Trust No1

 

It was a sunny Saturday morning. Skinner got up, had a shower, pulled on his robe, drank a cup of coffee, and checked his mail. There were two letters. He threw one away immediately – the one proclaiming: “Congratulations, Walter F. Sginnner – You have already won $1 million.” If that’s the case, where’s the check? He snorted.

 

The other one contained a message, written on a Morley cigarette. “The park. 11 a.m. Trust No 1.” And that was it. Skinner thought about it for several minutes, then he got dressed.

 

It was a warm day, and the park was crowded. Skinner wore a pair of faded blue jeans, and a white tee-shirt, hoping to look inconspicuous. This was a forlorn hope. His bald head gleamed, his handsome features glared, and his broad frame attracted many admiring glances. The pair of sunglasses, rather than disguising him, just lent him a certain film star mystique. He tried not to look as if he was loitering by the park gates, but he suspected that he looked very suspicious. 11 a.m. came and went, and nothing happened. Skinner paced up and down, trying to relax. The park actually looked quite inviting – children running and shouting, lovers kissing, joggers, rollerbladers. It was such a warm day, everybody had decided to come down here. Skinner wondered when he had last spent a day in a park, just enjoying himself, and found that he couldn’t. He suspected that he might have been ten at the time.

 

Skinner grew worried as the minutes ticked past. What was that black lunged bastard intending to do next? He wondered. Setting off a bomb in the park didn’t seem likely, but he wouldn’t put anything past the Morley man. He went through the mental process of working out what he would do if there was a bomb. Evacuation procedures, trying not to alarm the general public, calling in a team of bomb disposal experts…That was when the Frisbee hit him in the center of his chest. He bent to pick it up.

 

“Oh I’m so sorry, we were just…” The red haired woman ran up to him, and then trailed off, gazing at him incredulously. “Sir?” She asked, in a tone of disbelief.

 

“Scully?” He peered down at her.

 

“Sir?” She repeated faintly, her eyes lingering on his tight, white, tee shirt, and traveling all the way down those long, denim-encased legs. Skinner shifted uncomfortably, unused to such frank scrutiny.

 

“What are you doing here, Agent Scully?” He asked briskly. “Did you get the message too?”

 

“What message? No. I’m just playing Frisbee with, uh, Agent Mulder.” She glanced over her shoulder and Skinner saw Mulder trotting up to them, a look of surprise on his face.

 

“Out for a stroll, sir?” Mulder asked, plucking the Frisbee from Skinner’s fingers.

 

“No. I got a message…” Skinner filled them in on what had happened, and showed them the cigarette. Mulder immediately looked concerned, and glanced at his watch.

 

“Looks like he’s not going to show. It’s nearly 12.” Mulder shrugged. “Maybe you should hang around here just in case though, sir. He might have been detained.”

 

“You don’t want to draw attention to yourself though, sir.” Scully mused. “Perhaps you’d care to join us playing Frisbee? That way we could all keep an eye out for him.”

 

Skinner thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

 

“Okay. But we all keep alert.” He said, looking around grimly to illustrate the point.

 

Skinner had never really been able to see the point of Frisbee before. Now, watching as Scully pranced, and ran across the grass, the tops of her breasts just visible as they bounced around under her denim shirt, he suddenly understood the purpose of the game. It was just as fascinating to watch Mulder, as the other agent threw himself theatrically from side to side, his long legs skittering around, making him resemble a race horse. Just as temperamental as well, Skinner thought to himself, wryly, diving to catch a low-flying throw, and ending up on the ground at full stretch, feeling rather embarrassed.

 

“Hey, great catch, sir.” Scully called.

 

“Luck!” Mulder snorted.

 

“Skill.” He retorted, then felt even more embarrassed, squabbling over the game like a teenager. “Do you two hang out like this often?” He asked, throwing the Frisbee in Scully’s direction, and watching in rapt fascination as she jumped in the air, and her shirt rode up, revealing a stretch of pale, smooth midriff. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Mulder watching with a similar intensity.

 

“Only in the Summer.” Scully said.

 

“And on Friday afternoons when we’re playing hooky from the office.” Mulder winked.

 

“In the Winter we go tobogganing.” Scully grinned.

 

“And skating.” Mulder added.

 

“How very…active.” Skinner commented.

 

“We haven’t told you about the running yet.” Mulder smirked.

 

“Or the scuba diving.” Scully smiled impishly. “Okay, that was a joke.” She explained, noticing Skinner’s total lack of comprehension. “Basically, we like to enjoy ourselves every now and again. We do a dangerous job, our lives are kind of hectic. This is one of the ways we like to relax and unwind.”

 

“That and the tantric sex.” Mulder added.

 

“What?” Skinner opened his mouth, aghast.

 

“Just kidding.” Mulder winked. “Or was I…?” He murmured as he jumped to catch the Frisbee that Scully was throwing at him. “Come on, let’s play Piggy in the Middle. Scully can be piggy, ‘cos that’s what she is… a little pink piggy…” He ran away as Scully launched herself at him, fists flailing, trying to capture the Frisbee and avenge the insult at the same time. Mulder stood on tiptoes, holding the Frisbee above his head. “Yo, piggy, what’s the matter? Can’t you reach this high?” He taunted, holding it tantalizingly out of her reach as she jumped to try and retrieve it.

 

It was, Skinner had to admit, fun. And different. And he had noticed in passing that Mulder was wearing a very nice red tee shirt with his jeans. Red suits him, he thought to himself. You’d never have guessed it, but it really does suit him.

 

“Hop, little piggy, hop, skip, and jump. You’ll never get it.” Mulder pranced around, holding the Frisbee out of Scully’s reach, only to find it plucked from his fingers by somebody just as tall as himself, and a lot stronger. “What? That’s cheating!” Mulder choked. “Scully’s the piggy.”

 

“And now you are.” Skinner grinned maliciously, and threw the Frisbee to Scully, who threw it back just as Mulder started running towards her. He turned around, and launched himself bodily at Skinner, but the other man twisted around underneath him, ending up on the grass on his back, with the Frisbee still clutched determinedly to his chest. Mulder sat astride him, trying to pry the Frisbee from his grasp.

 

“No way.” Skinner gasped, wondering what that strange sound was, and then realizing that it was him, and he was…giggling?

 

“If you don’t give it up voluntarily, then the rules state that it must be tickled out of you.” Mulder declared solemnly. “Isn’t that so, Scully?”

 

“That’s right, Mulder.” Scully appeared, her face staring at him upside down, the blue sky framing her red hair, and making her eyes seem even bluer than usual.

 

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” Skinner accused, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything else as Mulder’s fingers spidered up to his armpits, and began to tickle. Dimly, he saw Scully sit on his legs, and he felt her removing his sneakers, then his socks, then his feet were being attacked too. He gasped, and wriggled, and squealed, until finally he couldn’t bear it any longer. There was, he thought, something rather undignified about all this. He shouldn’t be playing silly adolescent games with two subordinates in the park on a Saturday…and yet…and yet, it was fun!

 

“Submit?” Mulder asked, still tickling.

 

“Oh god, yes, anything…!” He cried, relinquishing the Frisbee to his tormentors. Mulder grinned, and passed it to Scully, and they both flopped down on the grass beside their boss, panting hard.

 

“This isn’t happening.” Skinner said firmly, as he lay watching the shapes two white clouds were making in the otherwise clear sky.

 

“Certainly not.” Scully said, resting her head on his shoulder.

 

“That one’s an alien, and the other one is a rabbit.” Mulder pointed at the clouds, leaning on one elbow, chewing on a piece of grass.

 

“What sort of an alien?” Skinner demanded suspiciously. “It looks more like a tent to me.”

 

“Hmm, very Freudian.” Mulder regarded him thoughtfully.

 

“Don’t analyze me, Mulder!” he scolded.

 

“Tents – something you hide in, somewhere to shelter from the storm, nice, tight, canvas…cozy, snuggly, sleeping bags, camp fires…Is there something about being with me and Scully that makes you think of these things?” Mulder asked in an innocent tone.

 

“Certainly not. And anyway, it looks like a car now.”

 

“Hmm…cars, very masculine image, power, being in control…”

 

“Mulder – not everything has a subtext!” Skinner protested. “And anyway, I’m not the person who suggested rabbits.”

 

“Small outdoor creatures who hop, have large, floppy ears, and notoriously active libidos.” Scully added pointedly.

 

“Touche!” Mulder grinned.

 

“I don’t think he’s coming.” Skinner mused. “I think I might as well give up and go home.”

 

“Not yet.” Mulder looked down on him, and frowned. “He might be somewhere else in the park. It’s worth checking it out.”

 

“Hmm.” Skinner said doubtfully.

 

“Definitely worth it.” Scully mumbled into his tee shirt.

 

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm.” Skinner allowed Mulder and Scully to haul him to his feet, and they set off around the park.

 

Mulder and Scully were very tactile with each other, Skinner thought, as he watched them sauntering along, hand in hand, or arm in arm, constantly touching each other, and smiling. He felt a pang of envy and sadness, and wished that he was included in their camaraderie. Now he wasn’t so sure that the tantric sex remark had been a joke. These two looked very comfortable with each other, like lovers. He felt suddenly superfluous, and longed to be gone, away from their cozy coupledom.

 

“It’s getting late.” He glanced at his watch. It was nearly two. “I’d uh, better be going.”

 

“Oh not yet. We haven’t had lunch yet.” Mulder smiled easily. “Scully and I always have burgers and ice cream on a Saturday, don’t we, Scully?”

 

“We do, Mulder.” Scully nodded. “You go and buy them, I’ll show Walter our favorite eating hideaway.”

 

Walter? He thought to himself, as Mulder loped off. He didn’t have time to consider that any further, because he suddenly noticed that Scully had slipped her small hand into his big one, and was leading him down towards the lake. She took him to a grassy knoll, underneath a broad limbed tree, and they sat down, leaning back against the tree trunk with a contented sigh.

 

“Grassy knoll.” Scully grinned at him. “That’s why Mulder likes this place. He has a conspiracy theory about it.”

 

“Mulder has a conspiracy theory about everything.” Skinner commented.

 

“Yes. That’s why he’s such fun.” Scully chuckled. Skinner noticed that she had put her hand back in his. It was, he thought, very odd.

 

Mulder soon returned with a bag of burgers, and three enormous ice creams.

 

“How can we eat the burgers if the ice creams are melting?” Skinner asked.

 

“A-ha! Well that’s the fun part!” Mulder grinned, sitting down beside Skinner so that the older man was sandwiched between his two agents. “I like to take a bite from the burger…so!” He demonstrated. “Then a lick of the ice-cream…so!”

 

“That is so disgusting!” Skinner dug a small hole in the earth, and perched his ice cream cone in that so that he could concentrate on his burger.

 

“You can see why he’s the boss!” Mulder said, looking seriously impressed by this display of lateral thinking.

 

“But it’s no fun if the ice cream doesn’t run all over your fingers.” Scully told him.

 

“It isn’t?” Skinner looked mystified.

 

“No.” She grinned slyly, and a few minutes later held up one hand stained with tomato sauce, and another stained with ice cream. Then she knelt up, and held them out to Mulder to lick, while she returned the favor on his hands.

 

“Yeuch.” Skinner commented, but secretly he wished his hands were dirty so they could be licked clean as well. Scully seemed to read his thoughts.

 

“You’ve got ice cream on your chin…” she murmured, her small, pink, cat-like tongue suddenly lapping out, and removing it before he could protest. This was definitely very strange. If it hadn’t been such a nice day, and if he hadn’t been in such a good mood, and if Mulder didn’t look so good in that red tee shirt, and if Scully didn’t smell so nice, then he wouldn’t stay. He’d go home right now, and do something sensible, like work on some papers, before going to the gym.

 

“I really should be going.” He murmured, without meaning it.

 

“Mmm. Yeah.” Mulder leaned back lazily, and the next thing Skinner knew, Mulder’s arm had sneaked around his shoulder. Scully’s hand had crept back into his, and it was so warm, and he had just been fed, and…he put his head back and relaxed. Scully’s head nuzzled up under his chin, resting on his chest, and Mulder’s fingers seemed to be playing with the tiny fringe of hair at the back of his scalp. This is wrong! He thought to himself, opening his mouth to tell them so.

 

“Is that strawberry?” He found himself saying instead.

 

“What?” Scully looked up at him.

 

“Hair conditioner. Strawberry right? Smells divine.”

 

“No. Certainly not. I’m allergic to strawberries.” Scully frowned at him. “It’s passion fruit.”

 

“Oh. Could have sworn it was strawberry…” Skinner sniffed it. That gave him a good excuse to kiss her hair without her noticing. It was at that moment that he noticed that Mulder’s other hand was on his thigh. All the same, he was comfortable, and there didn’t seem to be any point in making a fuss about it.

 

They slept, and talked – nonsense mainly, although that was Mulder’s fault. The other man was pathologically incapable of talking sense, Skinner decided. Then Mulder suggested they go rollerblading, and Skinner protested that he didn’t have any skates, and Scully said that she always carried a spare pair in her bag, and strangely they were just his size…and the next thing he knew, he was standing unsteadily on a pair of rollerblades, wobbling precariously.

 

“Don’t worry.” Mulder winked, taking hold of his arm. “We’ll hold you up.”

 

“We certainly will.” Scully slid underneath his other arm, and put a small, steady hand around his waist. In fact, Skinner thought crossly, the suggestion seemed to have been made deliberately so that they could run their hands all over his body. He pushed this thought aside, as being unworthy of him. They were just being friendly, introducing them to this little hobby of theirs. It was very sweet really, and anyway, was he objecting if Scully’s fingers brushed over his torso rather more than was necessary, or Mulder’s lips seemed to hover next to his cheek on more occasions than could be written off as sheer accident? It was nice to be pushed, and pulled, and skidded along the path, knowing they were holding him up so that he wouldn’t fall, laughing as Mulder showed off.

 

Afterwards, he said that this time, he really did need to go home, but Scully just shook her head.

 

“Nonsense.” She exclaimed. “You haven’t tried the remote controlled boats yet.” And he found himself being whisked off back to the lake. Strangely, Scully now seemed to feel no compunction whatsoever about slipping her hand back into his, as if it belonged there, and Mulder’s arm was a permanent fixture around his shoulder. It was very…peculiar. And nice.

 

Mulder’s boat was auspiciously called the Titanic. True to form, it capsized when Skinner’s boat torpedoed into it. Skinner pretended it was an accident. Nobody was convinced, and Scully had to sit down and rest for several minutes after being exhausted by a violent fit of giggles.

 

Skinner couldn’t believe it when he glanced at his watch to find it was nearly 6 p.m.

 

“Now I really must be going,” he said firmly. “It’s uh, been a nice day. Um, thank you.” He felt himself going red, and embarrassed. Scully smiled at him.

 

“We’ll walk you home,” she said.

 

“No need,” he replied.

 

“But we insist.” Mulder said ominously. He gave in.

 

They left him at the door to his apartment. Scully stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, and Mulder did the same, only without needing to stand on tiptoe. Skinner felt rather sad when they left. He couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed himself in this way. He closed the door to his apartment with a regretful sigh – and that was when he noticed another plain brown envelope lying on the door mat. He opened it with a swift swipe of his finger. Another cigarette fell out.

 

“Adelphi hotel. 8 p.m. Trust No 1.” It said. Hmm. So, Cancerman, having failed to make the rendezvous this morning, had made alternative arrangements had he? Skinner glanced at his watch. He just had time to shower, and get changed.

 

He chose a casual jacket, and dark chinos to go with his light blue shirt. He wasn’t sure what sort of a place the Adelphi hotel was, but he thought these clothes would probably be suitable. He wanted to blend in.

 

This was a forlorn hope. He drew several admiring glances as he crossed the lobby, and most eyes lingered more than was strictly necessary, taking in his toned body, and tanned face – which had gone an even deeper shade of honey brown after being in the sun all day. He sat in the lobby for half an hour, growing more and more agitated. That was when the bellboy brought him the message.

 

“Are you Mr. Skinner?”

 

“Yes.” He looked at the bellboy suspiciously. He didn’t look like a member of the Consortium, but still, you couldn’t always tell.

 

“I have a message for you. You’re to go to the 4th floor. Room 69.” The bellboy smirked, as if the room number was some sort of clue, and handed him a key. Skinner took it gingerly, and did as instructed, drawing his gun. You could never be too careful with Cancerman. He unlocked the door, and pushed it open, cautiously. There was a table in the center of the room, and next to it a trolley containing food. Skinner glared at it suspiciously. At that moment, the bathroom door opened, and a beautiful woman emerged, clad in a tight, red, satin dress. Skinner’s jaw dropped.

 

“Scully?” He choked.

 

“Sir?” She looked confused. “Have you been following us, sir?” She asked him.

 

“Certainly not!” He replied, annoyed. “I was sent here.”

 

At that moment, the bedroom door opened, and Mulder stepped into the room. He was wearing a tuxedo, and bow tie. Skinner stood there, transfixed. Damn! He had obviously walked in on a private tete a tete.

 

“Sir?” Mulder looked even more confused than Scully. “Uh, excuse me for asking, sir, but how did you know we were here? Um, it’s just that, Scully and I…occasionally we like to dress up, take a private room, entertain each other…” he broke off, looking shyly at his feet. “You know how it is, sir.” He murmured.

 

“Yes of course. I didn’t mean to intrude…” Skinner backed away, hurriedly. “It’s just I was sent this.” He got out the cigarette, and showed it to them.

 

“Another one?” Mulder shook his head. “I think someone is setting us up, sir. I think someone wanted you to know about our relationship.”

 

“But why?” Skinner asked, bewildered. “I mean, I know about the rules and regulations and so on, but I really don’t have any interest in your private lives. You’re both far too charming and, uh, attractive, not to…” His eyes devoured Scully’s pale flesh, noting the way the dress clung to her in all the right places, then traveled over Mulder’s long, lean, body, which looked deliciously, sensuously good in a tux. “I mean, that is…” He choked.

 

“Thank you, sir.” Scully took hold of his arm, and kissed his cheek. “That’s for being so understanding, Walter.” She told him meaningfully.

 

“Hell, Scully. A kiss isn’t good enough!” Mulder said forcefully. “We insist that you join us for dinner, sir.”

 

“No. Really. I couldn’t. This is a private moment.” Skinner muttered, feeling embarrassed.

 

“Not at all. We’d like it if you stayed. Wouldn’t we, Scully?” Mulder smiled at Scully, who smiled at Skinner.

 

“We certainly would,” she said.

 

“No. I’ll just go. We’ll forget this ever happened…” Skinner backed towards the door, only to find that Mulder was already there, shutting it. Then he locked it, and put the key into the pocket of his pants.

 

“Sorry, sir.” Mulder smiled at him apologetically. “But we really do insist.”

 

“Well, as you’re so determined.” Skinner gave in reluctantly.

 

“So how long have you two been, uh…” Skinner flushed, as he cut into his succulent steak.

 

“What?” Scully peered at him through her expensively coiffeured fringe. She looked…exquisite.

 

“Uh, you know…” He floundered.

 

“Sleeping together?” Mulder suggested.

 

“An item.” Skinner said firmly.

 

“Oh, a while.” Scully smiled enigmatically. Skinner noticed that she was wearing a single red ruby on a delicate gold chain, which was nestled against the hollow of her throat, in place of her more usual gold crucifix. “Mulder gave it to me,” she said softly, glancing at her partner. Skinner felt a pang of jealousy and sadness in his gut. He wished he had somebody who would gaze at him like that. He glanced at Mulder, and saw that Mulder was gazing back at him. That was when he noticed the gold earring that Mulder was wearing, with a tiny, red, ruby inset in it.

 

“Scully bought it for me.” Mulder told him. “We only wear them on these…private occasions.”

 

Skinner felt a choking in his throat. It was so sweet. Okay, sort of sickly as well. But sweet if you weren’t a cynical, world-weary kind of person. And he wasn’t. Really. Deep down in his gruff, strong-but-silent heart, he was a romantic, and it was all he could do not to let a tear escape from his eye.

 

The conversation flowed as warmly as the wine as the meal progressed. Mulder and Scully both worked very hard to make sure that he didn’t feel excluded, but all the same, this seemed like such a private occasion, and he couldn’t help but feel that he was intruding.

 

“We have a kind of…tradition with dessert.” Scully informed him, as Mulder brought over three dishes of tiramisu.

 

“What’s that?” Skinner asked.

 

“You have to close your eyes, and feed the other person.” Mulder informed him.

 

“It sounds silly.” Skinner sighed, thinking that actually it sounded very sweet and sappy. “But if you have your eyes closed you might miss. What happens then?”

 

“Ah, well, we’ll have to show you.” Scully grinned.

 

“Oh no. This game is just for the two of you!” He exclaimed.

 

“Nonsense. It’s a tradition. And it must be upheld!” Mulder proclaimed loudly, banging his fist on the table. “Now open your mouth, sir, Scully’s going first.”

 

Skinner did as he was told with a semi-reluctant sigh, opening his mouth wide, and watching with some concern as Scully closed her eyes, and waved a spoonful of tiramisu in the general direction of his face. The spoon came closer, and closer, and then crashed unsuccessfully into his nose.

 

“You’re not allowed to help by moving your face, sir.” Mulder told him, tapping his knuckles reprovingly with his spoon when he tried to do just that.

 

“But…”

 

“And keep your mouth open. Give her a fighting chance.”

 

Skinner finally managed to receive a spoonful of the dark, sumptuous tiramisu.

 

“How did I do?” Scully opened her eyes and surveyed Skinner’s stained face. “Hmm…here’s the fun part then…” She leaned over and licked the dessert off his chin, just as she had done with the ice cream in the park that afternoon. Then her mouth lingered against his lips, and suddenly, he wasn’t quite sure how, he found that she was kissing him. Her tongue was in his mouth, and her body seemed to be in his lap, and her fingers were running themselves all over his head, and her other fingers were undoing the top button of his shirt. Wait a minute! What other fingers? He came up for air, gasping slightly, to find that the fingers on his shirt were Mulder’s – but that didn’t worry him nearly so much as the fingers on his pants. He glanced down to see that Scully had removed her hands from his head, and was now kneeling by his feet, her small fingers undoing his belt.

 

“What…exactly…is going on?” He exclaimed.

 

“Just go with it, Walter.” Mulder caressed his boss’s bald head with long, sensitive fingers.

 

“Go with it?” Skinner gasped, as Scully reached into his boxer shorts.

 

“That’s right.”

 

“But…!” Skinner broke off as Scully’s mouth made warm, wet, contact with his cock.

 

“It’s a present.” Mulder told him, his arms encircling Skinner’s neck lovingly, and insinuating themselves down the front of Skinner’s shirt, undoing each button languidly.

 

“A present?” Skinner choked.

 

“That’s right.” Scully looked up, her lipstick endearingly smudged, and the tendrils of her hair escaping. “A birthday present. We didn’t know what else to get for you.”

 

“And of course, we kind of thought this would be a nice present for us as well.” Mulder said. “It’s not as if we haven’t fantasized about it for months. All those meetings in your office were starting to become a torment for us, to be honest. We had to go straight back to the basement and talk about how good you looked in your white shirts, and tasteful ties, and how lonely you seemed, and how in need of some tender, loving attention. All we could talk about was how much we wanted to smother you in kisses, and make violent, passionate love to you. One thing usually led to another, and we’d end up in a very compromising position.”

 

“In the office?” Skinner gaped.

 

“On the desk.” Mulder nodded. “Or the floor.”

 

“Gnn…waa….” Scully added.

 

“Against the wall.” Mulder translated helpfully. “It couldn’t be allowed to go on.”

 

“I should think not.” Skinner growled.

 

“No. Our minds just weren’t on our work. If the mutant population of the U.S. was to be kept down, two would have to become three, and pretty damn fast. We thought, hoped, that you’d like the idea, so we decided to test it out today, to see how you’d respond. That was why we lured you to the park. It was very carefully planned, this birthday treat.”

 

“Birthday?” Skinner asked.

 

“That’s right. Don’t tell me you’d forgotten!” Mulder dipped his head forward, and stole a kiss from Skinner’s surprised mouth.

 

“Actually I had…So the cigarettes were just a ruse?”

 

“Well I did write ‘trust no 1’ on them.” Mulder grinned. “You should haven taken more note of that. It was a big clue. You certainly shouldn’t have trusted us. We’re completely untrustworthy. How are you doing down there, Scully? Save some for me, won’t you?” He grinned as Skinner sank back speechless into his chair, unable to resist the sheer joy of that mouth on his cock. “Forgetting your own birthday!” Mulder shook his head, and finished unbuttoning Skinner’s shirt, ducking his mouth forward to run his tongue gently over a nipple. “We wanted to give you a day to remember, Walter. A day you could never forget!”

 

“Oh, it’s certainly that all right.” Skinner groaned, feeling that he was about to come. Scully’s mouth stopped its sensuous work, and she reappeared in front of him, grinning.

 

“But you don’t want us to stop, do you?” She asked him.

 

“Uh…” Skinner tried to think about it, but Mulder was rolling his tongue over his left nipple, and Scully’s hand was caressing his balls lightly. “Uh, no…” he whispered.

 

“Great. Time for the birthday spanking then.” Mulder grinned.

 

“What?” He frowned.

 

“Absolutely.” Mulder nodded. “Another of our traditions. Trust me, you’ll love it. Scully’s spankings are the nicest in the world, if I do say so myself.” He beamed at Scully, and she grinned back.

 

“Over here, Walter.” She commanded.

 

Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, Mulder and Scully maneuvered him over to the bedroom, divesting him of his remaining clothes as they went. He vaguely wondered if this were some sort of bizarre blackmail attempt, but then Scully reached up, and undid one button at the back of her dress, and it sank to the floor in a flowing wave of red satin. Skinner groaned. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, and her whole body was a beautiful swirl of delicate curves, her skin the softest, pearly, cream shade, with each full breast finished off by a sweet pink nipple.

 

“She’s lovely isn’t she?” Mulder leaned against him from behind, his fingers tangling in Skinner’s chest hair.

 

“Yes…” Skinner whispered. He could feel Mulder’s erection digging into his butt, and he suddenly felt overcome by a wave of desire. “You are too.” He said, turning around to face Mulder, taking the other man in his arms, and kissing him full on the lips. Mulder returned the kiss, his mouth wet and hungry against Skinner’s.

 

“Me too.” Scully protested, inserting her body between the two of them, and holding up her face for a kiss. Both the men broke off their embrace, and ducked their heads down to Scully’s face, smothering her in little kisses. Skinner dropped to his knees, and ran his hands over her breasts, smoothing his fingers over her nipples, then taking the tips of them gently into his mouth, sucking softly. Scully groaned, and grasped his head as he sucked her breasts, his mouth becoming more animated, nibbling and teasing until she was making incoherent little moans of pleasure in her throat.

 

“No more…” She pulled away. “We want to play with you some more first! How old are you today?” She sat herself down on the bed, and beckoned him over. Still on his knees, he shuffled adoringly towards her, and she unhooked his glasses, and placed a finger over his mouth to still his protest.

 

“Uh…” He had to think about it. “Forty seven.” He said.

 

“That’s forty seven spanks.” She grinned. “Over my knee, handsome.” She pulled a pillow onto her lap, and with more eagerness than was seemly, he found himself arranging his long, heavy body so that he was lying face down in her lap, his chest and legs on the bed, his butt raised enticingly on top of the pillow. Skinner closed his eyes as Scully’s little hand ran lovingly over his butt, stroking him gently, sensuously. Then she delivered a little slap that warmed his flesh deliciously. She bent her head to kiss the tiny red mark she had just made, and he shivered.

 

“Two.” Another sweet little slap, just enough to tease, not enough to hurt. Skinner groaned, feeling his hard cock growing even harder as he squirmed around in her lap. That was when he caught sight of Mulder. The other man was unbuttoning his shirt slowly, his tongue caressing his lips as he stripped. Then he moved onto his pants, unzipping, shimmying them down his legs with several flicks of his beautiful ass.

 

“Oh god…” Skinner murmured, experiencing a sensory overload as his eyes and flesh were exposed to a combination of delights.

 

“Fifteen.” Scully delivered another little tap, followed by another exquisite kiss, that sent a licking, burning flame throughout his entire body. Mulder had reached his boxer shorts, and was toying with the waistband, his eyes fixed on Skinner and Scully as he undressed. Slowly, he peeled down the last layer of fabric, and Skinner’s eyes were drawn to the other man’s smooth, erect cock.

 

“Uhhh….” Skinner buried his face in the bedclothes, his thighs wriggling in time to the slaps that Scully was bestowing on his upturned ass. This had to be the most bizarre thing that had ever happened to him in his entire life. How the hell did he get into this? How the hell would he get out of it? Did he want to get out of it? NO! Mulder joined him and Scully on the bed, and now, after every small spank, Mulder’s tongue ran a warm, wet swathe along Skinner’s buttocks, until he was a shivering, gibbering wreck.

 

“Forty seven.” Mulder whispered in his ear as the spanking came to an end. “And one for luck!” He delivered a much harder swat, and Skinner leapt into the air and was pulled back down by two sets of outstretched arms. They drew him into their circle, two bodies caressing, nibbling, sucking, and adoring him, until he didn’t know which body was his, or Mulder’s, or Scully’s – they all seemed joined, and as one.

 

“How would you like to be the filling in a nice Walter sandwich?” Mulder asked, nibbling at Skinner’s ear. “You inside Scully, me inside you?”

 

“Isn’t that…very perverted or something?” Skinner gasped, as Scully licked his balls.

 

“Oh yeah!” Mulder chuckled. “But no more perverted than anything else we’ve done. And this is your birthday, Walter, so you get to do whatever you like! What do you say?”

 

“I…” Skinner sighed. “I say, yes. Please!” He whimpered.

 

Skinner found himself turned over to face Scully, who positioned herself underneath him, and a condom appeared as if by magic, and was slowly rolled down over his cock. Then Scully guided him into her with her hands, her lips teasing at his nipples as she did so. He repaid the favor, his own mouth finding her breasts, nuzzling and sucking at the small, pink, nubs of pleasure, as he entered her. She cried out, and wrapped her legs around his back, so that she was bucking with him in a frenzy, like a wild animal. Then he felt Mulder softly caress his back, his fingers working open his buttocks and gently probing inside, massaging cool gel into him, which contrasted, complemented, conspired, with the heat in his cock, and the warmth of Scully’s body as it enveloped him, the two different sensations making him tingle.

 

He tensed as he felt Mulder position himself behind him, but Scully’s legs gripped him even tighter, drawing him so hard into her body that she made him gasp with pleasure, and at that moment, Mulder entered him from behind, in one smooth, fluid sweep that took his breath away. It was an easy, practiced movement, and caused him only pleasure, the force of it sending him bucking forward with a groan, pushing his own cock even further into Scully’s waiting, loving body. She seemed molded to him, her arms around his neck, her legs around his torso, Mulder’s hands on his thighs, Mulder’s cock filling him, smoothly riding in and out. Mulder licking, kissing his back with each long stroke until all three of their bodies were one blur of action, pleasure, and sensation. Skinner wasn’t sure where he ended and they began. They fitted together perfectly, as one being. Scully climaxed first, her rhythmic contractions milking his cock until he felt himself coming as well, and he heard rather than felt Mulder’s climax a few minutes later, as the other man groaned in pleasure.

 

They tumbled back down onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs, and sweat, and come. Mulder wrapped his arms around Skinner and kissed his head, while Scully lay almost on top of the pair of them, her small body pale against Skinner’s dark, tanned flesh, and Mulder’s sallow skin.

 

“Many happy returns.” Mulder whispered, nibbling Skinner’s ear. “We were hoping you’d agree. Now we can give you this.” He fished his pants off the floor, and reached into the pocket, to pull out a heavy gold signet ring, with a small inset ruby.

 

“We didn’t think you’d go for an earring.” Scully sat astride his chest, the heady smell of her sex overwhelming him. “So instead you have to wear the ring.”

 

Mulder slid the ring smoothly along the 3rd finger of Skinner’s right hand.

 

“Because you belong to us now. We all belong together, birthday boy. And your 46th birthday was the last one that you’ll ever spend alone.” His lips found Skinner’s, then Scully’s found Skinner’s, then somehow, everything started all over again…

 

All in all, Skinner thought to himself several hours later, as he lay with his arms full of his two beautiful agents; all in all, it had been a very good birthday.

 

The End

 

PS. I had a good birthday too. Not, perhaps, quite as good as the one Walter just had, but pretty good all the same!

 

I return to this universe in Sunday, and Educating Walter.

 

 

Index