He was young, and he'd
just been growing into his strength - and now he had to sit in bed
and watch everyone else get on with their lives. Mom converted our
front room into a bedroom for him because he couldn't get up the
stairs. I used to go and sit on his bed and draw pictures for him and
talk to him. He was always kind to me, but even though I was just a
little kid at the time, I knew he was deeply unhappy."

"So how did he get better last time?" Mulder asked, leaning forwards
eagerly, searching for clues as to how he could help his Master.

"Well..." Tabi made a face. "I expect he's told you that he and Dad
didn't have a very good relationship. In the end, Walter moved heaven
and earth to get better, by sheer willpower alone, because he wanted
to get out of the house - and as far away from our father as
possible. He was very badly injured, Mulder. I mean, they thought he
was dead for god's sake! They actually zipped him up in a body bag -
it was only luck that one of the corpsmen noticed a faint movement
and got him to the hospital. Maybe, if our home had been more
comfortable, and his relationship with Dad had been better, he'd
never have had an incentive to recover the way he did. I really do
think he felt he didn't have a choice - he *had* to get better,
despite the seriousness of his injuries, because he simply couldn't
face living under Dad's roof as an invalid for the rest of his life.
Dad said some cruel things to him about the fact that he couldn't
walk, that he would be dependent on him and how that would be a drain
on the family finances, how Walter was a parasite and even...that it
would have been better for everyone if he had died." Tabi shook her
head and Mulder had to force his anger down. That was about the worse
thing anyone could say to Skinner, and Mulder wondered whether his
Master had carried it around with him ever since - at least until
he'd met Andrew Linker. He wondered, also, whether that comment had
come back to haunt Skinner now that he was incapacitated once again,
and was preying on his mind as he sat upstairs feeling weak and
useless. "It was evil, looking back, but maybe, just maybe, it was
what Walter needed to force him to get better," Tabi continued. "You
know as well as I do what a strong will he has."

"Yeah," Mulder chuckled, thinking of many occasions on which his
Master had been resolutely implacable.

"He just needs a reason to start relying on that will again," Tabi
told him. "I don't know how though, Mulder," she sighed. "I wish I
had all the answers, but maybe that's a starting place?"

Mulder nodded, mulling this over. He wasn't sure what he'd do with
the information, but there had to be some way to galvanise his Master
into believing in his own ability to get better.
He talked it over with Elaine, and they agreed that she would be the
first one to try to do just that. She swept into their bedroom the
following day, took one look at Skinner lying in the bed, and dropped
her bombshell.

"My dear, you'll have to make more progress than this. My wedding is
in 3 weeks and you're walking me to the altar, remember?"

Mulder glanced sharply at his Master, hoping for some reaction, but
Skinner just shrugged. 

"Elaine...that's impossible," he told her with a shake of his head.
"You'll have to get someone else to 
do it. Hammer maybe?"

"Walter, I've asked you and you agreed to do it. I don't *want*
anyone else," Elaine told him firmly. 

"I'm not going to postpone my wedding and you *are* going to walk me
to the altar, whether you do it on crutches - or even if Mulder
wheels you there in your wheelchair."

"I am not going anywhere in public in that fucking wheelchair,"
Skinner snapped.

"Then you'd better learn how to walk again," Elaine told him in an
uncompromising tone. 

"I'm doing my goddamn best!" Skinner roared.

Mulder winced. He hated watching his Master struggling to walk, like
a lame lion, his pride being trod underfoot with every stumble, and
every faltering step of his weakened legs. He was sure that Skinner
genuinely did think he was trying his best, but his efforts were so
dispirited that they seemed doomed to fail. Mulder didn't think the
problem was all physical - he was more convinced than ever after his
chat with Tabi that a large part of it was psychological.

"Well your best isn't good enough!" Elaine told him firmly. "Walter -
you've had all the brooding time I'm going to give you. Now it's time
for you to give 110% or 150% or however much it takes, because that's
the only way you're going to get better. Yes, something terrible
happened to you, but now it's time to put that behind you." She
leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "I mean it," she told him. 
"I know you, Walter, and I know you're capable of so much more than
this."

Skinner just grunted and she picked up her gloves, walked over to
the bedroom door, and paused, her hand on the handle. "And that slave
needs a good spanking," she said, with a nod in Mulder's direction.
"That's something else you're shirking, Walter." And with that she
opened the door and swept out of the room. 

Skinner didn't say a word for the rest of the day, and Mulder
wondered whether, far from helping him, Elaine might not have pushed
him even further into his black mood. Mulder slipped into the bed
beside his Master that night and lay there, unsure whether to speak.
He missed the old, easy intimacy and familiarity he had with the big
man, and he wasn't sure how to get it back. If he spoke, Skinner
answered in monosyllables, and although his Master remained polite,
there simply wasn't any conversation between them. Skinner was too
sunk in his own gloom, and Mulder could understand that; one moment
Skinner had been Master of his own universe, the proud owner of a
newly branded slave, secure and happy in his work and his home life,
and the next it had all been torn away from him. Skinner was reacting
to this devastating change of circumstances by shutting down and
Mulder didn't know how to breach the silence. 

Unable to sleep, he got up and wandered around the apartment. He
found his feet carrying him upstairs, into the Playroom that had been
the scene of so many of their most explosive love making sessions.
Mulder turned on the lights and walked around the room, lost in
thought. There had been a time when he would have felt a thrill of
disobedience at being in this room alone. He had been forbidden to
enter it unless in his Master's company or ordered here by the big
man. Now those days seemed a lifetime away. Mulder reached out and
touched the harness, a smile tugging at his lips as he recalled his
Master fastening him in here that first time they'd made love
properly, and then taking him, possessively, forcefully, lovingly. He
missed the sensation of Skinner's thick, hard cock inside his anus,
filling him, and bringing him to the most exquisitely pleasurable
orgasms. He loved Skinner, even incapacitated as he was now, but he
also missed his Master being his Master. He remembered his words to
Ian - no, he wasn't only the slave when his Master was being
masterful, but didn't the Master also have a duty to his slave? Their
contracts depended on them both fulfilling their roles, and while
their relationship had long since transcended their contracts, their
roles as Master and slave were still very important to them both.
Skinner's libido had been totally inactive since his illness - even
without the use of his legs, he could still spank his slave, and make
love to him, but he did neither. Mulder had been barely able to get a
rise out of his Master during his usual morning wake up call either,
although that didn't stop him trying every day anyway.

Mulder opened a cupboard, and lovingly fondled one of the paddles
hanging there. He opened another, and gazed, longingly, at the row of
sexy, fantasy costumes that hung there, wondering whether Skinner
would ever encase those long, lean limbs of his in a pair of tight
leather pants again. He massaged his Master's legs every day so he
knew that the muscle tone was still there, and Skinner had feeling in
them now - in fact, more feeling returned with every day that passed.
Skinner's muscles might be stiff, and Mulder knew that his Master did
have bad days when the nerve endings were inflamed, making movement
incredibly painful, but he believed his Master had the capacity to
walk again. It was, as Tabi had pointed out, just a question of
giving him good reason to do so. 

Mulder went and sat on the throne, gazing out of the huge row of
windows at the city beneath them. It was beautiful up here. He could
remember nights spent hanging in the harness, his ass on display,
looking out, lost in the beauty of his own slavery. There were ghosts
of their former selves everywhere in this room - the spanking horse
looked eerie, standing there in this quiet, lifeless room; he could
vividly remember several occasions when he had been tied over that
horse and marked with a cane, could see his Master in his mind's eye,
prowling and striding around this room, totally in charge of
everything that went on here, while his slave knelt in awed
supplication, just watching as Skinner handled harnesses, the St
Andrews Cross, and all the wonderful implements in the row of
cupboards lined up on one side of the room. Mulder remembered the low
whisper of erotic poetry said in a dark, molten chocolate voice, the
soft thud of flogger on flesh, the screams of pleasure and pain
intermingled, and the joyous shout of countless orgasms. This room
had seen so much, and he had loved every single moment of the time
he'd spent in here, even when shivering as he waited for the kiss of
the bullwhip on his back. Mulder awoke from his memories to find that
while he had been dreaming Wanda had stolen into the room and was
sitting on his lap, purring.

"Ah, you miss him too, don't you, princess?" He crooned, fondling
her ears. She glanced up at him, her emerald eyes radiating her joy
at being both petted and allowed into the room she was so rarely
given entry to. Mulder knew the feeling. "I know, he's here, but he's
not himself," he murmured to Wanda. 
"He barely even notices you, let alone me, and we both know how much
he adores his little mistress." He tickled her ears again, and she
stretched out her little body, blissfully soaking up the attention.
"He's the most devoted slave in the world to you," Mulder murmured,
and that thought gave him an idea. He put Wanda down and returned to
the cupboards. It took him a little while to find what he was looking
for but when he did he took it out and stood staring at it for a
moment. Would it work? He had no idea - but he had to do something,
and this was worth a try.

Mulder picked up Wanda and held her with one hand, her warm body
nestled against his chest, walked over to the door with her, and then
paused to give the Playroom one last, lingering glance.
"We *will* play in here again," he said, his voice utterly
determined, and with that he turned off the light, closed the door
behind him, and locked it once more before returning back downstairs,
with Wanda still in his arms.

Mulder didn't even attempt to give his Master his usual wake-up call
the following morning. Instead, he got dressed in a pair of grey
sweatpants and a red tee shirt, and then he laid the items he had
taken from the Playroom the previous night on Skinner's night stand,
placing a cup of coffee beside them. Skinner stirred, hazily, and
glanced at his slave with his usual lack of interest in the day ahead.

"Things are going to be different today," Mulder told him. Skinner
gave a grunt, as if he hadn't heard his slave - or, if he had, that
he didn't care about what he had to say. "These are for you," Mulder
said. He took the beautiful silver collar and cuffs from the
nightstand and placed them on Skinner's lap. The word 'Bear' was
engraved on the surface of the metal - they were the symbols of
slavery that Skinner had given to Mulder to celebrate his birthday
the previous year, when Skinner had allowed Mulder to top him for the
first, and - so far - the last time. Mulder had had them engraved a
few days after his birthday with Skinner's slave name - Bear - as a
gift to his Master, and a memento for both of them of a wonderful day
that they'd both enjoyed.

"What the hell are these for?" Skinner growled, pushing the collar
and cuffs disdainfully off the bed. They landed on the floor with a
resounding clatter. Mulder took a deep breath - these items were
special, both to him and his Master, and he had never known Skinner
treat them with anything other than respect. It hurt him to see his
Master so lost in his own dark mood that he could just sweep them
aside with a sneer in his voice. All the more reason for Mulder to
continue with what he had planned.

"They're for you," he said calmly, retrieving the collar and cuffs
and replacing them on the nightstand.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not in any mood to play any
goddamn games," Skinner snapped.

"Oh this isn't a game," Mulder replied. "You said that yourself,
Walter, when you first took me as your slave. You said it was for
real and that doesn't change just because the circumstances have
altered." 

"You want me to sub to you when I can't even damn well walk?"
Skinner asked, glancing at the cuffs and collar on the nightstand.

"No. I want you to be my Master but if you won't be that then I'll
accept you as my slave," Mulder replied firmly. "You choose, Walter,
but you do have to make a choice. Last summer, at the beach house,
you told me that I was only prepared to be your slave if you were
being my Master - visibly and demonstrably. I learned a lesson that
day, and it's one I'll never forget. You *are* my Master, Walter, and
I've been the best slave I know how to be for every single hour of
every day during your illness. I will always be your slave, whether
you can walk or not - but just as you could never be Master to an
unwilling slave, I can't be slave to an unwilling Master. I'll walk
through fire for you, Walter, you know that. I'll be by your side for
every step you take. I'll hold you up and I'll help you down - but
you have to meet me half way. You have to show at least a desire to
get well. Now, if you don't feel you can be my Master right now, and
I'll understand that completely, then you can be my slave. I'll take
good care of you, but there will be some changes around here - and
quite a few more expectations." Mulder crossed his arms and surveyed
his Master. Skinner didn't look good. His face was pale and there
were dark shadows under his eyes, but Mulder felt sure that most of
his problems right now were psychological, and this was the only way
he could think of tackling them.

"You mean you want to get your rocks off and I'm not obliging,"
Skinner growled, his dark eyes flashing accusingly. Mulder took a
deep breath, utterly winded by that comment, but he knew this wasn't
his Master speaking. This was Walter - lost, hurting, and desperately
in need of his slave's help. "This is all about sex for you, Fox. It
always is," Skinner continued, digging the knife in even deeper, and
twisting it.

"No." Mulder shook his head. "Sex is the last thing this is about. I
love you, Walter, and I'm not going to stand by and let you fuck up
your life over this." He considered his Master for a moment, and then
turned, deliberately, and walked towards the door.

"Are you running out on me?" Skinner snarled from behind him. "Did
the going get too tough, Fox? Isn't it the truth that if you can't
have me as your Master then you don't fucking well want me at all?"
Mulder turned, feeling more sure than ever that he had to stand firm
right now, no matter what accusations Skinner threw at him. "No. I'd
never run out on you," he said softly. "You know that. Just as you
never ran out on me at any point over this last year, although god
knows I gave you enough reason." His hand went to the scar on his
chest where Krycek had carved his initials and he shook his head.
"Never, Walter. You know me. God knows I have my faults but I'm a
tenacious bastard - I never give up and I never let go. I'm not about
to do either right now. I'm going downstairs. I'm not going to wait
on you hand and foot any more. If you want me to resume my full
duties as your slave then you'll have to start acting like my Master -
and that means showing some commitment to getting well. I'm still
your slave, Walter, but I think I can serve you better right now by
backing off, and letting you think things through." 

"What happens if I need to use the fucking bathroom?" Skinner
growled, as Mulder continued on his way out of the door.

"Then you'll have to ask for my help and I'll walk you there - I
told you before that you can lean on me and I mean it - literally,"
Mulder told him. "If you don't want to ask for my help then you can
make your own way there."
He heard Skinner give a low bellow of anger but ignored it, and
continued on his way out of the room. It took all Mulder's willpower
to go downstairs, make himself a cup of coffee, and then sit on the
couch with the newspaper. He didn't read a word - just stared at the
pages blankly, Wanda curled up by his side. He didn't know whether
he'd done the right thing, or what would happen next, but something
had to break; they couldn't continue the way they had been. 

Hours passed, and Mulder figured that his Master had to be feeling
hungry, or at least need to pee, 
but still there was no sound from the bedroom. Mulder made himself
some lunch, which tasted like sawdust in his mouth, and sat back on
the couch again. He wanted to call someone, to talk this through, but
he sensed there was nothing anyone could tell him. This was his
problem and his alone. He wondered how many times his Master must
have felt the same way over the past year as he, seemingly
effortlessly, sorted out so many of his slave's problems. Mulder had
always thought that Skinner had some kind of sixth sense that told
him what he should do in any given situation, but, now he was facing
a similar crisis, he wondered whether Skinner hadn't felt exactly the
same way he was feeling now each time he had handled one of Mulder's
problems. Mulder had always respected his Master, but now that
respect was even more heartfelt as he realised how hard it was to
know what to do for the person you loved when they were struggling.
He thought of himself, slowly unravelling after Seattle, and the
patience, kindness and occasional uncompromising strictness that his
Master had shown to him. He remembered lying on a beach as Skinner
kissed his scarred chest by candelight, and showed his slave just how
much he loved him, whether he was perfect or not. His Master had
never failed him and he, in turn, would never fail his Master.
Skinner needed him to step up to the plate and take responsibility,
and it didn't matter who was the Master and who the slave - both men
were strong and weak in their own ways. They complemented each other
and they needed each other - now more than ever. Mulder had to be the
strong one right now, and he was surprised to find how undaunted he
was by that fact. He had come a long way since that day, nearly a
year ago, when Skinner had taken him as his slave just at the point
when he had been on a course to self destruct. Now he was strong, and
felt safe inside his own skin, and he knew that he owed that to his
Master. No, he would never let Skinner down. Never.
Mulder was interrupted in this reverie by a crashing sound upstairs.
He got to his feet and ran up to the bedroom, taking the stairs 3 at
a time, his long legs powering him as fast as they could to his
Master's side. He found Skinner lying in the bathroom, just as
Skinner had once found him lying in the bathroom with blood dripping
down his chest and a razor in his hand. His Master was spreadeagled
on the tiled floor, a slight bruise rising on a bump on his broad,
naked skull.

"Was this easier than asking me for help?" Mulder asked, kneeling
down beside his Master, and reaching out a hand to check Skinner's
bruised head. Skinner batted his questing fingers away, savagely.

"I can fucking manage," he hissed.

"Not without my help," Mulder insisted, holding out his hands.

"We'll see," Skinner snapped. He reached out and grabbed the towel
rail, and then tried to slide his way up the wall and onto his feet
again, but his legs were tired, and he slipped and fell once more.
Mulder didn't even try and catch him although just watching was the
hardest thing he had ever done in his life. Skinner's face was paler
than ever from the effort, and there were beads of sweat on his
forehead. Mulder crouched down in front of his panting Master, and
looked deep into those brown eyes he knew so well.

"Please let me help you, Walter," he said softly, reaching out a
hand to gently touch the side of Skinner's face. Skinner turned away
sharply, flinching, as if the touch burned him.

"What did you have to give them?" He rasped, in a low, dark,
despairing tone.

"What?" Mulder frowned, rocking back on his heels.

"What did you have to give them in return for my life?" Skinner
growled. "You said the consortium did this to me. You said you sorted
it out. They had me by the fucking balls, Fox, and they didn't let go
just because you told them to. You gave them something."

"Yes," Mulder said simply, sliding down so that his back was against
the bath tub.

"They wouldn't accept anything less than your help. Your co-
operation. You - period," Skinner said, his voice choking. "That
would be their style - a life for a life. When do you have to start
working for them, Fox? Or maybe you are already? Did you sell
yourself for me? Is that what you did?"

Mulder stared at his Master, utterly amazed. Of all the things he
had imagined were going on in Skinner's head, this hadn't even been
close. Trust his Master to be thinking about his slave, even in these
circumstances.

"I couldn't sell myself to them, Walter," he said softly. "Only you
could sell me, and you always said you never would."

Skinner's eyes widened. "Oh for god's sake! You think they give a
fuck about our contracts?" He snarled.

"No - and right now, neither do you," Mulder pointed out. "I didn't
sell myself, Walter. If you taught me one thing it was how to stop
myself pushing my self destruct button."

"Then what did you give them?" Skinner asked wearily, thumping his
head back against the wall as he spoke. "It had to be something big.
Something to make it all worth their while."

"It was," Mulder agreed. 

"What?" Skinner asked, in a hoarse voice. "What did you give them?"

"The X Files," Mulder replied softly. "They were all I had to give,
and you know how much I love them. Like you said, it had to be
something of value - I was bargaining for your life after all. It
wouldn't have said much about what you mean to me if I'd bartered
away something that didn't cost me anything."

"No." Skinner's eyes were bleak. "NO!" He said again, his voice
closer to a roar. His entire body convulsed in a fit of frustrated
anger, and all Mulder could do was sit there and watch.

"Hey - it didn't hurt me that much," he whispered when Skinner was
done. "In fact, when it came to it, it was pretty easy."

"No." Skinner shook his head quietly. "You love the X Files, Fox.
They're your life."

"I love you more," Mulder told him simply. "You're my life now."

"Fuck that!" Skinner snapped. "I never asked you to give up your
work, Fox. Not once. When I took you as my slave I told you I'd
expect you to keep working. You made the X Files, Fox. You started
them. You turned them into what they are today. They need you."

"They'll survive without me. Scully's still there, and Reyes is
turning out well. Then there's Doggett - I've got a feeling that when
he knows there's a vacancy for a new head of department in the X
Files division he'll apply pretty damn fast. Of course his career
will go down the drain but..." Mulder gave a wry shrug. "That goes
with the territory. He knows that."

"I can't let you do this," Skinner whispered, looking small, sad and
defeated.

"It's already done. I wrote the letter. It's waiting for you on your
desk when you get back to the office. How else did you think I
managed to get all this time off work while you were ill? I resigned,
Walter. It's a done deal. It's over. I've left the FBI and, just
between you and me, I really don't think the FBI is gonna miss me."

"Fox, you don't understand," Skinner said in a tired voice. "It
seems like an easy enough decision now, but it'll destroy us, in the
end. Once this immediate crisis is over, when I go back to work and
you don't, when it really hits you what you had to give up for
me...you'll come to resent me, Fox."

"No." Mulder shook his head firmly. "I'm not a victim, Walter, and
this wasn't your decision to make - it was mine. Yes, I loved the X
Files. I built them up from nothing and for a long time they were my
life, but, trust me, now that I've resigned I don't intend to sit
around with my thumb up my ass. Once you're better, I have some plans
for what I want to do. Big plans." Mulder gave a grin, and warmed to
his theme. "Walter, this is just the beginning for me," he said. "You
taught me that there's more to life than the X Files - you showed me
a whole other world out here that I never thought I could belong to
but somehow, slowly, I've found myself fitting in."

"So what - you're going to become a professional submissive and hang
out permanently on the scene?" Skinner asked scathingly.

"Hardly," Mulder grinned. "For one thing, I don't think my Master
would approve..." He glanced speculatively in Skinner's direction,
"...and anyway, I have other plans. Think of all the notes I've made
about the X Files over the years, Walter. I want to go through them
all, see if I can find a pattern, a reason behind everything I
experienced - something to tie it all together and make sense of it
all. I figure that at worst I'll get a bestselling book out of it."
He broke off to grin again. 

"And at best...well, at best I might just get to save the entire
planet," he said.

"Ah, ever my modest Fox," Skinner commented, and Mulder detected a
glimmer of his old Master showing through. 

"I told them I'd resign from the FBI. I never made any promises
about the private work I'd do," Mulder told his Master. "I'm not
giving up the X Files, Walter. I'm just finding another way to pursue
my interests - and this way I'll have more leisure to spend with my
demanding Master. Uh, talking of promises," Mulder glanced at Skinner
through his eyelashes. "I expect I'll get into plenty of trouble even
without the X Files, Walter. I'm still going to be an investigator -
I don't think even the Consortium could stop me being that. It's part
of what I am. As a matter of fact, I'm looking forward to working
outside the FBI. It'll make a change not to have you breathing down
my neck all the time."

"I'll still be your Master, boy," Skinner growled. "If there's any
breathing down your neck to be done then I'll be there, doing it."

Mulder gave a heartfelt sigh of relief. "I'm very pleased to hear
it," he said softly, "I'll still need your help - from within the
Bureau," Mulder added. "I wouldn't ask you to do anything that
compromised your job, but I'll still need your help occasionally.
It's important work, Walter. It needs to be done - and maybe this has
come at the right time. Maybe it's better for me to be working on the
outside from now on. The FBI always did cramp my style a little. You
must see there's some sense in what I'm saying?" Mulder gazed at
Skinner questioningly. "You know the job was only a means to an end,
Walter. I needed the FBI behind me to get my hands on these cases in
the first place, but now I know enough to be working on my own,
without the FBI tying my hands behind my back."

"That's always been a good look for you," Skinner commented. "Hands
tied behind your back..." 

"Naked. Erect. Freshly spanked..." Mulder continued. Skinner gave a
wry grunt. 

"At least you know what suits you, boy," he said.

"Yeah. I know." Mulder grinned. He paused, and then said, in a more
serious tone: "I have contingency plans in place, Walter. In case you
haven't noticed, between us we have a lot of friends. I've spoken to
the Lone Gunmen, and they're watching our backs for us right now. I
can't promise that the Consortium won't try to screw with us again,
but if they do, I'll be ready for them - they won't take me by
surprise again."

Skinner gazed at him thoughtfully. "You've changed," he said.

"That's what that English bastard said. He was wrong. I'm exactly
who I've always been - it just took the love of a good Master to help
me figure out what that is," Mulder replied. "Now, if we're done
here, perhaps you'll let me help you back to the bedroom?"

Mulder got to his feet and held out his hands to his Master again.
Skinner gazed at them for a moment, and then, with a sigh, he put his
hands in Mulder's and allowed his slave to help him to his feet. It
wasn't easy - Skinner was a big man - but Mulder was more than strong
enough to take care of his Master. He slung one of Skinner's arms
around his neck, put his arms around the big man's body, walked
Skinner slowly into the bedroom, and deposited him on the bed. 

"So, have you made your decision?" Mulder asked softly, picking up
the cuffs and collar that were lying on the nightstand. "Slave or
Master? What's it to be, Walter?"

Skinner glanced at the cuffs and a flicker of some unreadable
emotion passed across his face. Mulder waited, patiently. Skinner
glanced up at Mulder, and then over his slave's shoulder at the
portrait of the two of them Mulder had given him on New Year's Day.

"It's going to be hard, whichever option you choose," Mulder said
softly.

"I know." Skinner shook his head. He looked like a big, wounded bear
as he bowed his naked skull and glanced at his hands for a long
moment. When, finally, he looked up, Mulder was in no doubt about the
decision he'd made. "Come here, boy," he said gruffly, holding out
his arm. Mulder felt his heart do a little zing of pleasure. He would
have accepted whatever his Master had chosen, but he was relieved
that this was Skinner's choice. Mulder went willingly to his Master,
and Skinner pulled him down on the bed beside him. Mulder nestled in
close against his Master's body, and felt Skinner exhale a long,
heartfelt sigh. "In a minute you're going to help me into the shower.
Then I'm going to lie on the bed and you're going to open your ass
cheeks and ride me into tomorrow. After that..." Skinner took a deep
breath. "After that...we're going to do some exercises. How long is
to Elaine's wedding?"

"Three weeks...Master," Mulder said softly, and he was relieved to
be able to address Skinner by that title and for it to mean something
again.

"Okay. Then I'm going to walk that woman to the altar if it's the
last goddamn thing I do," Skinner said in a determined tone. 

"She said she'd be happy if you used your crutches or the
wheelchair. Just as long as you're there," Mulder pointed out,
wondering, privately, whether Skinner was setting himself an
unrealistic target.

"I'll walk," Skinner said, in a granite tone. "I'll damn well walk,
Fox."

Mulder nodded, quietly, and then pressed his lips to his Master's
solid chest. "I believe you," he said softly.

"Has..." Skinner started, and, looking up, Mulder was startled to
see a look of vulnerability in his Master's brown eyes. "Has this
affected the way you feel about me? Seeing me like this? Weak." 

"No. I think they all wondered - Ian, Elaine, Perry...maybe even
Scully. They kept looking at me, as if they thought I was going to
break and walk out, but you know me better than that, Walter."

"Tenacious. Yes. I know." Skinner nodded. "But I'm not talking about
that. I'm talking about our lives, and the roles we have. I know how
much they mean to you. Has my illness affected that?"

"Don't be an idiot," Mulder said. "Master," he added, as an
afterthought. "You're my Master - I'm your slave. Here, there and
everywhere, Walter. You know that."
Skinner gave a little grunt of acknowledgement but Mulder noticed
that his arm tightened around his slave's body. They lay there for a
few minutes, gazing up at the ceiling. Then Mulder turned and propped
his head up on his hand.

"Tabi gave me a little history lesson about what happened to you
after Vietnam," he said. Skinner stiffened. "You never told me,"
Mulder added.

"It was a long time ago. Sometimes I feel like it happened to a
different person," Skinner murmured.

"I'm sorry. It must be hard enough for you to go through this once.
Twice..." Mulder shrugged. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Skinner shook his head. "I'm really very lucky you know,
Fox. Very lucky." He bent his head and bestowed a kiss on his slave's
forehead. "Now go and turn on the damn shower."

"Yes, Master." Mulder got up, but fell back down again as his Master
grabbed his wrist and pulled him down over his lap. He caressed
Mulder's ass for a second, and then pulled down Mulder's sweat pants
and delivered 6 stinging slaps to his slave's bottom. "Ow," Mulder
complained, rubbing the sting out of his bottom when his Master
allowed him to get up, although he couldn't hide his gleeful grin all
the same. "What was that for?"

"Elaine was right. You do need a good spanking. In fact, we both
know that you should never go too long without being spanked. It
makes you antsy," Skinner said. "And also there was one thing I
wanted to make absolutely clear; I'm in charge around here, boy and
don't you forget it."

"I won't...if you won't," Mulder replied softly. Master and slave
shared a long, meaningful look and then Mulder turned and went to the
bathroom to do as he had been bidden.

*-*-*-*

It wasn't an easy three weeks, but Mulder had never been more proud
of his Master as Skinner struggled to regain his mobility. The
problem was that on a good day he'd be walking almost as well as he
had been before the Consortium had infected him, but the following
day he might have a total relapse as his nerve endings flared up
again, and even putting weight on his feet was an unbearable agony.
It was disheartening for both Mulder and Skinner to have their hopes
dashed; one moment they'd be celebrating a day of near normalcy and
the next Skinner couldn't walk without leaning heavily on his slave -
as he refused point blank to use the wheelchair again. 

However there was a slow, steady improvement - and that was largely
down to the big man's sheer force of will. Now Mulder could
appreciate Tabi's comment about how his Master had recovered from his
terrible injuries after Vietnam. It was testament to Skinner's
strength of character that he forced himself to get back on his feet
again for the second time in his life. 
Skinner hadn't wanted anyone knowing about his recovery - he wanted
to concentrate on it without any distractions and the only visitor he
allowed was Tabi. Mulder had left his Master and his sister alone for
an entire afternoon when she visited, and he suspected they'd done a
lot of talking about Vietnam. She was looking suspiciously red eyed
when she left, but very happy.

"Thank you," she whispered to Mulder, giving him a heartfelt hug on
her way out. She didn't say anything more - she didn't need to. They
both knew what she was referring to.

"Y'know," Mulder commented one day two weeks later as Skinner
completed another set of punishing exercises aimed at restoring the
muscle tone in his legs and aiding his co-ordination. "I think you're
going to do it, Master. The wedding I mean. I think you're going to
walk Elaine to the altar." He was crouched down beside his Master,
naked, helping Skinner with his exercises. 

"I said I would," Skinner growled. "Only don't tell her that." He
paused in his exercises for a moment, sweat running down his
forehead, and gave his slave a grin. "I want to surprise her. Tell
her we'll be there, but don't tell her I'm back on my feet."

"Ah, you always were the Master of surprises," Mulder said, with an
appreciative smile. "Speaking of which...what exactly will we be
wearing to the wedding, Master?"

"Uh-uh." Skinner shook his head. "You'll find out on the day, boy,
and not a moment before. Now, why don't you go and stand facing the
wall, legs apart, ass out, so I have something nice to look at while
I'm doing my exercises."

Mulder rolled his eyes but ran to do his Master's bidding all the
same. 

By the following Friday, Skinner was able to walk almost normally.
He still got tired easily, and his right leg sometimes gave way
unexpectedly, causing him to stagger, or even fall if there was
nothing to hold onto, but he was at least mobile again. Mulder didn't
want to ruin his laconic exterior by appearing to be excited by
anything, least of all a wedding, but the truth was that he was
looking forward to it and woke up on the Saturday with butterflies in
his belly.

He gave his Master his usual wake up call, then started to get up -
until Skinner pointed out that he was two hours early, and insisted
his slave get back into bed. Mulder lay there, utterly unable to keep
still, wondering what kind of a costume his Master had ordered for
him to wear at the ceremony which wasn't going to take place until
later that evening.

"Is my ass going to be on display?" He asked.

"What?" Skinner growled into his pillow.

"At the wedding. In the costume you had Elliott and Donald make for
me. Is my ass going to be on display? Only, it's a pretty cold day -
it's been snowing - so, I'm not sure that would be such a good idea."

"Oh, we can *always* find ways of warming up your ass, as you well
know, little one," Skinner said dangerously, placing a hand on
Mulder's bottom to illustrate that point.

"Hmm." Mulder wasn't too thrilled by the way that had gone. "Okay,
what about my chest...or my...oh god...I'm not going to be naked am
I?" He asked with a little whimper.

"Who knows?" Skinner said grumpily, burrowing his head into his
pillow.

"You do!" Mulder remonstrated. "And what will you be wearing? Will
we match?"

"Oh, I think people will be able to tell who is the Master and who
the slave," Skinner said with a little chuckle. "Now, will you be
quiet so we can get some sleep?"

"I've never been married," Mulder mused thoughtfully. "You have.
What did you wear then?"

"Something very conventional," Skinner snorted. "Because that was a
normal, regular wedding and this, my noisy slave, will be a scene
wedding. So, I think you can take it as read that you won't be
wearing a black tux. Now be quiet."

"Did you get Elliott to adjust the size of your costume?" Mulder
continued, ignoring his Master's order. "Only you did lose quite a
bit of weight when you were ill, and I know Elliott wouldn't want you
to be seen in public in an ill fitting...what? Tux?"

"Elliot's made some adjustments to the costume," Skinner replied
patiently. "And as for whether it's a tux or not...you'll just have
to wait and see."

"Did you say Donald and Elliott would be bringing our costumes
over?" Mulder asked. "Or are we going to collect them? Because if we
are I think we should get up now."

"You have the closest thing to a photographic memory of anyone I
ever met," Skinner pointed out. "You know that I said they're being
delivered. You're just fishing for information, boy."

"I was just wondering what time, and whether we should, you know, be
getting up, because..."

"Wanda," Skinner said, suddenly and unexpectedly, in Mulder's ear.

Mulder had learned, during his time as Skinner's slave, to never
question or delay his response to that command, and even though he
suspected Skinner was only saying it to shut up his slave, he
immediately backed up against his Master under the warm sheets, and
pulled his butt cheeks apart to facilitate his Master's insertion
into his body. A few seconds later he felt his Master enter him, hard
and fast. Skinner placed his hands on Mulder's hips and pumped into
his slave vigorously, sending all thoughts about the day ahead from
Mulder's mind as he found himself able to focus only on how insanely
pleasurable it was to feel Skinner's thick, hard cock thrusting in
and out of his body. His own cock was semi erect but he knew it would
get no release. He also knew that Skinner's climax would be a long
time coming because he had already brought his Master to orgasm once
this morning. He was right; Skinner took his time, his hands
travelling over his slave's body in a proprietary fashion as he sank
himself into Mulder's willing, waiting flesh. He tweaked a nipple,
sucked down hard on Mulder's neck, and rested his hand heavily on his
slave's thigh as he claimed Mulder totally and inexorably as his
property. Mulder felt himself going into a daze. There was just him
and his Master and the silence of that snowy world outside, and the
feel of that beautiful, hard cock deep inside his warm body, making
them one. A white heat took hold of him - and then he felt it; as
Skinner's cock unerringly found his prostate with every thrust,
Mulder felt as if his nerve endings had melted into each other, one
after the other, sending a wave of the most exquisite pleasure
through his entire body. He didn't come because he had been forbidden
to do so during these Wanda commands, and because his Master hadn't
given him permission to touch his own cock, but he saw a starburst of
golden white lights and then he felt as if he was soaring through
space, connected and yet disconnected from his own body. He stayed
that way for what felt like an eon, and then he heard something, as
if from a great distance.

"Hmm?" He asked, lazily.

"Nothing. Just testing," Skinner said, with what sounded like a
distinct chuckle in his voice. Mulder knew his Master had come, but
Skinner didn't withdraw. He just stayed there, lodged deep inside his
slave's body, his hand still resting heavily on Mulder's thigh.
Mulder closed his eyes dreamily, loving the sensation of being held,
of being owned and enslaved, of being of sexual use to his Master as
a plaything; something to be fucked, loved, stroked and petted at his
Master's whim. At some point in this dreamy reverie, he fell into a
deep, contented sleep, with his Master's cock still buried up to the
hilt in his sweaty, sated body.

Mulder woke several hours later to find the Winter sun filtering
weakly through the open drapes.

"Wha...?" he said, glancing up at his fully dressed Master.

"You were sleeping like a baby. I didn't want to wake you when
Donald and Elliott brought our costumes around," Skinner said,
smiling broadly as he gestured with his head to the two outfits,
hanging on the outside of the closet, both encased in an impenetrable
plastic shroud.

"Master is both cruel and dastardly," Mulder sighed. 

Mulder spent the next few hours in a state of heightened
anticipation once more until Skinner, tiring of his fidgety slave,
told him to go and draw a bath. Mulder did as ordered, and then
helped his Master to undress and get into the bath. He soaped Skinner
lovingly, and washed the small fringe of hair on the back of his
Master's scalp, stealing one or two forbidden kisses as he did so,
but he knew his Master was indulgent of such behaviour. Then Skinner
lay back with a sigh, and Mulder watched as his Master reached down
and playfully massaged his cock into a full erection. Then Skinner
glanced up at his slave and beckoned to him. 

"Get in the bath, boy. I want to use you again," he said. "You can
slide down on top of me - and do it gracefully. If you splash any
water outside the tub I'll punish you."

Mulder felt his customary thrilled shiver at hearing Skinner being
so completely in Master mode. He did his best to lower himself onto
his Master's waiting, ready cock without spilling any water, but it
was a fairly impossible task and a little splashed out onto the
tiles. Skinner laughed and nuzzled his slave's neck as Mulder impaled
himself on his Master's cock, and then slid down into the warm water
and rested there for a moment, trying to become accustomed to the
sensory overload of being in this position in the warm water. 

"Well done, boy," Skinner whispered into his ear. "I'll spank you
for the water later, but you didn't do too badly."

"Master did set an impossible task," Mulder pointed out, sighing
happily as Skinner angled his hips up and rocked even deeper into his
slave's body.

"That's a Master's prerogative," Skinner said throatily, his hands
fondling his slave's body idly. 

"Now, I want you to listen to me and listen well, boy. I want to be
assured of your best behaviour at 
the wedding this evening. I want you to be a credit to your Master."

"Yes, Master." Mulder nodded, privately wondering what mischief he
could possibly get into at a wedding. 

"Also, you will not touch your cock from now on. If you need to use
the bathroom you'll ask my 
permission," Skinner told him. "No jerking off, nothing. If you're
good, you'll get to come in our room at Murray's house after the
wedding. If not..." He left the sentence hanging ominously. "To make
things a little more interesting..." Skinner's voice had a tone of
amusement in it that Mulder found worrying, "I've had Donald and
Elliott incorporate a chastity belt into your outfit."

"You did what?" Mulder said, trying to stand up, completely
outraged. Skinner grabbed him firmly by the hips and kept him in
position.

"You heard. Not only will you need my permission when you need to
use the bathroom - you'll also need my key," Skinner said, in that
same, low, throaty tone.

"Oh god." Mulder's entire body convulsed in anticipation of such
deliciously restrictive torture. 

"I own you, boy. This body is mine," Skinner told him, running his
hands lightly over Mulder's pale skin. "And this..." Skinner reached
for Mulder's cock, took it in his hand, and caressed it lovingly,
making Mulder moan. "This is mine above all else. You can't come,
boy, in case you were wondering. I want you nice and aroused all day
just thinking about how you can't come, and how much you want to."

"Please..." Mulder whispered, throwing his head back as Skinner's
big, blunt thumb caressed the sensitive flesh on the underside of his
cock. 

"No," Skinner told him firmly. "Who do you belong to?"

"You, Master," Mulder whispered, forcing himself back from the brink
of his own arousal. 

"That's right - you're mine, and this is my big cock in your ass,
ramming that message home." Skinner wrapped his arm around Mulder's
waist and began thrusting into him in earnest. Mulder tried to think
of cattle ex-sanguination and fire wielding mutants but it was all he
could do to hold back from coming while Skinner was filling him so
expertly. Finally his Master came, leaving Mulder totally frustrated.
He wanted to come so much that his balls ached, and yet there was
something diabolically delicious about his Master's plan. Skinner lay
back in the warm water with a happy sigh and Mulder turned and
glanced at him over his shoulder.

"Master is beyond cruel," he said in an abject tone.

"Yes, boy." Skinner nodded and gave a broad grin. "Now get your ass
out of the bath, and into the bedroom. I owe you a spanking and I
think I'll administer it to wet skin - just to make it count."

Mulder got out of the bath, reeling from the dark thrill of being
with his Master when he was in such an uncompromising mood. Skinner
was a long way from being the lost, despairing man Mulder had nursed
back to health a few weeks ago, and, while Mulder was seething with
arousal and sexual frustration and trepidation about the spanking
ahead, he was aware, in some dim part of his psyche, that, torture
though this was, his Master was keying in to all his fantasies right
now. He suspected, although he couldn't be sure and he knew Skinner
would never tell him, that this was his Master's way of thanking him
for his help and support during his recent illness.

Mulder scooted out into the bedroom, and stood, waiting for further
orders. Skinner emerged a few seconds later, still damp, wrapped in a
bathrobe. 

"Put this towel on the bed and then lie face down on it," Skinner
ordered, throwing his slave a towel. Mulder did as ordered and a few
seconds later he felt the cool sensation of a long, thick, leather
strap being trailed over his ass. He held his breath, waiting, but
nothing happened. Skinner just kept floating that belt over his
slave's back and bottom. Mulder began to relax, and then gave a gasp
as his Master slapped a light, stinging swat onto his bare, wet
bottom. It gave a little thwapping sound as it made contact with his
damp skin, and it smarted. Mulder moaned, and opened his legs wide,
loving it when his Master sometimes gently slapped the belt over his
exposed asshole.

"Wider," Skinner instructed and Mulder obeyed readily. He told
himself, in his head, that this was a particularly hard punishment to
endure, but in reality he was always turned on when his Master sought
out his anus with his belt, aiming deliberate little licks at it
until it smarted both with sensation and the slight sting of pain.
Skinner slapped the belt back onto Mulder's buttocks several times,
warming them, and then returned to his slave's delicate opening. He
aimed his belt in there over and over again, very lightly, until
Mulder was wriggling around on the bed, both to evade the beautiful,
hideous sting of the belt on this most sensitive of areas and also to
try and accommodate his thick, full, hard cock which was jutting out
uncomfortably in front of him. The spanking was less of a punishment
and more of a deliciously erotic treat and Mulder was half out of his
mind with pleasure by the time Skinner stopped.

"Okay, boy. You've gotten all sweaty again. Go take a shower and
then come out here to get dressed - and don't you dare jerk off in
the shower. I'll know if you do and then you can give up any idea of
accompanying me to this wedding," Skinner told him sternly. Mulder's
heart jumped in his throat. It had been a long time since he'd
disobeyed his Master; he had wanted to jerk off in the shower, but he
knew he wouldn't have done it.  He rose up off the bed, and, overcome
by the high of the spanking, he knelt down in front of his Master,
and kissed Skinner's feet. His cock was still hard, and bobbed in
front of him, but his Master was as cruel as Mulder liked him to be
on occasions like this, and took absolutely no notice at all of his
slave's plight. Mulder got up and went to the shower, feeling dazed.
It was then that he realised, as he surveyed his desperate cock, that
it would be hours before he got the chance to come. With a sigh, he
turned on the shower to its coldest temperature and stepped under the
freezing water.

When he finally stepped out 10 minutes later, his cock had just
about returned to its normal size, for which Mulder was grateful. He
returned to the bedroom, dried his hair, and then knelt by the bed at
his Master's order.

"Close your eyes." Skinner came over to his slave, holding a
blindfold in his hands, and Mulder did as ordered. Skinner bound the
soft leather tightly over his slave's eyes, making it impossible for
Mulder to see a thing, and then ordered him to stand. "First the
chastity belt," Skinner said, and Mulder felt him wrap what felt like
a cool box around his genitals. A belt was fastened around his waist
and the box was attached to that. "It's open right now. I'm going to
close it and then lock it," Skinner said. He placed his hand on
Mulder's cock to force it back into the cage, and Mulder moaned as
his treacherous body betrayed him once again, and he hardened
instantly. "Ah, that's very flattering, but it'll just make it even
more uncomfortable for you," Skinner said, forcing Mulder's cock down
and back. A minute later, Mulder felt a terrible pinching in his
genital area as Skinner closed the cage, and he gasped. "If you lose
that erection it won't hurt," Skinner told him, without any sympathy
at all in his voice. "Now, for the lock." Mulder heard a little click
and he swallowed hoarsely.

"You won't lose that key will you, Master?" He said feebly.

Skinner laughed. "Don't worry about that, slave."

"You've got a spare set haven't you?" Mulder fretted. 

Skinner just laughed again and made no reply. "Okay. Now for your
pants. Here, lean on me and step into them," Skinner said, guiding
Mulder's legs as he spoke. Mulder felt a plush, soft fabric on his
legs and sighed with pleasure. This felt nicer. Skinner fastened the
pants and Mulder frowned.

"Won't I look very strange with the fabric of the pants straining
over the bulge of the chastity belt, Master?" He questioned.

"No need to worry about that, boy. That's what this is for," Skinner
said, and Mulder gave another little gasp as something was fitted
over the cock cage. "It's a cod piece," Skinner told him
informatively. "Something the Elizabethans used to wear to, one can
only assume, draw attention to their 'manhoods'. There. Ah, I can
assure you that people's attention will be very much drawn to your
manhood, slave. It's a good thing they'll only be able to look and
not touch." He gave what Mulder could only describe as an evil laugh
and then continued dressing his slave. He fastened what felt like
light chains to Mulder's nipple rings and then helped his slave into
what felt like a gauzy shirt. A pair of calf length boots were pulled
onto his feet, and finally Skinner applied lip gloss to Mulder's lips
and then undid his slave's blindfold. 

"Ready?" He asked. Mulder offered up a brief prayer and then nodded.
Skinner whipped the blindfold away and Mulder gazed at the vision of
himself reflected in the mirror in front of him.

"Oh. My. God." He hissed. "Oh my god!" He was wearing a pair of
exquisitely beautiful cream coloured velvet trousers that hugged his
legs, accentuating their long lines, and snuggled intimately into his
ass, leaving nothing to the imagination. His groin seemed to jut out
at a positively obscene angle; the codpiece was made of cream
leather, and decked out with a multitude of glistening jewelled
stones in reds, blues and greens. He was wearing a see-through gold
gauze shirt, through which he could see the sparkling silver of the
chains Skinner had attached to his nipple clamps. Skinner had also
attached a length of fine but strong gold chain to his collar, which
ended in a black leather lead that Skinner clearly intended to hold,
keeping his slave leashed for the evening. Even the boots were kinky.
They had two black spurs at the heel with a little hole in each, as
if they had been designed for some particular purpose although Mulder
couldn't think what. Mulder thought he looked exotic, beautiful,
utterly ridiculous and, above all, like a total sex object. A
creature to be petted, stroked and fucked, with his glistening lips
promising oral sex, and his accentuated groin promising much more
besides. "Oh shit," he whispered. "You don't think...there's the
slightest possibility that I'll be, uh, overdressed, do you, Master?"

"No, slave. I don't. This is a scene wedding - trust me, you'd look
an idiot if you turned up in jeans and a sweater. This occasion is a
chance for people to wear their most outrageous clothing and to enjoy
it, without worrying about looking stupid or out of place."

"What will *you* be wearing then, Master?" Mulder asked innocently.

Skinner grinned. "Watch," he said, in such a low, dark, promising
voice that Mulder felt tingles of anticipation pass up and down his
spine. He knelt beside the bed and did as ordered as Skinner took the
other outfit out of its wrapping...and then practically drooled as
Skinner showed him a beautiful, exquisite morning suit - made
entirely from the finest, butter-soft black leather. There was an
expensively tailored white cotton shirt to go with it, but the bow
tie was also made from leather. Mulder just sat there and stared at
it. The scent of fine quality leather filled his nostrils and made
his cock harden uncomfortably again inside its prison.

"It's...beautiful," Mulder breathed. "Can I help you dress, Master?"

"I'm counting on it," Skinner said, laying the leather morning suit
carefully on the bed. Mulder scrambled to help his Master. Skinner
clearly wasn't going to wear underwear beneath such a magnificent
outfit, and Mulder spent far longer than was entirely necessary
helping his Master into those leather trousers and smoothing the
fabric up his Master's long legs. He nestled Skinner's cock and balls
lovingly into the pants and then fastened them at the waist.
Skinner's legs were getting tired by this point, so he sat on the
side of the bed, his arms outstretched, and allowed his slave to help
him into the white shirt. Mulder took his time smoothing the cotton
over Skinner's broad, strong shoulders and then did up the mother of
pearl buttons. Then he fastened the crimson leather cummerbund around
his Master's waist, before helping his Master into the leather
jacket. Finally, he knelt and helped Skinner into a pair of black
socks and some shiny, Italian leather black shoes, before standing
back and surveying his Master in stunned silence. Skinner didn't just
look magnificent - he looked superbly glorious with the fabric
stretched tight over his muscular frame. He was a little leaner than
usual after his illness, but that only served to accentuate his
enviably slim waist and endlessly long legs. It was such a perfect
combination of traditional morning suit and fetish costume that
Mulder was full of admiration for his Master's creative abilities.

"I should have known that someone who wore such expensive suits and
tasteful shirts and ties would be hiding a deep, dark interest in
fashion under his FBI work clothes," Mulder commented with a grin.

"There's nothing wrong with caring about your appearance," Skinner
reprimanded mildly but Mulder couldn't help but suppress a grin. The
truth was that Skinner loved clothes in a way that Mulder couldn't
begin to comprehend, but that didn't matter. Skinner loved dressing
his slave as much as he loved dressing himself, and despite his
occasional embarrassed moments, Mulder was coming to enjoy the
pleasure of being dressed to his Master's taste and exact
specifications.

"Y'know...I think we look pretty damn good," Skinner said, putting a
big arm around his slave's shoulders and surveying them both in the
mirror. Mulder had to agree. His own cream outfit blended perfectly
with his Master's black and crimson, and it was also clear who was
Master and who was slave, just as Skinner had predicted. Mulder's
costume was soft and lush against Skinner's harder leather outfit,
and they looked as if they belonged together.

"Now go and put some kohl and mascara on your eyes," Skinner
ordered. "I have one last thing I need to do."

Mulder gazed at him speculatively but did as he had been ordered.
When he returned to the bedroom, Skinner was waiting, with two thick,
long, dark coats laid out on the bed. He was also carrying a leather
duffle bag, much to Mulder's curiosity.

"Am I allowed to know what's in the bag?" He asked.

"You'll find out soon enough," Skinner replied infuriatingly. They
pulled on their coats, which effectively disguised their outfits,
although Mulder couldn't help flushing at the thought of being seen
out in make up. 

"One more thing," Mulder said, as Skinner turned to go. "I went
online and found something I thought would suit you. Having seen your
outfit I'm pretty sure it'll look perfect with it." He knelt and
retrieved a package from under the bed and then handed it to his
Master. Skinner ripped the wrapping paper from it, and then gazed at
the thick, black, leather bound cane, with a silver engraved handle
in the shape of a bear's head. Mulder knew that Skinner was sensitive
on the issue of needing to use a cane but although his walking was
much better, this was a big occasion and they both knew that
sometimes, especially when he was tired, he faltered and needed
support. The cane would give him that while at the same time just
looking part of the costume - and lending it an even more
distinguished air. Mulder waited, unsure what the reaction would be,
wondering whether Skinner would be offended that his slave thought he
might not manage to be steady on his feet all night, but Skinner's
expression told him he'd done the right thing.

"Thank you," he said softly. "It's just right." 

Mulder smiled, and picked up their overnight bag, while Skinner
swung the mysterious duffle bag over his shoulder and they set off
for the wedding.

It was dark and cold when they stepped out of the car at Murray's
house an hour or so later. The snow was crisp underfoot, and the
lights were ablaze in Murray's house, making it look warm and
welcoming. Mulder got out of the car and then went around and opened
his Master's door. Skinner stepped out, his breath lacing the icy
air. 

"Take off your coat - I want to make a grand entrance with you,"
Skinner ordered, removing his own thick overcoat. Mulder crammed both
the coats into the overnight bag,   and was about to follow his
Master into the house when Skinner paused, and opened the duffle bag.
"There's one more thing I want you to wear," he said. "Something to
set off the whole outfit and to remind you who you belong to and why
you're wearing that chastity belt." 

Mulder took a deep breath. "Somehow I have a feeling I'm not going
to like this," he muttered.

"Oh, you're going to love it," Skinner chuckled. He pulled something
that clunked and tinkled out of the bag, and then knelt down beside
his slave, and fastened it to the spur of his boot. Mulder looked
down in horror as he realised what was happening. Skinner fastened
the other end of the thick gold chain to the other spur, and it was
then that Mulder realised the spurs had been deliberately fashioned
to serve this exact purpose. Skinner stood up, a somewhat evil smile
curving his sensuous lips.

"Now you're hobbled," he said, before grabbing his cane in one hand
and the end of Mulder's leash in the other, and walking slowly and
majestically towards the entrance of the large house. Mulder had no
choice but to follow on behind, stunned by this last, diabolical
proof of Skinner's mastery over him. "Walk in pigeon steps or you'll
fall over," Skinner warned over his shoulder. 

"Yeah. Right. Way to spoil my fun for the whole night, Master,"
Mulder groused, as he took one tentative step forwards, and then
another. The hobble allowed him a couple of handspans of movement
and, in fact, it wasn't hard to walk in the chains at all as long as
he remembered that they were there. Mulder quickly realised that a
little running step was the best way of keeping up with his Master's
long strides. It was humiliating, but then Mulder figured it was
intended to be. He felt like a geisha as he made his mincing little
movements behind Skinner, at the end of his Master's leash.
The house was full to the brim with guests. Murray had clearly
spared no expense in decking it out with dark red and white flowers,
and the enormous staircase was swathed in velvets and silks in rich,
deep reds, golds and creams - the exact same shades, Mulder realised,
as Skinner's cummerbund and his own cream velvet suit and gold shirt.
Obviously a *lot* of planning had gone into this wedding. The guests
were dressed in a multitude of rich fabrics. Mulder saw uniforms and
brocades, corsets and rubber, and other exotic plumage. People were
laughing and showing off their costumes as Skinner walked into the
house, carrying his walking cane in one hand and leading his slave by
the other on the end of his leash. The laughing and chatting
continued for a moment, as Skinner came to a halt and stood,
unmoving, resplendent in the hallway, and then, slowly, a hush fell
over the room, as everyone turned to gaze at the two late entrants,
in their exquisite outfits. 

Mulder felt a shiver run up his spine and he knelt beside his Master
the moment Skinner stopped walking, as he had been trained to do,
every inch the obedient slave. A little hum of approval radiated
around the room at the perfect tableaux Master and slave made, framed
in the doorway, dazzling and splendid. Skinner stood with his legs
slightly apart, his walking cane on the floor in front of him, his
hands resting lightly on it. 

"I hope we're not late," he said, glancing at Murray and Hammer, who
had materialised out of nowhere and who were both staring at him as
if they'd seen a ghost.

"No...but...we built a makeshift ramp...we thought..." Hammer began,
gesturing in confusion.

"Where's your damn wheelchair, man?" Murray roared, cutting through
Hammer's polite stuttering.

"As you can see..." Skinner lifted his hands and gestured to his
long legs with his black cane. "I don't need it. True, I'm not as
steady as I was, but that's why I have my slave to lean on." He
glanced down at Mulder with a little smile.

"This is fantastic, Walter! Last time we saw you, you were the
colour of that snow out there. We were all so worried about you, and
then Mulder said you didn't want any more visitors..." Hammer shook
his head, still looking at Skinner as if he didn't believe his eyes. 

"I told him to say that," Skinner said. "He and I had some things to
work through. As you can see, we were successful."

"What I can *see* is that the Master is so jealous of his slave's
beauty that he's got him hobbled and leashed!" Murray said with a
roar of laughter. "Or maybe you thought you'd teach him a lesson
about how hard it is when you can't walk properly - is that it?" He
gave another hearty roar of laughter. Skinner shook his head and gave
Mulder another little smile.

"Ah, the first explanation is closer to the truth. I couldn't have
wished for a more devoted slave throughout my recuperation," he
replied, reaching out a hand to tousle his slave's hair
affectionately. Mulder was sure that he'd have found such a gesture
profoundly embarrassing in any other company than this, but here he
found himself leaning into the caress and smiling dreamily at the
pleasure of being touched by his Master. He wanted all these people,
all these exotically dressed slaves, Masters, Mistresses and subs, to
know that he was with this magnificently attired man, that he was the
Guardian's slave, and much loved by his Master. It made him tingle
all over to know he was being so publicly viewed, and now he was
pleased that his Master had dressed him in this exotic outfit. He had
always had a love/hate relationship with people looking at him in the
past, but now the love was definitely to the forefront. The truth was
that he had an exhibitionist core to his soul, and he had grown more
comfortable with that fact under his Master's tutelage. Whereas
before he'd have found it embarrassing to be seen being so obviously
submissive in such revealing clothing, now he found it thrilling, and
he wanted to be showed off and displayed all night. He remembered one
of the previous occasions when he'd been at Murray's house, when
Skinner had sold him to Perry in a slave auction. Mulder hadn't
enjoyed it at all and his Master had been surprised, as he had
thought it would have given his slave a thrill. Now Mulder understood
the appeal of public display, and he was much more relaxed about his
role. Next time there was a slave auction, he thought he might ask
his Master to submit him to it - on the understanding that he would
not be required to perform any service more personal than a massage
of course. He knew Skinner wouldn't agree to anything other than that
in any case; his Master had never made any secret of the fact that he
was a very jealous man, and his slave was his property and his alone. 

"Has the bride arrived?" Skinner asked.

"She's about to make her grand entrance," Murray said, waving his
hand at the staircase. "The ceremony will take place in the Lodge."
Murray's house was extremely palatial, and Mulder knew there was a
guest house in the grounds which was referred to as 'the Lodge'. 

"Fox - why don't you take your luggage up to your room?" Hammer
suggested. "You know which one it is - the same one you used last
time. It's the best in the house apart from our own and that of the
bride, obviously!"

Mulder looked to his Master and Skinner gave him a nod of
permission. He hobbled up to the big bedroom, with its four poster
bed and en suite bathroom, dumped their overnight bag there, then
scooted back down to his Master's side as fast as he could with his
chained ankles, eager not to miss anything.

He got back just in time, as there was a sudden drumroll from the 5
piece band located in the centre of the stairwell, and everyone
looked up. A collective cheer went around the hall as Elaine made her
entrance at the top of the staircase. She looked stunning in a tight
crimson velvet dress, made in the style of an old fashioned, turn of
the century, riding habit. She was wearing a hat, from which hung a
red veil, there were black gloves on her hands, long lace up boots on
her feet - and she was carrying a riding crop. Mulder grinned, loving
the sheer theatricality of this event. He joined in the clapping as
she walked, in an utterly regal way, down the stairs, waving to
people with an elegant twist of her wrist as she went, obviously
enjoying herself enormously. She got to the bottom of the staircase,
and that was when Skinner stepped forward and offered her his arm.
Her eyes widened, and turned a little glassy as she saw him.

"Walter," she said softly. "I knew you wouldn't let me down. Hammer
was prepared to be your stand in but I told him it wouldn't be
necessary. I knew you'd be here."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," Skinner replied, in a
low, husky voice. "You have my slave to thank for the fact that I'm
not here in my wheelchair though."

"Ah." Elaine sought out Mulder in the crowd, and her eyes held his
for a moment. Mulder knew, deep down, that however nice they had been
to him, and however warmly they had welcomed him into their circle,
Walter's friends had always wondered whether he was worthy of his
Master. He didn't blame them. They had seen how much trouble he had
been to Skinner; they had been involved in his dramatic falling apart
this past year, and they'd watched Skinner put him back together
again. Now, in this moment, as his eyes met Elaine's, he knew they
wouldn't doubt him again. She smiled at him, a knowing smile, and he
smiled back. Then the moment was over, and she took Skinner's arm and
allowed him to lead her to the door.

The crowd surged behind them, with Mulder hobbling close to his
Master, still at the end of Skinner's leash. They all rushed outside,
where, on cue, there was a sound of clattering hooves, and 4 pony
boys ran up to the house, pulling a small carriage behind them.
Mulder grinned at Ian as he came to a halt in front of the house. He
was the first pony on the right, and, like all the other identically
clad pony boys, was warmly clothed in winter furs, with a bridle over
his face and polished black PVC boots on his feet. There was a
tinkling of bells which was coming, Mulder surmised, from a variety
of body areas. Mulder guessed that if this had been a summer event
they might have been naked, but they looked good in their matching
outfits. 

"Here - Perry will hold your leash on the walk down," Skinner said,
handing Mulder's leash over to his good friend. Mulder grinned good-
naturedly, so caught up in the event that he didn't even care about
being handed so casually over to someone else.  

Elaine took the time to walk around stroking and offering sugar
lumps to all her ponies which they all took with good grace, and then
she sat in her seat, beside Skinner, in the little carriage. Skinner
picked up the long, black whip and swirled it around alarmingly,
making an impressive silhouette, lit by the lights from the house,
his long legs tightly encased in their black leather, his arms
powerful and strong as he wielded the whip like the Master he was,
his breath making a little white cloud in the air around him. There
was a loud snap as Skinner cracked the whip, and the pony boys
started forward on their cue. It was only a short walk to the lodge
so everyone else followed on behind.
The lodge was lit by slave boys holding real flame torches. They ran
to greet the party, and formed an aisle for them to walk down. Then
they were inside the lodge, and there, waiting in front of a large,
stone table in the enormous back room being used for the ceremony,
was David. He was dressed like a cavalry officer in a turn of the
century uniform, the red of his epaulettes and the flash of red in
his hat precisely matching the crimson of Elaine's dress. Mulder took
his seat in the room, beside Perry and an un-harnessed Ian, and they
watched as Skinner walked Elaine to the large stone table and then
stepped away and sat down beside his slave. David was so overcome by
the emotion of the event, and by his Mistress's costume, that he
immediately knelt before her when she came to stand beside him in
front of the stone table. Mulder didn't blame him - Elaine looked
fantastic. She smiled down at her bridegroom, and then tipped his
chin and stroked his cheek gently, but he remained on his knees
throughout.

Murray presided over the ceremony with his loud, booming voice, and
then David and Elaine read out their vows. Elaine presented David
with a thin, shiny gold collar which she placed around his neck.

"With this collar, I thee wed," she said, holding the two ends open.
"It's a specially crafted collar, David - once it's locked it will be
impossible to unlock it again. The only way you'll be able to get it
off will be to cut through it. Do you accept this symbol of my
ownership of your body?"

"Yes, Mistress," he breathed and Mulder felt a brief pang of envy. 

Elaine clicked the ends of the chain in place and the room broke out
in a peal of delighted clapping. David, for his part, presented
Elaine with a gold ring, in a more traditional wedding rite. 

"I pledge to serve you for the rest of my days, Mistress, as your
lover, servant and adoring slave until the end of time. I know I have
no rights over your body or your will, but I would ask you to accept
this gift as a symbol of my undying love," he said, in such a soft
voice Mulder could barely hear him. "To wear or discard as pleases
you, Mistress," he finished, glancing up at her hopefully. She smiled
and gave him her hand, and, with a delighted smile, he removed her
glove, kissed each of her fingers and then pressed the ring onto ring
finger. Another cheer went around the room and the happy couple
looked as if they had been frozen there, in that tableau, with David
kneeling at his Mistress's feet while she accepted his ring. Mulder's
eyes were drawn to Elaine's face. Even though she was the top, she
looked just as besotted with her sub as he was with her, and she
seemed delighted to be wearing his ring. Mulder thought back to the
previous November, when Tabi had asked why he wore a ring and his
Master did not. He remembered the note of sadness in his Master's
voice when he replied that nobody had given him one. Mulder knew that
was what Skinner wanted, but he also knew why he had not felt able to
give his Master that ring. It wasn't that he doubted his love for
Skinner - he doubted himself. He had never thought he would be able
to commit himself to one person, and live with him or her for the
rest of his life. He was, by nature, too restless, too tormented by
his own demons, and too scared that he might let down someone he
loved, and hurt them. At least... he always had been. Was he still
the same?

Mulder glanced at his Master sideways to find Skinner gazing, with
rapt attention, as Elaine and David finished their vows. Mulder
thought of the many times he had made his Master prove his love to
him; by keeping him after he had deliberately disobeyed him by
digging around in his Master's past in California; by chasing out to
Seattle to rescue him from Krycek's clutches; by standing by him
after he fell apart so spectacularly in the days and weeks that
followed; by collaring and branding him, and taking everything Mulder
threw his way and never, ever giving up on his slave. Mulder hoped
he'd repaid some of that devotion in these past few weeks when
Skinner had been so ill, and in some ways he thought Skinner's
illness had helped him understand his role more clearly. He was just
as capable as Skinner; he could be the strong one too, strong enough
to keep them both together. He had been forced, during Skinner's
illness, to make decisions that affected both their lives, and he had
done so with confidence and maturity. Maybe he was wrong to doubt
himself. 

The ceremony came to a close, and Skinner picked up Mulder's leash
and led him back out into the night, where they all followed the
happy couple back up to the main house.

"Did you enjoy it?" Skinner asked his slave as they walked - or
rather Skinner walked and Mulder trotted.

"It was okay. For a wedding." Mulder shrugged nonchalantly. Skinner
gave him a sideways grin and tugged affectionately on his leash.

"Ah, my unromantic slave - although I think, this past year, you've
come to appreciate some of your Master's more romantic gestures -
yes?"

"Master's slave has no choice but to accept it when his Master is
being romantic," Mulder replied with a sly grin. Skinner gave a bark
of laughter.

"Insolent pup. I should tan your hide for that!" he growled, but
instead he stopped, and pulled Mulder into a heart stopping kiss, his
hands finding his slave's ass and fondling insistently. Mulder
surrendered happily to his Master's embrace, feeling his cock
stirring in the evil chastity cage that imprisoned it.

"Please, Master," he whispered, pressing himself against his
Master's body. "We could steal away for a few minutes, couldn't we?"
He asked plaintively.

"Ah, is my boy suffering?" Skinner looked as if he was pleased by
the thought so Mulder guessed that sympathy was going to be in short
supply. "Later, my boy, I'll fuck you so hard you'll scream," he
said, his hands still caressing his slave's ass, his breath warm on
Mulder's cheek.

"Why wait until later?" Mulder pleaded, his cock growing even harder
inside its prison.

"Because we have a wedding to attend!" Skinner gestured with a
flourish of his arm, and then he set off up to the house with long
strides, tugging his slave behind him. Mulder had no choice but to
hobble along in his Master's wake, taking fast little steps to keep
up, cursing under his breath that 
he had a Master this fiendish.

They spent the next couple of hours talking, laughing and eating in
Murray's huge house. Elaine and David circulated around the room,
talking to all their guests, and then finally arrived at the table
where Mulder, Skinner, Ian and Perry were seated.

Perry grabbed a chair and offered it to Elaine, and Mulder pulled
one over for David, who declined with a slight smile, and knelt
beside his mistress instead.

"Ah, I think someone's too sore to sit," Ian commented as Elaine
started chatting with Skinner and Perry. "I thought you were walking
in a certain, uh, way, Dave - what did your beautiful but capricious
mistress do to you last night?"

"I was nervous." David gave a little grin and glanced sideways at
Mulder. "She got tired of me pacing around the house and sent me out
to have a good time."

"Ah. I think we know what that means." Ian grinned.

"What?" Mulder looked from one to the other, completely clueless. 

Ian snorted. "Dave's mistress has forbidden him from going to one
particular scene bar," he told Mulder. 

"You disobeyed her?" Mulder was aghast. "On the night before your
wedding?" 
David gave a dreamy smile. "I would never disobey my Mistress
without her permission," he replied.

"What?" Mulder said again, feeling even more confused now. Ian sighed.

"Mulder and his Master don't play games," he explained. "Everything
they do is for real,"

"That's not true!" Mulder protested, feeling aggrieved. "This is a
game?" He said, the light finally dawning.

Ian grinned at him, and then explained. "David is forbidden to go to
a certain scene bar - so if he *does* go there, it's pretty much a
done deal that he wants his Mistress to punish him. There's a barman
there - Louis isn't it, Dave? - who can be relied to call Elaine and
tell her that her errant boy is where he shouldn't be. She comes down
and gives him a very public spanking. I was there one night when it
happened." Ian winked at David. 

Mulder glanced from Ian to David, intrigued by this insight into
another couple's relationship. It wasn't true that he and his Master
never played games - they had introduced a very satisfying role-
playing element into their sex life and Mulder enjoyed it enormously.
However, he realised that what had surprised him was that David so
clearly initiated this particular game. He decided when he needed a
public spanking scene and deliberately went to this forbidden bar in
order that his Mistress could find him there and punish him. That was
something of a revelation to Mulder. He always threw himself into
role-playing games with his Master but when he thought about it,
there was no reason why Skinner had to do all the work. Mulder was
sure he could be just as creative in this arena. Maybe he'd lacked
the confidence before, but he felt their relationship had matured 
since the branding. 

"A public spanking?" Mulder questioned, feeling his body tingle all
over at that thought. He remembered how he had enjoyed being
displayed earlier, remembered that night, a couple of months ago, at
the leather bar, where Skinner had stripped and whipped him while the
crowd stood and watched, and how exhilarating that had been. "You're
a lucky man, David," he said softly, and he glanced up to find his
Master watching him, his dark brown eyes thoughtful. Maybe, just
maybe, Mulder thought to himself, it was time for him to start
initiating some sex games of his own.

He watched as Elaine and David started the dancing, and soon a
sizeable group of couples had joined them. 

"Would Master like to dance?" Mulder asked Skinner. His Master
smiled and shook his head. 

"I'm giving my legs a rest."

"Are you okay?" Mulder asked, with a worried frown. Skinner's legs
had stood up pretty well to the whole event, but they both knew that
Skinner was shakier when he was tired.

"I'm fine," Skinner replied. "Just pacing myself."

"Would you mind if I danced?" Mulder requested, surprising himself -
he usually just stuck by Skinner's side at events like this, and he
didn't even *like* dancing, but he had a glimmer of an idea and he
thought it would add some spice to the evening if it worked.

Skinner looked surprised as well. He thought about it for a moment,
and then nodded. Mulder looked mournfully at his hobbles. Skinner
rolled his eyes.

"All right, boy. Come here. I'll let you off your leash for an hour
or two."

Mulder grinned and shuffled over to his Master so that Skinner could
remove the chain linking his boots. His Master did so and then placed
a proprietary hand on his slave's cod piece.

"Be good, boy," he said.

"I will, Master," Mulder replied. "I know how jealous Master can be
and I wouldn't want to make him angry." He gave a startled Skinner a
wide grin, and hoped that would be enough to clue his Master in on
what he was doing. 

The dancefloor was teeming with people and Mulder felt strangely
free without the fetters on his ankles. It was a peculiar feeling,
being released from such confining chains, and he threw himself
around, enjoying the sheer physicality of being able to move normally
again. He saw people he knew from Murray's summer party the previous
year, and the various scene parties he and his Master had attended,
and he busied himself dancing with anyone who could stand to be near
his flailing, over excited limbs as he charged around the dancefloor.
Mulder had never been a good dancer - usually he was content to
shuffle around in an embarrassed fashion whenever there was dancing,
before making his excuses and sitting down again - but tonight he
felt a wild energy take over. He felt comfortable inside his own
skin, and he was with people with habits and lifestyles similar to
his own, so he didn't feel as if he was being judged. More than that,
he knew that somehow, inside his own head, something had clicked.
Maybe he had never worried so much about being judged by others as
being judged by himself. He didn't have that problem any more. He was
content with himself and he knew who he was. There didn't seem to be
any need for embarrassment, or to hide. No, he wasn't the best dancer
in the world, but that didn't matter as long as he had a good time,
and he definitely intended to do that. 
Mulder was aware of his Master's eyes on him, as he danced with one
person after another. He deliberately singled out the people he knew
were tops, women as well as men, and, with one eye always on his
Master, he danced with them energetically all evening. He was aware,
in turn, that Skinner's dark eyed gaze followed him the entire time.
Even when talking to Elaine, or Perry, or Ian, Skinner's eyes would
wander back to the dancefloor to see what his slave was doing. 

As the evening wore on, the dancing grew more intense. Mulder knew
that he was stoking an invisible fire between himself and his Master,
and he felt a warm, heady sensation course through his veins. This
was fun! He would never do anything to consciously hurt his Master,
but now Mulder could see a way forward - a way to walk that fine line
between the rollercoaster and the quiet life, so that both he and his
Master could have the occasional thrills and edginess that their
relationship thrived on, without that being a threat. Mulder knew he
had an inventive and curious mind, and he could see a whole future
for them where Skinner wasn't the only one who had to think up
scenarios they could both enjoy. The excitement of this knowledge
fired up Mulder even further, and he began teasing and taunting his
dance partners, flirting with them, fanning the flames between
himself and his Master to fever pitch.

Mulder put his hands around the biceps of the Leather Daddy he was
dancing with and made an admiring face, and then wiggled his hips in
a hopelessly inept parody of Mick Jagger on a bad day, feeling like a
shameless slut, his cock permanently semi-erect inside its cage. He
really didn't have any interest in Leather Daddy's biceps, which
weren't nearly as impressive as his Master's in any case, but he
could feel Skinner's eyes boring into him, red hot and ready to
explode. Just a little more heat...Mulder pushed his hips forward,
and realised, too late, just how obscene that looked while wearing
such a boastful codpiece, and the next thing he knew, his arm was
being grabbed in a tight fist.

"You. With me. Now," his Master growled in a low tone in his ear,
yanking his slave forcibly off the dancefloor. Mulder felt a thrill
of excitement as Skinner bundled him physically out of the room, and
then pushed him up the stairs. 

"What's the matter, Master?" He panted, as Skinner pushed him along
the hallway in the direction of their bedroom. Skinner's breath was
warm on the side of his face and neck, and he could smell the other
man's sweat and scent of raw, powerful jealousy.

"Your behaviour is the matter!" Skinner snapped, his grip on
Mulder's arm tightening. 

"I can't help it if people found me attractive tonight," Mulder said
slyly, deliberately stoking the scene.

Skinner gave a little growl of annoyance and kicked open their
bedroom door and threw Mulder inside. He slammed the door shut after
him and Mulder backed away, seeing the wild expression in Skinner's
eyes. He knew it was a sex game, a scene, but it was more than a game
too, and that was what gave it its edge. He knew that he had a safe
word - Wanda - if he was genuinely frightened, but he wasn't. He was
loving it. This was the first time he'd initiated any play of his
own, and although it wasn't a very sophisticated scenario, he loved
the feeling. He always adored it when Skinner was in full he-man
mode, and his Master sure as hell was looking big, strong and angry
as he faced his slave down.

"Slut," Skinner growled. "I think you've forgotten who you belong
to, boy."

"I think Master's jealous," Mulder taunted, edging back against the
bed.

"Yeah - oh yeah," Skinner slurred, his breathing come in harsh
pants. "Master sure as hell IS jealous, and I think I need to remind
you who your Master is."

Skinner pounced on him, stumbling slightly as his unsteady legs gave
way beneath him, and the weight of his body pushed them both back
onto the bed, with Mulder squashed firmly underneath. He lay there
for a moment, winded, and then realised he was trapped under his
Master's weight and Skinner was making no move to get off him. He
managed to free his arms but his Master grabbed them and pinned them
over his head.

"Who do you belong to, boy?" He asked, in a rasping voice. Mulder's
cock was as hard as it could get inside his cage and he gave a moan
of frustration as he realised that unless Skinner released him, his
cock would remain imprisoned throughout this scene.

"You, Master!" He panted. 

"I don't think you understand what that means," Skinner growled. "I
think I have to make you understand." Mulder felt Skinner's hands on
his pants, and the cod piece went flying, then he heard a ripping
sound as his Master literally ripped his pants from his body.

"Oh shit," he moaned softly, seriously turned on.

"Shut up, boy and get your legs open. I'm going to fuck you so hard
you won't forget who owns you ever again," Skinner told him. He
slapped the inside of Mulder's thighs open, and forced his body
between Mulder's open legs. Then he opened his pants, and released
his thick, swollen cock. Mulder watched, fascinated; no matter how
often he had seen his Master's erect penis, it still never failed to
impress him, and now, with Skinner in this mood, it seemed more
magnificent than ever. Mulder decided that a little more resistance
on his part was required - he didn't want his Master to have it all
his own way - so he wriggled out of Skiner's grasp, and, hobbled by
the remains of his pants, just as he had been hobbled by chains
earlier, he turned and threw himself off the bed. He heard Skinner
give a muffled curse behind him, and was half way to the door when he
felt his Master slam into him. He was pushed up against the wall, his
head angled to one side, his Master's big body covering him from
behind. His hips were grabbed and pulled back, his buttocks forced
open, and the next thing he knew his Master's large cock was impaling
him from behind, imprisoning him against the wall. He was cornered,
completely unable to move, totally and utterly at his Master's mercy.

"I'm going to fuck you right through this wall," Skinner promised,
and Mulder threw his head back, feeling the sweat run down his face.
This was so raw, so intense, that all his emotions were heightened.
"You'll think twice about making me jealous again, boy," Skinner
said, in a threatening voice, and then he gave a forward thrust so
savage that Mulder cried out. He lost all sense of the next few
minutes as his Master used his slave without mercy. He was just
grateful that Skinner had his arms wrapped around his slave's waist
as otherwise he didn't think his legs would hold him up. He couldn't
help but wonder about Skinner's stamina, and how long Skinner's tired
legs would hold *him* up, but right here and now, Skinner seemed
every inch the invulnerable, physically overpowering Master he had
always been. His thick, powerful cock impaled Mulder vigorously with
every thrust, and Mulder's own cock was so painfully erect inside its
cage that it was agony and yet all the nerve endings in his body were
telling him that he was having a fantastic time. He wanted to come
but it was impossible. He could only stand there, his hands uselessly
trying to find some purchase on the flat wall, as his Master made use
of him with a jealous intensity that Mulder could almost smell.
Skinner's cock pumped into him, hard and fast, stretching him as
never before, filling him. "Who are you?" Skinner asked on his inward
thrust.

"Yours!" Mulder panted in reply as Skinner withdrew. 

"Who do you belong to?" Skinner asked, thrusting again, just one
shade short of savage.

"You, Master. You! Please!" Mulder begged, knowing that he was
pleading for it to go on forever, and not to stop.

"I own you, boy," Skinner told him, thrusting vigorously. "I own
this tight asshole, and these nice, firm asscheeks. I own them. I own
you. I own your cock, which belongs to me and me alone. If you're
lucky I'll unlock that cage around it but not anytime soon. If you're
unlucky I'll throw away the key and you'll never come again. I can do
that because I own you, boy."

"Yes, Master. I know! I know! You own me! I'm yours! Fuck me,
Master! Use me!" Mulder gabbled incoherently. "I love you, Master! I
love you!" 

Skinner's hard thrusting reached a crescendo, and he gave a loud
roar as he shot his load deep inside his slave's body. Mulder
convulsed in time with his Master's orgasm, seeing white stars in his
head, his own body screaming for release. Skinner stood there for
what felt like an hour, his entire body pressed against Mulder's, his
arms still wrapped around his slave's waist, his cock still buried
deep inside him. Mulder could feel that his Master's head was hanging
down, resting slightly on his shoulder, and he could smell the heady
scent of the leather outfit his Master was wearing. He waited,
wondering what would happen next, and whether the scene was over, and
then his Master spoke, in a low, growling tone, in Mulder's ear.

"I'm not done with you yet, boy. You were deliberately teasing me
this evening and you're going to be punished for that."

"Yes, Master," Mulder whispered, and a thrill of anticipation ran up
and down his spine while his stomach did several somersaults. 

"I'm going to tan your hide, boy," Skinner told him, withdrawing
from his slave with a plopping noise. Mulder tried hard to remember
to breathe as his Master finally released him. He sagged, but Skinner
held him up until he was steadier, and then his Master moved away and
sat on the large, four poster bed, making himself comfortable on all
the pillows. "Over my knee, boy," Skinner ordered. Mulder eyed his
Master nervously. Skinner looked every inch the large, angry, Master,
sitting there in his leather pants, his shoulders gloriously
displayed in that tight, white shirt, open at the collar, the bow tie
and jacket long since discarded somewhere along the way. "Don't make
me come and get you," Skinner warned. "You're in trouble, boy. You
forgot the first rule of your slavery - that you belong to me and
nobody else touches you. You're going to be punished and punished
hard."

"Nobody else *did* touch me, Master," Mulder pointed out.

"People have been slobbering over you all night, boy," Skinner
snapped. "And you were encouraging them like a shameless slut. Now
come here - I'm going to tan your hide but good."

Mulder loved the threat inherent in those words and he stepped
cautiously forwards to meet his fate. 

"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered, as Skinner grabbed his wrist and
pulled his slave over his knee

"Oh, you will be, Fox. I can promise you that," Skinner replied. He
took a few seconds arranging Mulder over his knee, and then, leaning
forward and wrapping one arm firmly around his slave's waist, he went
straight in, whaling on his slave's ass in earnest from the very
first spank. Mulder hollered, kicked and screamed to begin with, but
Skinner had a tight hold on him, and his Master's hand was big, hard
and heavy, making short work of turning Mulder's ass into a crimson
beacon. Mulder stopped struggling when the endorphins hit him, and he
felt himself starting to fly. He felt his body relaxing, as he
received the first proper spanking he'd had since his Master's
illness. Sure, Skinner had started giving him his usual morning
spanking again, but mostly that was a few hard swats, and there had
been the occasional erotic spanking too, culminating in that
beautiful strapping earlier that evening, but nothing this intense.
This felt like punishment, a proper correction for transgressing his
Master's rules, and that gave it a special edge, making Mulder's
belly tingle and his cock ache even harder. It felt cathartic - more
than that, it felt totally and absolutely necessary, as an expression
of his Master's power over him after his recent illness. This felt
like Skinner's way of reasserting their roles in the most raw and
basic manner possible, and it thrilled Mulder to his core.

Then, finally, it was over, and Mulder lay a panting, sobbing wreck
over his Master's knee. Skinner let him rest there for a long time,
just stroking his slave's glowing ass, and muttering "Mine, boy,
mine," over and over again. Mulder turned and gazed at his Master
dreamily over his shoulder.

"That was fantastic, Master..." he began, but Skinner cut him off.

"I'm not finished with you yet, boy," he growled. "I think a further
lesson on this subject is in order. Lie on your back." Mulder did as
ordered, hissing as his throbbing bottom made contact with the cool
sheets. Skinner knelt over him, and quickly divested him of the rest
of his clothing, save for the cock cage. "This body is mine," Skinner
told his slave. "And I'm going to play with it. You can just lie
there and offer yourself up to me, boy. Don't expect any release.
I'll only set that cock of yours free when I'm good and done with
taking my own pleasure...and I might want to fuck you again before
that happens."

Mulder felt his entire body spasm at that news. He hadn't thought
this could get any better but it was. He watched as Skinner slowly
removed his own shirt, and threw it onto the floor. His Master looked
lean, tanned and fit, and Mulder wanted to touch him. He put out his
hands to caress his Master's chest but Skinner batted them away.
"Don't touch, boy. You belong to me - not the other way around," he
warned. Mulder swallowed hard and his hands fell back to his sides.
Skinner was only wearing his tight leather pants and the big black
belt with the silver buckle, and he looked totally magnificent in the
semi-darkness of the room. The moonlight bounced off the snow outside
and in through the still open drapes, illuminating Skinner's large,
domed head and shrouding him in silvery light as he bent his head and
worked on his slave's body. Skinner hands were both gentle and cruel
at the same time as they explored Mulder thoroughly. He stroked his
slave, rubbed his nipples into fine points, and then moved lower, but
always avoiding the groin area. Mulder moaned, and pushed his hips
up, seeking release, but Skinner shook his head.

"Is that cage pinching you, boy?" He asked. "I hope so," he added
darkly, and Mulder lay back on the bed, almost screaming with
frustration. Skinner held Mulder's arms pinned into the pillows over
his head, lowered his own head, and began licking Mulder's nipples.
Mulder groaned, sure that he would explode from sheer sensory input.

"Quiet, boy. Take your lesson and remember that this body isn't
yours to give to anyone else. It belongs to me and only I have the
right to do this to it." Skinner lowered his head again and began
sucking down more forcefully on Mulder's nipples, nipping at them
lightly with his teeth, causing Mulder to squeal and wriggle
pointlessly against his Master's superior strength and position.
Skinner did as promised - he played with his slave's body for what
felt like forever. Mulder felt sure his cock was dying inside its
cage but his Master's cruelty in not allowing him his release just
stoked the fire of his arousal even more, until he was incoherent
with need. He couldn't, at this point, have said just what it was he
wanted; he was just a total mass of jello, utterly surrendered to his
Master's whim, allowing Skinner to do what he pleased with him.

Skinner took hold of one of Mulder's sensitised nipples between his
thumb and forefinger and squeezed gently. 

"You're a slave. You're my boy. You belong to me," he hissed. Mulder
was beyond speech. He just lay there, whimpering. "And this cock..."
Skinner's hand went to the cock cage, and Mulder took a sharp intake
of breath, hoping beyond hope...only to have that hope dashed a few
seconds later as Skinner's hand passed over it and grasped his thighs
instead.

"I'm feeling horny again," Skinner told him. "I think I'm gonna bury
myself in my slave's hot, tight ass and fuck him into the bed," he
promised throatily. He moved his hands and began stroking his way up
Mulder's chest. He stroked his slave's neck and then pressed a finger
inside his slave's mouth. Mulder sucked on it greedily and Skinner
laughed. "Slave slut," he said. "*My* slave slut," he clarified,
presumably in case Mulder hadn't gotten that message. "Open your
legs, boy," he ordered. Mulder moaned, unable to believe that his
Master would fuck him again without giving him release but turned on
by that very thought. Skinner leaned in and stole a long, deep,
brutal kiss from Mulder's lips, leaving them bruised and him
breathless. "This asshole is mine," Skinner said, his thumb slipping
inside it as he went back in for another kiss that was so forceful it
pinned Mulder back on the pillows. Skinner took hold of Mulder's hair
in his fist and pulled his slave's head back, then kissed him again,
his thumb slipping rhythmically in and out of Mulder's ass at the
same time. Mulder opened his legs wider, greedily needing more, and
then Skinner removed his thumb, and Mulder heard him fumbling with
his own pants and a few seconds later his Master entered him again,
his mouth still covering Mulder's in a series of plundering kisses
that left Mulder breathless and in no doubt at all about who owned
him. His Master went more slowly this time, easily sinking himself in
and out of his slave's ass with lazy motions of his hips, his fist
still wrapped in Mulder's hair. Mulder was well and truly fucked by
his Master. Fucked without any thought for his own pleasure; fucked
for Skinner's release; fucked to prove a point - that he was owned, a
slave, and he existed to serve his Master. It was thrilling and
exhilarating and it was Mulder's ultimate turn on. He no longer cared
if he came or not...he felt utterly quelled, and totally in thrall to
his Master's every whim. Skinner was nose to nose with him, taking
those dark, hungry kisses from Mulder's lips, while he powered slowly
inside his slave's body. Skinner took his time drumming his message
home and Mulder's already sore ass started to feel stretched and even
more sore as the pounding continued. His whole body was quivering
with a surfeit of sensation - he felt almost as if he had sailed
through the waters of his own arousal and come out the other side. He
was his Master's plaything, his toy, his property and that was the
best feeling in the world. Skinner covered his mouth again, and
stayed kissing him forever this time; Mulder felt him come inside his
body and experienced his Master's groan of release deep inside the
kiss. Skinner continued to kiss him for several seconds longer and
then finally released him, and withdrew from his slave's body.

Mulder lay there, utterly shocked and stunned by the onslaught and
barely noticed his Master fish a key out of his pocket, and undo the
cage around his cock. It sprang eagerly up, and Mulder let out a howl
as Skinner took it in his fist and squeezed, hard.

"This is mine too," he growled, sliding his hand along the hard,
needy cock. "Shall I give it what it wants or not, boy?"

"I don't mind, Master," Mulder whispered, meaning it. "It's yours -
whatever pleases you." Skinner surveyed him for a long moment, his
dark eyes assessing, and then he gave a nod. 

"I think it pleases me to let you come, boy. Whenever you want..."
And with that he lowered his head and wrapped his warm, wet mouth
around Mulder's sensitive penis. Mulder yelped and bucked up against
his Master but Skinner didn't intend for it to be an easy ride. He
took Mulder's abused cock to the edge of orgasm and then released it,
sat back on his heels, and looked down on his slave again. "Whenever
you like, boy," he said. Mulder reached out to touch his cock and
bring himself to climax but Skinner brushed his hands back. "Your
cock is mine, boy. Don't touch it," he said, and Mulder felt another
wave of the most terrible frustrated arousal sweep through him. He
was so close! 

"Oh god..." he sighed, pushing his thighs high, needing release,
needing stimulation on his cock. 

"Master...Master..." He felt his cock spasm with need, and then,
much to his own surprise, he was coming without even touching
himself, and his come spurted out so explosively that it sprayed his
Master's chest. Skinner roared with laughter as Mulder lay there,
seeing white lights all around him. "Sorry, Master," Mulder murmured
dreamily, almost out of it. 

"Don't worry, boy," Skinner said, grabbing his discarded shirt and
wiping himself clean. "Your come belongs to me too!" He gave a deep
chuckle, and then threw himself down beside his slave and took him in
his arms.

They lay there for ages, gazing out of the window at the moonbeams
glancing off the white snowy world outside. Downstairs they could
still hear the sounds of dancing and laughter.

"Thank you," Skinner said suddenly, after more than an hour had
passed.

"Mmm?" Mulder glanced up at his Master hazily. Skinner dropped a
gentle kiss on his forehead.

"For providing the entertainment. That was exhilarating." 

"Ah." Mulder smiled. "Bet you'd begun to think I'd never initiate a
scene, huh?"

"I was starting to wonder," Skinner chuckled. "But it was well worth
the wait." He stretched out his big body, with a satisfied smile. "I
thought, after seeing the way you reacted to hearing about David and
Elaine's little arrangement, that maybe you wanted me to spank you
down there in front of everyone," he said.

"Maybe another time," Mulder sighed. "What happened tonight was
perfect. I wouldn't change any of it. You're really scary when you're
jealous, Walter."

"Yeah." Skinner gave an amused grunt. 

They were silent again for a long time and then it was Mulder's turn
to speak.

"I think I can see it now, Walter," he murmured.

"See what?"

"Life without the rollercoaster. We can invent our own rides. I
don't have to go into self destruct mode to make life interesting.
That was something I was worried about."

Skinner hugged his slave tight and bestowed a kiss on the back of
Mulder's neck.

"You're right. We don't need it. Although, knowing you, I'm figuring
there will still be *some* rollercoaster rides we hadn't planned on." 

Mulder gave a wry chuckle and stretched out - then moaned as every
single nerve ending in his body protested the movement. "Oh god I
ache. Why was it such a good scene, Walter?" He asked, stroking
Skinner's chest idly.

"Because it was yours - that's exciting when you start a scene and
someone else jumps in and runs with it," Skinner told him. "And maybe
because it was rooted a little in reality. I *am* a very jealous man,
Fox, and you...you've come into your own lately. You've grown and
matured. You've been spreading your wings, preparing to fly - and
while that's a good thing, it also can cause tensions in a
relationship. We poured those tensions into a scene and made it hot."

"But you think the underlying tensions are still there?" Mulder
looked deep into his Master's brown eyes.

"Yes." Skinner gave him a wan smile. "They have to be, Fox. I always
wanted you to get this far but I knew that if you did it would
inevitably decrease your dependence on me. I wanted to wean you off
the self destructive behaviour though. I wanted you to see yourself
and your needs more clearly, and be happy with them. If, in the end,
that means you need to move on one day, then so be it. Nothing stays
the same forever."

"Not even us?" Mulder frowned, trying to get his head around this
new knowledge.

"Not if it isn't right for us both," Skinner replied. 

"I don't want anyone else!" Mulder protested. "You've got no reason
to be jealous."

"I know." Skinner kissed Mulder's lips with infinite gentleness and
care.

"You're like my ultimate fucking wet dream and...a whole damn lot
more as you well know," Mulder told him.

"Yes...but maybe we'll both want more one day. You might want more
freedom and I..."

"You?" Mulder asked, feeling his breath catch in his chest.

"I might want more commitment," Skinner murmured.

"I asked you to brand me. What greater commitment is there than
that?" Mulder replied, in a choked voice.

"Not your body. I know I can have that. I know you'd give me that
because you like what I do to it and the way that makes you feel."

"You have my heart too," Mulder chided softly.

"Yes...but you never trust yourself enough to give all of it to me,"
Skinner replied, in a sad voice. Mulder gazed at him silently in the
darkness. He understood what his Master was referring to. It was hard
to put into words but he understood it. He worshipped his Master, he
adored him, but Skinner was asking him to love Walter, the man behind
the Master, and although Mulder honestly knew that he did, he was
still afraid to commit himself totally and irrevocably to that
emotion in case he let Walter down, the way he felt he'd let down so
many other people in his life, from his distant father and ailing
mother to his lost sister - and Walter, out of all of the people who
had ever loved him, was the one, above all the others, who Mulder
really didn't want to hurt. Better not to commit than to hurt Walter,
a voice inside him insistently whispered, and Mulder didn't know how
to make it go away. He wrapped his arms more firmly around his Master
and kissed Skinner's mouth with as much love as he knew how to give.

"I do love you, Walter," he said, and his Master wrapped his arms
around his slave in turn and kissed him back.

"I know," he whispered.

"Hey," Mulder said softly. "Of all the people I danced with
tonight...there was one person I missed. Would Master care to dance
with his slave?"

Skinner gave a little chuckle. "You hate dancing, Fox," he reminded
him.

"Not any more. I felt like I kind of got the hang of it tonight -
when I realised that it doesn't actually matter whether you're any
good at it or not. So..." He got up, and held out his hand. "Would
Master do me the honour?" He asked with a grin.
Skinner rolled his eyes but he accepted Mulder's hand anyway, and
swung his legs over the side of the bed. He tried to stand, but the
events of the day and the long, intense scene they'd just shared had
taken their toll on his weary legs, and he staggered. Mulder ran
forward and caught him, and Skinner hung onto his slave for a few
seconds.

"It's okay if you're too tired," Mulder said. "We don't have to."

"I *want* to dance with my slave," Skinner replied firmly. "You'll
have to help me though. I'm beat."

"It'll be my pleasure," Mulder assured him softly, and he held his
Master up, and allowed Skinner to rest his weight on him. He was
surprised to find how much he liked the way Skinner leaned on him for
support. It felt good. Mulder laced his arms around his Master's
body, and they swayed together in time to the music floating up from
downstairs. There had been so many revelations this past year, but he
thought the most intense one, for him, had taken place these past few
weeks, during Skinner's illness and recuperation and now, here,
tonight. It felt good having a big, strong, loving Master, someone
who could sweep all your worries away with a wave of his large,
capable hands, someone to take care of you and look out for
you...but, Mulder had to admit, it also felt good to be the one doing
the take care occasionally. It felt good being the person the other
guy leaned on, and knowing you were strong enough to do that - that
your life didn't revolve around you and your needs, mental, emotional
or sexual - that there was someone else who was just as important -
more so, because you loved him more than you loved yourself. That
felt best of all. 

They swayed around the room for a long time, neither of them saying
a word. Mulder thought they 
probably looked bizarre, himself naked, his Master clothed only in a
pair of leather trousers, both of them covered in little bites and
scratches from their vigorous sex session, but he didn't give a damn
about that. He didn't give a damn about anything except showing his
Master - no, showing *Walter* - how much he loved him. At some point,
he felt all the tension go out of Skinner's body, and his Master
lowered his head and rested it on Mulder's shoulder, and that, Mulder
thought to himself as he danced serenely around the room with his
Master in his arms, was better than all the most explosive orgasms in
the world.

Mulder woke feeling stiff the next day. He took one look at his
sleeping Master and decided to go and make some coffee to bring to
his Master. He got up and stepped into the shower. His entire body
ached but it was such a good ache. Looking down, he saw that he was
covered with a multitude of little bruises and bite marks and he
soaped them down proudly, tingling all over again when he remembered
just how good the previous night's scene had been. He didn't want to
think too much about the conversation that had followed it and
skipped to that dreamy dancing instead, savouring the memory of his
Master's muscled body under his hands, and the way Skinner had rested
his head on his shoulder. 
He got out of the shower, got dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee
shirt, and then wandered downstairs. It was nearly noon, and several
of the guests who had stayed overnight were already up. Mulder
greeted Ian, and they both laughed as Murray told an outrageously
obscene joke. He felt totally at ease in this company, and in his own
skin, as he talked to the various people in the kitchen. Suddenly,
looking around at the assembled guests in their various stages of
undress, Mulder realised that he didn't have a clue who was a top and
who was submissive. They were all just people, and, to be honest, it
didn't really matter any more. It had only mattered when he had been
ashamed of who he was and what he wanted. Now he could see that all
these people were just like him, one way or another. Nobody was any
better or any worse. It felt good - he felt, at last, as if he
belonged. He stayed for several minutes, chatting easily, and then
bumped into his old nemesis, Lee.

"Hey, Mulder." Lee, whose hair was now several shades of vermillion,
still had an annoying habit of smirking whenever he met Mulder. He
looked as beautiful as ever, his wide almond eyes and soft, tan skin
clashing with the vermillion hair to give him an appealing, exotic
look. "I saw your Master drag you off the dancefloor last night.
Looked like he was pretty pissed with you." 

"It was a scene, Lee," Mulder explained patiently, as if talking to
an idiot. Lee frowned, clearly annoyed at having the wind taken out
of his sails just as he was working himself up into full 'taunt' mode.

"Well, where's your Master now? If you're down here then I guess
he's up in bed alone. I wonder if he needs any company?" Lee goaded.
Mulder gazed at him blankly, wondering how on earth he'd ever let
this 
insect get under his skin.

"Be my guest, Lee," he said pleasantly. "I'm pretty sure Walter will
throw you out of the window but if you want to risk it then up you
go."

Lee gave him a vicious glare, and then turned his back on Mulder and
stalked away - but not, Mulder noted, in the direction of the
bedrooms. 

"Ah, it's amazing how some people change and others stay exactly the
same," a voice commented, and Mulder turned to see Murray standing
there, watching. "You're a good cub, Mulder. A handful, and
headstrong - but I think we're all starting to understand what Walter
always saw in you now. Hmm?" He reached out a surprisingly strong
arm, pulled Mulder into a warm embrace against his chest, pressed a
kiss against Mulder's forehead and then released him again, and was
gone. Mulder stood there, stunned, and then remembered his Master and
quickly made the coffee and took it upstairs. 
Skinner was still asleep when he returned. Mulder put the coffee
down on the nightstand, and kissed his Master awake.

"Hey," Skinner said groggily.

"I think your friends all thought I'd run out on you when you were
ill," Mulder commented, sitting down on the bed beside his Master. 

"Yeah, well, they don't know you the way I do." Skinner smiled.
"You've always been loyal to everyone you love, Fox. Loyal to your
mom when god knows she didn't seem to deserve it, loyal to Scully -
and most of all loyal to your lost sister. I don't think you give
yourself enough credit for that."
Mulder felt himself colouring at the compliment and changed the
subject hurriedly. "Oh - that reminds me, when Elaine first mentioned
getting married, you looked as if you weren't sure we could make it -
you had to look up the date in your diary. What was that about?" It
had vaguely bugged him at the time but he'd forgotten all about it
until now. Skinner gave him a little smile.

"I wanted to make sure it didn't clash with next week," he replied.

"What's next week?" Mulder frowned. 

"It's the anniversary of the day I took you as my slave. Next
Saturday to be precise. One year, Fox. 
It's been a year."

"Shit," Mulder said, shaking his head.

"Yeah - and luckily, it happens to fall on Saturday. Slave's day. I
have something special planned for that day," Skinner said
mysteriously.

"Mmmm...and I suppose that you won't tell me what," Mulder sighed,
snuggling against his Master and allowing Skinner to wrap a big arm
around him.

"Now, now, boy. You know that..."

"'Anticipation is half the pleasure,'" Mulder quoted. "Yeah. I know.
Or at least I should since that's what you've been telling me for a
whole year now."

"You'll find out on the day," Skinner promised, sipping his drink.
He leaned down and gave Mulder a coffee scented kiss and Mulder
opened up his mouth for more, his head spinning. A slave's day
anniversary had to be good - he couldn't wait.

They left early - the following day would be Skinner's first day
back at work since his illness, and Mulder wanted to make sure that
his Master got his rest. It felt strange the following day to bring
his Master his coffee, give him his customary wake up call, receive
his usual morning spanking, help his Master wash and dress...and know
that he wouldn't be going to work with the big man. Mulder didn't
regret his decision, but it had been easier to live with when it had
been some nebulous thing in his future, and now the reality of it was
kicking in and he felt at sea.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay with this?" Skinner asked, as
Mulder smoothed his Master's dark navy suit jacket over Skinner's
broad shoulders.

"I don't have a choice," Mulder replied with a shrug.

"You can change your mind." Skinner's dark eyes were sombre.

"I already told you - my resignation letter is on your desk...and
besides, I think the price of me changing my mind is more than either
of us would like to pay."

"Maybe so." Skinner gave a deep, weary sigh. "But I hate that
they're essentially blackmailing you into this, Fox."

"It'll be fine. I told you - there's a lot of stuff I always wanted
to do if I only had the time. Now...I guess I do. It feels weird but
I suppose I'll get used to it. I can always hang out with the Lone
Gunmen playing video games all day if I get bored." He grinned at his
Master. "Or cards. Or role playing games. Or..."

"Not without my goddamn permission," Skinner growled and Mulder
laughed. "Speaking of which, you do know you have my permission to go
after the bastards that did this to us, don't you?" Skinner told him
softly. "If there's a way, if it's possible to nail them - I'll be
right there with you. Just keep me in the loop - run everything past
me. I know you will anyway, but I'm saying that I'll help. I want to
be free of them just as much as you do - but if you want to let it
drop then I'm with you on that too. If you just want to live out the
rest of your life writing, or..." Skinner smiled, "being my slave,
then that's fine as well, although I don't think it'll ever be enough
for you not to have an outlet for that ingenious brain of yours. I
know it's too early for you to be making any decisions on this, but I
want you to know that I'll support you - whatever you decide to do."

"Thanks." Mulder nodded. "That means a lot to me, Master." 

"Oh, and there's something I had done while we were away overnight,"
Skinner said, grabbing Mulder's arm and pulling him towards the
staircase leading to the 18th floor apartment. Mulder followed his
Master, mystified, and he was even more mystified when Skinner led
him to the room that had been his old bedroom when he had first
arrived here as a new slave, nearly a year ago.

"Close your eyes," Skinner said. Mulder did as ordered. He heard
Skinner open the door and he was walked inside, guided by his
Master's hand on his shoulder. "Okay. Open them again," Skinner told
him, and Mulder looked around - to find himself in a fully equipped
study. The bed, nightstand and closet that had been here when this
was his bedroom were gone. In their place was an expensive oak desk,
several bookshelves complete with many of his books, a supply of
pens, pads of paper, a telephone, his computer...and there, right
above his desk, was his I want to believe poster. His fish completed
the tranquil working environment, swimming happily around their tank
in the corner of the room. "I realise this is a big change for you,"
Skinner said, "but I hope you'll find this a good place to work. I
thought you might like to have the peace and quiet of this apartment
as your office. You've got the en suite bathroom and the kitchen is
nearby of course. I thought it might be helpful, psychologically, if
you had somewhere else to go rather than our own apartment. So it
felt like there was a clear demarcation between work and home."

"It's..." Mulder gazed around the room, lost for words.

"Will you be able to work here d'you think?" Skinner asked him.
"Will it do?"

"Walter - I used to work in a basement, and you've put me up high
among the stars," Mulder said, startled into lyricism by the
unexpectedness of the gesture. "I think this will do just fine," he
added softly. "It's perfect, Walter."

"Good." Skinner planted a kiss on his slave's cheek. "By the way - I
also had some, uh, amendments made to the Playroom while we were away
too. I know I can trust you not to peek in there before Saturday, but
I'm just warning you not to go inside or it'll spoil the surprise on
Slave's Day."

"Mmm. I'm so looking forward to this Saturday you have planned,"
Mulder grinned. They both knew that Mulder wouldn't peek in the
Playroom. They also both knew that the Mulder who Skinner had first
taken as his slave wouldn't have been able to resist the temptation,
but that Mulder hadn't so much changed as matured, Mulder thought to
himself, as he walked back downstairs with his Master and watched
Skinner leave the apartment.

It felt strange at first. Mulder found himself making frequent cups
of coffee and then running to the bathroom as a result, just to avoid
sitting down and starting the huge, empty canvass that was his future
working life. Then he clicked on his email and found Scully's request
for a lunch date which cheered him up, and another few clicks brought
up an email from one of his old correspondents bringing his attention
to a mysterious case in Wisconsin that tied in with something he'd
worked on a few years before, and that prompted him to go back to his
old notes on the subject and before he knew it several hours had
passed and he had written a chapter plan for the book he intended to
write. He also emailed his Master for permission to fly to Wisconsin
later in the month to do some more in-depth research. Somehow, Mulder
doubted he'd be happy sitting behind a desk writing all day...he
still needed to get out and do some fieldwork...but he could at least
see what his future might be - and he felt content with it.

Someone else was very content to have him around as well. He'd been
in his new office for less than an hour when the door was pushed open
and he had a visitor. She leapt onto his lap, almost spilling his 3rd
cup of coffee in the process, and proceeded to settle down while he
worked around her warm, soft, sleepy, permanently purring body. Wanda
spent the entire day on his lap, and was thereafter his constant
companion whenever he was at home working. 

"Y'know...I used to think you didn't like me," Mulder told her at
one point, rubbing her ears and listening to her purring
ecstatically. "But really I think you were just waiting for me to
like you so you could add another slave to the one you already have.
You played a clever waiting game, and I have to say you've won,
Madam. You beat me. I worship at your altar, M'lady, and bow before
your dainty paws." He bent his head and kissed her soft forehead and
she tilted her head up to meet his lips. "Ah, you and I both know how
good it is to be a pet, to be stroked and loved, don't we?" He
grinned at her, and she trilled back her response. It *was* good, he
thought to himself, but he also knew it wasn't the end of the
journey. He could live like this forever, cocooned inside this
comfortable world of slave, Master and cat, and he knew he could be
as happy as Wanda here, safely wrapped up on his knee, but he was
growing and he could see that one day the gilded cage might no longer
be as attractive as it was now. He wasn't sure when that day would
be, but he could sense the change in himself and he didn't know what
it presaged or where it would lead him. It didn't scare him, as it
might once have done, into going off and doing something stupid, but
he was quietly aware that a change was in the process of taking place.

The week passed in a blur, but Mulder felt increasingly excited as
Saturday drew near. He knew that whatever his Master had in mind for
him would be good - it was such a special occasion, and Skinner had
shown himself to have a very inventive erotic imagination. It was
fortunate that their anniversary fell at the end of his first week
working on his own, as it gave him something to focus on and look
forward to, and that eased the transition slightly. 

His Master didn't make him wait too long for his gift on Slave's
Day. They ate a leisurely brunch together and then Skinner handed him
a parcel tied up in brown paper. "Open it," he ordered.
Mulder glanced at his Master and then pulled the string on the
parcel. The paper slid away easily, to reveal an orange prison
jumpsuit...and a pair of hard, metal handcuffs. Mulder glanced at his
Master with a frown.

"Get changed," Skinner said, his poker face giving nothing away. 
Mulder quickly scrambled into the clothes, leaving the handcuffs on
the table, unsure what to do with them. When he was dressed, Skinner
stood up, and picked up the handcuffs.

"Turn around and put your hands behind your back," he ordered.
Mulder did as he'd been told, and a second later he gave a little
groan of arousal as the metal cuffs clicked into place. This was
already hot and it had barely even begun. Skinner rarely used metal
cuffs on him - they were usually too restrictive and besides, both
men were used to handling these cuffs as the tools of their trade and
that made them a little less erotic. However, there was something
about the feel of the cold metal on his wrists, which, combined with
his Master's increasingly surly demeanour, got to Mulder, and he felt
his groin respond accordingly. There was something delicious about
being pushed, barefoot, his hands in their bonds, his Master's heavy
hand on his shoulder, up the stairs towards the 18th floor apartment.

They stopped outside the Playroom, and Mulder gave his Master a
nervous smile. Skinner didn't return it - he just glowered at his
slave and Mulder glanced at his own bare feet instead, feeling a
little shiver of fear course through his body. Skinner opened the
Playroom, and pushed his slave inside. The first thing Mulder noticed
was that there was a screened off area in one corner of the Playroom.
The room was enormous and they'd never used all the space so there
was plenty of room to play with. Skinner pushed Mulder over to the
screened off area, and then, just as they got tantalisingly close, he
stopped his slave, pulled a blindfold out of his pocket, and placed
it over Mulder's eyes. Mulder was now practically screaming in
anticipation, wondering what awaited him beyond the screens. Skinner
steered him there carefully; Mulder heard a clunk and the sound of a
key and his fertile imagination supplied all kinds of scenarios.
Skinner guided him forward again, and then, to Mulder's surprise,
pushed him down so that he was sitting on something hard. 

"You once went looking for something like this in a broom cupboard,"
Skinner told his slave, as he undid his handcuffs. "And I told you
that if you wanted to play in one this badly, that I'd see what I
could do."

"Oh shit. It's a dungeon?" Mulder asked, his stomach doing a flip.

"Yes - a very versatile dungeon," Skinner replied. "Today we're
going to use it as a prison cell, but another day - who knows? Happy
Anniversary, slave." Skinner whisked the blindfold off Mulder's head,
and Mulder gazed around at his anniversary present with a sense of
wonder. He was sitting on a hard, narrow bunk in a small 6 X 6 cell.
It was a real cell, surrounded by bars and with a lockable door -
there was no way out once locked inside what was barely more than a
cage. There was a toilet and basin in one corner, both pretty basic,
and a thin blanket on the bed. Apart from that, there was nothing in
the cell. However, the screened walls, outside the cell, held their
own terrors. They looked as if they had been roughly hewn out of
stone, and there were hooks all over them, with shiny new manacles
attached, and, taking up one screened wall all of its own, was a
cabinet of whips, paddles and canes. Mulder shivered. 

"This is just a start," Skinner said. "I ordered a rack too but
that'll take a few weeks to arrive."

"A rack?" Mulder moaned, his mind going into freefall.

"You'll love it," Skinner hissed into his ear. "Note the lighting -
I've kept it deliberately low on purpose." Mulder glanced up at the
one, bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling overhead and shivered
again. His Master stood behind him, and rubbed his hands over
Mulder's arms. "Scared, boy?" He whispered, his body warming Mulder's.

"Yes, Master," Mulder replied.

"Good," Skinner told him and Mulder swallowed hard at the promise
inherent in his Master's low, throaty tones. "Okay, let me tell you
how it's going to be today. This is your prison cell. I'm going to
leave you here for awhile to get acclimatised. I might choose to
leave you for hours at a time in future - maybe even overnight. It's
not comfortable, but there's a blanket and some basic amenities."
Skinner gestured with his head at the small basin and toilet in the
corner. "For now, I want you to think about how you ended up in here,
boy, what you might have done to wind up in prison, what kind of a
prisoner you are...and what awaits you at the hands of the other
prisoners."

Skinner stepped away, and walked out through the cell door. He
clanged it shut behind him, turned the key in the lock, and then left
the screened area. Mulder heard his footsteps, and then the light
click of the door signalling that his Master had left the Playroom,
and that he was alone. He felt the butterflies rise in his stomach
again, combined with a wave of total adoration for his Master. Trust
Skinner to remember what he'd said about playing in a dungeon, and to
go to all this trouble to hand him that fantasy on a plate. 

Mulder gazed at the manacles hanging from the screen walls outside
the cell and shivered, violently. He imagined himself hanging from
those manacles, as his Master whipped him with one of the whips in
the collection that was arranged so neatly on the other wall. It
thrilled, excited and terrified him all at the same time. Today
though, Skinner had signalled that they would play a different kind
of game. Today, Mulder was a prisoner...what kind of prisoner, he
wondered? A tough, seasoned pro? Or someone who'd never been in
trouble before? Someone scared, out of his depth, worried about his
future and the loss of his freedom...someone not entirely like
himself, this time last year, as he contemplated his new life as a
slave. He wondered if that had been what his Master intended, but it
didn't matter; Mulder knew this was a feeling he wanted to revisit.
He lay on the bunk, gazing at the metal bars of the cage he was
confined in, trying to imagine what this would be like for real. He
was an innocent, a man who had never been in jail before and had no
idea what to expect. He was scared - petrified, and he was all alone
in this dark, austere cell. Mulder stroked his swelling cock through
his jumpsuit. He was seriously turned on, but he didn't want to spoil
himself for the main event so he satisfied himself with just stoking
up the heat a little.

Some time passed. Mulder turned onto his side, brought his knees up
to his chest, and lay there, listening for noises. How long would he
have to wait, he wondered? Hours? Days? Skinner could keep him locked
up in here for as long as he wanted. Nobody was expecting him
anywhere...it was a terrifying thought, and, even though Mulder knew
his Master would never allow him to come to any harm he allowed his
imagination free rein as he really got into the role. He gave a jolt
of surprise as he heard a door slam, and sat up on the side of his
bunk, eager, expectant, and not a little afraid as his Master
returned to the dungeon area of the Playroom. Mulder wasn't sure what
he had been expecting but what he saw took his breath away.

Skinner was dressed like a prison guard, only he looked a million
times sexier than any prison guard Mulder had ever seen in the course
of his work. His long legs were encased in a pair of tight, navy blue
pants, over which he wore a pair of knee length boots, polished up to
such a high shine that you could see your reflection in them. His
pants were so tight that you could see the outline of his large,
straining penis through the fabric. Mulder took a deep breath, and
managed, finally, to drag his gaze away from the other man's crotch,
and take in the rest of his outfit. A pale blue shirt was stretched
tautly over his Master's superb chest and arms; it was as crisp and
sharp as the white ones Skinner habitually wore for his real job, but
this one was considerably tighter, and the fabric was strained over
bulging biceps and tantalisingly toned pecs. The shirt was tucked
into the pants, and a neat, black belt covered his waist...hanging
from which was a variety of keys that clinked and clanked as Skinner
walked. Mulder found the sound arousing for some reason he didn't
understand. Maybe it was the aura of power that those keys gave
Skinner; he was the one with the authority to lock and unlock the
prison which Mulder inhabited. In this situation, Mulder's whole life
depended on pleasing this man, and he could tell by the way Skinner
walked that he was aware of that too. A long, shiny black nightstick
also hung from Skinner's polished belt, and the outfit was completed
by a navy blue tie, and, on his head, a dark blue uniform cap. Mulder
took a deep breath of surprise as he realised just how incredibly
sexy his Master looked in this uniform. He wondered what Skinner had
looked like in his Vietnam uniform, but couldn't imagine his Master
as a gangly 18 year old boy. He was about to speak when Skinner
unhitched the nightstick from his belt, and ran it along the bars of
the cell. It made an appallingly loud noise and Mulder covered his
ears with his hands, wincing.

"You - the new prisoner," Skinner said, beckoning, and Mulder
realised they were going straight into this, and his cock gave a
little leap of anticipation.

"Yeah," he said, standing up and trying to stare the other man down.

"SIR!" Skinner barked. "You will address me as SIR at all times. Is
that understood, boy?"

"Yes...sir," Mulder said, licking his lips nervously. "But I think
there's been some kind of mistake. I'm innocent, sir. I haven't done
anything wrong. I shouldn't be here."

Skinner gave a thoroughly evil smirk. "Yeah, that's what they all
say, son," he said. 

"It's true!" Mulder retorted indignantly.

"Son..." Skinner shook his head, sadly. "A word of warning; you're
here for the next five years. Now...you're a pretty boy...plenty of
the other prisoners will be interested in you. You can make it easy
for yourself or hard - it's up to you."

"Wha...what do you mean?" Mulder asked, throwing himself into the
role and loving every second of it. 

"I can take care of you, boy. I'll look out for you, and I'll put
the word around with the other prisoners to leave you alone...but
I'll want something in return."

"You're blackmailing me?" Mulder asked incredulously. 

"No. I'm making you an offer...and the way I see it, it's an offer
you can't refuse, boy." Skinner gave another of those evil grins.
"Now, you can either be my bitch or you can suck the cock of every
guy out there who wants a piece of your ass. Do you understand me
now, son?"

"You can't do that!" Mulder replied, feeling his nerves tingling
with arousal at the thought of being Skinner's 'bitch'. 

"Sure I can." Skinner reached for the set of keys hanging from his
belt, and Mulder took a step back as he selected a key, placed it in
the lock, and turned. Within seconds the big man was in the cell with
him, locking the door behind him. "So what's it gonna be?" Skinner
asked, moving in too close, invading Mulder's personal space. Mulder
took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

"Go to hell!" He hissed. Skinner shrugged.

"You'll change your mind. When you see just how hard your life will
be." He gave a confident laugh. 

"And just how hard I can make it for you - beginning right now." He
gave a vicious grin. "Okay, son, it's time for your strip search.
Stand against the bars, legs open." He grabbed Mulder by the shoulder
and propelled him over to the bars. Mulder sagged against them, and a
few seconds later he felt his Master's hand roughly undo his jumpsuit
and yank it down to his ankles, despite his feeble protests and an
attempt to block the other man's way with his hands. "You do what
you're ordered, son. This is my prison and you're in my custody now,"
Skinner told him, grabbing Mulder's wrists and forcing his hands back
onto the bars. He stood close, too close, so that Mulder could feel
the warmth of his body, and the sharp, crisp folds of his shirt
against his back. "Ah, you really are one of the pretty ones. The
other guys in here are gonna love you," Skinner leered. "We have a
couple of murderers - they usually like to take their pick of the new
meat. I can see them fighting over you. They might pass you back and
forth between 'em until one of them wins."

"You're just trying to scare me," Mulder hissed.

"You should be scared, son. You should be real scared," Skinner told
him. "Now, keep your hands on the bars and your legs apart, or I'll
call an trustee to hold you down while I search you." He ran his
hands over Mulder's body, stroking lasciviously. "Mmm, nice toned
body. Long, lean legs..." Skinner mused as he stroked. Mulder stood
there, his entire body tense and trembling as Skinner's hands went
lower. He reached Mulder's buttocks and cupped them. 

"Please..." Mulder said throatily.

"What's the matter, son? Don't tell me you've still got your
cherry?" Mulder trembled even more violently at that and heard
Skinner's answering laugh from behind him. "Ah, you have. This is
good. This is real good. Mmmm...I can't wait to take that cherry from
you, boy. Better me than one of those guys out there - they might cut
you up some, rip into you, maybe use a knife...I won't do that. I'll
get you nice and ready for my hard cock, stretch you a bit, and then
I'll slide into you, nice and easy. You'll like that, boy. You'll
like feeling my hard cock inside you."

"No, please, sir...I've never done anything like this before,"
Mulder begged.

"You have to learn, son. Someone's gonna pop that cherry of yours
while you're in here and it might as well be me," Skinner told him.
"Now, hold still while I search you." Mulder gave a start of surprise
as he felt something hard and cold ease between his butt cheeks.

"Oh god...please...no," he whispered weakly, hanging onto the bars
of the cell.

"This is my nightstick, boy. I'm a similar shape but you'll find me
larger. There...just let it slide a little way in..." Mulder held his
breath as the cold, hard nightstick breached the ring of muscle in
his anus. "Just slide it in...you'll thank me for this later, boy.
Those guys out there wouldn't stretch you first - they'd just go
straight in, take what they want. There, legs further apart, boy."
Skinner leaned forward, insinuating one large thigh between Mulder's
legs, forcing them further apart, and at the same time he twisted the
night stick a little further in. Mulder felt the sweat pouring off
his body and realised he was fully erect, and dripping pre-come.
"Mmm, I think you like this, son," Skinner purred warmly into his
ear. "I think you want to feel my cock inside this tight little
virgin ass. Yes?" 

"No...I...please, sir...please, don't..." Mulder whimpered. Skinner
pushed the nightstick a little further in and Mulder gave a cry of
surprise. It didn't hurt - it was smaller than Skinner's cock, but it
felt cold, and different, and mainly he was just so totally into the
scene that he felt as if he was this innocent, virginal prisoner
being violated against his will. 

"Someone has to get you ready for your new life," Skinner told him.
"You have to be prepared, boy." He wrapped his arm around Mulder's
torso and impaled him a little bit more on the nightstick. "Just take
it, boy...take a bit more...that's good...I'm just slicking you up,
getting you ready..." He slid the nightstick in and out of Mulder's
ass for several minutes, one big arm keeping Mulder in position as he
slowly, grindingly, worked the nightstick in and out of Mulder's
anus. Mulder wasn't sure he could hold back from coming - Skinner
hadn't told him he couldn't but he wasn't sure he wanted to just yet.
He was enjoying this too much. "Now, it's me, or I throw you to the
guys out there," Skinner purred. 
"They don't look so good and they don't wash much either...I could
assign you to a different cell each night... they'd take you, one
after the other. Or, I could put the word around that you're my bitch
and anyone who touches you is dead...you should think about it, boy."

"I'll do it!" Mulder said desperately.

"Say it," Skinner ordered, still grinding that nightstick in and out.

"I'll be your bitch," Mulder said, moaning softly.

"There's a good boy. Okay. Let's see what I've bought myself then."
Skinner removed the nightstick, wiped it casually on the remains of
Mulder's prison jumpsuit, and took a step back. "Turn around, boy.
Put your hands over your head and stand under the light." 

Mulder stepped under the light and put his hands on his head as
ordered. He flushed as Skinner walked slowly around him, viewing him
from every angle. It didn't make any difference that this was his
Master, who had seen him naked every day for the past year - Mulder
was so caught up in the scene that it felt real. 

"Mmm, nice hair...and as for these lips..." Skinner changed ends
with his nightstick and stroked the handle down over Mulder's nose,
ending at his lips. He pushed the handle a little way into Mulder's
mouth and then gave a little sigh. "Yeah. I thought so. Cock sucking
lips. You ever sucked a man, son?" He withdrew the handle of his
nightstick and waited for his reply.

"No, sir," Mulder whimpered.

"That's another thing I'll teach you," Skinner promised. "You want
to feel my hard, thick cock in your mouth, boy?"

Mulder shook his head. "Please, sir..." he whispered. "No...please
don't make me."

Skinner snapped his nightstick back onto his belt. "I think you need
some time to think this through, son," he said, turning on his heel
and striding towards the door. He let himself out, locking the cell
door behind him. "You just sit here and think about what those other
guys will do to you, son. Then, maybe, you'll open those cock sucking
lips and put them to the use God designed 'em for." He turned to go,
and Mulder threw himself against the bars. 

"Please!" He cried. "I'll do it. Show me what you want me to do!"

"Aw, you're all scared. Okay...seeing as you're so hot to trot...get
on your knees, boy. This is one lesson I can teach you right now -
and, trust me, I'm gonna make sure you get a damn fine education."

Mulder got down on his knees in front of the bars, so that he was at
eye level with his Master's crotch. Skinner undid his pants, and his
hard cock sprang out, stiff and purple with arousal. Mulder gazed at
it in anticipation, pleased that the scene was turning his Master on
as much as it was turning him on. "Okay, boy, just open your mouth
and suck," Skinner ordered. He put his hands through the bars,
grabbed a fistful of Mulder's hair, and pulled his head forward. Then
he pushed his hard cock through the bars, and directed it into
Mulder's mouth. Mulder opened, with feigned reluctance. He was
excellent at giving head, having had a year's daily experience, but
in his role, he figured he'd be a little clumsy and not know what to
do, so he choked a little and tried to pull back. 

"You need to relax your throat, son. Just let it slip down easy,"
Skinner instructed, nudging his cock back into Mulder's mouth.
"There...oh shit...those lips of yours were made for this, boy. Now,
you do a good job and I'll make sure those other guys don't get their
hands on you. That's it...that's good...mmm, suck on it, son...that's
it...take it all the way in..." Skinner pushed his cock more
forcefully down Mulder's throat and Mulder held onto the bars to stay
in position. He closed his eyes and imagined viewing this scene from
afar. Himself on his knees, naked, hopelessly submissive, sucking
desperately at this prison guard's cock in order to save himself from
a much worse fate. It would have made a distressing reality but it
was a horny fantasy, and Mulder loved the feel of his Master's
magnificent penis in his mouth, the soft skin covering the hard flesh
like velvet stretched over hard stone. "I'm going to come," Skinner
told him, and Mulder could feel the big man's balls tightening. "And
when I do I want you to swallow me down, son. Just swallow...don't
draw back...there's a good kid. Doesn't that taste good, huh?" He
came in Mulder's throat, keeping his hold on Mulder's hair until he
was done. Mulder swallowed him down easily, but choked a little just
for the sake of the scene. 

"That was good, son," Skinner said, releasing his grip on Mulder's
hair. "Now...I'm going to go and do my rounds. When I come back, I'm
going to take that cherry of yours. I want you to lie here just
thinking about how that's gonna feel - my hard cock inside your tight
ass."

"Please don't do this to me," Mulder begged. Skinner grinned and
banged his nightstick against the bars of the cell.

"Get back on your bunk, son. I'll be back soon and I'll want to fuck
that virgin ass of yours when I do." And with that, Skinner walked
slowly away, trailing his nightstick noisily against the bars of the
cell as he went. Mulder sat back on his heels, feeling completely
abuzz with exhilaration. He though this might be one of hottest
scenes he'd ever played with his Master, and they'd played a few in
the past year.

He got up, and threw himself down on his bunk. The thin wool blanket
felt scratchy against his skin and his cock was sticking out at a
rigid angle. Mulder couldn't resist. He ran his hand down over his
long, hard penis and stroked it. He was aroused, but he didn't want
to come too soon so he pinched himself to cool down, then began
jerking himself off again. He did this a few times, until he was at
fever pitch, replaying the scene of poor, helpless young man and
blackmailing (and yet curiously seductive) prison guard over and over
again in his head as he stroked himself until he couldn't contain
himself any more and came over his hand. He lay there, sighing
happily to himself, and then heard the door click again. He didn't
know whether he was allowed to come or not, but he didn't want to
hold up the rest of the scene so he ran over to the sink and washed
himself off. 
Skinner appeared behind the screens a few seconds later. "Are you
ready to take the next part of your lesson, son?" 

"Couldn't I just suck you off again, sir?" Mulder asked in
trepidation, playing the young innocent for all he was worth. "It's
just that your cock is so big. I don't think it'll fit inside my ass."

"It'll fit, son. You'll stretch to meet my size, or I'll force it a
little," Skinner said, opening the cell door again and then locking
it behind him with a rattle of his keys. He came close, reached out a
big arm, and pulled Mulder against him. "Mmm, you're quite the
cutie," he said, pawing Mulder's naked body. He bent his head and
kissed Mulder's lips, still swollen from the sucking he'd done
earlier. 

"My, you taste good too," Skinner said when he drew back. "So good I
want to do that again, but this time I want you to kiss me back, son -
or I know plenty of fellas out there who'll be happy to just take
what they want from you without any preliminaries at all. Understood?"

Mulder gave a shy nod, and Skinner went back in for another kiss.
This time Mulder kissed him back, and he gave a start of amazement as
a buzz of electricity went through him. This was almost like the
first time he'd kissed his Master - it was like kissing someone new
to be roleplaying to this extent. He felt as if he was a young novice
who'd never been kissed by another man, and that Skinner was the
tough, seasoned, manipulative guard showing him the ropes. "That's
better," Skinner said. "And I'm guessing you didn't find it so bad
after all, huh?"

"No, sir," Mulder whispered. "Is that bad of me? I liked it, sir." 

Skinner gave a roar of delighted laughter. "I thought you might if
we just gave you the right kind of education, boy." He lowered his
head and began sucking Mulder's earlobe, and then went down to his
collar bone. "Keep still, son. I want to enjoy taking your cherry,"
Skinner said, as he continued licking and kissing his way down
Mulder's chest. His mouth found a nipple and stayed there, sucking
and kissing it, before moving on to nibbling. Mulder gave a little
moan as Skinner's teeth showed they meant business, but he felt
completely trapped in the big man's arms. He had no choice. He was a
prisoner and if he didn't agree to this then something worse would
happen. Mulder's cock was already rock solid again as Skinner moved
onto the other nipple. He continued his sucking, biting tormenting
caress until Mulder was wriggling and squirming in his arms, and then
drew back. "Hmmm...y'know, I think someone couldn't keep his hands to
himself while I was gone. Yeah? I think you jerked yourself off. I
can smell it on you." He sniffed at Mulder's body. "Yeah...I can
definitely smell it," he said with a lascivious grin.

Mulder bit on his lip. "I'm sorry, sir. I was so turned on by having
you in my mouth I couldn't stop myself," he said.

"That's fine, boy - as long as you remember that you're my bitch and
no other man except me touches you then you can jerk off all you
like."

"Thank you, sir."

"Of course, I'll have to give you a whipping each time you do it,"
Skinner said with a grin.

"What?" Mulder tried to draw back but Skinner had him in a vice-like
grip. 

"Oh yeah - there's always a price for everything, sonny. You want to
jerk off that's fine, but I'll whip you for it after."

"No!" Mulder cried, but Skinner had him by the arm and was already
unlocking the cell door. He propelled Mulder out of the cell, pushed
him up against the wall, and locked his arms in the manacles. 

"Now...which of my whips shall I use?" Skinner pondered, going over
to the rack of whips. "I think this one. It's got a nice tail and it
makes a good sound as it cuts through the air. Hear this, boy?" He
raised the whip and flicked it through the air with feline grace.
Mulder moaned as it swished by his ear. "Just a little whipping to
warm you up, sonny," Skinner promised him, running a hand over
Mulder's pale bottom. "Just to get a bit of heat into those cheeks
and put my mark on you before I fuck this ass."

"Please...no....please!" Mulder begged uselessly, pulling against
the manacles, but it was no use - they were locked tight. He buried
his head in his arm as he heard the swish of the whip, and a second
later a beautiful, stinging lick was stroked lightly across his ass.
It wasn't so hard as to change the mood of the scene, or quell
Mulder's arousal, but it was just hard enough to make it real. Mulder
jumped. 
"Oh god...please...please..." he begged. "I'm sorry! I won't do it
again!"

"Sure you will. I know boys like you," Skinner said behind him. "You
can't keep your hands off your dicks...you have to jerk off every few
hours or you go out of your mind. Now, like I said, you can jerk off
all you like but I'll whip you for it every time, son. Not because I
care but because you're mine now, and I want you to know it. Only
time you can come without being whipped is when I'm in your ass -
that should focus you on wanting to keep me happy. You just go ahead
and offer me that fine ass of yours any time you want to come, and
I'll take it whenever I feel in the mood."

"Oh god!" Mulder panted, as the big man laid down a couple more
strokes on his naked bottom. He tried to think of the true
fiendishness of what Skinner had just said and it aroused him beyond
belief. He wanted to play it for real because he loved the sexual
tension of it so much. Not to be able to come without being
whipped...except when his Master was in his ass...maybe he could get
Skinner to play that with him for real one day, for a week or two
maybe - it was such a hot fantasy. His Master proceeded to lay
several more stripes of the whip on his ass, and, glancing over his
shoulder, Mulder saw a row of thin red weals on his bottom. He loved
it when he was marked! Mulder wriggled in his bonds, feeling a heat
rise up inside him. As the whipping continued he felt himself
starting to fly, and he was almost sorry when it stopped. His Master
came and stood behind him, cupping his glowing buttocks in his hands.

"Ow! Please, sir!" Mulder begged. "That hurts so much..." It didn't -
it was a little sore, but Mulder loved the way his skin felt so
sensitive from the kiss of the whip. However it turned him on to be
this young man who had just had his first whipping and he played up
the part. "My ass is on fire, sir. Please don't whip me again," he
said.

"That will depend on you keeping your hands to yourself," Skinner
told him. "Now, I like fucking a warm ass, so I'd be happy if you
jerked yourself off a few times a day. I liked whipping your white
butt, kid, and I'm going to like fucking it even more." He squeezed
Mulder's butt cheeks unmercifully, making Mulder cry out, and then
reached up and released him from his manacles. "Now, it's time to
take that cherry," he said, pushing Mulder back into the cell. "Get
on the bed on your hands and knees, son." 

"Don't do this to me, sir...let me suck you again but don't do
this," Mulder begged.

"You'll be fine, son," Skinner purred, stroking Mulder's naked
shoulders gently. "Now go on - I'm impatient to be inside you, boy."

Mulder went, slowly, feigning fear and reluctance. He took up
position on the bed, as ordered, and watched over his shoulder as
Skinner released his big cock from his pants again. It was liberally
wet with pre-come, proving his Master was as totally into this
fantasy as Mulder was. 

"Heh - see how hard I am for you," Skinner said huskily. "Now, be a
good boy and stay still while I fuck you. This is for your own
good...better to have just one cock in this fine ass of yours than to
take every cock in this prison - and, trust me, a pretty boy like you
would be very popular." He gave a grim chuckle as he came up close
behind Mulder and slowly inserted a finger inside Mulder's ass.
"Yeah, you're tight...we'll soon loosen you up though, boy. You'll
learn how to take a man's hard cock and you'll learn real good."
Skinner withdrew his finger, and then parted Mulder's buttocks, and
slowly, achingly, inched his cock into Mulder's ass. Mulder reacted
as if it really was the first time he'd ever been fucked. He threw
his head back and made a howling sound in the back of his throat.
Skinner placed his hands on Mulder's back and hips, calming him.
"There you go, son...just let it ease slowly in...there, that's a
good boy...this is good isn't it? Mmmm, how does it feel having this
big monster inside you...yeah you're tight...shit that's good. Work
it, boy...that's right. Put that pretty head of yours back and scream
all you like...nobody's gonna disturb us...."

Mulder made a gurgling sound in the back of his throat. His Master's
cock felt impossibly big inside him. He'd taken it many times before,
but now he was so into the role he really felt that it was too big,
he was being stretched so much, he couldn't take it. He begged and
pleaded, but Skinner continued to slide into him, slowly and surely,
until he was buried up to the hilt.

"Oh god...take it out...take it out...please!" Mulder begged. "It's
so big...I'm gonna tear..."

"You're doing fine, son...just relax," Skinner purred, stroking
Mulder's back. "There...just get used to how it feels...that's
right..." He adjusted his position a little, making Mulder's eyes
water as his Master's cock hit his prostate. Then Skinner was still
for a little while, and just stroked Mulder's back, as if calming a
wild animal. "There, that's good...now I'm going to spice things up,
son, so get ready..." 

"Oh shit! Oh! Oh fuck!" Mulder screamed as Skinner started moving
his hips slowly backwards and forwards. He thrust in and out of
Mulder's tight passage, bringing him exquisitely close to orgasm each
time. "Can I come, sir?" Mulder moaned, tossing his head back and
feeling the sweat pour off his forehead and into his hair.

"Anytime you want, boy," Skinner said with a chuckle. He moved his
hips faster now, and one big hand went around Mulder's body and
squeezed his cock. Mulder almost bucked off the bunk and out of the
cell at the sensation but Skinner had a firm hold on him and before
long they'd built up a rhythm as Skinner roughly stroked Mulder's
hard cock in time to his own inward thrusting. "Come for me,
son...that's it...come for me...good boy," Skinner crooned as he took
his own pleasure, and soon Mulder was doing just that, coming over
and over again, his brain a mass of white starbursts of pure, intense
pleasure. He flopped forward on the bunk, and lay there, panting, for
a long time. When he finally came to, he found Skinner sitting on the
bunk beside him, stroking his hair gently.

"I take it that was as good for you as it was for me?" Skinner said
with a grin. Now he was clearly himself again - the curious persona
of the guard, gruff and manipulative but also strangely affectionate,
was gone.

"Oh god yeah," Mulder sighed. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you,
thank you...a thousand times, for the best anniversary present ever,
Walter." He turned over, put his head on his Master's lap, and lay
there, gazing up at him. "I love you so much," he whispered. "This
was such a perfect present."

"Yeah." Skinner stroked his slave's face softly, and affectionately.
"And who knew you were such an innocent! And that that would be such
a goddamn turn on! I really enjoyed naïve Fox. That's a cherry I
could take time and time again!" He grinned.

"Yes please," Mulder said with a weary, totally happy smile of
contentment. "I can't believe you remembered what I said about a
dungeon, Walter...or that you'd go to all this trouble to give me the
fantasy."

"Well, I'll admit I usually prefer things to be more erotic and less
obviously about torture." Skinner surveyed the manacles and the rack
of whips. "But this does set the scene for several fantasy scenarios -
and if today's was anything to judge by, you and I are going to be
having some fun in this room, Fox."

Mulder smiled, and reached up and gently touched his Master's face.
"You know...when you were ill, I came up here and I vowed that you
and I would play in this room again - and today we did."
Skinner nodded, his jaw tightening. "You did good, Fox. You were
exactly what I needed when I was ill. I just wanted you to know - you
never made me feel less than the Master, even when I couldn't walk.
You were my rock - someone to lean on, and I won't ever forget that.
You didn't let me down. Not once. When I needed you, you were there."

"Well, you've been there for me all year, through one screw up after
another. Bet you never thought, a year ago, that I'd actually turn
into someone who could stand beside you when you needed help. I was
such a selfish bastard. I remember playing you and sneaking around,
delving into your past and digging up whatever I could find, then
running off after my own quest and causing havoc along the way. I'm
amazed you let me stay this long, frankly."

"Heh. Well, you're mine - and I took you on willingly, so of course
I let you stay. Oh, and I guess I loved you too. Yeah, that might
have something to do with it." Skinner smiled and Mulder reached up,
put his hand around the back of his Master's neck, and pulled the big
man's head down so that he could kiss him.

It was, Mulder thought, one of the happiest days of his life. They
took a long, shared bath together, and then went downstairs and
cooked a meal together too. They didn't say much - neither of them
was feeling very chatty. They just enjoyed being together, at one,
both of them feeling mellow and at peace after their explosive and
satisfying sex session. They ate the meal they'd prepared, then sat
on the couch, Mulder's head in Skinner's lap and watched TV for the
evening, before retiring to bed.
Skinner fell asleep almost immediately, as he usually did, but
Mulder lay awake for an hour or so, just watching his Master sleep.
He had plans for the next day - Master's Day. He doubted that he
could make it as special for Skinner as his Master had made Slave's
Day for him, but he would damn well try. He intended to give his
Master a full massage and shave, and a few sexual services along the
way. Mulder smiled and rested his head on his Master's shoulder.
"Happy anniversary," he whispered, tracing a hand over his Master's
chest, and then he fell asleep, having no idea that, once more, just
as it had done a year ago to the day, his life was about to change
for ever.
Mulder was surprised to find that his Master was already up and
dressed when he woke the following morning. 

"Hey - I was going to give you your wake up call," he complained,
sitting up in bed as Skinner placed a cup of coffee on the
nightstand. 

"I thought I'd make the coffee today instead," Skinner said softly,
sitting down on the bed beside Mulder. "It's been a long time since I
made the morning coffee."

"Well, that's what you have a slave for," Mulder grinned. Skinner
didn't return the grin. He looked sombre instead. 

"Not any more," he said softly.

"What do you mean?" 

"Here." Skinner handed him a parcel. Mulder opened it, and found his
framed slave's contract inside. 

"What's this?" Mulder asked, with a puzzled frown.

"It's for you. I'm giving it back to you," Skinner told him, his
voice low, and hoarse with emotion. "I'm setting you free."

"What?" Mulder swallowed hard. "What have I done?" He asked. "Did I
do something wrong? Why are you doing this?"

"Hey - it's okay." Skinner reached out and gently brushed Mulder's
hair out of his eyes. "It doesn't have to be forever - but that's up
to you. It's your choice."

"Then I choose to be your slave," Mulder said quickly. Skinner shook
his head, a little smile curving his sensuous lips.

"No, Fox. This isn't a decision you can make that quickly. There are
some things you have to understand first." He got up, and stretched
his neck, rubbing it wearily. "Fox - I made a vow a year ago. I vowed
that I would take you as my slave, and honour my contract to the best
of my ability...but I also vowed that I wouldn't make you stand by
the terms of this contract forever. What suited you then might not
suit you for the rest of your life...and besides...it wouldn't be
good for both of us to take this relationship for granted, to set it
in the stone in which it was first forged, when we might have moved
on, and want something else. Something different."

"I don't want anything different," Mulder interrupted. "I'm the
happiest I've ever been, Master. Yesterday was the happiest day of my
life."

Skinner held up his hand to stop the torrent of words. "That's fine,
Fox...and...don't call me Master. I've given you your contract back -
you're free - and I want you to really think about what it is you
want for the future. Don't make any decisions lightly. Think about
it."

"Do you want me, Walter?" Mulder asked quietly, because he needed to
know. "Or is this a way out for you?"

"No." Skinner shook his head. "You're my slave, Fox. On one level
you'll always be my slave. I still have my Master's contract, and
I'll be your Master forever if that's what you want. Here, there and
everywhere - that's what I said and I meant it, but I knew what I was
doing when I took you to be my slave. I knew the responsibility I was
taking on and I was happy to take it because I already knew that I
loved you. You, on the other hand - you didn't know anything. You
didn't even know who your Master was going to be! I had to do that,
Fox - I had to make it something you couldn't back out of and run
away from if I was going to get around that legendary self destruct
button you kept pressing. I had to make it non-negotiable, and
provide a cage that was so full of love and damn good sex that you
didn't notice the bars too much - but I knew even then that I had to
stop after a year, and give you a real choice. I always intended for
this day to happen."

"I don't need a choice, Walter," Mulder whispered, shaking his head.
"I understand why you feel you have to give me one, but I don't need
it."

Skinner shook his head. "I'm sorry, Fox, but this is my last duty as
your Master, and I have to carry it out. There are some things I want
to explain, and something I have to give you." He went over to the
closet, opened it, and took out a briefcase which he brought back to
the bed. "This is your old life, Fox. It's all in here," he said,
sitting down on the side of the bed again. He opened the briefcase
and handed Mulder a piece of paper. "That's the lease on your
apartment. I sublet it for 10 months. The tenant moved out a couple
of weeks ago. Here." Skinner handed Mulder a bank statement. "I
opened a bank account for you. I've been paying your salary into it
ever since you became my slave. I deducted whatever you bought on
your credit card and that's the balance - it's quite a tidy sum as
you can see." He gave Mulder a little smile.

"You've been too generous. What about my food and lodging here?"
Mulder said.

"You were my slave. My responsibility to feed, clothe and take care
of," Skinner replied. "I wanted to bear that cost. Whatever is in the
account is rightfully yours."

"It still seems too generous," Mulder murmured. "Characteristically
so, Walter."

Skinner shrugged, and drew a set of keys out of the briefcase. "Your
apartment keys," he said. "I don't know what you want to do with it
but I felt it was a decision only you could make. You might want to
go back there to live." He handed Mulder the keys and Mulder gazed at
them, unsure what he was feeling. He hadn't set foot inside his
apartment at Hegal Place for exactly a year and a day. He wasn't sure
he wanted to go back there - and yet, curiously, he thought that for
the first time since he had become Skinner's slave, now he would be
able to handle revisiting this particular part of his past.

"I never wanted your money," Skinner explained. "I always intended
to keep it safe for you. I thought you must have been wondering about
that but..."

"Hell, no! Trust me, my mind was occupied elsewhere!" Mulder cut in,
with a wry grin. 

"Well, all the same. I needed to take away your financial
independence if I was going to stand any chance of helping you - and
you did need help."

"I know. I remember." Mulder shook his head. "I can still hardly
believe that I was so stupid as to give myself in slavery to someone
I didn't know. It could have turned out so badly."

"You were desperate."

"Yeah. Or I was thinking with my dick," Mulder said ruefully.

"No. This wasn't about sex." Skinner leaned forward and looked at
Mulder. His eyes were warm, understanding and compassionate. "It was
rooted in sex, and in your sexuality and your struggle to understand
it, but it wasn't about sex. You'd been through just about every top
in Washington DC after all. You'd had enough good sex to last you a
lifetime. What you hadn't found was anything to fill the emptiness
inside - and I knew I'd go the same way as every other top you played
with if I let you take charge and dictate how our relationship was
going to work. That self destruct impulse of yours would have
crippled anything we had before we got anywhere. I had to take it out
of your control. I had to make you a slave, and not a sub."

"I know. I've known this for a long time," Mulder told him. "So
what's changed now, Walter?"

"You have," Skinner replied with an honesty that took Mulder's
breath away. "You really have, Fox. You're still you. You're still
wild and crazy and inventive, only now you seem to have found
yourself. You don't seem lost any more. You're not reeling
permanently from one crisis to another. You're in control of yourself
again. I think, maybe, that you even like yourself a little now."

"Because you loved me," Mulder whispered. "You gave me that, Walter."

"Partly. But partly you found it in yourself. You started to accept
yourself, Fox. You accepted you couldn't save your sister - not now
and not back then when she was taken. You accepted that you enjoy
being sexually submissive and that there's nothing wrong with that. I
think, maybe, that you've also accepted that you won't always hurt
the people you love. I hope so because that's the last thing you need
to do."

Mulder gazed into those dark, brown eyes, uncertainly. "You always
did know too much about me, Walter. I feel as if you can see into my
soul, and sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself."

"You make a fascinating study." Skinner smiled. "And I've loved
studying you. I love you. You know that. I've loved you for a very
long time - far longer than you've loved me - and I'm proud of what
we've done together this past year. I knew it would be tough, and
boy, at times it really was, but I wouldn't change any of it. It was
necessary - even all the pain and heartache was necessary." He rested
his hand, gently, on Mulder's chest, over the scar caused by Krycek
carving his initials into 

Mulder's skin. "We've come a long way," Skinner murmured. 

"And now you're saying it's over? You want me to go back to my old
life? You want me to pick up the pieces as if all this never
happened?"

"No. Not unless that's what you want," Skinner said, with a shake of
his head. "I'm offering you your freedom, but I didn't put that brand
on you for nothing. In some way, you'll always be my slave, and I
promise you that I will always be your Master. Only now I'm giving
you a choice. Go back, Fox. Revisit that old life. Be sure there's no
part of it you want any more. I'll still be here. Decide what you
want from your future. If you want, you can come back and tell me you
want to be my slave for the rest of your life and that will be fine."
Skinner broke off and gave a little smile. "Or, if you want to come
back, with some new ideas, a different way to conduct our
relationship - that's fine too. I'm happy to talk about them. Or...if
you don't want to come back at all..." His voice trailed off. "I'm
just saying it's your choice, Fox. It's for you to decide. I want
you, and as far as I'm concerned this is your home. I just built you
an office and a dungeon and I sure as hell didn't do that thinking
we'd only get a week and a day's use out of 'em!" He gave a little
laugh. "I'm hoping you'll come back - but you know the saying. If you
love someone..."

"Set them free. Yes." Mulder nodded. "If they come back they're
yours...and if they don't..."

"They were never meant to be," Skinner finished softly. "So go, Fox.
Take as long as you like. I'll be waiting." He leaned forward and
pressed a tender kiss on Mulder's lips, and then he got up, and
quietly left the room.

Mulder sat there, gazing at the remnants of his old life, in a haze.
He wasn't sure what he felt. He knew that if Skinner had set him free
a few months ago, before he'd been branded, that he would have felt
devastated, but now he just felt...curious. He had never had a chance
to say goodbye to his old life. His slavery had happened so quickly,
and had been such an impulsive decision. He felt so significantly
changed that he wasn't even sure he remembered his old life in any
detail, and he wondered what it would be like to revisit it. He got
out of bed, took a shower, got dressed, packed a few belongings,
picked up the briefcase, and went down the stairs. Skinner was
waiting for him there, Wanda in his arms. He looked strained - and he
was stroking Wanda's ears desperately, as if he needed 
something to hold onto right now.

"Hey," he said. "You're going?"

"Yes." Mulder nodded. "You're right. This is something I have to do.
There are some things I need to figure out for myself."

"Yeah." Skinner nodded. "Take care. You know where I am. If you need
me, just call." 

"I will." Mulder nodded again. They stood there, looking at each
other awkwardly. "Oh god, this feels so weird, Walter," Mulder sighed.

"Yeah." Skinner smiled. "You'll be fine though. Look at you. Look at
what you've become. You're smart, strong, and totally in control of
yourself and your own destiny. You don't allow yourself to be swept
along by anyone else any more. You don't throw yourself into the wind
hoping that you'll find answers somewhere along the way. You know the
answers - and you know that you find them inside yourself and not
anywhere else. I'm proud of you, Fox."

"Thank you," Mulder whispered. "For everything." He didn't trust
himself to say a long farewell, so he just leaned forward and pressed
a kiss on Skinner's forehead. He paused and dropped a kiss on Wanda's
head too, and then he opened the door, and left the apartment, a free
man once more, for the first time in a year. 

His own apartment was just how he'd left it. Mulder didn't know how
Skinner had done that, but it was. Mulder opened the door and felt a
sea of memories wash over him. He saw himself, taping an X to his
window, and working late into the night on his computer. If he
turned, he could see himself feeding his fish, or lying on his couch
eating pizza and watching bad sci fi movies...and, if he turned
again, he caught a glimpse of himself crouching in his own hallway,
crying into his hands, lost, desperate and alone. He moved silently
through the rooms of his apartment like a ghost. The bedroom seemed
small, empty and cold after the warmth of the bedroom he shared with
Skinner back at Crystal City, and the kitchen was tiny, although
Mulder had to smile as he realised that he did at least know how to
cook a fairly decent meal now, which was something he hadn't been
able to do when he left this place. All his furniture was here - his
couch, his bed, his closet, his nightstand...and yet why was it that
they didn't seem to belong to him? He had been a slave at Skinner's
apartment - he'd owned nothing - and yet he had felt more at home
with all that furniture than he did here, with all this stuff that
belonged to him. 

He sat and turned on the TV, wondering what his future would bring.
Did he want this old life back? He had missed his freedom, if he was
honest. Having to account to Skinner for the money he spent had
always grated, and now he had a chance to be his old self again. He
could pick up the pieces easily enough. He was a grown man after all.
He didn't need to be taken care of like a child. 

Mulder lay back on the couch, easily settling back into an old,
familiar position. He had always been wildly independent. Being a
slave had been the antithesis of his personality, and it had been
hard; there had been times when it had been almost *too* hard to
endure. Skinner had been a good, kind and indulgent Master but he had
been a Master all the same, and what he said went. Mulder had spent a
good deal of the past year on his knees, waiting on his Master,
serving him meals or drinks. He had taken his orders and learned not
to question them. Skinner's word had been law, and Mulder had no say
in how the apartment they shared was decorated, or what they would do
with their free evenings, or where they might like to go on vacation.
It was all decided for him, and that had been especially hard. Did he
want that for the rest of his life? Was it possible to turn back the
clock though? Could he negotiate a new living arrangement with
Skinner, and, if he did, wouldn't it irrevocably change what they had
come to cherish so much? Was there even any possibility of him having
a future with Skinner if he changed the boundaries? Did their
relationship only work when he was the slave and Skinner the Master
and, if that was the case, was that what he wanted for the rest of
his life? 

Mulder gazed around the place, wondering what it would be like to
live here again, to see Skinner for meals sometimes and occasionally
for the big man to stay the night, or for him to go over to Crystal
City. He could pursue his work quite easily - more easily alone than
as Skinner's slave - and there would be no need to ask the other
man's permission to follow any lead he wanted. He would be free to do
that again, free to take off wherever he wanted without telling
anyone. Skinner had seen to it that he had some sizeable savings - he
could use those to pursue the Consortium, or to research his
book...or to do what the hell he liked. He didn't have to account to
anyone any more. He could go where he liked and do what he liked with
the money he had. 

Mulder pondered all these possibilities for the next few days. He
purposefully didn't call Skinner. He needed to have time, needed to
be sure he knew what he was doing and what he wanted. He did as
Skinner had suggested - he revisited his old life. It felt strange
sleeping in his own bed, and yet, after just a couple of nights it
felt as if he'd never been away, as if the past year hadn't happened
at all. He missed his Master's strong arms though, missed Skinner's
scent, and the warmth of him lying in the bed beside him. He also
missed Wanda's soft fur, her low, rumbling, ever-present purr, and
the feel of her warm little body pressed against his as they all
three of them slept in a tangle of human-feline limbs.

In the daytime, he went through some of the stuff he'd put in
storage, placing big boxes of old belongings in the centre of his
living room. He worked his way through it slowly, missing Wanda's
enquiring nose pressing against his hand to see what he was doing. He
found old photograph albums, showing him and his mother alone
together after Sam's abduction. His father showed up rarely in the
photos, although there was one happy family shot of them all
together, when Sam had been about 5. He looked into the eyes of his 9
year old self and wished he'd known then what he knew now, wished he
could tell him that despite all that would happen to him, it would
all, one day, turn out okay.
Mulder found his parent's wedding photos. He'd barely looked at them
before - knowing how badly that marriage had turned out, there had
been little enough reason to do so. His mother looked happy though -
radiantly happy - and his father had a serene little smile on his
face. They hadn't known the future either, or Mulder felt sure that
neither of them would be smiling in that picture. He rummaged deeper,
and pulled out a little wooden box. Inside were odd items of antique
family jewellery. A string of pearls that had belonged to his
grandmother, his father's mother; she'd never got on with his mother,
and, as she'd been slowly dying of cancer, she'd pressed the pearls
into his hand. 

"I wanted to give these to Sam," she told him sadly. "My only
granddaughter. Maybe she'll come back one day - maybe you'll find her
- and if not...you can give them to your wife instead."

Mulder smiled sadly, knowing there wouldn't be a wife to give them
to, and accepting now, as he never had when he'd lived in this
apartment before, that he'd never find Samantha and thus be able to
give them to the one person to whom they truly belonged. Why hold
onto them, he wondered? And that made him think they'd look nice
hanging around Tabi's neck. She had been so fantastic during
Skinner's illness that he wanted to give her something. He found an
intricately worked jade brooch in the box, and thought how well that
would suit Scully - maybe he could find something for her baby too.
It made him happy thinking how well things had worked out for his
diminutive partner. She deserved a good, solid, strong man like John
Doggett, and soon she'd have the baby she had longed for too. In
fact, Mulder realised that many of his friends were happily settled;
Elaine had married David, Ian had found Perry. Hell, he'd even
watched Donald and Elliott finally get it together after years of
unrequited longings. 
Mulder's questing fingers came to rest on a very small ring box, and
he hesitated, knowing what was inside. Then, finally, he flicked the
box open, and gazed at his father's wedding ring, nestled inside. He
remembered this - it was one of the only things his father had left
to him in his will. Everything else had gone to his mother, and now
Mulder thought he kind of understood why. She'd lost her daughter,
and his father hadn't been a good husband to her in that aftermath of
that great loss. His father had clearly figured that his son would
always be able to take care of himself financially, but his mother's
health and state of mind were fragile, and he took some
responsibility for that. He'd left her his money not to snub his only
son, but to ensure that at least she wouldn't have to worry about her
finances, and he must have thought that his son would end up with his
inheritance anyway, after his mother died. Still, he'd given his
wedding ring to his son - presumably figuring that his ex-wife
wouldn't want to be reminded of how they'd failed at the one thing
that had bound them together. Mulder gazed at it hazily, wondering
how it would look on Skinner's finger, wondering how it would feel to
place it there. The ring stared at him and he stared back. Was this
what he wanted? Mulder thought about it for a moment, and then
snapped the box shut. No. This wasn't it. This wasn't it at all.
Suddenly his future seemed very clear to him, and he knew precisely
what he had to do. He put the ring back into the box, and then began,
purposefully, to sort through all the boxes. He wouldn't put them
away again this time. He'd only keep the photos, and just a few
keepsakes. The rest he'd throw out. This was a time for new
beginnings - a time to say farewell to the past, once and for all. 

*-*-*-*

Mulder arrived back at Skinner's apartment on Friday afternoon. It
had been less than a week, but it felt like a lifetime since he'd
left. The apartment felt cold so he put on the heating, and dumped
the bag of groceries he'd bought in the kitchen. He found Wanda
sitting on the couch in the living room, and she blinked at him
lazily, as if not at all surprised to see him.

"Hey. Did you miss me?" He asked, sitting down beside her, and
hauling a massive brown bag up onto the couch with him. She gazed at
him thoughtfully, as if considering that question, and he grinned.
"Always playing hard to get, my inscrutable little mistress, huh?
Well, okay. Let's see you keep that poker face when I show you
*this*." And with that, he emptied the contents of the paper bag all
over the couch. Little sparkling balls, and small, pseudo-mice with
gaudy coloured feathers for tails fell out, amid a myriad of other
cat toys. "This," Mulder said, holding up a big clockwork fish, "is
because you're obsessed with fish, madam. I thought this might
distract you from terrorising those poor guys in my tank."

Her green eyes lit up and she began to studiously examine her booty,
but not with too much enthusiasm in case it betrayed a kittenish lack
of cool.

"Hah!" Mulder said. "You don't fool me, M'lady. I know you're
itching to play." He picked up one of the balls and threw it across
the room, and Wanda hesitated for only a second before bounding off
the couch and running after it. She picked it up in her mouth and
came trotting back to him. She stopped a few feet short of him, as
was her customary habit, and dropped the ball there. Mulder rolled
his eyes. 

"What really pisses me off is that you know I'll come and get it and
throw it anyway," he told her with a sigh. "Yeah... I know, what's
the point of having an adoring slave if you don't make him work a
little - and there's also that need you have to prove who's mistress,
as if any of us were in any doubt." He got down on his knees, teased
the ball out from between her paws, and threw it again, and then lay
there, watching her with a stupid grin on his face as she danced and
pounced and generally had a great time with his gifts.

Skinner returned home a couple of hours later. Mulder was sitting on
the couch in the living room, waiting for him. He was surprised that
he didn't feel nervous. He had thought that he would, but he didn't.
This just felt...right. It did feel strange to be seated on the couch
wearing clothes in the big man's presence, when as a slave he had so
often been naked, but all the same, it didn't feel wrong. It just
felt different. He was wearing the outfit his Master had bought for
him on their first shopping expedition together - a green silk shirt
that brought out the colour of his eyes, soft navy pants, and a pair
of expensive Italian loafers on his feet. 

"Hey," he said, as Skinner walked into the living room, making
straight for the whisky bottle on the sideboard as he often did after
work, for a small shot of his favourite drink.
Skinner turned, startled. "I thought it was warm in here...and I can
smell something cooking," he said, sniffing the air.

"Yeah. I came back a couple of hours ago."

"And?" Skinner asked, his entire body tense. 

Mulder smiled. "Relax. We have all evening. I even cooked."

"Hmm." Skinner remained standing, still as a statue. "So, you won't
tell me your answer now?"

"No. You can wait." Mulder's smile widened. "After all, I seem to
remember someone telling me that anticipation is half the pleasure."

"That guy was an idiot." Skinner grimaced. "You shouldn't have
listened to him."

"Oh, but I did. He was a good Master. I learned a lot from him,"
Mulder said softly. He got up, crossed the room, and pressed a gentle
kiss against Skinner's cheek. "It's good to see you, Walter," he said
quietly, and then he carefully removed his Master's coat, with the
unobtrusive, elegant flick of his hands that he'd learned from a
year's devotion as this man's slave.
Skinner reached up and stopped his hands. "You don't have to wait on
me," he growled.

"I'm not. It's just a kindness, a courtesy...a gesture of
affection," Mulder told him softly. "Just the kind of thing you do
for someone you love." 

Skinner hesitated, unsure what he was being told. "Are you here to
stay?" He asked, in a strained voice. Mulder suddenly saw a world of
vulnerability in the big man's dark brown eyes, and he knew it had
always been there - he'd just chosen to look away before, and see
only the Master, and not the man underneath. 

"Let's eat," he replied, taking Skinner's hand and leading him over
to the dining table. It was laid for two, and Mulder had taken care
to light candles, and lay everything so that it looked inviting and
romantic. That was something else he'd learned from his Master; that
taking the time to prepare something, whether it was yourself, or a
meal, or a bath or whatever for someone you cared about wasn't time
wasted. It was another kindness and courtesy, another gesture of
affection. Just something you did for someone you love.

He held out Skinner's chair for him, and then served up what he knew
to be one of the big man's favourite meals.

"Is this a last supper?" Skinner asked. "You've gone to a good deal
of trouble."

"No trouble at all," Mulder replied with a smile. "It's been an
interesting week, Walter."

"For me too." Skinner rubbed his chin absently, never taking his
eyes off Mulder. "You look well. Did you come to a decision?"

"Yes." Mulder nodded. "Forgive me for not calling. I needed some
time alone."

"That's okay." Skinner waved his hand in the air. "I knew you would.
I wasn't expecting a call. Did it go okay? Are you alright?" There
was an anxious expression in his eyes.

"I'm not your slave any more. You don't have to worry about me,"
Mulder told him gently.

"I do anyway. I always will." Skinner shrugged. "That's just the
kind of thing you do for people you 
love."

Mulder smiled at having his own words repeated back to him. "I went
through all my old stuff - threw most of it out," he said. Skinner
nodded, those dark eyes of his so watchful. "I thought a lot about
the past year - and about what led me to your door...in a manner of
speaking anyway." He shrugged.

"Did you come to any conclusions?" Skinner asked.

"That you can't go back," Mulder said firmly. "You can't turn back
the clock - you can only keep moving forwards."

"I guess so." Skinner nodded. They finished eating the main course
and Skinner sat back with a sigh. He was wearing one of his crisp
white shirts and a dark grey suit, with a swirly red and navy tie. He
looked as handsome as ever. More so maybe, Mulder thought to himself,
because he thought he was seeing the man more clearly than he'd ever
seen him before. "The meal was delicious. Thank you, Fox," Skinner
said.

"There's dessert." Mulder got up and brought a thick chocolate
mousse to the table. He sat back down again and dipped his spoon into
the dark, rich, creamy whorl. "You look tired," he said, gazing at
the big man keenly. "Are you okay? You haven't been overdoing it?
It's only been a few weeks since you were ill and you should be
taking it easy."

"I'm doing fine." Skinner shook his head. "You're not my slave any
more, Fox. You don't have to worry about me."

"Just something you do..." Mulder smiled, knowing he didn't need to
finish the sentence. Skinner finished his mousse and pushed the dish
away.

"That was superb," he said with a satisfied sigh. Mulder pushed his
own unfinished dessert away too.

"Walter," he began softly. Skinner's jaw tightened, and Mulder
reached out and put his own hand over the other man's tense one where
it rested on the table. "I will always be your slave, in my heart,"
Mulder said softly.


Skinner nodded, a kind of realisation flooding into his eyes. "But?"
he said, in a low, dull tone.

"But you deserve more than that," Mulder told him. "You've been so
good to me. You put your own needs to one side for this past year to
take care of me, to take the time and trouble to figure me out
psychologically and emotionally, and to give me what I need. For a
long time I wasn't worthy of that. When I think back...I once asked
you for permission to love you, and you gave it - but I think you
knew, and it must have been hard to live with, that I was falling in
love with the Master and not the man. Kind of like the difference
between loving Superman and not Clark Kent," he said, with a wry grin.

"How could I not expect you to fall in love with the Master?"
Skinner replied. "He was what I was handing to you on a plate, and he
was what you'd been searching for so desperately that you were
prepared to sell yourself into slavery with a stranger to find him."

"I know. And I know why you gave me the fantasy as well. I wasn't
ready for anything else. For the first few months I barely saw the
man, hardly understood who was behind the fantasy. There are many
things I regret, but that is the one I regret most," Mulder told him
honestly. "You must have wondered if I even had the capacity to truly
love anything but the reflection of what I most desired. You must
have wondered if I had a single unselfish bone in my body."

"I didn't view you like that," Skinner interrupted him. "I knew what
you were and I knew how you'd been damaged. I wanted to help. I
wanted to love you - I just had to find a way of making you let me."

"And you sure as hell did," Mulder chuckled. "Walter...I'll always
be your slave in my heart...but, like I said, you deserve something
more."

"You're leaving?" Skinner asked, those dark eyes of his sad but
resigned. Mulder thought of all the people the big man had lost -
first his wife, then Andrew Linker, and now his slave, and his heart
ached. He had been so preoccupied with the losses in his own life
that for a long time it had passed him by how much Skinner had
suffered too. Mulder reached into his pocket and pulled out a little
box. He leaned across the table, and placed it in front of the big
man.

"No. I'd like to stay. If you'll have me," he whispered. "I'll
always be your slave, Walter, but I'd like to be that something more
too. I'd like to be your lover, your friend, your soulmate and your
life partner too. If you'll have me."

Skinner stared at him wordlessly, and then reached out and opened
the box. He gazed at the thick, solid, antique gold wedding ring
lying inside for a long time, still speechless. Mulder found himself
filling the silence.

"I found my father's old wedding ring and I thought of giving you
that, but it wasn't right, Walter. He and my mother had such a sad
marriage, and I didn't want any of that mojo hanging over us. I
intend this to be forever, and I hope you feel the same way too. I
also wanted to choose a ring - to buy one, and have it mean
something. I looked at a few - but I settled on this. It seemed like
you. It's got a nice feel to it. It's solid and classy, and it felt
good in my hand. I thought it would suit you. I had it engraved..."
He pointed to the inner rim of the ring, and Skinner turned it up and
held it just over the candle so that he could see what it said.

"Here, there and everywhere," he read out loud.

"Yeah. I thought that kind of summed it up," Mulder said. "It's kind
of our theme after all, and it can mean what it always did - and
something new too." He got down on his knees in front of Skinner, and
it felt different to the countless times he'd knelt in this position
before. "Will you have me, Walter?" He asked, taking the ring from
the big man's hand and holding it over Skinner's ring finger. 

"Here, there and everywhere, as it says, and not just as your slave.
As your lover, friend, soulmate and life partner?"  

Skinner gazed down on his slave, and Mulder thought that the other
man's eyes were a little glassy. 

"Are you sure this is what you want, Fox?" Skinner asked softly.

"Absolutely," Mulder replied with a firm nod. "I've been in love
with you for a very long time, Walter. Your illness brought home to
me just how much I love you - and I mean you, Walter, and not just
the Master. I realised how much more we could be to each other - how
much more we'd already become."

"You gave up the X Files for me," Skinner murmured. 

"I love you more than I loved them. In the end, it was a simple
enough decision to make." Mulder shrugged.

Skinner glanced back at the ring again. "Here, there and
everywhere," he quoted softly. "This is pretty much all I ever
wanted, Fox." 

"So you'll have me?" Mulder held his breath. Skinner gave a slow
smile that lit his entire face, making him look almost
unrecognisable. 

"I'd be delighted," he replied. 

Mulder gave an insanely happy smile in return, and then carefully
pushed the ring into place. It fitted perfectly, which he took to be
a good omen for their future life together. 

"With this ring, I thee wed. With my body, I thee worship," he
murmured. He'd said it before, a little over a year ago, but he'd
been joking with the words then to deflect how awkward he'd felt in
that situation. This time he meant it, and he wasn't embarrassed to
say it either. He noticed that Skinner's entire body had relaxed, and
the other man's dark eyes were glowing. Mulder picked up his lover's
hand and kissed the ring and his finger - he remembered Skinner doing
this to him, in the elevator, the night he'd first taken him as his
slave, and how much his Master's sincerity had affected him. He
hadn't realised then how big a deal it was for Skinner to have put
that ring on his finger. At the time it had just been a symbol of
ownership for him - he hadn't known that Skinner had meant it for
real. Now he knew what his lover must have felt like. He could see
that Skinner remembered too, because the big man reached down, took
Mulder's face in his hands, and dipped his head to bestow a loving
kiss on his lips. Mulder could feel his lover's hard thighs under his
hands, as he lifted his head to receive that kiss, opening his lips
to savour the taste of their first kiss, not as Master and slave, but
as lovers. It felt good. The candelight was flickering gently,
bathing them both in its warm glow, and Mulder felt as if everything
was right in his world. It had taken him a long time to reach this
place in his heart, but, now he was here, he wondered how on earth it
had taken him so long.

"I'm not sure how this plays out. I guess we can talk about that,"
Mulder said when the kiss ended. 

"I'm still, you know...sexually submissive." He grinned. "And being
your slave is still the hottest thing I know. Period."

"I'm pretty attached to being your Master too," Skinner replied with
a grin, stroking Mulder's hair.

"I'm thinking we could make up some new rules as we go along,"
Mulder said. "We have the rest of our lives to figure 'em out after
all." He stood up, and held out his hands to his lover. Skinner took
them, and Mulder pulled him to his feet. "I was also thinking that it
would be a good idea to continue this conversation in the bedroom,"
he added, with a cheeky grin. Skinner laughed, and Mulder blew out
the candles, and, still holding one of his lover's hands, drew
Skinner out of the door, and up towards the bedroom.

Mulder had prepared the bedroom too. He turned on the disc he had
placed in the stereo earlier, and then returned to where his Master
was standing, gazing at the shrine Mulder had made on one of the
nightstands of their two framed contracts, surrounded by lit candles. 

"I don't want to ever put these contracts in storage, Walter,"
Mulder said, putting his arms around his lover, and drawing him close
as the music began to softly play. "They're how it all began - and I
think they'll be our touchstone in the years to come. When I need
taking down, I know I can rely on you to do that. And when you need
the worshipful attention of your adoring, naked slave - well, you
know you can rely on me for that too. Also...there are all the little
rituals we've built up. The confessional position, the grace
position, the inspections, the Wanda command..." He paused and
glanced at his Master with a mischievous glint in his eye, knowing
how much they both loved that particular command. "The wake up call,
the morning spankings, the marking...I've loved all of it, and I
don't want to lose it."

"You won't," Skinner said huskily, lacing his arms around Mulder's
waist and pulling him close, nuzzling at his hair. "We can work them
all into our new life together."

"I was hoping you'd say that, Walter," Mulder sighed, laying his
head on Skinner's shoulder. 
 
"Hey...it sounds like they're playing our song," Skinner murmured.
Mulder grinned.

"I asked Mark to make a recording of his version of Here, There and
Everywhere - the way he sang it for you at Murray's party last year.
It's definitely our song."
He nuzzled his face in for a kiss, and his lover happily obliged.
"You weren't nearly this romantic when you were my slave," Skinner
commented. "I'll have to set you free more often."

"I learned how to be romantic from you. It didn't come easily. I had
to pull out the really big guns for this evening though - I wanted it
to be special," Mulder said, swaying contentedly against his lover's
shoulder as they danced. "There's something else I'd like to do - to
mark the occasion?" He said, feeling a little nervous.

"Mmm?" Skinner glanced at him, his big hands stroking loving
patterns on Mulder's back.

"I'd like to make love to you, Walter. To make love to *you*,
Walter, not my Master, but my lover," Mulder asked quietly. Skinner
gazed at him for a moment, and his dark eyes glowed in the
candlelight.

"I'd love that, Fox," he said, quietly and sincerely, and Mulder had
the feeling that this was something for which his lover had been
waiting for a very long time.
Mulder started to undress Skinner slowly, gently, lovingly as they
danced. He tangled his fingers in the big man's tie, stripped it away
from his collar, and let it fall to the floor. Then he sensuously
began to unbutton his lover's shirt, slow button by slow button. His
fingers dipped beneath the cool, cotton fabric, to find his lover's
chest beneath, covered in its fine layer of light curls. He pulled
the shirt off Skinner's shoulders, and then nestled back in again. He
liked the feel of Skinner's bare flesh against his own silk shirt;
Skinner felt so warm and solid. Mulder dipped his head and began
licking his lover's nipples, and Skinner sighed, and threw back his
head. His nipples were sensitive, something that it had taken Mulder
several months to discover, and now he had the heady sensation of
realising that there was no part of his lover's body that he couldn't
touch and make love to. He didn't have to ask permission any more -
Skinner was his, he belonged to him, in a way that transcended any
Master/slave contract. Mulder reached for his lover's pants and undid
them, then slid them down Skinner's muscular thighs, along with the
big man's briefs, to reveal his lover's hard, erect penis.

"Mmmm..." Mulder sank slowly down to his knees, and took that
beautiful penis in his mouth. His lover gave a deep sigh of
satisfaction as Mulder tongued it, but after a few minutes, Skinner
pulled Mulder up, and went down on his own knees. He opened Mulder's
pants, and took Mulder's own hard cock in his mouth. It should have
felt strange, his old Master on his knees sucking off his former
slave, but it didn't. It just felt very natural, and very right.
Skinner sucked on him for a little while, and then came back up
again. Mulder gently guided him to the bed, pushed him down on it,
and then slowly removed his own clothes, gazing down on his lover all
the time as he did so. Skinner looked magnificent lying there, his
large thighs outstretched and waiting, his deliciously edible golden
skin glowing in the candlelight. Mulder finished divesting himself of
his clothes, and slid onto the bed beside his lover. He covered
Skinner's large, tanned body with his own more slender, pale one,
delighting in the sensation of flesh against flesh. Mulder gently
pressed his lips to Skinner's tattoo, and his lover, just as gently,
touched his own lips against the brand on Mulder's thigh. 
Their bodies moved as one together, rising and falling, each coaxing
the other to greater heights of arousal. They knew each other so
well, knew each other's bodies so intimately, and yet, Mulder
thought, there was always something new to discover. They were making
love, after all, for the first time as lovers, and not Master and
slave, and it felt breathtakingly beautiful. There had been a time
when Mulder had wondered whether he could enjoy vanilla sex; he had
wondered whether he needed submission in order to get off, but
Skinner had taught him, as he had taught him so much else, that with
the right person vanilla sex could be just as satisfying. 

Mulder took the lube he'd left on the nightstand, and knelt between
his lover's legs. Skinner opened up further, gazing at Mulder with a
look of total trust and contentment in his eyes. Mulder lubed his
fingers and gently inserted one into his lover's anus. Skinner sighed
and stretched those long legs of his, making a little gurgling sound
of arousal in the back of his throat. Mulder took a long time
stretching the big man, enjoying the little noises Skinner made, and
then, finally, he lubed his own cock, and nudged it against Skinner's
entrance. He gazed down at his lover and then slowly, carefully, slid
inside him. His lover welcomed him in, and soon Mulder found himself
buried up to the hilt inside the big man's tight flesh. He looked
down into Skinner's dark eyes and smiled, and his lover smiled back
at him. Skinner reached out a hand to gently caress the side of
Mulder's face, and Mulder caught a flash of gold as his lover's ring
caught the candlelight. A starburst of happiness exploded in Mulder's
heart and he paused, shocked by it. 

"You okay?" Skinner asked, still stroking Mulder's cheek.

"I...yes...I just...everything just went whitehot and spangly. Is
this how you felt when you first made love to me?" Mulder asked,
still stunned. 

Skinner chuckled. "That's how I felt every time I made love to you,
Fox. That's how I'm feeling right now," he said. Mulder locked eyes
with him, savouring the moment, and then started to slide in and out
of his lover's anus. It wasn't a night for wild, rough, passionate
sex. Tonight was about long, slow, gentle loving. They moved
together, in perfect rhythm, Mulder's hand on Skinner's cock, his own
buried deep inside his lover, and when they came, it felt as if the
sun, moon and stars had all exploded at once. Mulder rested there
awhile, still buried deep inside his lover, and then he rolled off
him, lay down beside him, and took him in his arms.

They made love over and over again throughout that night, each
taking turns to be on top, until Mulder didn't think he could rise to
the occasion one more time, and yet whenever Skinner touched him his
cock responded anyway, even when he felt he was totally spent. At
some time, around dawn, they both fell into a sated, exhausted doze,
arms wrapped around each other, bodies entwined. 
Mulder guessed that Skinner thought he was asleep, because his lover
moved his hand into the light cast by a chink in the drapes, and
gazed at the new ring on his finger, as if he couldn't quite believe
it.

"Here, there, and everywhere," Skinner quoted softly to himself,
under his breath. Mulder smiled, and buried his face into Skinner's
broad back, aware that he'd seen a rare glimpse into his lover's
heart. There was a little 'whoomph' sound and Wanda appeared on the
bed beside them. Mulder shifted slightly so that she could get under
the sheets next to them, and she took up her customary position,
purring away happily to herself.

Mulder closed his eyes. His arms were wrapped loosely around his
lover's body, and he could feel Skinner's warm skin against his, and
smell his lover's heady, earthy scent. He felt totally at peace, as
if his whole life had been leading up to this moment. He knew that on
some level he would always be Skinner's slave, just as Skinner would
always be his Master, and he knew also, that they were both happy
with that. It was what they were in their hearts, along with a whole
lot else beside.
And this was where it all ended, and where it all began, with Master
and slave, entwined in each other's arms as lovers, living happily
ever after.

The End

Friendly Feedback is always very much appreciated at:
Xanthe@xanthe.org

There you go! I hope you enjoyed this final chapter of 24/7 :-)
Thanks so much for coming along for the ride with me on this long
series. 

24/7 will shortly be available in zine format. Please keep checking
back to this site for more details!