Certs by Raven Part One "Mulder, don't hang up." It was Krycek's voice, and it took all of Mulder's will not to do just that. But there was a desperation to the tone, something different in the voice, that warned him this was important. It was the note that meant Krycek was about to confuse the hell out of him again by being honest about whatever was going on. "What is it, Krycek?" Mulder asked it warily, knowing the old saying about being careful what you wish for was never more true than when getting the truth from Krycek. "I'm going to give you an address. You have to get there within the hour. Take all the back-up you want, tell whoever you need to tell, but get there in an hour. It'll be a complex, you're interested in the top two floors. The penthouse has a living suite attached. Let your fibbies take in the rest of the building, but nobody should go in the suite but you. Nobody, Mulder, that's crucial. You should be prepared, Mulder..." Krycek paused, and Mulder felt his minute patience slip. "Prepared for what, Krycek? What, Samantha's there?" He sneered it, and was cut to the quick by the quiet answer, even as it stunned him back into silence with its bald implications. "No. I don't know where Samantha is, Mulder, I don't think I'll ever be able to find her for you. No, it's... Fuck, Mulder, I can't warn you, there's no way." Krycek sighed, and Mulder heard the sound shift, heard him moving. When he came back on the line, Krycek was whispering urgently. "221 Belmond Plaza, the Mercury Building. Alone, Mulder, and hurry." The line went dead, and Mulder severed the connection. He hesitated only briefly, then dialed Scully's number. Twenty minutes later, there was a team on their way to the address. Ahead of them, by fifteen minutes, was a car with three passengers. Skinner drove, Mulder had shotgun, and Scully was in the back, her bag beside her, ready for almost anything. They had decided that Krycek wouldn't have mentioned back- up unless it was a good idea, and so the team was notified about the rest of the building. Skinner had given orders that the penthouse was off-limits. He and Scully would be going there with Mulder, but would remain in the outer suite, while Mulder went in the living suite alone. They drove in silence. Scully was worried for Mulder and furious with him for playing another of Krycek's games. Skinner was concerned for his agent (Marines never worry) and furious with him for risking himself again. Mulder was dividing his time between wondering what he'd find in the suite and wondering what the hell Krycek had meant about finding his sister for him. It didn't make for a pleasant ride, but it wasn't far to the building in question. It was virtually deserted, and the trio didn't so much as encounter a snooty receptionist as they made their way into the elevators. There were fourteen floors to the building, not counting the penthouse, and fourteen marked buttons. Mulder thought for a moment, then pushed an unmarked decorative bar between the open and close buttons. The doors slid shut and they started to ascend. The lights on the counter showed 15 when the doors stopped. They stepped out into a small foyer, and down a hallway beyond could see an ornate white door, decorated in gold. It could only be the living suite, and Mulder gave his partners a nod before turning to it. Another of those decorative bars was in the center of the door, looking only like more trim work, but closer look showed that it was raised slightly, just as it had been in the elevator. Mulder took a deep breath, drew his gun for all the good it usually did him, and pushed the button. The door swung open gently and silently, revealing a deep rose carpet. It was a small entry way, and led first to an elegant, if equally small living room. To one side was a kitchen and dining area, to the other, another ornate white door that was most likely a bedroom. A part of him registered the casual wealth around him. It might have been a small apartment, but it was luxurious. The sofas were a pale cream leather, the carpet a marvel of thick softness. The kitchen was black and chrome, a contrast to the rose, gilt and cream furnishings in the living room. The rest of him shoved these details aside, wanting only to get this over with. Mulder longed to just burst open the door, but Krycek's warning rang in his ears. He calmed himself, took another deep breath, and eased open the bedroom door. And damn near fainted. He felt the blood draining from his face, felt the air freeze in his lungs. He was hot and cold, and tasted bile at the back of his throat, but was too shocked to care. Krycek was right about something else. There was no way he could have prepared Mulder, not for this. It was a bedroom, although that term was almost insulting in its simplicity when applied to the den of luxury he was now in. More of that same rose and gilt and cream, Louis XIV furniture that had to be real, gold and crystal, marble and velvet, satin and silks...it was the epitome of sensual, a romantic dream that would have been cloying and extreme except for the other furnishings in the room. A St. Andrew's cross in gleaming pickled oak and cream leather. A padded horse, again the oak pickled and the leather in cream to match the room. Golden chains dangled from the ceiling in unusual places, some of them with circlets of more cream leather at their ends. An open armoire stood to one side, revealing a dark rose velvet interior modified to hold canes and crops, paddles and straps, with more restraints on the shelves. A serving table stood on the other side of the bed, an assortment of paddles, mirrors and hairbrushes arranged in neat rows. The bed itself was round, covered in pale rose satin and mounded with pillows in every shade of the rose, gold and cream that Mulder was beginning to get physically ill from. But it was the last furnishing, for that was the word that had to be applied, that took the room from a decorator's worst nightmare and made it work as part of a fully awake wet dream. No, with the final furnishing in place, the rest of the room served as nothing more than a luxurious backdrop, tasteful and perfect in its harmony. The last piece, as with so much in life, was what made the whole thing pure erotic art. It was also what had nearly brought Mulder to his knees, what was making his heart threaten to burst, what was making the blood roar in his ears. He closed his eyes, fought for breath, prayed to every god he'd ever heard of that when he opened his eyes, it would all be gone. In the center of the bed, sprawling nude and graceful, fast asleep, Mulder could clearly see himself. The body, decorated with gold chains and rings, belonged to him. The face, from his much hated long nose to the overripe bottom lip to the pale chestnut hair spilling over a satin pillow, was his. Mulder watched as the figure shifted slightly, stirring just a bit. Mulder heard a similar sound behind him, and realized that Scully had probably decided enough was enough, and was on her way in after him. He stumbled back out, the thickness of the carpet muffling the sound, so that the sleeper remained undisturbed. He found Scully in the livingroom, Skinner a few steps behind her. She took one look at his face and was by his side. She opened her mouth to speak, but he put a finger to her lips and drew them back to the entryway. "Mulder, what is it? What's in there?" He opened his mouth to speak, gagged, breathed deeply, then with great care, said, "A clone. My clone. It's me, Scully, me in there..." He swallowed, unable to say the rest. "Agents, I'd like to remind you that there's a team on its way here right now. We've got maybe ten minutes to do what needs done." Skinner's firm voice was pitched low, but the tones of authority were unmistakable. Mulder started to respond to it, instinctively, when a sleepy voice beat him to the punch. From the other room, Mulder's voice reached them clearly. "Master? Shall I attend?" There was pure submission in the tone, and combined with the words, painted a fairly clear picture. Scully's face showed horrified revulsion, Skinner was patently avoiding Mulder's eyes, but the blush was obvious, and Mulder knew he had to make a decision, and quickly. The voice came again, this time tinged with suspicion. "Master? Who's there?" Mulder bit his lip hard, the pain helping him focus. He motioned Scully and Skinner to keep quiet and headed back toward the bedroom. He opened the door slowly, only to hear the familiar sound of a gun cocking behind his ear. He put his hands up and entered the room. Scully and Skinner were outside the door, and Scully started in, but Skinner put a hand on her shoulder, holding up a finger for her to wait a moment. She nodded, knowing he was probably right, but eased her gun up, just in case. They could see Mulder in the center of the room, hands raised, back still to the door. They heard the voice again, eerie in the way it came from behind Mulder. "Step over to the right, under the chains. Fasten them to your wrists." Mulder did so, trying hard to think. "Now, turn around, slowly." There was enough slack in the chains to allow the movement, and he felt again that shock punch to the gut as he turned and looked into the mirror image of himself. No longer nude, but nearly so in thin cream colored silk sleep pants, his clone seemed to be suffering from the same shock. Green-gold eyes raked him from head to foot and back again, and Mulder saw the gun tremble, just before fate took another hand. Unlike the Mulder that had faced down liver-eating mutants, demons and zombies, this Mulder apparently wasn't quite as used to shocks. He fainted dead away. Mulder undid the chains, reaching the body almost as soon as Scully and Skinner did. In the distance, they could hear sirens, not that anyone but Mulder was paying attention. Skinner and Scully were both staring at the man passed out at their feet. "Fuck! Sir, can you carry...him? To the car?" Skinner nodded, and with more ease than Mulder liked, hefted the limp form over one shoulder. Scully, able to move now that Mulder's face wasn't looking at her from two different parts of the room, grabbed a blanket, noticed that it was apparently pure cashmere, and threw it over him. Mulder had done a quick scan of the room and the Roman orgy that passed for a bathroom beyond it, found nothing that seemed urgent, and now motioned them out the door. They got into the car, Skinner dumping the limp body carefully on the backseat before jumping in and slamming the door shut behind him. Mulder barely waited until the door was shut before flooring it. He got them far enough away to be safe and then slowed down, driving aimlessly. "Where are we going?" Scully asked hesitantly, and Mulder shook his head. "I don't know. My place is out of the question, anybody could see us there. We can't take..." he stumbled again, a tiny part of his Oxford educated brain trying to come up with the correct grammar, settling for simple masculine, "him back to the Hoover, he'd end up disappearing into a lab somewhere. I don't know." "I have an idea." Skinner spoke from the back, quietly, well aware the effect his voice had earlier. The A.D. was leaning forward between the front seats, all but whispering. "A friend of mine has a house he's trying to sell. It's not listed yet, but it's furnished and available. It's at the end of a private drive just outside the city. He left me the keys, told me to use the place if I wanted. He won't be selling for another month, it would give you some time." Mulder hesitated, but his brain had shut down completely. "What's the address?" Skinner directed them, and Mulder saw that it was in the middle of a wooded lot, complete with a security gate. Skinner fished a card out of his wallet, handing it to Mulder, who punched in the numbers. The gates opened, and they pulled up to the front door. Skinner had taken a key from his ring, gave it to Mulder. He then lifted the man over his shoulder again, and carried him into the house. When he'd settled him on the couch, Mulder drew the blanket away, and they all simply stared for a long moment. "Look, when he wakes up, let me do the talking, okay? This isn't going to be easy." They nodded compliance, and Mulder bit his lip. "Still, we have to wake him up first, and if I wake him up, he's liable to just faint again." "You can't blame him," Scully muttered, and Skinner's eyes clearly said he agreed. "Still, my voice shouldn't be the first thing he hears... Sir, he, uhm, he seems to respond to your voice. Would you mind?" Mulder ignored his blush, ignored Skinner's, and the A.D. cleared his throat slightly before putting a touch of extra command into the low words. "Wake up. Attend me." Scully shot him a reproving look, but the figure responded almost at once, stirring slightly. Eyes still shut, he groaned and rubbed at his eyes. "Master? I'm sorry, Master, I'm not feeling well..." He trailed off as he opened his eyes, seeing Skinner and Scully. Mulder had moved out of the line of vision. The man came upright slowly on the couch, and Skinner noticed the hand reaching subtly, searching for a weapon, despite the level gaze. And it was level. Earlier he might have fainted, but Skinner could tell this man was no coward. "Who are you? What do you want with me?" "Your building was taken over by the FBI. We got you out before they got there." "Why? And again, who are you?" "Look," Skinner continued in the same gentle but firm tone, "who we are isn't important. It's you that matters right now. There's something you have to know, it's going to be a hell of a shock. You fainted once, try not to do it again." The clone accepted this, gave a short nod at the command, and steeled himself. He followed Skinner and Scully's gaze up and around to his left, as Mulder walked into view. They stared at each other for long moments, and then the man spoke again. "Are we twins?" "No. You're my clone." Mulder saw the reaction to his voice, knew what that was like. He looked to Scully, if only to tear his eyes away from the figure on the couch. "Would you get some water, please?" She didn't like it but she obliged, and Skinner moved slowly to the other side of the room, turning his back to give them privacy. "Are you one of the shape-shifters?" The question threw Mulder for a moment, and then he shook his head. "No. No, I'm human." "If you're just human, then we aren't clones. Are you sure we aren't simply identical twins?" Now that he thought about it, Mulder wasn't sure, but the rest of the question was making him panic again. "What do you mean?" The man on the couch shook his head slowly, eyes visibly whirling with thoughts. "No. No more answers from me until I get some from you. Who are you, why did you take me, and what are your plans?" He settled back, crossing his arms over his chest. Mulder caught a flicker of gold, and realized that it was a gold charm dangling from one nipple. Apparently, it matched the one dangling from the cream leather collar around the man's neck. Mulder shook his head and took a deep breath, thinking. This man was him, maybe not in every single way, but it was becoming obvious that they thought alike. What would work for him? "You're right. I don't know, not for sure. I work for the FBI, with the X Files unit. I got a call from a man named Alex Krycek..." He trailed off as he saw something flicker across the clone's face. "Krycek called you? You're sure it was Alex Krycek?" "Positive. Why?" "Because it means I have to believe you. Mulder." The use of his name made Mulder move closer, sitting down on the couch next to him. "How did you know my name?" "The same way I knew your face. It's the same as mine. Fox William Mulder. I prefer Fox, but Alex tells me you prefer Mulder." "How do you know Krycek?" Scully had returned now, and she all but thrust the water at the clone, her tone showing clearly what she thought of Krycek and his friends. "You must be Scully. Alex told me not to expect a warm reception from you, something about you not dealing well with either sex or competition." Scully's face became highlighted by two spots of color, one on each cheek, and the fury was easy to see. Before she could voice it, the clone had turned to Skinner, who was watching with interest. "That would make you the third leg of the triangle. Walter Skinner." The clone's face turned in a heartbeat into a pure invitation that raised the temperature in the room a good ten degrees. His body made a subtle shift, and Mulder swallowed hard as he watched himself all but tie a bow around his cock and wish Skinner happy birthday. "Alex told me you, on the other hand, might give me a very warm reception, indeed. Sir." The last was a breathy, playful tease that made Mulder's cock twitch. Skinner locked his jaw, ignored the fact that he was blushing for the third time that night, and simply continued to meet the man's eyes, despite the bulge now visible in the front of his own pants. The green-gold eyes gave a last heated flirt, then the man was all business again as he turned back to Mulder. "Alright, I'll tell you what I know. But first, is this a safe place? Is it bugged? Are either of them bugged? What's the security? Do we have a secure phone line and a cordless modem?" Mulder looked helplessly at the man, wishing his own brain were working half as well. "Uhm, I don't know, to most of those, and no to the rest." Mulder told the clone the whole story, from Krycek's call to where they were now. The man had a thoughtful look, but he was smiling as well. "Jesus, Alex was right about you, where angels fear to tread. Okay, first things first. I have to use the bathroom and I'd like some clothing. Do you have a bag in your car?" Mulder nodded, and Skinner volunteered to go get it, needing the air. "We need to find out what we can, about the raid this evening. When could you get hold of a report?" "Now, a verbal one, at least. Skinner could get a better one." The A.D. was back, handing over Mulder's overnight bag, and at Mulder's direction, Skinner popped his cell phone and made the call. "I'll be right back," the clone said. "I know you don't cook, but could you try to make some coffee? I usually have a pot and a half by now." "It's a little late for caffeine, isn't it?" Scully offered this as Mulder headed for the kitchen. "I tend to work more nights than days, Agent Scully. It's first thing in the morning for me." He matched her cool tone precisely and neutrally, and Mulder had the impression of cats hissing at each other, before both of them darted a quick glance at him and went their separate ways. In the kitchen he found coffee and made a pot, then stood back, thinking. Skinner came into the kitchen and began to rummage through the freezer. He took out a bag of waffles, a packet of bacon and some juice concentrate. In the refrigerator, he found syrup, butter and eggs making the expiration date by a matter of hours. "What are you doing?" "I didn't have lunch and it's past dinner. I doubt either of you have eaten either and I know he hasn't, not if he's just waking up for the day. We could all use some food, might as well be breakfast." This made sense to Mulder, and he found a pitcher, making the juice while Skinner defrosted and started on the bacon. Scully came in, assessed the situation and began cracking eggs into a bowl without a word. "This isn't going to be easy. Not for any of us. But not for him, either. Please, for my sake, try." There was no response, but Mulder hadn't spoken to anyone in particular. Still, he noted the way Scully's shoulders dropped a fraction, the way Skinner sighed. Satisfied, Mulder turned as his clone entered the doorway. He was wearing one of Mulder's tee shirts, and a pair of blue jeans. His long hair was gathered back neatly in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, secured with a rubber band he'd found in the bathroom. His feet were clad in Mulder's athletic shoes. "I hope you don't mind, I borrowed the shoes, too. If we have to run, it'll be safer and faster." "Of course not." "Thank you, Mulder." "You're welcome, Fox." They shared a look, and then began to grin at the same time. "See? We're adjusting already. Alright, you want what I know now, or should we wait until after we eat?" "Now." Scully answered, but Fox didn't even look at her, simply continued to obviously wait for Mulder's answer. She was gritting her teeth so hard it was audible, and Fox closed his eyes for a moment before saying quietly, "I'm sorry. To be perfectly honest, I don't have much experience with women, not in any context. Frankly, they scare me. Besides, this is too...personal for me to be willing to take anyone's answer but his. Add to that the fact that I'm used to only dealing with one person at a time, and well, I'm not my usual charming self. Still, I didn't mean to antagonize or be rude." Scully, mollified somewhat by his words and tone, gave a nod. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have answered. I don't like this, any of it. I'll try to butt out." With that settled between them, Fox looked back to Mulder. "Now or later?" "Later, I think. Let's eat, you coffee up, we'll move back to the living room." Fox settled himself at the table, pouring a cup of coffee and taking an appreciative sip. He surveyed the food, but made no move to take anything but coffee. "Eat." Skinner said it firmly, slightly less than a request, and Fox immediately put a small serving of each on his plate. "Is that enough, sir?" The clone was sincere, and Skinner nodded, not daring to meet Mulder's eyes. Fox ate the food deliberately, cleaning the plate, while the others attacked more generous helpings. He took the juice glass Skinner had poured and set in front of him, and drained it, then looked back into the brown eyes. "You're excused." Fox stood, put his plate in the sink and ran the water. He began washing the dishes while the others finished, then washed their dishes as they handed them to him. Mulder hesitated only a moment before picking up a towel and drying. When the kitchen was cleaned and more coffee making, they moved to the living room. "May I make a request, before we start?" "Sure. What is it?" "Once I start, please don't interrupt. Let me just say it all, then I'll answer questions at the end." "Sounds reasonable." They all agreed, and Fox sat down on the couch, across from Skinner, with Mulder on the other end of the couch and Scully in a chair to the left. He seemed to be drawn to the older man, and Mulder was grateful that Skinner didn't seem to make a big deal out of it. "Very well. My name is Fox William Mulder. I am a clone, your clone, Mulder. I'm ten years younger than you are. I was an experiment, one that turned out pretty well. I was also a secret, more secret than the rest of the conspiracy. I was bred for the personal pleasure of one man, my master. I was trained to his specifications, his tastes. He gave strict orders for my upbringing, supervised my schooling, saw to all my childhood needs. Of course, I didn't have a real childhood. I was born fully grown, my development enhanced so that I was twenty-two on my first birthday. I was created for one reason and one reason only. I'm a reward, an incentive, a positive reinforcer. A bonus for exceptional service and payment for services rendered." He took a sip of his coffee, giving the others time to take this in. "My master had me created for his own personal use, of course, it's why I'm named for my genetic benefactor, why he chose these genes. But he quickly discovered that there were bonuses to having Fox Mulder, or a reasonable facsimile, for a toy. You could share. And when you share, people then share with you. I'm the best bargaining chip the consortium ever had. A full weekend with me was worth two votes in Congress. Of course, if you wanted to make use of my special talents, then the ante was upped. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not a whore. Not in any sense of the word. I've never been paid, never asked for a thing. I did it all because my master ordered me to do it. It pleased him, and so I went willingly. It's what I was trained for, my whole life. If he wished it, then it was my wish. No one knew where he kept me, I was always sent out, they never came to the apartment. That was a private place, just the two of us. With one exception. "The master showed up one day with a young man. He was handsome, not as handsome as my master, certainly, but he had his charms, nonetheless. The master told me this young man was about to take on the most dangerous job in the world. That he would likely die or worse very soon. I was to take care of him the way I did the master. I was given permission to become not just physical, but emotional with him. I was permitted to become honestly intimate, a first with anyone but the master. And I was to serve him to the very best of my abilities. He was, in essence, to become my second master." Fox refreshed his cup, and a dreamy smile played over his face as he remembered. "My new master was almost shy. He was so worshipful, it was like he was the slave and I was the master. Even when he'd punish me, it was worshipful. I fell in love with him, and I knew he was in love with me. Every time we were together, we knew it might be the last. Everytime we touched, everytime he took me, whipped me, marked me as his own, we would hold each other after and cry, hoping there would be just one more time. "He was gone for longer and longer periods of time at a stretch. He started coming back in horrific shape, beaten and shot and then one time..." Tears filled the eyes, and Mulder closed his own, not able to watch his mouth shape the words he knew were coming. "Once, his arm had been cut off. They cut off his arm, mutilated my beautiful young master. It was awful. He was ashamed to let me see, but I made him show me. I spent almost an hour kissing and touching what was left, trying to prove to him it didn't matter. It took a long time, but he finally believed me, and then I spent the rest of the night holding him while he cried." He looked up at all of them, but his gaze lingered almost defiantly on Scully. "Yes, it was Alex Krycek. It's his symbol I wear on my rings, put there with permission from my master. The collar belongs to Sir, but it's Alex's mark that decorates my body. So please, hate him silently, because I will not have him talked about in my presence." Scully said nothing, and Fox looked at Mulder almost desperately. "He's not your enemy. He told me everything, all about you, all three of you. He told me what he was doing, why, and he told me what it looked like. What you all thought of him. He loves you, every last damn one of you. But especially you, Mulder." "I know." Mulder said it so quietly that it took a moment for Scully to hear it. Her head shot up, and she met Mulder's gaze searchingly. He returned the look with flat honesty, and she swallowed hard, before returning to the scrutiny of her nails. Sensing that Mulder, at least, believed him, Fox took a deep breath and continued on. "I'm getting a little ahead. Not long after Sir gave me to Alex, he spent an entire evening going over all the legal papers with me. He showed me where everything was, how to access it, the deeds, the lawyers I'd need, all of it. He told me what I didn't already know about the Consortium, reminded me again to stay away from Spender. He told me he was giving me the apartment, told me that things were getting dangerous, and that I might not see him again. We hadn't made love in a long time, his medication made it all but impossible, but that night he managed an erection, and he made love to me until dawn. They killed him later that day. Car bomb. Alex told me, he'd barely managed to get out alive, wouldn't have, if hadn't been for Sir. "After Sir's death, I followed through on all his last wishes, saw to the legalities and waited for my times with Alex. I wasn't lonely, I was bred for patience, and I was waiting for the master. But Alex was beginning to get scared, too. When he got back from Tunguska, he told me that if things ever got too close to me, he'd send you. He said I wouldn't have any trouble recognizing you." Fox grinned, but there were tears in his eyes, as well. "If he sent you, he's in danger. Please, do you know where he is?" "No. I'm sorry, Fox, I don't. He always contacts me. If he calls back, I'll let you know." "Thank you." "Is there anything else?" Fox nodded, sighing. He stood up, moved to where Skinner had looked up in alarm, and dropped to his knees, the essence of respectful submission. "I'm to offer myself to you for your keeping until Alex comes for me or I'm notified by Mulder of his death. I'm yours, with all the rights, responsibilities and requirements of that ownership. Alex said to tell you, you can't refuse. You owe him, he said you'd know what for." "And if I refuse anyway?" Skinner said it with no little fury, but Fox only spoke calmly. "Then I kill myself. I'm too valuable to fall into the wrong hands. I know too much, my body alone has too many secrets for me to be safe. He won't let the labs have me, won't let the Consortium take me, can't let Mulder have me. I belong to you, you're the only place I'm safe." Fox reached under his shirt, taking something off of the left nipple ring. It wasn't a charm, like the other one. This was a key. Fox took out one earring, slipped the key over the ring, and then held it out to Skinner. Skinner, who looked like he'd love to get his hands on Krycek, hesitated only a moment before the logic caught up with him. Swearing, he took the earring and, with a vicious jab, punched it through the overgrown hole in his left ear, securing it and then closing his eyes. "Thank you, my master." The brown eyes flew open, and Skinner ground out, "Don't call me that. Not ever." "How should I address you?" "Skinner will do just fine." "Yes, Skinner. Thank you, Skinner." He might as well have been saying 'master,' and Scully abruptly got up and left, heading for the bathroom, but really just unable to bear the scene. Mulder found he was fighting near hysterical laughter, but the urge passed as he saw himself bow down, placing his head at Skinner's feet. "Christ, get up!" Fox stood at once, but he kept his head bowed, eyes lowered, wrists crossed behind his back. He was waiting, and Skinner stood, nearly knocking him down as he swept past the man and into the front yard. Mulder saw the corner of Fox's mouth quirk, and he approached carefully. "Alex told me he'd be angry. He didn't think Skinner would hit me, at least, not yet. Still, he took the key, so I belong to him now." "Is that so important? Belonging to someone?" Fox raised his eyes, and Mulder knew they were looking into his own soul. "It's the only thing that is important. At least, to me. It's literally part of who I am. I am a pleasure slave, a willing wanton bed mate, a good conversationalist, and a carefully multi-faceted individual. A fuck toy, with your IQ and profiling skills. I'm you, only with very specialized training." "And you're Skinner's until Alex says otherwise." "Yes. Because I love him, because he's my master and he ordered it, and because I have to belong to someone. Alex has been playing me tapes of Skinner, letting me get used to his voice and face, his mannerisms. He didn't want it to be such a shock, serving him suddenly. " Mulder said nothing, but told himself the sharp pang he felt wasn't jealousy. He didn't believe it, but he told himself that anyway. Skinner came back inside, seeing that Fox was still exactly the way he'd left him. He took a deep breath, and approached them. "Fox, I'm not angry with you. I took the key and I'll honor the commitment. This arrangement wasn't of my choosing, but you can depend on me." "Thank you, Skinner." "You're welcome. Here's the rest of the deal. I'm not exactly a stranger to this type of relationship. You know that already?" "Yes, Skinner." "Then you'll understand what I'm about to tell you. You belong to me. If I choose to ignore you, I will do so because it pleases me. It doesn't mean you have failed to please. It would serve me very well to have you be as independent as possible, but I don't want you to feel frightened, or unsure of what you're doing. So, code time. When I want you to be fully submissive, when I want to use my slave as that, a slave, then I will call your middle name. If you hear me say your middle name, you are immediately to assume I want your instant obedience and nothing more. You don't make a move without my express consent. When I'm ready to end that play, I'll use my first name, and you'll know I'm ready for you to think and act for yourself again. Those are your instructions, are they clear to you?" "Yes, Skinner. When you say 'William', you want your slave. When you say 'Walter', you want the companion." "Very good, Fox. There are a few rules that remain constant, regardless of which role I'm having you fill. You will eat when you should, and make good choices. You will sleep when you should. If you have trouble sleeping, you are to let me know at once. I'm to know of any illness, regardless of how mild, and any injury requiring more than a band-aid. You will save yourself first, Mulder second, me third. When in doubt, ask. If you need punishment more frequently than I give it, you will ask for it. You will make any other needs known to me as well, and as soon as they become bothersome. If there is information that I need to know, that would be helpful in any way, you are to let me know. Is all that clear to you?" "Yes, Skinner. I'm to take care of myself properly, notify you of any potential problems, threats or complications, and give you all the help I can in the pursuit of the mission, the service, or my own care." "You boiled that down very well." "Thank you, Skinner. Those are my standing instructions from Alex and Sir, with your modifications added." A hint of a smile graced the features, and Skinner shook his head ruefully. "I never claimed to be original. Now, do you have anything to report?" "Yes, Skinner." "Go ahead." The eyes flooded with tears, and the lean form began to shake, the shocks of the day and his own fears obviously catching up to him. "I'm sorry, Skinner, but I'm scared to fucking death." Skinner didn't hesitate. A fascinated Mulder watched as Skinner took the clone in his arms, holding him tightly. He lifted the man like a child, carried him the few steps to the couch and sat down with Fox in his arms. Skinner said nothing, only held his new slave while Fox silently sobbed into his shirt. Mulder watched the big man rub Fox's back, kiss the top of his head, and even begin to rock slightly. When Fox had calmed himself, Skinner took out a handkerchief and began to clean Fox's face. The younger man made a soft sound of amusement, and Skinner asked mock sternly, "What's funny, slave?" "When I first asked Alex what kind of man you were, he thought a minute and then told me that you were the kind that still carried a handkerchief, just in case there was a lady left that might need it." Skinner chuckled at that, couldn't help it, despite his less than friendly feelings toward Krycek at the moment. Fox seemed better, and now Skinner sighed, spared a quick warning glance at Mulder and then slowly and carefully kissed Fox full on the mouth. It was a soft, slow kiss, meant to reassure and claim. It worked. Skinner kissed Fox until he'd gotten a soft sigh for his troubles, then hugged him one more time. A pat on the bottom, and Skinner stood Fox to his feet. "Anything else to report?" "No, Skinner." "Walter." Fox relaxed his stance a bit, but there was a clear look of relief in his eyes as he sincerely thanked Skinner again. The AD brushed it aside, but gave a brief playful tug to Fox's thick ponytail. "Jealous?" It was a gentle impudence, and Skinner laughed out loud, even as he placed a moderate spank on the nearest hindcheek. His phone rang then, and Skinner moved with it to the hall for privacy. Fox turned and saw Mulder still staring at him. There was a look of deep concentration on the very familiar features, and Fox spoke gently, "I have a message for you from Alex. Two, actually." "I can't wait to hear this." "He said for me to tell you that he didn't give me to Skinner because he didn't trust you with me. He did it to keep us safe. If I'm with you, they could get both of us more easily. One of us has to survive, one of us must be safe, at all times. That's the only reason he gave me to Skinner, so we could be split up, and I'd still be taken care of." Mulder had thought just that, that Krycek thought him too careless or untrustworthy to keep watch over himself. He couldn't blame him, not really, but it was a relief to know it wasn't true. "And the second message?" Fox kissed him. It wasn't long, but the thought of what was happening wrapped itself around Mulder so fast his knees were buckling when that well-trained mouth left his own hungry one. "We're not twins. We're clones. It isn't incest. It's masturbation. But you have to ask Skinner for permission." Mulder's eyes were still dazed with shock, lust, rage at Krycek, and horror at the thought of asking Skinner for a turn with the new toy, when Scully reappeared. She'd apparently been making plans of her own. "Alright, I've checked in with my department, there's a major meeting in one hour. I'm going ahead early, see what I can find out. I'll contact you with any news. Walter will have to attend this meeting as well, which brings us to our next problem. What do we do with the Princess here?" She gestured disdainfully toward Fox, and his eyes flared. What happened next was an incredibly fast blur. Before Mulder could glare at Scully for her snide comments, Fox moved. Skinner came into the room just in time to see Fox grab Scully, finding and positioning her own gun against her. Mulder stared in shock for a moment, then opened his mouth to protest, but Skinner held up a hand. Something on the older man's face made him keep quiet, though he wasn't happy in the least with the sudden thought that he might not be able to trust his own clone. "There's only one Princess in this room. And her first name is Ice. She used to be a Queen, but lately she's been demoted for bad attitude. Listen closely, because this is your one and only warning. Don't demean me. Don't underestimate me. I've had all the training of the three of you combined, plus all of my master's dirty little tricks of the trade thrown in for good measure, and that's on top of all the skills Sir had me learn. I can hold my own, Agent Scully, far better than you. Yes, I'm a slave, a pampered pet, a boy cunt, anyway you want to phrase it, I am all of those things and more. But I am not only those things, never forget it." Fox had spoken almost harshly, but Mulder saw more than pain in his reflected eyes, he saw a deep need for Scully to understand what and who he was. He released her then, clicked the safety on the gun and handed it back to her. Scully was furious, and she was beyond reacting as anything but a woman. She raised one hand and slapped him hard. He didn't blink, despite the thin trickle of blood from the corner of his bottom lip. "I allowed that, because I owed it to Mulder. The next time you try to hurt me, I'll hurt back, your delicate sex be damned." There was frozen steel in his eyes, and Scully grabbed her coat and stormed from the room. He didn't stop looking after her until he heard the car start. Fox then turned to Skinner. "Did you see, Skinner?" "Yep." "What would you have me do, Skinner?" "Clean that spot on your lip, then come back here." "Yes, Skinner." Fox moved to obey, and Skinner ran a hand over his jaw, obviously thinking. Mulder could be silent no longer. "Sir? Are you—I mean, you wouldn't... What are you going to do to...him?" "Mulder, I know this must be like a bad Fellini movie for you, it's not much better for the rest of us. But I have an obligation to make his world as secure as I can. To do that, I'm going to have to respond to him and situations with him, the way he expects a master to respond to them. He's a slave, my slave for the duration, and while I plan on using him as little as possible, he has to be able to feel safe within that bond, or he won't trust me. You're going to see me do a lot of things to him and with him that might be very hard for you to watch, if only because he is your clone, and you'll naturally think of me doing them to you. That would be a mistake, Mulder, don't fall into that trap. You may look identical and even have a lot in common, but you aren't the same person and your needs are different. Just remember, I'm doing my best to help him, despite what it might look or sound like to you." Mulder would have spoken more, but Fox returned from down the hall. He took up position standing in front of Skinner, head bowed, eyes lowered, hands hanging loosely at his side. Skinner examined the tiny nick, determined it was just a scratch, and placed a gentle kiss on the hurt. Fox leaned into the caress, obviously needing it, and Skinner brushed a thumb along one cheekbone. "Fox, I'm not angry. What happened with Scully probably had to happen, and the sooner the better. She's got to adjust, but she's dealing with a great deal, so you have to be patient. I approve of your clearing the air, I even approve of you subduing her physically, I think she needed that to shock her. What I do not approve of is you insulting her, and I especially do not approve of your use of a gun against her. I know you were very careful, and if it had gone off, she'd have had no more than a scratch, but it was unnecessary and over the top, not to mention dangerous. It will not happen again. Is that clear, Fox?" "Yes, Skinner." "Good. Now, I don't expect you to apologize, but I do expect you to watch your tone and your words with her. If she cuts, cut back, but don't insult her, the facts will be enough. I know that tongue and mind of yours is sharp enough to reduce her to rubble without getting personal. Clear?" "Yes, Skinner." "Very well. As for punishment, frankly, I don't have time for anything elaborate or fancy, hell, I don't even have time for a proper spanking, so I'm going to give you a few quick licks and let them and the slap be it. This time. Pull another stunt like this and I'll take your pants down and blister your ass right in front of her, is that clear, boy?" "Yes, Skinner." Skinner gave Mulder a look that clearly warned him he was watching at his own peril, drew an utterly compliant Fox over to the back of the couch and bent him over it. Taking off his belt, he doubled it, snapping the leather once in warning. Mulder was frozen. It was like watching a train wreck, he was horrified but couldn't take his eyes off of the scene playing out in front of him. He tried to ignore the fact that he was, despite his horror, becoming aroused. He could feel the pulse in his groin begin to throb as Fox shifted slightly, making his body line picture perfect. His back was arched, his waiting bottom thrust up and out, ready to receive the bite of the leather. Skinner noted the lovely image too, and filed it away for later. Placing one broad hand in the small of Fox's back, Skinner brought the belt cracking down across the firmly muscled rear. A jump that was simple reflex, but Fox only spoke in a low, steady voice, "One, Skinner." "Don't count." "Yes, Skinner." The belt landed hard again, this time a fraction lower than where it had the first time. Fox inhaled sharply, but didn't twitch otherwise. The third lick snapped at the undercurve of the rounded globes and Fox's nostrils flared, but he only took a deep breath and continued to lie still and quiet. A last lick, this one the hardest yet, whistled down on the fleshiest part of the jeans-clad rump, and a small hiss escaped Fox. The eyes closed briefly, then Skinner was stepping back, putting his belt back on. "Finished. Stand." Fox did, resuming his submissive posture in front of Skinner. "The lesson?" "No guns, don't make it personal." "Good. Now, come here and get a cuddle." A faint hint of a grin, and Fox eagerly moved into the strong circle of Skinner's arms. The big man all but gave a bear hug, and Fox visibly relaxed in the grip. Skinner placed an equally firm kiss on the mouth of his new slave, then added one to the tip of the long nose, amused at the faint look of disapproval on Fox's features. "Didn't like that, huh?" "No, Skinner. Not from anybody." There was a touch of grump in the voice, and Skinner knew Fox was okay. Skinner placed a kiss to the forehead, patted the backside he knew was still smarting, and eased away. "Alright, here's what needs to happen. I have to attend this meeting, and so does Agent Mulder, but there's no way I'm leaving you alone, Fox. So here's what's going to happen. You two are going to swap clothes. I'll take Fox with me to the meeting as Agent Mulder, while you go see the Gunmen, try and get a fix on what's happening. We'll come back here as soon as the meetings over. If you can, see if the Gunmen can get us some equipment set up. This is about as safe as any safehouse I can think of, and safer than most. We'll hole up here until we get a handle on things. Any questions?" "What about my hair?" Fox indicated the long ponytail, and Skinner bit his lip. "I don't want to cut it, Fox, but I can't think of anything else right now." "Yes, Skinner." That this upset Fox more than his recent whipping was obvious, and Mulder couldn't stand the thought of cutting the long length, or of them looking even more alike. "I've got a baseball cap in the bag. He could tuck it under, claim a bad hair day, you roll your eyes and ignore him like you usually do me, nobody will think anything about it, it'll just be one more weird Mulder moment." "Good, go get changed, we don't have much time." Skinner was back on the phone and Fox and Mulder went into the bedroom to change. Mulder found himself turning his back almost shyly, always a modest person, but Fox began to strip at once, completely uncaring that he was nude, merely waiting with his hand out to take Mulder's shirt. When Mulder handed it over, he got a look at Fox's rear. There had been no underwear in the bag, Fox had been commando under the jeans. Four bright red lines stood out starkly on the bottom, and Mulder faltered just a bit, staring at them in fascination. "Ask." Fox said it softly, buttoning the shirt as he did so. "Does it hurt?" "Are you asking if I'm in pain now or if being whipped hurts?" "Both." Mulder had drawn off his own pants now, but Fox made no move to put them on yet. "It always hurts to be whipped hard, but sometimes, you don't mind. You want it to hurt, need it to hurt. This wasn't an erotic whipping, it was a punishment, and punishment is never pleasant. Still, it wasn't that long or hard, and I was wearing jeans, so it wasn't too bad. I'm a little sore, but I don't really hurt now." "That'll change if you don't can the chatter and get dressed." Skinner's stern voice from the doorway made Mulder jump a good six inches, flushing at what the man might have heard and his own state of undress. Fox only gave a smoldering look and a breathy acknowledgement of the order. Skinner left the room, and Fox hastily finished dressing. Mulder, not so quick on the recover, was startled when Fox knelt down in front of him, holding out a shoe. Mulder stepped into it, and Fox tied it for him, then held out the next shoe. Mulder was again shoed by his clone, who then stood up, quickly fastened Mulder's jeans, and dug into the bag for the cap. He moved to the mirror and hastily secured the long ponytail under the cap, arranging it so there was no tell tale bulge. Satisfied, he left the room, going to join Skinner. The man looked him over and nodded approvingly. "Good, the tie hides the collar and the hair passes. Now, when we get there, you keep your mouth shut, fake laryngitis, do whatever, but I don't want you talking unless you have to, got it?" "Yes, Skinner." "Switch to 'sir,' it'll pass easier." "Yes, sir." "Fine. Mulder, did you get in touch with your friends?" He had made the call once he was dressed. "Yeah, they're bringing some stuff over, they'll be here in fifteen." "Okay, I called for a cab, since Agent Scully saw fit to make off with the only car, and I think that's it at the drive now." Skinner glanced out the window, saw that it was indeed the cab, and pushed the gate button. "We'll take my car back from the Hoover. Fox, do you drive?" "Yes, sir." "Mulder, give him your keys, he can bring your car back, too. Okay, anything else before we leave?" "Yes." This was Fox and he turned quickly to Mulder. "If Alex calls, please, find out if he's okay." "I will. Now I have one more question. Are you sure Fox'll come back here if he has my car?" Mulder hated asking it, but it needed to be addressed. "Good point. Fox, come here." Fox did so, and Skinner took the chin in his hand, tilting the face back to look deeply into the eyes. "I want you to swear to me on your love for Alex that you will follow me back to the house, and not try to run away or ditch us." Fox, face darkened by the blush that told Skinner this was the only oath he'd actually respond to, and that he wasn't happy at being found out, obeyed reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Fox. I don't know you." Mulder felt bad about forcing the situation, it was obvious, and Fox sighed, reluctantly admitting to himself that he just didn't like being out thought. He wasn't used to it. "It's okay. You were right to ask, right to have Skinner ensure my behavior. No hard feelings. I'm just usually the brightest bulb in the room, the extra light's distracting me." Mulder grinned, knowing exactly what that felt like. "If I can, I'll find out about Alex, I promise." "Thank you, Mulder." The men shared a look of understanding, then Fox showed that he was now ready, and Mulder watched them leave. His identification was in the trenchcoat pocket, just like his license and everything else. The man that just left would have no trouble proving he was Fox Mulder, the FBI agent. The only difference was a few body piercings and stripes. Mulder sank down onto the couch, closing his eyes, trying hard to think all of this through. He knew he'd have to deal with his feelings about having a clone, especially one that was pure erotica when he chose to be so. A clone that was involved with Alex Krycek in a loving, mutually caring, bdsm relationship. A clone that had been whipped and kissed by Skinner, all while wearing Mulder's face and body, answering to the same name. Scrubbing his hands over his face, Mulder decided to do a Scarlett O'Hara, and not think about it anymore right then. Tomorrow, tomorrow was vague enough to be acceptable. He picked up the phone, calling the Gunmen back. "Yeah, me again. Do the usual sweep for Krycek, will you? Thanks, see you in a few." Mulder hung up the phone and went to take a shower. He was tired of taking off and putting on clothes, but he really needed a shower. He stepped under the hot spray gratefully, letting the water pound some of the tension from his body. Mulder had his toiletry kit from the bag, and as he washed his hair, he found himself aware of the length of it. He wondered what it would feel like, having hair longer than Scully's, if one noticed the weight of it. He'd never had long hair, not his whole life, and Mulder thought about it sweeping around his shoulders. His hair clean, Mulder reached for his shower gel, working up a rich lather between his palms before using his hands as a washcloth. He washed his face and neck, then moved down to his chest. Mulder hesitated, then stroked a palm across one sleeping nipple. It awakened, and with a bite to his bottom lip, Mulder gave in to the urges whispering from his imagination. Fingers found the nipple again, this time squeezing gently but firmly. It felt good, and taking a firm hold on the little bud, he pinched, tugging lightly on the captured flesh. Would a nipple ring do this? Would a lover toying with a nipple ring send these sparks of desire and pleasure through him? The experiment continued, this time with the now erect but untouched bud. Mulder's breath was becoming ragged, and he couldn't deny the ache from his cock, which had been erect since the hair wash. A lather-slick palm ran down one rear cheek, making Mulder blush even though he was alone, but he didn't stop there. Closing his eyes in denial, Mulder slapped his own bottom firmly. It barely stung, but his body responded eagerly. Another, and Mulder's left hand shifted to grip his erection. It didn't take him long to finish, not with one hand pumping and a long finger from the other pressed firmly against his anus, the water pounding a slightly tender nipple. Groaning, Mulder leaned against the shower wall. The tears were a necessary release, and with no one around to hear or care, Mulder let them fall, not even trying to control them. Thoughts whirled through his head, too fast to be coherent, but the tears he understood perfectly. By the time the water was cooling, Mulder was composed. He got out, dried off, and re-dressed, before going into the living room to wait. Skinner and Fox arrived back at the house several hours later. The Gunmen were long gone. They'd set up all the equipment needed, run a solid check on the house, and reported absolutely nothing on Krycek. They'd also begun to work on what was going on and why, though that would take time. Mulder had said nothing to them about his clone. He might trust them completely, but Mulder knew that the fewer people who knew about Fox, the better. Mulder had scoped out the rest of the house while they were gone. There were four bedrooms, two baths besides the master bath, and a fully equipped den. When Skinner said the man was selling it fully stocked, he hadn't been kidding. There were sheets and towels in the closets, a range of cooking utensils in the kitchen, and enough frozen, canned and dry goods for a couple of weeks. Best of all, there was a fully stocked library and the cable was still turned on. Mulder was watching an infomercial channel when Skinner and Fox came in. Mulder was relieved to see Fox, a part of him unsure the man would really come back, oath or not. He was fascinated as he watched his double quickly and efficiently take Skinner's coat and briefcase, take his suit jacket, and kneel down to urge Skinner to remove his shoes as well. Skinner hesitated, but Mulder wiggled his own bare toes with a shrug, and the older man relented, allowing Fox to take his shoes and socks as well. "I noticed a bar earlier, sir. May I bring you a drink?" It was nearly nine at night, and Skinner was beat. A drink sounded very good. "Yes." Skinner sighed it almost, removing his glasses and pinching at the bridge of his nose. He moved a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. Fox came back, glass in hand. Skinner took his drink, and Fox took the opportunity to move behind the seated man, and began rubbing the knotted neck and shoulder muscles. Skinner would have stopped him, but it felt too damn good. He sipped his whiskey, noticing it had been poured into the perfect measure, a full shot, not too much or too little. Fox's talented fingers found a stress point, and Skinner couldn't help the groan as the muscle was firmly worked. "God, that's good. Krycek tell you I drank whiskey?" "Yes, sir. He's been trying to prepare me for serving you." "What's my favorite food?" "Steak, prime rib, medium rare, a pinch of black pepper sprinkled on one side. You want it served with a baked potato, no butter, sour cream, chives. Anything green is acceptable as the second vegetable. Parkerhouse rolls, extra butter, served straight from the oven. Any fruit and pastry combination for dessert, no ice cream, but a bowl of sweetened real whipped cream. Coffee, black, occasionally one sugar." There was silence for a long moment, then Skinner chuckled. "Very good. You have Mulder's memory?" "Better, sir. Mine's enhanced, I have an almost true photographic memory. It's another reason I need to be protected, I can identify over one thousand Consortium contacts, both people and places. I have sheets of data memorized, dates, numbers and figures. Alex has already given you almost everything important, but he couldn't print off the faces and voices in my head." "Holy Shit," Mulder whispered, at once doing the math in his head. His voyeuristic absorption in the unique domesticity playing out in front of him was ripped away by some of the implications. That many connections could only lead to more. Skinner too, seemed stunned and reached around, taking one of Fox's wrists in his hand and pulling the slender form around to face him. "Fox, if you can name all these people, why didn't Alex send you to us before?" "Sir, I know, but Alex has forbidden me to tell you, since it is personal to him. Please, sir, I ask that you not force it." Skinner nodded, knowing it would do no good to make his new slave hate and distrust him for the dubious knowledge of Krycek's motive. "Not that you'd tell me anyway. You'd let me beat you to death before you spilled his secrets." Skinner was teasing, and now Fox relaxed a bit, seating himself in his temporary master's lap, at the man's subtle invitation. It was the faintest of tugs to the wrist he'd never released, but Fox was long used to reading the men he served. Skinner addressed his next comments to Mulder, but as he did so, his hands found the rubber band securing Fox's hair, and he gently began to release it. "What's the report from the Gunmen?" Mulder, tearing his eyes away from the sight of Skinner running a large hand through the freed length, gave his report. In turn, Skinner filled Mulder in on their meeting. It had been a profitable raid, but nothing was found that seemed to help them understand what was happening. "Did...did anyone notice anything strange about, well, about me? Anybody suspect anything?" Mulder was curious, and he chanced a glance back over. Fox was carefully loosening Skinner's tie, taking it off for him, and unbuttoning the top two buttons, while Skinner took another sip of his whiskey. "Aside from the fact that you were unusually quiet, no. We passed that off as laryngitis, and the hat was because you were chilled. I didn't notice anything. Fox?" "Agent Roberts was suspicious, sir. She kept looking at my face, as though something was off. I imagine she caught the slight age difference. Agent Mitchell was also suspicious, but that was because I was too still. Apparently, Mulder usually fidgets during meetings." "He does, indeed. Good work, Fox." Skinner rewarded him with a kiss and a half-smile. "Sir, if I may say so, you seem very tired. With your permission, I'll draw you a bath and fix your bed." "I don't even know where I'm sleeping, yet." "I thought you would take the master bedroom, no pun intended." Mulder grinned, nodding toward the television. "I'll take the room downstairs, or sleep on the couch, like usual." "That would be safer, too. Fine. I brought my bag from the trunk, Fox, it's by the door." "Yes, sir." Fox stood, retrieved the overnight case, and headed up the stairs. When he'd gone, Skinner closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the chair. "Mulder, I feel I owe you at least a partial explanation. Years ago, I was active in this type of lifestyle. It filled a need I had at the time, and I explored it. I hadn't considered ever returning to it, not for more than an occasional kink, but it's not a problem for me, either. I wanted you to know that. I also know that it can't be easy for you, watching me with him. Hell, I don't see how you can stand watching him, period, but my point was this. I'm reacting to him, to my slave, because of what he is, not because of who he is. If I kiss him, it doesn't necessarily mean that I want to kiss you. I don't see him as you, despite the fact that you look identical. I see him as Fox. Understood?" "Understood. Thank you, sir, for telling me that." "You're welcome." Hearing the water cut off upstairs, Skinner stood. He got to the stairs before he turned back, a look of amusement on his face. "Of course, the fact that he does look like you and actually obeys my orders makes a pleasant change. And I won't deny that being able to spank Fox Mulder when he needs it, is a real bonus." Mulder blushed to his hair roots, but accepted the teasing with good grace. "I'd tell you to kiss my ass, sir, but you'd just go upstairs and do it." Skinner chuckled, and moved back to the stairs. "Goodnight, Mulder." "Goodnight, sir." Mulder continued to stare in the direction of the television, but his attention was firmly focused upstairs. He could hear them, Walter Skinner and Fox, talking in low rumbles and soft replies. He could hear the sound of water splashing rhythmically, remembered that the master bathroom had a tub large enough for two. Upstairs, Walter Skinner was sitting in a tub of hot, fragrant water, making love to a body that looked like Mulder's own. A groan echoed down the hall, and Mulder recognized it as a sign that Fox was close. It was his own sound, a deep need and plea wrapped in a gruff moan. Mulder felt the heat spread through his groin, felt his penis stirring, responding to the sounds as well as the images they were conjuring up. Mulder knew he shouldn't be listening, but he simply couldn't help it. Slipping a hand under the waistband of his briefs, Mulder insinuated himself in their lovemaking, timing his thrusts to match the sounds of the water. He savored every sound, treasured the lower, more growling sounds made by Skinner, for once allowing the images of his boss fucking him to have their way in his fantasy. When Fox let out a quiet cry of completion, Mulder echoed it into the couch cushions, matching him note for note. As he lay panting, waiting for his heart to drop back to normal, he heard them leave the bathroom, heard them moving in the bedroom. Mulder startled a few minutes later, when the unmistakable sound of a hand slapping skin echoed down the stairs. It only took him a moment to realize what was happening. Fox was being spanked by Skinner. The big man was applying his hand to the bare bottom in a leisurely manner, but the spanks were hard, Mulder could hear the sharpness of each swat. Fox made a mewl of pure pleasure, and downstairs, his mirror image felt a sharp twinge of envy. Mulder couldn't lie to himself, he was jealous. Jealous and curious and terrified. Wishing he had something as large and solid as Walter Skinner to hold for comfort, Mulder cuddled a cushion and rolled over, trying to lose himself and his whirling emotions to sleep. Surprisingly, he did sleep, managing a solid four hours, before waking up. He was disoriented for a few seconds, then memory crashed down on him, making him close his eyes tightly again. "Awake?" It was a quiet whisper, and wouldn't have roused him had he been asleep. It brought his eyes open again, and sitting up, he saw that Fox was sitting in the chair across from him. The man was clad again in the sleep pants he'd worn when brought here, and his collar and jewelry glinted in the blue light of the television. "What's wrong?" Mulder looked around, but saw and heard nothing out of the ordinary. "Nothing. I just wondered if you were awake." There was more to it than that, Mulder could hear it in the husky whisper. "What were you doing down here?" Curiosity and intuition were leading him somewhere, and he wasn't sure he wanted to take the trip. "I was watching you sleep." It was the truth, and Mulder felt his stomach tense. "Why?" "Because I could. Because I knew you wouldn't sleep for long. Because it's just now early evening by my biological clock, and I didn't want to wake up Skinner, but I couldn't stay in bed. Because I wanted to talk." "Talk about what?" "How the Cubs are doing in the playoffs." Mulder's eyes shot up, meeting his clone's with a flash of irritation. It faded when he saw the hint of a grin, and Fox chuckled softly. "Sorry, you asked for that one." "Yeah, I did. I'm just not looking forward to this." "Neither am I, but that won't make it go away. We need to talk, Mulder, and this will probably be our best chance, at least, our best chance to talk alone. Skinner was tired tonight, too tired to remember to tell me where to sleep, and he's not used to having anyone sleep beside him, so he didn't notice when I left. Tomorrow night could be a different story." "How do you do it?" Mulder's voice was thick with the need to know, with his yearning to understand. "Do what?" "Accept all this, him, his control? It doesn't seem to bother you that you've given your will over to another man, not to mention you only met him this afternoon. You let him punish you, you let him order you, you wait on him hand and foot." "You're jealous." It wasn't an accusation, wasn't said with amusement or derision. It was a gentle statement of the fact, very gentle. "A little. I'm more curious right now." "So am I. Why don't we trade? Secret for secret, question for question. The truth, we'll both know if the other's lying, so let's not waste the time. I'll answer everything I can. If I can't answer one, you get another, call it a penalty shot. Deal?" "Deal." Fox held out his hand, and Mulder hesitantly took it, noticing the way it fit his own exactly. They shook, and Fox stood, motioning to the kitchen. "It's time I had lunch. Do you mind?" Mulder followed him in, watching as Fox opened the cabinets, scanning and frowning. "What are you looking for? I went through everything earlier, I can probably tell you if we've got it and where it is." "Chicken noodle soup?" Mulder pointed to the correct cabinet, and Fox pulled it out, reading the label carefully. There was a can of vegetable soup next to it, and Fox picked it up, comparing the two. With a sigh, he put the chicken noodle soup back. "Change your mind? Watching your weight?" Mulder's eyes drifted down to the lean waist, noticing that Fox seemed to work out more than he did. There was a distinct ridge of muscle to the abs, not just Mulder's slender smoothness. It made him aware that this guy was ten years younger than him, clone or not, and he made a mental note to cut back on the sunflower seeds. "No. I have trouble keeping weight on, not the other way around. No, I'd rather have the chicken soup. Actually, I'd rather not eat at all." He said this while opening the can and putting the pan on the stove. "So why are you eating?" "Alex wants me to eat regularly. Skinner ordered it, too. Besides, if I don't eat, I get run-down, then I get sick. I can't take that chance right now, not with things so uncertain." Fox gave the soup a stir, then leaned against the counter, turning to face Mulder. "I guess this is as good a way as any to get back to our talk. I'm eating because my master wishes it. "The master has control over my life, yes. But he's also responsible for that life. That's his burden, and it is a very heavy one, at times. There are perks," Fox grinned lustily," but being a master is a tremendous responsibility. Taking on that responsibility entitles the man to some rights, wouldn't you say? He's promised to make everything right in my world. I promise, in return, to trust him to keep his word. If I do what he says, the way he says it, when he says it, I know, know in my heart, that it'll be okay. Do you have that? Isn't that part of what you're jealous of? Yeah, it's annoying as hell to be here stirring soup I don't even want, much less eating it. But that's a small price to pay for the knowledge that all I have to do is go up those stairs, tell Skinner I'm scared, and have him make it all go away. Not completely, of course, he's only human, even my beloved Alex is only human." A loving light filled the hazel eyes, and Fox's lips curved slightly at the thought of his lover. "I think I can sum it up. Alex told me once that he couldn't keep night from falling, but he could make damn sure I was never alone in the dark. That's what he does for me. That's what Skinner's trying to do for me, and he'll do his best, I know it. You know it, even though he never wanted this. He accepted it, accepted me, and now I owe him my obedience in exchange. It's all he asks, just simple obedience and the trust it implies." Fox opened the cupboard, took out two bowls, and dished up the soup. He set one bowl and a spoon in front of Mulder, and took a seat at the bar across from him. "Mulder, I can accept it because I believe. Alex loves me, he would never order me to do anything that wasn't ultimately for my good. Skinner was chosen by Alex, so I know that, while his heart belongs to another, he, too, will not do anything to harm me. I believe that they care, and so I let them. You know the quote about faith and works?" "Faith without works is dead." "Yes. For my trust to be real, for their care to be real, for all of it to work, it's not simply enough to believe. We must act on that belief. I can't pick and choose what to listen to, what to obey and when to ignore them. It's all or nothing, Mulder. If I want the care, I give the trust. If you can't trust a man, you shouldn't call him master. If you call him master, you'd by god better trust him." Mulder, without noticing it, had eaten most of the bowl of soup. Fox noticed, but made no comment on it, knowing better. He'd gotten barely a third of his own down, and now he picked up his spoon. "My turn. I need to know something hard, too. I don't know if you can explain it, but I want you to try. I came out of a tank at twenty-one. I've read and observed, but I'm still clueless. I asked Alex, but he doesn't know, either. Mulder, what's a family like?" The question floored Mulder, who'd been deep in thought about what Fox had said to him. He felt himself switching gears so quickly he thought he smelled smoke, and he bit his bottom lip, thinking. "It can be the best thing in the world. Or the worst. You love these people, but sometimes...sometimes you don't like them. You know you should, know that other people like their families, but sometimes you hate them just as much as you love them. There's guilt. A lot of guilt." He looked up at Fox, giving the younger man a rueful glance. "I'm not trying to wimp out, but maybe I'm not the best person to ask about this. Things were never that good before Samantha got taken, and they got a lot worse after. I think Skinner had a normal family, maybe you could ask him." "I could." Mulder frowned, as he understood what Fox was really asking. "You want to know about my family, don't you? About my mother and father." "They are my grandparents, or as close to them as I have. They created you, with help, you are what I am made of. If I know you, I know myself better." "Okay, I see that. Fox, I'm warning you, it's not pleasant. It wasn't horrible, there was no terrible abuse, but it was...hard. Still, you answered me, I owe you the same. "My father was cold. That's the only word that really describes him. He had a horrible temper, but even when he was in a rage, it was a cold burn. He was a perfectionist, and very opinionated. I think he loved my mother, despite everything. I think he loved me. I'm not sure. I know he loved Samantha. She was the only person he ever really thawed for, and when she was taken, well, he froze and stayed frozen. Mom had issues, to use the vernacular. She loved us, but she was always distant. Never cold, oh no, not cold. Hot or lukewarm, but never cold. She might only raise an eyebrow, but you knew she was furious. She hit. A lot. Dad would just tear into you with words, but Mom didn't talk much. She didn't beat us or anything, but if she thought we were getting smart, she'd slap us. Not too hard, but it always pissed me off, mostly because she only did it if we were right, and she didn't want to hear the truth. Mom was big on denial. She was like a plastic slipcover on a sofa, you could spill blood all over it, and as long as the slipcover was in place, there was no stain." It occurred to Mulder that this was more than he'd ever revealed to anyone, even Scully. He looked up at Fox, seeing a complete lack of judgement, and had to smile. "What's funny?" "I just realized that this takes talking to myself to a whole new level." Fox chuckled, picking up their bowls and taking them to the sink. He opened a cupboard, remembering where he'd seen a pitcher. Taking it and some tea packets down, he got out the sugar, then put the water on to boil. "Iced tea. I love it, too. Alex laughed at me when he found out, said that it must be genetic since you drank so much of it, too." "My turn. Whose side is Alex on?" Fox blinked, biting his bottom lip the way Mulder had earlier. "I can answer that partly. Alex is on the side of those fighting the alien invasion. I can't say more than that. Would you like a penalty question?" "No, you answered, just not the way I wanted. Your turn, but take it easy, will you? Maybe alternate heavy and light?" "If you will do the same?" Mulder nodded and Fox looked at him under his lashes, vaguely flirting. "Do you find me attractive?" Mulder closed his eyes, groaning. "I thought you were going to take it easy! No fair, c'mon, give me a little one next, please." Fox laughed at the theatrics, but gave in. "Alright, alright, you win. Let me see...uhm, what's your favorite book?" "I'll tell you, but you can't laugh. Okay, you can laugh, but you can't make fun of me, or I'll put in a request to Skinner to have you beaten, got it?" "This should be well worth it. My word." "I can't believe I'm telling you this and you sleep with Alex Krycek. My favorite book is a children's book, 'The Velveteen Rabbit', do you know it?" "Very well. I must have read it a hundred times, many of them out loud. See, I sleep with Alex Krycek, and it's his favorite book, too." Mulder looked like he was going to swallow his tongue, but Fox's face showed clearly that he was telling the truth. The implications were too obvious to ignore, and Fox gave Mulder a few moments to digest this little tidbit, pouring the sugar and adding the water to the tea. "Your turn, Mulder. A little one." "I, uhm, I heard you upstairs, earlier. Skinner spanked you?" "Yes. I asked him to, I needed to get out of my head for a few minutes." "Can...can I see?" Mulder was blushing furiously, but knew Fox had no qualms about nudity. Sure enough, Fox turned and leaned over the counter, drawing his sleep pants down to his thighs. Nice ass, Mulder thought, then almost choked as he realized what he'd just thought. Pushing that whole sequence to a dark corner of his mind, Mulder returned his attention to the bared bottom. There was a touch of a pink flush still visible, but the lines from the whipping were gone completely. "Finished?" At Mulder's nod, Fox pulled his clothing back up, studying the other man's face closely. "You seem disappointed somehow." "I thought it would still show, the marks." "It wasn't much of a whipping, Mulder, and it's been several hours since he spanked me. Spankings don't show long, not unless they're really hard, and this one wasn't. I can't feel either one any more." Mulder was about to comment, when his cell phone went off. Running into the living room, he grabbed it off the coffee table. "Mulder." "Did you get him?" It was Krycek, and he was panting as though he'd been running, though his voice was at normal volume levels. "Yes. What the hell's going on, Krycek?" At the name, Fox instantly moved to his side, saying nothing and sitting still, but the eyes begged for the phone, the face showing an honest pleading to be allowed to talk. "I'm not sure, Mulder, I just know they were sending some goons over to kill him, and I'm suddenly the primary target for every scum in half the country. Somebody's getting scared, but who and why I haven't found out yet. I'll let you know something as soon as I do. Mulder, is...is Fox okay? Really okay?" The worry was as strong in his voice as it had been in Fox's earlier. "Yes. Would...would you like to talk to him? He's right here." "Oh, god, yes." Mulder could picture Alex closing his eyes, leaning against the wall of a phone booth somewhere. It made him uncomfortable, and he handed the phone to Fox. "Master?" The relief that flooded Fox's face when he heard Alex's voice was almost painful to watch. Fox was holding the phone like a life-line. Mulder started to leave, give them some privacy, but Fox took his hand, pulling him toward the couch. Mulder sat, reluctantly. "Yes, master. ... He did. ... I have. ... I am. ... Master, what of you? ... Master, please, you would not protect me with a lie? You are alright?" The answer must have been good because Fox accepted it with a smile. "Yes, master. I will. ... Do you know when I will see you again?" Mulder motioned for Fox to pause, and said softly, "He's not to know where you are, at least, not yet." He saw a flash of pain and ice enter the hazel eyes, and Fox's next words confirmed his fears. "Master, Mulder says I'm not to tell you, but I know where we are, I checked. Shall I tell you?" The answer to this was apparently not so pleasant. Fox looked genuinely upset, and tears filled his eyes, though he blinked them back. His voice was husky when he spoke again. "I understand, Master. As you wish, Master." Fox then held the phone out to Mulder, who took it cautiously. "Mulder?" "Yeah?" "Damn, how can I tell which of you I'm talking to? I hadn't thought about that." "Well, if it helps you any, the other one of us is choking back tears right now." The clone didn't even glare at Mulder for tattling, only turned more away. Krycek gave a small sigh of regret, his voice full of it. "I figured. It couldn't be helped, he can't pull that shit on you, especially not now, it's just too dangerous. I apologize for that, Mulder. Rest assured, he won't make that mistake again." "What the hell did you say to him?" "Mulder, we don't have time for this, there's just a minute or so left before I have to hang up. Listen closely, I don't know what's going on, but I do know there are some important papers at the apartment. He'll need to go get some clothes anyway, it should be safe to go back there tomorrow. Tell him I said to give you the Rose file. Got a pen?" There was pen and paper on the coffee table from earlier, and Mulder grabbed it. "Give him this authorization code: Alpha-alpha-2-6-3-7-9-0-3-3-beta-beta- 8-7-9-0-4-4-3-5-C-1. Got that?" Mulder read it back, and Fox, beside him, nodded. "He nodded." "Good. He'll do it. Let him take some things from the apartment, Mulder, it'll help steady him. He'll ask for the chair, it's a pain in the ass, but let him bring it back, if you can." "Okay." "I have to go now. I'll call back when I can." The line went dead, and Fox clenched his fists as he watched Mulder hang up. "What the hell did he say to you?" "He told me that since I was having trouble remembering who I was supposed to be listening to right now, that he'd make sure I could only listen to the right one. That's you, for now. He...he made me give the phone back. He didn't ev-even say goodbye. I may never talk to him again, and I made his last words a scold. Christ, Master, I'm so sorry." Fox began to cry, just a tear falling silently down his cheek, but his pain was easily seen. Mulder reached out, taking Fox into an awkward hug, comforting the younger man as best he could. "Hey, c'mon, he'll call back as soon as he can, he said so. Shit, don't cry, Fox, I can't stand the way I look when I cry." It drew a faint sound of amusement, as it was supposed to, and Mulder hugged tighter before easing back. He was about to say something, when his cell phone rang again. "Mulder." "Has he learned his lesson?" It was Krycek, sounding rushed and annoyed with himself, but concerned as well. "Absolutely." "Put him on." Mulder held out the phone, and Fox's eyes grew bright with hope. He took it reverently. "Master?" The face beamed, and the tear this time was happiness and relief. "I'm so sorry, Master, I promise. ... Yes, Master. I understand. Yours, Skinner's, Mulder's. I don't belong to Scully, but I'm supposed to listen to her if she's serious. ... I won't forget, Master, I swear it. Thank you, Master. ... I love you, Alex. Dos Vidanya." He hung up, and gave the phone back to Mulder. "See? I told you he'd call back." "He shouldn't have. It could have endangered him. I don't deserve him, but I'm eternally grateful I have him." Fox closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, then another. "Alex loves you." Fox nodded, then said with a tiny bit of humor, "Yes. He loves you, too." "I know. It's the only thing that makes sense, only it doesn't make sense." Mulder, uncomfortable with this subject, looked away. Fox got up, walked into the kitchen and poured them both a glass of tea. It was perfect, exactly the way Mulder liked it, and he happily had a second. "So, where were we? Whose turn for a question, and heavy or light?" Mulder was eager to talk about anything but Alex Krycek, and while Fox knew what he was doing, he was willing to play along. "It was my turn to ask, and heavy. So, do you find me attractive?" Mulder, thinking that perhaps he'd been hasty scratching Krycek off the conversation list, took a deep drink. "Yes. Which is completely weird, since I don't think I've ever thought of myself as even remotely good looking or attractive. Of course, we have the same features, but there's a difference. You just look different than I do, have you noticed it?" "Yes, to a degree. I doubt very many others could tell us apart. Well, unless we had our shirts off." Fox gestured to his nipple ring and Mulder watched the charm sway enticingly. Fox watched Mulder, and was tempted to flirt, but reined himself in. "Your turn, Mulder. Heavy one." "Do you think you're submissive because of our genes or because of your training or something they did to you in the tank?" "It's all three, really. I'm submissive by nature, we are submissive by nature, our genes ensure at least a mild submissive trait. I had that enhanced, just as my memory was enhanced, and then, I was fully trained from the beginning to accept and explore that role. I enjoy it, Fox. There have been men I haven't liked very much, and I didn't particularly like serving them, but I genuinely enjoy what I am and what I do." Mulder thought this over, and Fox allowed him a moment before asking the next question. "My turn, and light. What's your favorite color?" "Well, I'm red-green color blind, so I usually say black. I always feel like I see it better than any other color." Fox laughed. "You can't see Scully's hair color, can you?" "Nope. And you're the first person to put that together. People talk all the time about her, and the first thing they mention is her hair. It just looks muddy brown to me. The only way I can tell when she's colored it is that it's darker or lighter muddy brown." Mulder suddenly realized what he'd let slip, and Fox grinned. "Don't worry. I won't tell you told. That's odd, though, they must have fixed that pre-tank. I see red-green just fine. Makes me wonder what other differences there are between us. But," he shook off his more somber mood, "it's your turn. Light one." "What's your favorite color?" "Green. Like Alex's eyes. Oh, you can't see those, either. Now that is a genuine shame. His eyes are like jewels, Mulder, brilliant and vibrant." "I can't see the color, but I've noticed the intensity. They're a dark gold to me, but I'll admit, he's got incredible eyes, and don't you dare tell him I said that." "I won't. Unless he asks." Fox grinned, and Mulder sighed. "That's it. I'm calling the game. Besides, I'm tired enough I might even be able to sleep." "Would you like me to help?" At Mulder's suspicious look, Fox laughed. "Nothing sexual, I promise. I'm well trained as a masseur, that's all. Plus I do an excellent lullaby." "That must be something else they fixed pre-tank. But I'm not as bad as Scully." Going into the living room, Mulder stretched out on the couch. Very quickly, an impersonal but efficient touch had him well relaxed. "Skinner's getting a hell of a deal, having you for a slave." "There's a deal he'd rather have," Fox almost whispered, and Mulder turned to look at him, only to meet a deliberately blank stare. "You aren't going to explain that remark, are you?" "I made no remark. Turn back around." Mulder obeyed, and a warm baritone soon began to wash over him. It was lovely, and Mulder slid gently into sleep. Part Two When he opened his eyes next, it was to the intriguing and vaguely disturbing sight of himself still asleep. The couch was very wide, one of those pit monstrosities, almost as wide as a double bed. Apparently, sometime in the night, Fox had decided to make it his bed, too. He was lying on his back beside Mulder. They weren't cuddling, but Mulder's free arm was draped loosely over Fox's waist. Mulder stared for a long moment, before a faint sensation made him raise his head. Looking over Fox's shoulder, he could see Skinner sitting in the armchair and watching them both. For just a moment, the big man's face was open, and Mulder was startled at the heat in the gaze. It was a lethal combination of lust, anger and raw need, and Mulder shivered when he saw it. Skinner's face closed almost instantly, and Mulder was half-convinced he'd dreamed that intense gaze. But Skinner's jaw was tight, and Mulder had long learned that was a sign the bigger man was hiding something. He opened his mouth to speak, but Skinner shook his head, putting a finger to his own lips. Standing, he moved to the bed, seating himself on the edge. Skinner turned Fox's face slightly to the side, and plundered the sleeping man's mouth. The long limbs gave a very brief startle as Fox woke up, then the whole body turned toward Skinner. Mulder was unable to look away. It was one thing to know Skinner was involved with Fox, another to watch his boss kissing him not a foot from Mulder's own face. They were so close to him that Mulder could smell the scent of fresh shower still clinging to Skinner, could watch the nipple charm shimmer as Fox responded eagerly to Skinner's tongue in his mouth. Mulder could see Fox's morning erection clearly in the thin sleep pants, and he bit the inside of his lip to keep from groaning out loud as Skinner slid one hand down Fox's body, coming to rest on a hip. Breaking the kiss off, Skinner sat back up, giving his slave a faint grin. "You weren't in my bed this morning." "No, Skinner." "You should have been." "Yes, Skinner." Fox's tone said clearly that he knew this was the truth, but that he'd simply chosen to ignore it. Skinner's grin got bigger. "I suppose you're counting on the fact that I didn't tell you where to sleep to save your ass." "No, Skinner. I'm counting on you for that, sir." It was, also, the truth, and an important one. Skinner nodded, stoking one of Fox's cheekbones with a thumb. "I know, Fox. And I'll do my best, you have my word on it." "Thank you, Skinner. I have something to report." "What is it, Fox?" "Alex contacted Mulder last night." The A.D. turned from Fox to Mulder then, though he left his hand resting on Fox's hip, and made no move to get up. "Mulder, report." There was a moment when Mulder wasn't sure his throat would work, but after clearing it and taking a deep breath, he was able to tell Skinner what Krycek had said. "Sounds like a plan. Fortunately, it's the weekend, so we've got a couple of days. First things first. We'll get you both some things and bring them back here, then we can go over the file. After that, we should be able to formulate a plan." "Sounds good, sir." Mulder sat up, and now debated how best to get off the couch and into the bathroom. He was just about to excuse himself and simply climb past them, when Skinner snapped his fingers, making a rolling motion with one hand. The sound stilled Mulder, even as Fox immediately rolled onto his stomach. Skinner, to Mulder's astonishment, raised his hand high, bringing it down in a hard spank on first one cheek, then the other. The sound was loud, as close as Mulder was, and his eyes moved of their own accord to Fox's face. His clone was smiling softly but with amusement. Another snap, and Fox rolled back over. "Where are you sleeping tonight?" "Wherever you say, Skinner. But I'd guess your bed." It was a gentle impudence from a slave that knew the master wasn't really angry. "Good guess, boy. You will be there when I go to sleep, when I get up to take a piss and when I wake up in the morning. Clear?" "Yes, Skinner." "Good boy. Now, get your sweet ass into that kitchen and make some coffee. I'll be in to see to breakfast myself. You look too much like Mulder for me to chance your cooking." Fox grinned and moved to obey. Skinner paused him with a hand to his chest, placed a gentle kiss of affection on the full mouth, and then motioned him on out, patting Fox's bottom as it went past him. Mulder, praying the afghan he was still under was sufficient to hide his now full erection, visibly startled as Skinner turned to him. "Mulder, I did that for a couple of reasons. Fox needs it, I can't shirk him just because you're around. He's a slave, he's used to being handled regardless of who is or isn't around. I need it, I have to build his trust, and quickly, and the only way to do that is show him what I've got, what kind of top I am. And we need it, you have to get used to seeing me work him, and I have to learn to act in front of you. If I embarrass you or make you uncomfortable, then I'm sorry, but I feel it's necessary." "I understand, sir. I was a little curious about the extreme close-up. You don't strike me as an exhibitionist." Skinner chuckled, then suddenly leaned over Mulder, dark eyes sparking with humor. "You might just be surprised at some of the things I am, Mulder." A rare flash of smile, then he was gone, heading into the kitchen where the scent of coffee was growing strong. Mulder made sure Skinner was really gone, then reached under the afghan. A half-dozen strokes, and he bit his lip to hide the sound of his pleasure, as the orgasm raced through him. He didn't linger, but quickly made his way to the bathroom, ducking into the shower. When he got out, he wrapped a towel around his waist, realizing he had no clean clothes. Mulder was wondering what to do about that when there was a tap to the door. "Mulder? " It was Scully's voice, and he opened the door. Her eyes flickered over his mostly nude form. "Looks like I got here just in time. Here." She handed him a duffel. "I went by your place this morning, got something for you and for...him, just until you can pack a bag yourself." "Thank you, if I'd had to put those jeans on one more time, I think I'd have opted for going naked." She rolled her eyes and left him to dress. Once clothed, Mulder left the other clothes in the bag and carried it into the kitchen. He found them all sitting around the table, just dishing up some breakfast. "Fox." It was one word, but the command was clear. Taking a small portion of everything again, Fox dutifully began to eat. Mulder poured himself some coffee, and was surprised to find a plate being put in front of him. Fox gave him a long, very meaningful look, and when Mulder nodded, put an equally small portion of food on Mulder's plate. "There's a bag by the kitchen door, it's got some clean clothes for you. Scully made a mercy run this morning." "Thank you, Agent Scully. It will be very nice to be dressed." "You're welcome." It was terse, but a start, and Mulder and Skinner shared a glance, before returning to their breakfast. Skinner filled Scully in on the plans while they ate, and once Fox was showered and dressed, they headed off. Fox rode with Skinner, Mulder with Scully. They went by Skinner's apartment first, waiting in the car until the A.D. returned with a large bag and a smaller case. Next stop was Mulder's apartment, and for safety's sake, they all went inside together. When he entered, Fox looked around with undisguised curiosity. "Go on. It'll take me a few minutes to gather my things. Look and touch." Mulder knew he'd be unable to resist the temptation either, and his clone gave him a grateful glance, before turning his eyes to Skinner. A quick nod and an indulgent smile, and Fox was soon poking around nosily. "God, when he's being nosy, he's undeniably just like Mulder." Scully muttered this, comparing Fox's intense look of open-minded focus to the intense gaze she knew so well. It was the same, except for one thing. Fox would look at something, then briefly close his eyes quickly, as though clicking the shutter on a camera. "You think that's how he forces memory? Taking a mental picture?" "I have no idea, but I do know his memory is remarkable. He literally remembers almost every moment of every day of his life, once he came out of the tank, his mind was on permanent recall." "When I think what we could learn by studying him..." Skinner cut his eyes to her sharply. "Are you going to be the first one to take a slice out of Mulder's brain?" It chilled her, making her realize where that line of thinking could lead. "Point taken." They turned as Mulder came out of the back room, laden with computer, clothes bag and another smaller bag. Fox immediately took the two heaviest bags, before Mulder could even protest. "You don't have to carry my stuff." "Yes, I do. I'll need your help to carry mine. I can make do with nothing, but given the option, I pack heavy." "That," Mulder said with emphasis, "is not genetic." Fox, already to the door, turned with the most flirtatious grin Mulder had ever seen on another man. It was electric, and Fox arched an eyebrow seductively before saying in his best camp, "No, that comes from having been the very spoiled, very pampered pet of a very rich man. Several very rich men. I can do with nothing better than most, but personally, I prefer to wallow in luxury rather than misery." A bat of lashes, a sway of hips, and he was out the door, leaving three people with three very different reactions. "I'm gonna spank him for that." Skinner muttered it with a low chuckle, and followed his slave out the door. Mulder and Scully didn't meet each other's eyes , only quickly made their way to the car. Scully was driving, and for once, Mulder was grateful. He was too busy thinking how good that sounded. At Fox's apartment, Mulder and Skinner went in. Scully stayed out of the bedroom on the pretext of watching the front door. It was an agreeable pretext, and they all allowed it gladly. "I'll return the favor. Feel free to look and touch." Fox gave Mulder a smile, but there was a hint of sadness to his face as well. Skinner saw it too, and pulled the slender form into a firm hug. "I'm sorry, Skinner." "Shh. Nothing to be sorry for, Fox. This is home, and you're leaving it against your will. It can't be easy for you." Fox accepted the hug a moment longer, then stepped back. "Thank you, sir. I'll get the files for you first, then pack." Mulder got out his notepad from the night before. Fox was back in a few moments with a thick file, and a check showed the authorization code matched the code on the front of the packet. "You really remembered that whole code?" "I remember every page of every document in that folder, I can quote it word for word. I don't forget something unless I want to, or I'm told to, Mulder. And then I have to work at it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get my things." "Not too many things, boy." Skinner was looking at the double row of closet doors, and thinking about the last time he'd moved a boy toy. "Mulder had two cases and a computer. May I pack the equivalent?" There was only polite submission in the request, but Skinner heard the faint pleading as well. "You may have the equivalent plus one. And I promise, if we're going to be in hiding a long time, we'll come back." "Thank you, Skinner. Do you wish to choose my clothing?" Fox opened the first set of double doors, and Mulder gasped at the clothing inside. His own wardrobe was fairly extensive, but this was something else. "No, but make sure you pack at least a couple of suits like Mulder wears." "No." Mulder's head shot up, as did Skinner's, and they saw that Fox was teasing them. Again "I can't. I don't own anything that cheap." "That reminds me, boy, pack a few of your favorite implements and one that you hate. Nothing too harsh." Skinner was grinning, and Fox lowered his eyes, even as he asked daringly, "Does that count towards what I'm allowed to pack?" Skinner gave a short bark of laughter, and moved to take Fox's shoulders in his hands. "No, it doesn't , little one. Now get that cute ass of yours in gear, we shouldn't stay here too long." "Yes, sir." Fox sobered, and Skinner pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, turned him, and sent him off with a swat. Mulder had watched the exchange closely, feeling again that touch of curious envy. He wanted that, he realized with an unpleasant certainty. Mulder had long known his fantasies ran to the submissive, had enough BDSM tapes in his porn collection to prove it. If he'd almost never acted on it, it was for one very simple reason; he'd never found anyone he could trust enough. And how would he know, if he did meet someone, that they weren't a plant? That it wouldn't be used against him, to hurt him? It was why he seldom dated, why he didn't dare let anybody get close. Well, almost anybody. There was that petite chick with the muddy brown hair and the big guy with almost no hair. They'd gotten close, very close. The only problem was that kissing Scully was like kissing his sister and kissing Skinner was liable to get him pulverized in the attempt. Mulder looked over at the man in question, just in time to see him pick up a suede flogger and test it before instructing Fox to add it to the implements. Then again, Mulder was beginning to realize just how right Skinner had been this morning, when he'd pointed out how little Mulder really knew about him. Fox, for his part, was going through his closet with a critical eye. He chose each item carefully, but seemed frustrated when he got to the ties. "Let me guess, you don't own any ties hideous enough to pass for Mulder's?" Skinner grinned as he said it, and Fox nodded, seriously this time. "Exactly. The first thing I learned about Mulder was that I was his clone. The second thing was that he had appalling taste in ties." "Just pack your plainest, it'll do. Or pack a good one that clashes with your suit, that should work." "Yes, sir." "And hurry up." "Yes, sir." A small part of Mulder realized he should make at least a token protest at this insult, the rest of him knew he couldn't object to the truth. He remained silent, turning back to his explorations, realizing he was now next to the dresser, with its assortment of hairbrushes. Mulder looked at the dozen or so brushes, all of them neatly in place in their row. There were narrow ones, wide ones, dark woods, glistening silvers and painted porcelain from another era. It was a collection of the highest quality, even he could see this, and all for the sole purpose of spanking the backside of the man standing across the room. Mulder wondered again how Fox could sleep at night, knowing he was surrounded by so many implements, all purchased with his pain in mind. When Mulder felt his own cock stir at the thought, it began to make a little more sense, but it was still a mystery to him. He watched as Fox approached him. Fox reached in front of Mulder, picking up a lovely wooden hairbrush with a unique pattern, almost like tortoise- shell. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Fox murmured, stroking his palm across the satin-smooth back. "It's called tiger-eye maple, and there's almost none of it left anymore. You can still find it in tables, big furnishings, but almost never in genuine Victorian little pieces like this. Sir paid almost three thousand dollars for this hairbrush, it was his favorite. One of mine, too." "Why?" Mulder had meant to express dismay at the price, but the question had come out instead. It was beginning to seem like he couldn't lie to this man, not even as easily as he lied to himself. "Because of the way it feels. It smacks, but doesn't sting. It's more like a slap, a rush of heat with just a small bite of pain. Sometimes, Sir would spend hours, literally hours, with me over his lap, paddling me with this brush. It was incredible, every single time I thought it couldn't possibly be as good as I remembered, but it always was, always. It was worth every penny he paid for it." Fox's face had gone dreamy, and as he'd talked, he'd moved the brush back to his face, stroking his cheek with the flat. Mulder was so busy staring at Fox, that he failed to see Skinner staring at him in the mirror. He didn't know the bigger man could easily see the yearning, the naked curious hunger in Mulder's eyes, the way the teeth went unerringly into the soft flesh of a bottom lip, as though holding back a sound of need. Mulder also failed to see the faint gleam of an unnamed emotion light the dark brown eyes, before Skinner carefully turned away. Fox sighed, and put the hairbrush back. "You aren't taking it?" "No. It's too valuable. Besides, it's for special occasions. Long, intimate evenings with the man you love beside you, holding and being held for a whole night, for when you'll both still be there in the morning. It'll stay until Alex..." Fox closed his mouth abruptly, swallowing hard. "Pick out a brush, Mulder, any of the others, that's the only one that's reserved." Fox lowered his voice until it was a whisper. "Pick the one you're the most curious about, the one you'd want to try for yourself. Which one draws your hand, Mulder?" Blushing, Mulder took a quick glance to be sure Skinner wasn't watching, then didn't hesitate. He didn't need to, there had been one brush that had caught his gaze and hadn't let go. It was a lovely wide oval shape, on the slender side, and a lovely burnished black. There was a tiny border around the outer edge, a thorned vine marked out in mother-of—pearl. It was beautiful and wicked looking, yet there was a softness to it as well, a richness to the color and texture that made it gentle somehow, like a lover's whisper of an impending ravishment. "Oh, yes. The Black Beauty, herself. You may have lousy taste in ties, Mulder, but you have perfect instincts when it comes to picking out a hairbrush. It's ebony, hand- carved, of course. The inlay is genuine mother-of—pearl. It was made by a Japanese magistrate for his Scottish concubine. Seems the lass had a mass of red hair that was a constant delight to the magistrate. The thorned vine is supposed to represent thistles, but since the brush was a surprise for his beloved and she was the only one in the whole village who'd ever seen her native thistle, it came out a bit stylized. It was presented to her in honor of the birth of their first son. Sir found it in a little antique store just outside of Suzuka. It's an excellent choice, especially for a novice bottom, in both senses of the word." Fox held out his hand for it, and Mulder almost reluctantly gave it to him, still caught up in the story behind it. Fox placed a gentle hand on the side of Mulder's face, startling him slightly, but then both men shared a compassionate glance. "Fox, five more minutes and we're leaving." Skinner said it kindly but very sternly, and Fox immediately kicked it into high gear. He zipped two large packs, and snapped shut a leather case that held his implements. Skinner had told him he could have three packs, but Fox made no move to pack anything else. "Sir, instead of a third pack, there's a piece of furniture I'd like to bring." Fox turned imploring eyes to Skinner, even as he motioned to the chair beside him. It wasn't very large, but it was quite solid, with a high straight back and a wide seat. It was armless, and Mulder noticed that the top of the chair back came up to Fox's waist. This must be the chair Krycek had mentioned. Skinner was biting the corner of his bottom lip, a move Mulder knew meant a reluctant negation was coming. He was loathe to interfere but felt it was important, and he knew he'd better speak up before Skinner said no. "Sir? If there's any way we can take it, we should. It's a comfort item, Alex mentioned he'd want it." Fox's face softened with a delighted smile that his Master was still taking care of him. "If we can make it fit quickly, we'll take it. If not, then I'm sorry, Fox, it stays." "Yes, sir. Thank you, Skinner." "Don't thank me, thank Mulder. But do it after we see if those legs will unscrew." Not only did the legs unscrew, but there was a pin that, when released, allowed the back to separate from the seat. It was bulky, but manageable. It would fit in the trunk. "You are spoiled," Skinner grumbled as he muscled the heavy seat into the last bit of space in either trunk. "Absolutely, sir." Fox was smiling, a grateful look on his face, and Skinner sighed as he shut the trunk. "This is just what I needed in my advancing middle age. Mulder's a brat, you're spoiled and Scully's just..." "I'm just what, sir?" The person in question was suddenly revealed as the trunk lid closed. She didn't seem happy, and there was a look on her face that suggested that not finishing that sentence would be as big a mistake as finishing it. "Just too damn serious, too much of the time. You need to laugh, Agent." "She needs to get laid." Mulder muttered it to himself. Unfortunately, he murmured it a touch too loudly, and she glared at him icily before turning on a sharp heel and flinging herself into the car. "Well, now she's not pissed off at me any more." Skinner gave him a sympathetic, if amused grin, clapped him on the shoulder, and strolled back to his own car. Mulder, head ducked in near defeat, felt the beginnings of a headache. "Want me to ride with her?" "And have her abuse you all the way back to the house because she's mad at me?" Fox shrugged, unconcerned. "It wouldn't be the first time I played whipping boy for you, and until you start taking your own, it won't be the last." Mulder stared into his clone's eyes, feeling a wave of frisson wash over him. It was followed by a deep blush, the heat and cold rolling across him in waves. Fox continued to look at him neutrally, not saying anything, simply meeting his gaze without apology or flinching. An annoyed blast of horn broke the moment, and Mulder quickly made his way to the passenger seat of Scully's car. Fox took his spot beside Skinner, and soon they were headed back to the safe-house. They took a confused route, stopping first at a grocery store. Skinner pulled up beside and facing opposite of Scully's car, rolling down his window to talk to her. "It's not a good idea if we all go in, obviously. The only problem is, who's gonna shop?" Mulder looked thoughtful, then spoke up. "Fox, did you look through all the cupboards last night?" "Yes. The refrigerator and freezer as well, I wanted to know what we had so I could cook Skinner something tonight." "Problem solved. He knows exactly what we do and don't have in the whole house. I say we pool some money and send him in." Skinner nodded, reaching for his wallet. "Fox, buy enough staples for the next few days, plus whatever else you think we need. We can shop again in a few days if we have to, for now I just want to get back. You have half an hour." "Yes, sir. I don't need money, I got some out of petty cash when I was at the apartment." "Do you have enough?" "I doubt I'll need more than five thousand dollars, sir." With a grin, Fox looked around Skinner to Scully and Mulder. "Any specific needs or comfort foods?" "Sunflower seeds." Mulder threw it out, glad Fox had asked. "Agent Scully?" Fox's voice was sincere, and Scully thawed slightly. "Chocolate. I don't care what kind." "Skinner?" To everyone's surprise, Skinner blushed slightly. "Marshmallows. The little, colored ones." He said it slowly, and used his thumb and forefinger to make a small motion. There was a moment when everyone tried not to laugh, and failed. "Alright, fine, laugh, but it's not my fault and I have a good explanation. When I was going through therapy after Viet Nam, my P.T. used to use them for rewards. We didn't have many things that tasted good, it was a Veteran's Hospital, and they were sweet and easy to digest. It worked, but I ended up hooked on the damn things." Skinner's grin showed clearly that this was one memory it didn't bother him to recall, and with a smile, Fox started to leave. "Hey, you didn't tell us your comfort food!" Mulder protested mildly, and Fox bit his lip, even as he sighed. "I don't have a comfort food, Mulder. I have a favorite drink, and there are some foods I like more than others, but I don't have a comfort food. That requires a childhood." With a wistful shrug, he turned back to Skinner. "Sir, should I pick up some wine, or beer as well?" "Sure. Whatever you decide." "I'll be back in half an hour." Fox left, going into the store. When he was through the double glass doors, Mulder spoke quietly, "You know, I always thought what they'd done to me was bad enough, what they did to Skinner appalling, and what they did to you, Scully, just plain evil. But I'm beginning to think there are new levels of low, levels of atrocity that I've never even considered, and I'm learning to hate them all over again." "Amen," Skinner muttered thickly, and even Scully nodded her agreement. Precisely half an hour later, Fox came out with a heavily laden cart, the contents of which were quickly stowed in the back seats, and soon they were pulling back into the driveway. "Damn, I don't have my pad with the security number." Skinner sighed, obviously annoyed. "It's 5-2-6-8-3-7-4-9-1, sir." "How the hell... "I watched you punch it in when the taxi dropped us off yesterday." Skinner said nothing, only punched in the numbers as Fox repeated them a bit slower. The gates swung open and soon the cars were unloaded. Mulder came back into the kitchen to see that Fox was beginning to put away groceries. "Need help?" "Yes, thank you. You unload, I'll put away." Mulder did, amazed at the quantity of food Fox had gotten in just thirty minutes. He'd remembered everything from sugar to laundry detergent. The sunflower seeds turned out to be his usual brand, and Mulder figured Fox had seen a pack at the apartment that morning. Scully's eyebrows rose when she saw the Godiva chocolate box. "It's not the very best, I know, but it was the best they had." "A candy bar would have done, Fox." It was the first time she'd ever used his name, and Mulder felt a bit of relief on hearing it. "I'm sorry. You asked for chocolate, not candy." "What's the difference?" Fox looked at her like she'd grown a second head. He opened a cabinet drawer, pulling out a small candy bar. He then opened the box of chocolates. Fox cut a piece off the candy bar, holding it out. She took it, chewing with a look that said she was wearing her scientist hat, and then nodded when she'd swallowed and evaluated. Fox had grabbed a small glass of water, and she dutifully sipped, clearing her pallet before taking the piece of chocolate. Her eyes opened wide, and she chewed slowly, before speaking. "You're right. There's a huge difference. How many calories are in those things?" She reached for the label, but Fox pulled it away. "No, ma'am. It would spoil it for you. Just enjoy it, please?" It was too polite to piss her off, and with a hint of upturn to one corner of her mouth, she snagged the rest of the piece of chocolate and left. When he was sure that she was out of hearing range, Mulder whispered to his clone, "Progress. I'll be sure and tell Skinner." "Thank you, Mulder. I'm used to pleasing the men I serve, it'll feel good to know I've managed to do something right for Skinner." "What do you mean?" Mulder was genuinely confused. He'd known Skinner wasn't thrilled with the idea of Fox, but wasn't aware that the man had any problems with Fox himself. "I mean the man's barely given me anything to work with, so I really haven't had a chance to please him. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about him or his treatment of me. I'm just saying that I haven't really been used, not in the way I'm used to being used. The problem is, he doesn't want a slave—at least, not me, not now. He wants a lover he can play games with, not a lifestyle, and while I'm used to playing games with strangers, it's as part of a lifestyle." Fox was putting something in a low cabinet when he said this, and so missed Skinner's entrance into the kitchen. Skinner had obviously heard Fox's comments, because he looked regretful and thoughtful, a look that at times seemed permanently etched into his face. He motioned Mulder to continue, and after a moment's thought, he did. "So, what do you want him to do? What do you need from him?" Fox was still on the other side of the kitchen island, making use of the lower cabinets, still had no idea Skinner was in the room. "Well, I'd like some play time, to be honest. I'd like to feel like I've brought him some pleasure, genuine pleasure, for himself, not just the satisfaction of having done his duty by me. I don't want a mercy session, or pity. I want him to honestly use me to fulfill a need. It's what I do, it's what I've been carefully trained for, and to do less would be like using Skinner for a small- town security guard at the local S&L. I'm a resource, and I 'm a valuable one. I don't like being wasted." Skinner heard the shift in the voice, and eased out of the room, making it before Fox stood back up again. "Then again," Fox said with a small smile, "as we've already established, I'm spoiled." Mulder chuckled. He handed Fox a box of cereal, and watched as Fox put it away, brows drawing together in thought. "My master always tells me that I think loudly. I never knew what he meant, until I met you. What is it, Mulder? You can ask me anything, anything at all, you know that. What's on your mind?" "Y-you don't seem to mind what you are. You joke about it, you bitch that you aren't being used properly, you talk about it with ease. I'm not saying that's wrong, I'm simply pointing out that most men would be ashamed, and you aren't. I'm wondering what the difference is." Fox sighed, washing his hands now that he'd put the groceries away. He'd left a pack of beef loin on the counter, and now he pulled a cutting board and knife out of a drawer. Fox spoke as he sliced the meat into thin slices. "I'm not sure. I think some of it may have to do with the fact that I'm tank-bred. I simply don't have a lifetime's worth of societal expectations and mores built into me. I was taught them, of course, to make me a better slave, but they don't really apply to me. Still," he paused, opening a cupboard and pulling down olive oil, "I can't put it down to just that. For example, when I'm asked to cross- dress, I feel uncomfortable the way most men would, my masculinity protests. No, part of it is simply that I see no reason to be ashamed. I do a job, at times it's been a very important job. Some of what I've learned while lying under one man has saved another man's life. I bought you an extra week in Oregon once, just by being willing to have most of my body candle-waxed." A smile and another pause, while Fox put a large pot of water on to boil and removed a bag of penne pasta. "If what I did benefitted only myself, if I did it with no love for it in my heart, if I did it poorly, then I'd be ashamed. As it is, I almost always enjoy what I do, I usually do it for a higher purpose, and I do it very well. I work hard at it, Mulder. I put in time and effort, and I give one hundred and ten percent. It's hard work, but it has its rewards." Mulder had watched as Fox heated the skillet, chopping and sauteeing onions, garlic and bell pepper. These were removed, and the meat was cooked in the thin streaks of fragrant oil, only until pink. Fox put the original saute mix back on the meat, and added chopped black olives, and chunks of tomato. The pasta he'd already added to the water, so he pulled a colander off a hook, setting it in the sink. While the noodles drained, Fox grabbed a large, ornate bowl and proceeded to dump noodles and the beef pan into it. He pulled a small amount of blue cheese from the refrigerator and crumbled it into the mix. A handful of fresh spinach leaves were washed and added, and then Fox tossed the whole mixture. The oven timer went off, and Fox retrieved a loaf of garlic and herb French bread, bought frozen at the store and now ready to slice. Fox did all this while talking, and it was more than apparent to Mulder that his clone definitely knew his way around a kitchen. "Mulder, would you mind setting the table? I bought dessert, but there are still a few things I need to get ready." Mulder nodded, and soon had the table ready. Fox had eschewed the formal dining room, opting again for the kitchen table. It was a simple matter to hand the bowl over, along with the bread and butter. A bowl with fresh fruit salad, a small tray of pickled items and olives, a dish with freshly grated parmigiana cheese, a pitcher of iced tea and it was ready. "I'll call Skinner if you'll call Scully." "No. I'll get Skinner, you get Scully." Fox looked at Mulder oddly, but turned toward the living room, while Mulder headed up the stairs. The door was open to the master bedroom, and Mulder could see Skinner inside, looking out the large bay window. He seemed deep in thought and Mulder took the chance to study the man, trying to see him the way Fox did. It was useless, he'd been seeing him too long in too many other ways. Giving up, he gave a quiet knock on the open door. Skinner gave only the briefest of glances before turning back to the window. But he reached a hand out behind him, beckoning. "Come here." It was a quiet command, and even though Mulder knew it wasn't meant for him, he obeyed. Heart pounding, he moved to stand behind Skinner, giving the man his hand. Skinner held it tightly for a moment, saying and doing nothing, just held it in his own large palm. Eyes still focused out the window, Skinner put that same arm around Mulder's waist. It drew Mulder in closely, turned him to face Skinner, and loosely pinned one arm to Mulder's back, their joined hands resting comfortably in the small of his back. Mulder knew Skinner still thought he was Fox, and that it was wrong to continue the charade. "Sir..." Mulder's words were cut off by Skinner's mouth pressing against his own. It was a needy kiss, but tender nonetheless, and Mulder felt himself begin to tremble violently with what it was doing to him. Skinner's other hand came up to his neck, and suddenly Mulder was released, Skinner now standing a good foot away from him and staring. "I... Lunch is ready." It was a thick murmur, and an idiotic thing to say, but it was all Mulder could manage. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but he did know it was about to overwhelm him. Mulder made it to the doorway, before Skinner's voice stopped him. "Mulder?" Forcing himself to turn back around and look Skinner in the face, Mulder was relieved to see that Skinner didn't look upset. If anything, he just looked a bit sad. "It's okay. I understand. Tell Fox I'll be right down." With a nod, Mulder fled the room. Fox was still alone in the kitchen, pouring water into the glasses. The kitchen table was round, a large pale moon of wood, and Mulder took the nearest chair, reaching for his glass. "He'll be right down. Where's Scully?" "In the powder room. Are you okay?" Mulder nodded, eyes firmly on the plate before him. It was nice china, if you liked that sort of thing. The pattern was interesting... "Mulder, what happened?" Fox's voice held concern, and Mulder was almost ready to tell him, when he saw Scully coming into the room. "Later." Fox accepted this, and moments later Skinner joined them, and soon everyone was filling a plate. Fox took his usual small portion, under Skinner's watchful eye, and Mulder followed suit. His clone was managing what no one else had ever been able to accomplish; Fox was getting Mulder to eat regular meals, at regular intervals. Mulder wasn't exactly sure why he was following Fox's lead, but it gave him comfort to do so. Skinner took a bite somewhat dubiously, but a moment later his face showed genuine appreciation for Fox's cooking. "Fox, this is very good, better than I've had in some restaurants. I take it back, look like Mulder or not, you're an excellent cook." Scully and Mulder echoed the sentiments, and the praise brought a soft glow of satisfaction to Fox's face, though he only responded simply that he was glad they liked it. When everyone was nearly done, Fox stood up to get the dessert. "I was in a hurry, and accidentally got two kinds of ice cream instead of one. There's lemon and lime, but only two of each. Skinner, which would you prefer?" "I would prefer you pick your own first." It was an order, however nicely spoken, and Fox put a lime beside his own plate. "Sir?" "I'll take a lemon, please." It was Mulder's choice as well, and Scully gladly took lime. After dessert, Skinner accepted a cup of coffee, and broke the comfortable silence. "Alright, people, let's get back to business. What do we know and what's next? Scully, what did you learn yesterday?" She made her report, offering some insight into the situation, but nothing really helpful. Mulder chimed in with the latest info from the gunmen, noting that while there was nothing they could hook into definitely yet, the focus seemed to be Las Vegas. Fox remained silent, but Skinner saw the eyes darken slightly, the brows furrowing in thought. "Skinner, I think you need to go through the Rose file now." "That's an excellent idea, but before that, why don't you tell me the part I need to know?" Fox closed his eyes, and deliberately relaxed. He took a slow deep breath, and then, in a calm flat monotone, proceeded to obviously read from a page in his head. It was a complicated bit of numbers and letters, codes and access points, and Mulder scribbled hastily, even as he found himself making the mental connection Fox had made. Scully, too, was beginning to see the connection, and she quietly retrieved her laptop from the other room. Skinner had put the Rose file in easy reach of the table earlier, and now he interrupted briefly. "What page?" "67, paragraph 4, column two. You're looking at the ETA scheduling." Skinner found the spot quickly, and not long after, Fox broke off. "Page 81, the second section." Skinner found and followed along. Mulder had moved to look over Skinner's shoulder, and together they followed as Fox skipped and jumped paragraphs, picking out the crucial phrase here and there. It saved them hours, literally, and after another half an hour of almost solid recall, Fox stopped. "I think that's all, Skinner." His voice sounded weak, and he looked pale and shaky. His eyes were open now, and they looked dull and tired. Fox seemed exhausted, and Skinner pushed back from the table. "Mulder, you and Scully get to work on this. I'll be back down in a few minutes." Skinner pulled Fox's chair away from the table, and with the same disarming ease he'd shown before, lifted Fox into his arms, carrying the limp figure up the stairs. "Maybe I should check on him." Scully hesitated only a second before following them up. Mulder went back to the beginning of the file and scanned it, but he'd found nothing more than what Fox had given them by the time Skinner came back down. "How is he?" "Fine. He says it's normal for that kind of heavy recall, it'll pass in an hour or so. Scully says it's just simple fatigue, but amplified, like you'd get if you crammed for an exam, only times ten." "That makes sense. So, he let her examine him? He is trying. Oh, I have to pass along some progress, not that you haven't noticed yourself." Mulder did so, and Skinner thanked him. There was a moment of silence, then Skinner spoke softly. "Mulder, about what happened upstairs, well, I'm sorry I jerked away like that. I put my hand on your neck, and your hair was short, and it was a shock. But I need you to believe me that I didn't pull away like that because I didn't like it. I did. I just wasn't expecting you to be...you." "Thank you, sir. I was going to tell you, that's what I started to tell you, just before you... Anyway, uhm, since we're being honest here, let me just say that I liked it, too." "Thanks, Mulder. Now, if you want, why don't you go upstairs and check on Fox, make sure he's really okay. He'll need to rest, but you could talk for a few minutes." "I think I will, sir." Mulder went upstairs, passing Scully on the stairs. She seemed distracted, only cautioning him to spend no more than ten minutes and make sure Fox slept, before going on down the stairs. Mulder knocked slightly at the open door. Fox was lying still and silent, face pale against the white of the pillow. He wasn't wearing a shirt, so they must have undressed him, and his hair was loose, limp around his face. "You look like shit." Fox grinned at the pronouncement, however weakly, and patted a spot on the bed beside him. Mulder crossed to him, sitting down carefully. "Tell me." Fox's voice was thin, but Mulder knew what he meant. He bit his lip, hesitating just a moment, then did so. It came out quietly, slowly and full of rich detail. The way he could feel the heat of Skinner's body through the thin dress shirt, the way Skinner's hands had been rougher than he'd imagined, yet the touch light, all the things he'd noticed in those few seconds. "You wanted it to happen. You planned it." Fox's tone left no room for argument, not that Mulder could have argued without lying. He'd noticed that Scully had packed two almost identical shirts by a fluke, and in the back of his mind, he'd wondered if something like this might happen. It had been on his mind when he offered to go get Skinner, was probably why he'd volunteered for that job. "Yeah. I guess that wasn't fair to you, Fox. I didn't think about that part until just now. I'm sorry." "It's okay. If it helps you figure things out, I'll help you deceive him again." "He'll whip you." "Yes, but he might whip you, too." The words were a sleepy murmur, and Mulder took the save. "Scully made me promise to let you sleep, and I don't need her pissed off again. We'll finish this later." Fox nodded, but when Mulder moved to stand, a hand grabbed his wrist. "No. Stay, please. I don't want to be alone." Mulder nodded, and moved to the other side of the bed. He stretched out beside his clone, watching as the man allowed himself to drift off. It was a skill Mulder envied. He closed his own eyes, trying to process some of what was happening. To his surprise, the sound of his clone's deep even breathing began to lull him to sleep, too. Deciding a nap was harmless, Mulder drifted off. When he woke up, Fox was curled against him. The man's head was lying on Mulder's chest, and the long arms and legs were a pleasant weight on top of him. Mulder hesitated, biting at his bottom lip, then carefully let one of his hands card through Fox's hair. The strands were like silk, soft and thick in Mulder's hands, and he used his free hand to compare it to his own hair. Aside from the shortness, Mulder's hair was a bit more coarse. He put the difference down to different styling products. Fox probably used some special conditioner that cost a thousand dollars an ounce or something, whereas Mulder used a two-in-one that he bought cheap. Absently continuing to toy with the long strands, Mulder didn't notice when Fox opened his eyes. It wasn't until the head moved, Fox tilting up and back, that he noticed. And then he noticed something else. Mulder noticed the curiosity in the hazel eyes, the desire, the promise of fulfillment of every erotic dream Mulder had ever had. It was a heady sensation, and while Fox didn't move or say a word, Mulder knew his clone was begging silently for a kiss. Shaking, completely confused and frightened by the multitude of issues confronting him, Mulder nonetheless yielded to that silent plea. He lowered his mouth, seeing and sensing at the last moment that Fox was ready to open to him like a flower. Mulder moaned as their lips touched, able to physically taste the other man's willing submission to him. Mulder's tongue parted the pliant mouth of its own accord, and the subtle thrusting of Fox's tongue against his own drew a sound of hunger from them both. It was Fox that eased them apart, doing so with a last kiss, a reassurance that the touch was welcome. "Mulder, please. I want you, I want this, but I belong to Skinner. You can have me, but I have to have his permission first." Mulder closed his eyes, panting, feeling the tremble of Fox's body pressed against his own. It was too much, too hard, too easy, too complicated. Shaking his head, Mulder took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. "I can't. Not yet. I-I need time." Fox's eyes darkened, but the clone brushed his fingertips across Mulder's forehead. "It's okay. I understand." Looking at the acceptance in those eyes, the lack of accusation or disappointment, Mulder reached down, stealing a last, needy kiss. "I will, Fox. Eventually, I will. I promise." "And if you have to go to Alex, for his consent?" It sent a flash of hot humiliation and anger through Mulder to picture it, but he knew he would. "Then I'll go to Alex. If you still want it, by the time I ask." "I've always wanted it." The words were said so quietly that Mulder almost didn't catch them. "What do you mean?" Fox looked down at the sheet, fussing with the hem. "Mulder, I've seen hundreds of hours of video tape of you, countless still photos. I've watched you do everything from type to take a piss in the woods. Yours was the first face they showed me, I have your entire life in my brain, most of it. I'm fascinated by you, Mulder, the same way you're fascinated by me. And I'll tell you a secret. I've been trained to fulfill any sexual fantasy you can imagine. If you can dream it, I can do it, and make it good for you. But I have a fantasy, too. You. I want to make love to you, Mulder. I want to be taken by you, but I also want to take you. More than that, I want to spank you, then take you. That's my fantasy, Mulder. Sometimes, when I masturbate, I use a mirror, and pretend it's you in my hand." Mulder couldn't help it. Reaching down to his crotch, he squeezed, the rough touch the last stimulation he needed. He came in his pants, groaning loudly and shaking with the aftershocks. A warm dampness began cleaning him, wiping his belly and hand. "You'll have to clean your cock, sorry." Mulder gave a weak chuckle. "No problem. I'm used to it. Oh shit, Fox! I'm so fucking confused." Mulder closed his eyes again, and heard the sigh beside him. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I shouldn't have... I'm sorry. I'll ask Skinner to punish me later." "No, please don't. Well, unless you want to, I don't want you spanked for my sake." "I'm seldom spanked for any other reason." Fox teased it lightly, and Mulder chuckled again. His clone embraced him tightly, the hug now full of nothing but a loving comfort. "Do...do you think Skinner will be mad at me, too? For kissing you?" "Maybe. I am his, and he's not the type to share his toys easily. I get the impression he holds firmly to his own." A rough voice from the doorway brought their eyes around. Skinner was leaning, hands in his pockets, body relaxed. But his eyes were dark, and Mulder caught a hint of that earlier fire in them. "You're right, Fox. You belong to me, and I take that very seriously. Normally, if I found out you were kissing anybody else, I'd whip you raw and make sure the other person regretted it just as deeply. However," he paused, moving now to sit on the edge of the bed, his eyes going from one man to the next, "this is anything but normal. It wasn't about you forgetting your place or who you belonged to, and it wasn't a case of some jerk trying to steal what's mine. No, I'm not mad at either of you. How the hell could I blame you? Fox, Alex gave you to me, but you've belonged to Mulder since the day you were created, any fool could figure that out. And Mulder, how can you not be tempted? How can you resist, even for a moment?" Skinner reached out, placing a hand on the side of Fox's face, looking down affectionately. "No, boy, I'm not mad. You're still getting your ass tanned, but I promise, you haven't upset me." Fox's face showed his relief, but his eyes cut to Mulder, even as he thanked his temporary master. "As for you, Mulder, I give you consent, right now, with the clear understanding that I'm still in charge of what happens to and with him. You can make love to him all you want, but try to get him to disobey me, and you'll find out first-hand just how angry I really can get. Understood?" A nod was all Mulder was capable of, and Skinner turned his attention back to Fox. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?" "I'm fine, Skinner. A nap is all I ever need, honestly." "Then get your ass over my knee." "Yes, Skinner." When Fox swung his legs up, Skinner moved to sit more fully on the bed, and guided the younger man to lie across his lap, bottom up and ready. Before Mulder could squeak out an excuse, Skinner's voice was addressing him. "Stay put, Mulder." It was a quiet order, and Mulder didn't have the will to refuse. He could see perfectly from where he was sitting against the headboard, and he watched in fascination as Skinner drew down the silk boxers. The older man's hand was large against the pale flesh, and when he brought the flattened palm down hard, the resulting red mark nearly covered one cheek. Skinner spanked until the entire rear was a dark rose. Fox, who'd been both silent and still during the punishment, actually had his head resting on his folded arms, a tranquil thoughtful look on his features. He winced a few times as a more sensitive area was spanked, but Mulder could see he was accepting the painful blows completely. It seemed like a long time to Mulder before Skinner stopped. Skinner eased the silk back into place, and then that same hand began rubbing gently, drawing a sigh from Fox. "Who do you belong to, boy?" "You, sir." "Yes." A gentle pat, and Skinner rolled the lean form over, settling Fox in his lap. Kisses followed, tender and loving, Skinner winding Fox's hair carefully around his fist, easing his head back to give access to the long throat. A few nips, a love bite just hard enough to mark, and Skinner released him. "Go shower and change. We've got some work to do downstairs." "Yes, Skinner." A slap to the retreating rear, and Fox was gone, leaving Mulder and Skinner alone in the bedroom and still on the bed. The silence bloomed between them, swelling like a thundercloud, until Mulder, heart pounding in his chest, made the first tentative move. Sliding over to the spot Fox had previously occupied, Mulder stole a glance at Skinner's face. The brown eyes met his hungrily, but the passion was soft, muted by care. With a shaky breath, Mulder swallowed hard, and slowly stretched himself across Skinner's lap, trembling almost violently with nerves. After a moment that felt like an eternity, Mulder felt an arm coming around his waist, the strong weight comforting in its restriction. Mulder closed his eyes as the hand raised, and when the spank landed on his jean-clad bottom, he couldn't help the small sound that escaped him. Eleven more landed, and despite the protection of denim, Mulder's backside was hot and tingling when the twelfth and final swat was given. Then he was being lifted, turned with ease by Skinner, held tightly to a chest that housed a heart beating nearly as frantically as his own. But Skinner's voice was perfectly even. "Mine." Mulder nodded, not sure if Skinner was reminding him that Fox belonged to him, or if the man was staking a new claim. They were both true, so Mulder only whispered a "yes, sir" into a broad muscle, and let himself be held. After several moments, they heard the telephone ring downstairs, and then Scully's voice was calling up the stairs. "Sir? It's one of your operatives." "I'll be right there, Scully." Easing Mulder back, Skinner looked deeply into the hazel eyes, seeing the hints of what Mulder was feeling. Skinner longed to respond to some of those hints, but knew that Mulder needed time more than anything else. They'd taken a big step, but it needed to be the only step for a little bit longer. Smiling gently and cupping Mulder's face in one broad palm, Skinner leaned down, pressing a brief kiss to the upturned face. A couple of soft pats to Mulder's rear encouraged the young man to stand, and then Skinner was heading downstairs. Mulder stood near the bed, staring at the now empty doorway, trailing a curious hand over his own rear. "Well?" Fox, freshly showered and reaching into his bag for clothes, hid his pleased smile. Mulder might be his equal in intellect, but he didn't have the years of learning people that Fox had. He had quite the talent for manipulation, despite the fact he only used it to bring pleasure. Fox had known what he was doing, was willing to bet what the results would be. Still, he hadn't quite expected Mulder to get spanked just yet. That was a bonus. Mulder looked up at him shyly. "He spanked me." There was an upturn to the corners of Mulder's mouth as he said the words, a pleased look of pride, and Fox felt his heart tug. Fox hadn't lied about his fascination with Mulder, and right now, the man looked like a six-year old that just tied his own shoes for the first time. He looked absolutely adorable. "I thought I heard that, it was hard to tell because of the shower. How did it make you feel?" Fox was buttoning a dark teal silk shirt as he asked, but he kept his eyes on Mulder. "Excited. Scared, a little bit. Needy." Mulder paused, unable to keep the truth from Fox. "And safe. I felt really safe, I could just let go, I knew he had me, you know? And...and loved. I felt loved, like I was his. It felt good." "Thank you. For being honest, with both of us." Fox was dressed now, and he motioned downstairs. "I'd better go. If he has to come back up here after me, I'll end up back over his knee, and all I'll feel is regret." Fox reached out, hugged Mulder tightly, and then headed down. Mulder stayed still a few moments more, completely lost in his thoughts. The next few days were busy, as all of them worked from separate starting points. They'd made progress, real progress, but now were stalled. They were waiting on some more information, but it would be a couple of days before it came back. Scully had opted to return home, to no one's surprise. She and Fox had been unfailingly polite to each other, but everyone knew the sight of him still bothered her. It bothered her even more to see the casual affection between Skinner and Fox, and evidence of Fox's submission disturbed her deeply. The one time Skinner had swatted Fox in front of her, she looked both horrified and disgusted, the revulsion rolling off her in waves, and directed at both of them, though she'd said nothing. It was with a sigh of relief that they watched her drive away. "Mulder, I'm sorry," Skinner murmured quietly from his place beside the window. "For what, sir?" "For upsetting your partner. I've tried to keep it discreet around her, but I have to do what's best for Fox right now. Still, it can't make it easy for you, stuck in the middle." "That's okay, sir. I gave up trying to make Scully happy a long time ago." There was a hint of pain in the voice, but more resigned failure, and Skinner couldn't resist squeezing a shoulder in sympathy, before walking away. That night, after dinner, Skinner settled into the middle of the couch, a game on. Fox settled beside him, laying his head on Skinner's thigh, long legs draping off the arm of the couch. Mulder came in, looking at the pair with shy longing. Skinner said nothing, only patted his other leg in invitation, not taking his eyes off of the television. Hesitantly, as though fearing he'd be rebuffed, Mulder sat down, turning to pillow his head the way his clone was doing. Skinner's fingers brushed the hair out of his eyes affectionately, and the dark brown eyes dropped long enough to reveal that Mulder's bravery had pleased him. With a warm glow, Mulder turned his attention to the game. After a few moments, Skinner's arm draped over him, and Mulder gave a tiny snuggle, sighing contentedly. Fox's eyes looked up, and he shared a conspiratorial wink with his temporary master, before relaxing as well. The next morning, the Gunmen called with the promise of information, but they wanted to bring it over personally. A quick, whispered conference with Skinner, and Mulder gave them the go ahead. "Are we going to keep Fox hidden, or do we let them know?" Mulder chewed his lip as he thought, and Skinner's brows were drawn together sharply in concentration. "I'm not sure, Mulder. This is pretty complicated, I feel like either way is too dangerous. Fox?" "Yes, Skinner?" "Your opinion and why." "Yes, Skinner. My opinion is that you should tell them about me. Let them examine me, talk to me, all of it. My reasoning is simple: if something happens to me, they'll be part of the best bet to get me back, to find me and the people responsible. To do that best, I need to be familiar. We need to know what their opinion will be, how they handle it, and give them a chance to adjust, in case we need them later. We'll know how much help to expect and from whom to expect it." It was logical, if a tad mercenary. Oh well, he was Krycek's slave, after all. That thought still irked, even as it fascinated, and Mulder quickly pushed it aside. "That makes sense to me. I agree. Sir?" "Agreed. But take it easy, especially on Langly. When he makes a pass, I expect you to be polite, if firm, when you refuse him. Nothing physical, he couldn't handle it. Understood, boy?" "Understood, Skinner." Mulder looked bewildered. "Well, I don't! What do you mean, when he makes a pass? Why would Langly make a pass at me? I mean, at Fox?" Skinner looked at Mulder as though the man was an idiot, then turned back to Fox. "He just doesn't get it, does he?" "No, Skinner. Never has, as far as I can tell. But before you complain about that too much, try to imagine what he would be like if he did get it, had known all his life." Skinner's eyes lost focus for a minute, then shot opened, horrified. "I'd have shot him or myself, outside of a month." "Exactly. In this case, ignorance really is bliss." Annoyed at being the subject of the conversation, but not actually a participant, Mulder glared at them both, and stomped off to wait for his friends. The sound of Skinner's deep chuckle made him look back, just in time to see the big man pull an unresisting Fox into his arms. Skinner nuzzled him, bending Fox back over his arm slightly to get better access to the neck and collarbone. Fox was smiling, eyes closed, arms wrapped loosely around Skinner's neck and shoulders. He looked content, and Mulder felt a sharp pang go through him. For the first time, he allowed the words to form fully in his mind. //One day...// The Gunmen arrived an hour later. Skinner and Mulder met them. Fox was waiting in the kitchen, making coffee and giving Mulder a chance to explain. Once the men were inside, Mulder had them take a seat, then bit his lip as he tried to figure out how to put things. "Guys, there's something you have to know, something big. It's going to be hard for you to accept what I'm about to tell you, very hard, but this is no joke. You know that the Consortium uses clones, has been making them for a long time, right?" They all assented, and Mulder continued. "Well, they made at least one of me. We're pretty sure it's the only one, as sure as we can be. I'm telling you this because that clone is here, with us. He's waiting in the kitchen." Mulder paused, and it was only the stone cold sober look to Skinner's face that convinced the three men on the couch that this wasn't a joke, despite Mulder's words. "You have a clone." Byers repeated the information, wanting to make sure he hadn't misunderstood. "Yes." "It—He? Is here, in this house, right now?" "He is, yes." Frohike was looking worried, yet seemed unsurprised. "What is your relationship with this clone? Is it a hostile? Is it working with us? Is it a plant?" "Good questions." Skinner had always known that Frohike, despite his nonchalance, had excellent instincts when it came to people. He wasn't surprised that the man's thoughts had gone there first. "He's not a hostile, and he's no plant, either. Fox has been working with us, and even Scully will vouch for the fact that he's on the level." "Fox?" Langly, eyes still wide with disbelief, asked quietly. "We have the same name, but he prefers Fox. That's how we refer to each other, I call him Fox, he calls me Mulder. There's something else you need to know. Fox is... His relationship to Skinner is... He's..." Mulder stumbled, unable to think of a way to say it. They'd discussed disclosing the nature of Skinner and Fox's relationship, and had finally reluctantly agreed that they might as well tell them, since that could have some future bearing, too. But now, looking at them, Mulder blushed scarlet, unable to reveal that his clone was willfully submissive to the big man standing next to him, afraid of what else it might reveal. Skinner saw his difficulty, and made the save. "For reasons that you don't need to know, Fox is my slave. It's temporary, but it will be very obvious, so you might as well get used to the idea. I won't shirk my duties to him just to put you three at ease. I will try to be discreet, but that may not always be possible. I would ask that you remember that he is a clone, and not Mulder. What I do to him does not necessarily reflect my feelings toward Agent Mulder. Is that clear, gentlemen? I will not have any speculation of my personal life. Suffice it to say that I'm doing what I have to do right now, to keep Mulder, Fox and the rest of us safe, and leave it at that. Understood?" There were stunned nods as this new information was absorbed, and Skinner gave Mulder a pointed look. "Alright, guys, I'm going to call him in now. I-I know this is going to be difficult for you, but please, try to remember that this is my clone. It's complicated, I know, but I would ask that you treat him with respect and politeness, for my sake, if nothing else. Just try, okay?" "We'll try, Mulder, you know that." Byers voice was shaky but warm, and Mulder gave him a grateful look, before nodding to Skinner. "Fox, would you come out here, please?" It was an order, phrasing aside, and Fox slowly came into the room. As he came into sight, the three men on the couch gaped and gawked. Fox kept his eyes lowered just a bit, careful not to make full eye contact with any of them. He looked at their foreheads, their collars, giving the illusion of looking back without actually doing so. Fox knew that eye contact was one of the most threatening of all the body language statements, and had no intention of making these men feel more uncomfortable. "Fox, this is Byers, Frohike, and Langly, the Lone Gunmen." "Would it help if I said I was a subscriber?" Fox spoke softly, knowing that hearing his voice was another minor shock for them. After several tense moments, Byers collected himself and stood, holding out his hand to Fox. "Hello, Fox." There was a tentative smile under the moustache, and Fox responded naturally to the genuine, albeit very limited, acceptance. "Mr. Byers." "Just Byers, or John, please. I prefer John, if I'm to call you Fox." "Very well, John." Standing aside, the next one up was Frohike. He looked Fox up and down frankly, then sighed and turned to Mulder. "Is it too much to ask that one thing in your entire life be normal?" "Apparently." Mulder grinned, knowing that if Frohike could complain, it would be okay. Sure enough, a hand was extended, but the shorter man looked stern as he shook Fox's hand. "Call me Frohike, and you should know right now, I don't care who you look like, you screw with us or hurt Mulder and I'll erase you myself. We clear?" "So long as you understand that it's a mutual condition, yes." This time Fox did meet his eyes directly, and Frohike grudgingly admitted to himself that he liked what he saw. "We're square." A shake, and he stepped aside. Langly looked up, still somewhat pale, and while he didn't offer his hand, the blonde stood, bowing slightly. "Peace, dude." "Domo." Fox returned the slight bow, and the corners of the mouth quirked, prompting Langly to roll his eyes. "Alright, just try not to get mushy with your Master in front of me, okay?" "You'll have to take that up with Skinner." A glance at the big man in full A.D. face, and Langly shuddered, before backing down. "Fine, unfair, I'm just a little spooked..." He trailed off, realizing what he'd said. Mulder couldn't help it, between the tension and the pun, he lost it. Cracking up completely, his laughter cleared the way for the others to give in to the humor. After a much needed laugh, Skinner pointed them to the folders on the coffee table. "Okay, what have you got for us?" Settling back into their places, they reached for their work, while Mulder and Skinner each took a chair. Fox settled into his usual spot at Skinner's side, sitting by his feet. Skinner habitually placed a hand on the thick hair, sinking through it to place a light squeeze on the neck, unaware of his actions. Mulder, following a hunch, looked quickly at Langly. Jealousy, pure and simple, mixed with a tiny bit of frustration, flickered fast and was quickly shuttered away. Mulder knew then that Skinner and Fox had been right. Langly wanted him. Sighing at how he'd gone from having no love life at all, to such an increasingly complex one in a matter of days, Mulder shook himself mentally, and got to work. After about an hour of serious discussion, they all felt that they'd made some progress. While somewhat hesitant at first, they were now able to speak to Fox and listen to him speak without looking completely freaked for more than a minute. For his part, Mulder was pleased that they accepted his clone, and that they hadn't commented on the relationship with Skinner. They were just wrapping up the information from the latest phone taps, when Fox's watch gave a small chime. "Skinner? It's six-thirty, should I finish making dinner?" "Yeah, we've got quite a bit of work to do here yet, but I'm getting hungry. We should stop, take a break, let our minds get caught up." Skinner's actions belied his words, as he picked up a folder, going back to a paragraph that was bugging him. Fox stood, and turned to the others. "Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. I made plenty of extra, would you care to join us?" "You cooked?" Frohike looked suspicious, and Mulder chuckled. "Don't worry, they fixed the food gene in the tank. He may look like me while he does it, but I promise, he doesn't cook like me." "In that case, sure, love to. You, uh, you need any help?" "No, thank you, it's all prepped. Can I get you a drink while you wait? We have wine, beer, tea, coffee, several juices, and a fully stocked bar." "I'd like some tea, please." Byers drank nearly as much of it as Mulder. "A beer would be good, if it's good beer." "Mackeson Triple Stout, or I have Belgian Ale." "Ye gods, Mulder, he's got taste in beer! Are you sure he's really your clone and doesn't just look like you physically?" Frohike was only half-kidding. "I'm sure. He'll have the Stout." Fox turned to Langly, careful not to look directly at him, brushing an imaginary thread from his sleeve. "And for you?" "I'll, uh, I'll have a martini." "Olive?" "Double." "I'll be right back with your drinks." They watched him walk away, and Frohike shuddered. "It's weird enough seeing two of you, but when one of you has social skills, it's almost too much." Skinner was still studying the folder, but Mulder noticed his mouth quirk a bit, and knew the big man was agreeing. Resisting the urge to stick out his tongue, Mulder excused himself to phone Scully. Moments later, Fox returned with a tray of drinks, handing them around. He gave Mulder a tea, and handed Skinner a club soda with a twist of lime. Skinner wouldn't drink until the work was done, Fox knew that. He turned to head back into the kitchen when Skinner's large hand stopped him. "Yes, Skinner?" "You okay?" "I'm fine, Skinner." "Sure?" Fox bit his lip a moment, and Skinner didn't hesitate. He pulled Fox into his lap, holding the younger man close and asking softly, "Tell me, little one. And no lies, of either kind." Fox glanced around the room, but no one was anywhere near earshot. Still, he almost whispered his reply. "It's odd. They're his friends. I know them, know all about them, but to be here, with him, and meeting his friends is very strange. I know it's more difficult for them, but it is difficult for me, as well. I just...I just want them to like me. Is that wrong, sir?" The eyes that looked up at him were impossibly young and innocent for a Consortium clone slave of Krycek's, but Skinner knew it was no act. Fox was insecure when it came to Mulder, he was simply too tied up with the other man's identity. "No, Fox. I think it's very right that you should feel that way. But you don't have to worry, they like you just fine." "Promise?" It was a hushed whisper, Fox knew better than to ask such a thing, but he couldn't help it. Skinner took no offense, touched by the slight slip. "I promise, sweetheart." Fox relaxed, and Skinner placed a quick, firm kiss on the lush mouth, then patted the rump on his thigh. "Now fetch me my dinner, boy." "Yes, Skinner." Fox smiled, reassured as always by Skinner's solid, uncompromising presence. "Oh, and Fox? Remind me later to paddle your cute little ass until you remember not to doubt either one of us." It was a mock threat, said with a smile and a wink. Fox knew he'd be feeling a board across his backside later, but he also knew it would be fairly mild, and done more as a reward than a punishment. "Yes, Skinner." Another peck, and Skinner sent him on his way with an affectionate swat. Twenty minutes later, they were all gathered around the kitchen table. Fox had added a leaf and the extra chairs, feeling it wouldn't be right to eat in the dining room. One bite of the citron glazed chicken, and Frohike had to admit that Fox could cook. The rest of the meal was just as good, and when the dessert was finished and everyone was sipping coffee, Skinner turned to Fox. "That was excellent, Fox, as usual. It's been a long time since I had this many good meals in row, I'd almost forgotten what it was like. It's been a real treat." The praise brought a visible pleasure to Fox, and Mulder knew it was because Fox had a sense of satisfying a genuine need for Skinner. He was pleased for his clone, knowing that Fox deserved some reward. The Gunmen chimed in with their own compliments, accepted with good grace if less enthusiasm. They were just about to get back to work, when Mulder's cell rang. He stood, going into the next room. "Mulder." "It's me, Mulder." Alex Krycek sounded tired, and in pain. "You okay? Should I call Fox?" "No! No, I don't want to worry him, not yet anyway. Listen, things are getting tight, we're running out of time. What have you got on your end?" Mulder briefed him, unsure why he was trusting Krycek this much, but certain in his gut it was the right thing to do. "Hmm. Okay, I think I might know where this is going. Go back to the apartment, get the Lily files. Can you write this down?" Mulder took down the authorization code, hearing Krycek gasp in pain on the other end. "Krycek, what's wrong?" "It's not bad, but I took a knife to the side. It bounced off my ribs, but it hurts like a mother, and I can't stop yet. Time's almost up, Mulder, tell me how Fox is." "He's fine. Misses you, bitches that Skinner isn't really using him and...and I think he's in love with me." Mulder could have ripped out his tongue. He had no idea why he'd said that, it had just slipped out, and now he closed his eyes, waiting for a reaction. A soft sound of amusement startled him, as did an almost warmly indulgent tone in Krycek's voice. "Christ, when it comes to love, that incredible brain of yours just shuts down completely, doesn't it? Of course he's in love with you, Mulder, don't be an idiot." The amusement faded, and Krycek's voice grew serious again. "Listen, I'm going to Italy, you'll figure out why when you read the Lily files. There's a hell of a good chance that I won't make it back, so I'm going to say something to you. I'd hoped to have the satisfaction of hearing you beg, but life's full of disappointment. Love him, Mulder. I give my full blessing and consent. You'll still have to go through Skinner, but you have my permission." "You're giving me Fox?" "Hell, no! I'll never give up Fox willingly, never. He's mine, until one or both of us dies. Don't kid yourself, Mulder, he loves us both, and I can respect that, wouldn't dream of interfering with it. But I'm only sharing, never forget that. Make love to him until you can't breathe without him near, but never forget that he's mine, too." It was a threat, the coldest, hardest, most sincere warning Mulder had ever heard Krycek give. Mulder, expecting to be angry or ashamed, felt neither. He understood, would feel the same way, if he were Alex Krycek. "I won't forget. And, from both of us, thank you." "You're welcome, Mulder. Now, let me talk to him, I've got exactly two minutes left." Mulder turned, seeing Fox standing silently in the doorway, eyes huge. Apparently, he'd been listening for a while. He held out the phone, and Fox took it with unsteady hands. "Master." There was so much wrapped up in that one word, and Mulder hurt just hearing it. He left, giving Fox some privacy. He walked into the kitchen, finding Skinner cleaning up. The older man took one look and dried his hands on a dishtowel. "What's happened?" "It's Krycek. He said we need to get the Lily files from the apartment. He's going to Italy, said we'd make the connection when we read the files. He's hurt, took a knife to the ribs, but he's okay. H-he gave me permission." Mulder saw the face tighten for a moment, then relax again. "That's good. Fox won't feel so guilty now. So, you just need consent from one more person before you can love him freely." "Who?" "Yourself." Skinner patted Mulder on the shoulder, and turned back to the dishes. After a few silent moments, Mulder came up beside him, helping him load the dishwasher. Langly strolled in, and asked with a smirk, "Hey, shouldn't the slave boy be doing that?" Any other comments were cut off by the pressure of Skinner's hand closing around his neck. Langly was suddenly bent over the counter, Skinner leaning just enough weight to make breathing difficult, but not impossible. "I'm going to say this once. There will be no jokes, comments, or innuendos where Fox is concerned. You will treat him with polite respect at all times, is that clear?" Langly managed to choke out an affirmative, and Skinner released him, turning back to the dishwasher and completely ignoring the red-faced blonde. Mulder said nothing, but his eyes offered sympathy, without contradicting Skinner. Sometimes Langly didn't know when to shut up. "Langly, we'll be back out in a few. Why don't you ask Byers to start checking Italy, okay?" "Yeah, sure, man, whatever." When the blonde had gone, Mulder turned back to Skinner. "Sir, don't you think that might have been a little extreme?" "No, I know it was extreme. But I felt it was warranted. Mulder, if it hadn't been Langly, I would have just given a verbal. But it was, and that makes the situation more complicated. He's got to know right now that I won't play with this. I'm sorry, but I did what was necessary, nothing more." "Okay." Mulder offered it quietly, and Skinner looked a little shocked. "Okay?" "Yeah. Okay. I-I trust you. If you say that was necessary, I'll believe you." Skinner continued to look at Mulder like he had two heads, then his face softened, grew more intense. "C'mere." Mulder did, and Skinner pulled him into an embrace, a strong, yet simple hug. Mulder soaked it up, starved for the affection. "Thank you. Now go find Fox, we need to get back to work." "Yes, sir." Mulder started to turn away, paused, pressed a quick kiss to Skinner's cheek, and all but ran back to the study where Fox had been talking to Krycek. His clone was there, just finishing up. "I will. I do, Master. I love you, Alex." He pushed the off button, and handed the phone out to Mulder. "He's hurt." "Yeah. But he'll be okay." "I know." "Skinner wants to get back to it." Fox nodded, clearing his head with a deep breath, and squaring his shoulders. Mulder followed him back into the room. The group worked steadily for a few more hours, then called it quits for the night. When they'd gone, Fox went upstairs to draw Skinner's bath. Skinner stood at the bottom of the stairs, but didn't move up. Instead, he turned back to Mulder. "Sleep with us tonight." Mulder felt his heart go into triple time, and while he was breathing, he couldn't seem to get any oxygen. "No sex, no games, nothing but sleep. Share our bed, Mulder, I'll even let you choose who sleeps in the middle. You don't have to, it's just an invitation, and I may be making it too quick. If so, I'm sorry. The last thing I want to do is push you. But you should know, it's a standing invitation, and your choice, no hard feelings either way." Skinner then went upstairs, leaving a bewildered Mulder sitting on the couch, half-hard and terrified out of his mind. Part Three For a long time, Mulder just sat there. The thought of sleeping upstairs with both men sounded better than just about anything he'd ever heard. It was also the most dangerous thing he could consider doing, except for crawling up into a bed between Fox and Krycek. That thought sent another zing of terrified pleasure through him, and he shook his head physically, trying hard to clear his mind. He looked at the couch, finding the sight of his formerly preferred resting place suddenly dreadful. Mulder knew that he'd spend the night tossing and turning, alternating between telling himself he'd done the right thing and cursing himself for being an idiot. Sighing, Mulder scrubbed his hands over his face roughly, and tried to think, really think. If he went upstairs, he could sleep with them. And it would be sleep. There was no way he was capable of anything more, not yet, if ever. Still, it wouldn't have to be both of them. Mulder had choice of position. He could put Fox in the middle, and his own back to the door. It would be like sleeping with Fox. Skinner would still be there, of course, but his presence should be minimized. Unless Skinner decided to fuck Fox. In front of him. Groaning as his only recently quieted arousal began whining again, Mulder sternly reminded himself that Skinner had promised just sleep. If something else started, all bets were off, and Mulder could leave without feeling like a chicken shit. Biting his bottom lip and closing his eyes, Mulder knew he had to say yes. He'd hate himself forever if he didn't. Resigned, if still wound tightly around the decision, Mulder used the downstairs bath to quickly shower and change into a pair of cotton sleep pants and a plain tee shirt. He started up the stairs and heard it, the now familiar sound of Skinner punishing Fox. It was a different sound, and Mulder realized that it wasn't Skinner's hand this time. Mulder was up the stairs now, and standing just outside the door. It was open halfway, and he simply stood in the open doorway, looking in. Fox was in profile to the door, leaning over the back of his beloved chair. His hands were holding the edge of the seat, his back was arched perfectly to present his backside. The long legs with their faint golden color were exactly shoulder width apart. His head was up, the hair swept over his left shoulder and out of the way. The nipple charm hung free, swinging slightly, and his cock was three quarters full. Skinner stood behind and to the side, facing the doorway. He looked up when Mulder appeared, but didn't pause, aside from letting Mulder know that he'd seen him. Fox had, too, but he gave no sign, only remained in position. Skinner had one hand on Fox's back, simply resting there to connect with the man. The other hand held a paddle. It was a smooth pale oak, shaped into an elongated oval. The edges were rounded, and while it was long enough to easily span Fox's backside, it was only about three inches wide, and no thicker than Mulder's little finger. Mulder watched, entranced, as Skinner brought the wood down across Fox's nude rear again. The skin blanched slightly, then darkened, but it had only been a moderate swat. Fox groaned softly, a hungry sound, and arched tighter, thrusting his backside up for more. "Please!" "Please what, little boy?" The low rumble held no anger, only lustful heat, and Fox whimpered as the board licked him again. "Harder, sir? Please, Skinner?" Skinner obliged, and Mulder stared as Fox's face showed his intense pleasure. "Good, Master, so good..." Fox was just mumbling it, not really aware of speaking. "I promised you a reward, boy. I never break a promise." Skinner paused in his paddling, his free hand lightly trailing over the reddened flesh, palm cupping around each cheek, absorbing the heat and gently squeezing. Fox squirmed, moaning loudly. "More, please?" Skinner swatted a few times with his hand, going low, catching the tops of the thighs, before bringing the board down again. Fox's cock was fully erect now, and Skinner slid a hand underneath, wrapping a broad palm around it. Fox nearly broke his form, the hips snapping a bit, before he got control. "Don't come yet, boy." Fox nodded, and Skinner resumed his paddling, still caressing the hard sex in his free hand. Mulder bit at his bottom lip, but felt an urge he couldn't deny. Moving slowly, deliberately, he took a spot in front of Fox. Kneeling down by the chair, Mulder used his newly granted permission and the fact that this wasn't punishment, to follow his needs. He raised Fox's head just a fraction, making sure his clone's neck wasn't strained, and began kissing him. Long, deeply seeking kisses, kisses so slow Mulder felt like he was drifting. Fox tasted of white wine and Skinner, and his tongue cupped Mulder's, hollowing around the tenderly thrusting flesh. Mulder felt like he was fucking Fox with his tongue, and of their own volition, his hands moved to the charms. Tapping them, tracing their path through the taut nubs, tugging slightly, and Fox pulled back suddenly, gasping for air and mercy. "Please!" "Give him your mouth again." Skinner said it sternly, and Fox immediately lowered his flushed lips back around Mulder's tongue, now drawing on it like a penis. "You may come." Mulder had just squeezed Fox's nipples hard when the order came, and it was all Fox needed. Mulder swallowed his cries, treasured the feel of the body shuddering under his palms, the sight of his clone's face, given over to ecstasy. Skinner was stroking the long back soothingly before he lifted Fox to stand. Mulder felt a moment's loss, but Skinner only picked up his slave and carried him to the bed. Fox sprawled bonelessly, and Skinner was grinning as he cleaned his boy up. "Sleep, Fox. Mulder will be on one side, I'll be on the other. Sleep." "Yes, Skinner. Thank you, sir." Skinner kissed him welcome, and then stretched out on the bed. Mulder had already taken his place in the bed, and now Fox pillowed his head on Mulder's chest, while Skinner spooned close behind him, a thick arm across Fox's waist. The hand at the end of that arm came to rest on Mulder's stomach, and Skinner arched an eyebrow in question. Mulder nodded. His own arm was around Fox, and by virtue of their closeness, around Skinner's shoulders as well. Fox snuggled closer, Skinner followed him in, and Mulder smiled as he raised his free arm to turn off the bedside light. Fox sighed in his ear, a sound of contentment, and Mulder heard Skinner place a kiss on the back of the still exposed neck. "Goodnight, Skinner." "Goodnight, Fox." Fox's arm lay across Mulder, just above Skinner's hands. The slave turned his head just enough to kiss Mulder's chest. "Goodnight, Mulder. Thank you." "You're welcome, Fox. Goodnight." Skinner's hand hesitantly reached, finding Mulder's free hand where it rested atop Fox's arm. The big man clasped it lightly, then gently drew it to his mouth, and kissed the palm warmly. "Goodnight, Mulder. I'm glad you joined us." Mulder swallowed hard, then spoke softly. "Me, too. Goodnight...Walter." He felt the lips against his palm smile, and accepted another kiss to it, before his hand was placed back on Fox's arm with careful precision. He lay there in the dark, hearing the men beside him breathing, warmed by the heat of their bodies, safe in the feel of their presence. The bay window on the wall allowed the full moon to shine in, the subtle reflection of starlight enough of a nightlight to let him relax. Inhaling deeply the faint, mingling scents of ironed cotton, Fox's hair and Skinner's aftershave, Mulder allowed himself the luxury of being happy. Shutting off his brain with deliberation, Mulder went to sleep. When he awoke, it was to the delicious sensation of being draped over another human. Opening his eyes slowly, Mulder saw that they'd changed places during the night. He was now spooned closely behind Fox's nude form, while his clone was equally wrapped up in Skinner's big arms. Their legs were entwined, and Mulder took a moment to appreciate the weight of Skinner's thigh, resting just under his own. Skinner had worn a pair of sleep boxers and a white wife beater to bed, and now Mulder had a chance to study more of his boss's body than ever before. Years of boxing ensured that the shoulders were a hard pad of muscle, the arms following nicely. A tuft of slightly grizzled hair was revealed by the scoop neckline of his tee shirt, as was a chest he already knew was both broad and strong. The waist was narrowed, the hips just lean enough for a big man. The expanse of leg was very nice, and Mulder allowed his eyes to travel all the way back up, savoring every line and swell. When his visual tour of Skinner was over, he turned his attention to his clone. His hair was a sprawl of silk across both the pillow and Fox's back and shoulders. Feeling only slightly self-conscious, Mulder eased back enough to study the sleeping man. The form should have been familiar to him, but somehow, his own build seemed different, and more than a little arousing to him. Of course, there were also the many differences. His shoulder, but without the bullet wound. His back, but without the various scars Mulder had gathered in his time with FBI. Instead, there were faint, very faint, tracings of scars across the leanly muscled back. Marks from being whipped? What would it be like, Mulder wondered, to be whipped hard enough to leave a mark? Granted, knowing his clone's wants and needs, it was most likely a cherished memory, but still Mulder was vaguely disturbed. He suddenly wondered if Krycek had done this, had whipped his clone in lieu of beating Mulder to a pulp. The thought that this man had been used frequently, and by more than one person, as his whipping boy, made Mulder faintly ill. He looked again, and noticed that the pale silvery lines seemed to make a pattern. The lines weren't the random marks of a whipping at all, but more of a tattoo done in nearly invisible scar tissue. Pulling back, Mulder stared at it without focus for some minutes, until suddenly it clicked. Drawn on Fox's back, sketched into the man's very skin, was a map. And not just any map. This was a star map. Mulder's memory might not be quite the equal of his clone's, but it was still remarkable, and now, the lines formed themselves into the familiar shape of a star map that had hung on the wall behind his father's desk. Mulder used to focus on that map while his father raged, the only way to keep from breaking down and earning more scorn. Mulder hadn't thought of that map in two decades, and he'd never seen it as more than decoration. Now, looking at it again, he suddenly knew it was much more than that. Fox stirred slightly in his sleep, and the long hair fell back further, obscuring the scars. It snapped Mulder out of his thoughts enough for him to refocus. He sighed, wishing he'd never seen the pattern. It had spoiled his mood, and threatened his morning. Swearing mentally, cursing the Consortium and everything tied to it, Mulder had just decided to get out of bed when Skinner's arm tightened around Fox, and drew him closer. "Mulder." The name was said with the neutrality of sleep, but Skinner had shifted his leg, trapping Fox's, pinning him to Skinner. Fox, trained to respond even in his sleep, let his head slip forward against Skinner's chest more, and one graceful hand petted a nearby nipple. The big man relaxed some, the lines smoothing from his forehead as he sank back into deeper slumber. It was enough to drive all thoughts of the Consortium temporarily out of Mulder's mind. Did Skinner really care for him? He would have sworn the A.D. considered him a pain in the ass subordinate only a few weeks ago. Now? Now he knew that wasn't right. Skinner felt something, wanted something, and from him, not Fox. Mulder just wasn't sure what or why. He'd never feared his boss, not until this week. Not until the man had a chance at breaking his heart hopelessly. Mulder loved Fox, he knew that, but it wasn't the same as his increasingly complicated and as yet not fully labeled emotions for Skinner. Dealing with his second heavy topic within just a few minutes of waking up, Mulder sighed again, determined to find something to take his mind back to a more pleasant place. His eyes caught a subtle shift, and were drawn down. Fox's naked backside, still a pale pink from his paddling the night before, lay exposed to his gaze. The backside was beautifully shaped, compact and smooth. Mulder just knew there was something deeply wrong on a variety of levels, but looking at his clone's backside never failed to turn him on. Now, seeing it relaxed and pink, Mulder gave in. He reached carefully, not wanting to wake Fox, and cupped the globes, just barely touching them. They were warm, and Mulder could pretend it was from the spanking, not sleep. The sight of his own hand on the pale pink stirred him even more. Mulder had never spanked anyone, aside from a playful swat to the odd lover. But he really wanted to, and Fox was ideal for it. Biting his lip in indecision, he looked up, and discovered that Skinner was awake, and staring at him. This time the big man made no effort to hide the hunger in his gaze, but Mulder saw that it was still tempered with care. Now, as though knowing what Mulder was thinking, Skinner checked his watch and nodded, giving Mulder a look of encouragement more than consent. With his left hand, Mulder tapped first one side, then the other. Fox, still mostly asleep, pushed his bottom out, turning it more fully up for Mulder's hand. Mulder continued to do little more than pat, until Fox stirred a bit. "Don't tease." It was a sleepy murmur, and the tone was 'polite request' not order, but it was plain what Fox wanted. Gathering his courage a bit more, Mulder placed a still light, but genuine spank on each cheek. In his sleep, Fox sighed, smiling. "Ummm. That's nice, sir." It went right to Mulder's head, and he settled into a rhythm, spanking moderately until the velvety skin was beginning to redden. Fox, now fully awake, had looked over his shoulder with almost shy pleasure, thanking Mulder very politely, before reaching out to kiss Skinner. The sight sent a surge of arousal through Mulder, and a spike of jealousy. Unconsciously, he landed a sharper slap, and Fox gave a small gasp. He looked back at Mulder again, and this time there was a faint uncertainty, a touch of hurt confusion. The spank hadn't hurt, but he'd felt Mulder's censure. Mulder, realizing what had happened, rubbed the spanked spot tenderly, and pressed a kiss to the side of Fox's neck. "Sorry. My bad." "Forgiven." Fox knew it had been just a momentary lapse of control. Mulder wasn't really jealous of either of them, it had been simple reaction to handing out a spanking and seeing another man get the kiss for it. Skinner solved the problem neatly. "Roll over, Fox. I'll take over tanning your ass." "Yes, Skinner." Fox did so, and now Mulder was face to face with him, and the lips were parting in open invitation. A moment of plunder, and then Mulder spoke softly, almost whispering, though he didn't mind that Skinner could still hear every word. "Was it okay? That I spanked you awake?" Fox smiled at him softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair out Mulder's eyes. "Of course. I love being awakened that way. Well, unless it's a punishment spanking. I don't like waking up to an angry master, certainly. But a nice, slow warming? Oh yeah." Skinner, who'd concentrated on simply cuddling Fox, gave a light whap to the bottom in question, making Fox smile playfully. "Did you sleep well?" "Wonderfully. It was good, Fox, thanks again." "You're welcome. I'm glad you decided to join us. The invitation was always there." Skinner landed a smack too hard to be playful, and Fox bit at his bottom lip, lowering his eyes. "I'm sorry, Skinner." His temporary master pulled him close, nuzzling his neck in absolution. Mulder wasn't sure what Fox had done, but felt it wise not to ask. He offered his own kiss to Fox, then, peering somewhat uncertainly over his clone's shoulder, leaned over him. "I-I didn't really tell you good morning. May I?" "So long as you don't try spanking me." There was dry amusement in the tone, and the eyes sparkled slightly, making Mulder chuckle. "I wouldn't dream of it, sir." With that, he leaned over, sharing a careful morning kiss. It was brief, but very pleasant, and Skinner's hand came up, cupping Mulder's jaw affectionately. The touch was light, but there was a promise in it, one that Mulder could feel. Skinner wanted him, cared about him, and...and that was as far as he could take it, just yet. Mulder dropped his lashes, and then yelped as his nipple was caught between a set of sharp teeth. A mild press, more a pinch than a bite, and then Fox's tongue was soothing the faint sting. Mulder looked down, bewildered, even as Skinner chuckled. "Feeling neglected, my little Fox cub?" "No, Skinner. Just a bit ignored. I'm not used to sharing the spotlight." It was honest, an affectionate tease and a message to Mulder all in one. Skinner shook his head, stretching. "Mulder, if I were you, I'd turn him over my knee and pay him some attention, he obviously needs it." Skinner ruffled Fox's hair, reached for his glasses and headed out of the bedroom, seeking coffee and the bathroom, in no particular order. Mulder watched him leave, then looked down at Fox. His clone was almost smirking, though Mulder knew it was good natured. "Are you going to spank me over your knee, Mulder?" "Do you want me to?" "Of course." Fox graced him with a bright smile, and Mulder moved to sit on the side of the bed. With a lovely grace, Fox draped himself across Mulder's lap, squirming teasingly for just a moment. "Are you being a brat?" Mulder asked it with genuine curiosity. "Yep. I don't do it often, Alex won't stand for it, but it can be fun, occasionally. Now, are you going to spank me for it or just talk to my ass all day?" The words had the desired effect, annoying Mulder just enough to let him land a genuine swat to the eager bottom. Fox made a gratifying sound, and Mulder did it again. He started spanking, fascinated by the color, the feeling, the sensations running through him as he held another man down and committed this very intimate touch. After several moments, Fox gave a small grunt, and Mulder realized that his hand was still impacting the pert rear, and the sensations might not be so pleasant on the receiving side. Fox's backside was a vibrant color, and Mulder became aware of the heat trapped in the slender muscles. He stopped immediately. "Fox? Are you okay?" "I'm fine, Mulder. I have a very high tolerance, very high. That was still pleasant for me." Mulder sighed with relief, and his clone turned slightly, running a hand across his chastened flesh. "Although I have to admit, much more and it would have stopped being fun. You've got a good hand, Mulder." "Sorry. I just got into it and, well, got into it, you know? It's addicting, isn't it?" "For some people. I know I need it. Both giving and receiving." "You...what's the word? Topped? You topped others?" "Of course. I'm trained to satisfy needs, Mulder. Sometimes that means knowing how to hand out discipline, for fun or for genuine punishment. I make a good threat, I wasn't just a reward. Can you imagine the added effect scolding had, coming from me? In fact... No, he wouldn't mind. Would you like to hear a story?" Mulder, fascinated by the idea, nodded, and Fox moved to lie on the bed on his tummy, while Mulder lay on his side, next to him. "One time, Alex had been given to Sir, to work off a debt to Spender." There was a clear note of distaste there, and Mulder filed it away for later. "About a month into his service, Alex messed up. Not a little error either, he made a very costly mistake. I was in the den when Sir found out about it. I was kneeling on my rug by his feet, and I knew he was going to be very angry. I started rubbing my head against his knee, trying to soothe him. To my surprise, he started laughing. He said he had the perfect way to teach Alex a lesson. "Alex had seen me countless times, of course, but I was always nude, always with Sir, as his slave. I don't think he'd heard me say six words. Sir sent me to dress, with very specific instructions. While I did, he quickly wrote out a script. When I came down, I was dressed exactly like you dress for work. In fact, it was a duplicate of your dark grey suit. The one you wear with that pale blue shirt. I even had a Marvin the Martian tie with it. My hair was pulled back into a folded ponytail, so it looked short. "It was nothing to memorize the script, and when Alex was brought into the study, I was ready. His face was amazing. There was a moment when he thought it really was you, and that not only terrified him, but it hurt, I could tell. "I cheated a bit. I touched my chest so he could see the nipple ring. He relaxed, but only a little. I walked up to him and raised my hand. He flinched. It shocked me, that he would flinch. Alex is tough, very tough, and to be honest, while you're very strong and smart, you aren't really a fighter." "I know." Mulder acknowledged the truth ruefully, and Fox continued. "That's when I knew he loved you. I didn't have time to think about it, of course, I was in mid-scene, but I knew that Alex hadn't been faking his reactions on the tapes I'd seen. He really was letting you hit him all those times. I stopped thinking about it, and put my hand on the side of his face..." "Aw, Krycek. You've been a bad boy." The eyes flashed up at me and he turned to Sir. "What the fuck are you playing?" I was shocked, nobody swore at Sir, and Alex was already in such trouble. "He, like any of the other fine weapons I possess, is mine to use as I see fit. Today, he's going to teach you a lesson, Alex. I hold him in my hand, just as I do a cane or gun or needle. I thought having him dressed so would make the learning more piquant, for all of us." Sir smiled, but there was nothing amused about it. Alex was glittering with hate, but I could see a bone-deep fear, as well. "What would it take, to convince you to punish me some other way?" He barely got the words out, but I could hear the unspoken plea in them. "Oh, Alex, you couldn't possibly." And then the cruelty was gone, and my master looked very tired suddenly, and quite frail. He looked down, and sighed. "No, Alex. All pretense and smooth manipulation aside, I must do this. This lesson is simply too important. I-I don't have much longer to teach you, Alex, I fear my time is more limited than previously expected. No, my little green-eyed one, I don't dare shirk. And this will teach you, very effectively. But I do realize you love him, and that it will make things most...difficult for you. I can only say that I'm doing this for your own good, and promise to try and make it up to you later." Alex was stunned, the rage and hurt gone, the fear mutated. He hesitated for only a moment, then moved over to Sir. Alex knelt down beside the chair and slowly lowered his head, resting it in Sir's lap. "Thank you, sir. I'll try to take my punishment well. And I promise to learn." It cost Alex much to say this, I know how hard it was for him, but Sir had only ever been kind to him, if firm. He was like a father figure, in a way. Now, as Sir's hand stroked through Alex's hair, affection visible in his sharp eyes, I realized that they could be father and son. After only a moment, Sir patted Alex's back. "Up you get, young man. Discipline first, comfort after." Alex obeyed, moving back in front of me. His head was down, his eyes were down, but he was no longer terrified. I looked to Sir, and he nodded. I continued to read from the script, saying honestly dreadful things to Alex, tearing him to shreds, all while wearing your persona. When I was done with Sir's speech, I reached into my coat, and drew out a crop. "You know what happens to bad boys, Alex?" The green eyes were slivers of ice, but he only began unfastening his pants. He knew that Sir would add a physical element, and that he'd have to be nude. When Alex had stripped, he spoke thickly, his control in place by a thread. "Where do you want me?" I started to point to the couch, but Sir snapped. We both turned to him at once, and he gave a faint grin. "I have decided that there are some things which should not be completely ruined. A moment, Alex, while I speak with Fox." He stood there, nude, gloriously uncaring, looking like the most lovely thing I'd ever seen. I had little time to appreciate it. Sir motioned and I knelt by his side as he whispered. I understood at once, and moved to stand in front of Alex. I took off my coat first, throwing it down on the ottoman, the crop held between my teeth lightly. I then began rolling up my shirt sleeves. I moved to the sofa sitting in the middle, and patted my thigh. "Come here, Alex." My voice was softer now, no longer a harsh scold, but a gentle plea. He looked from me to Sir, but obeyed, and stretched himself across my lap. He tensed, then forced the muscles to relax, not wanting the crop to bite any deeper than it had to. I stroked his back, shocking him with the gentleness of the caress. After a long moment, I heard the change in his breathing. "Let it go, Alex. Let me give you what you need. You're going to be punished anyway, why not let it come from me? I love you, Alex. I'll still hurt you, but it's better like this, isn't it?" He made a noise that might have been a sob, and I saw the head nod. He was giving in to the fantasy, the need. "Yeah. It's the only way you'll touch me, notice me. Go on, Mulder, beat me bloody, I don't care. I'll savor every stripe." It was heartbreaking, hearing that, the sincerity in the husky voice, but I knew not to draw it out too long. A caress through the thick waves, and then I brought the crop down on his rear. He flinched, teeth gritting. "No, Alex. Not this time. This time I will hear your pain." Sir's voice was regretful, but iron, and Alex began to tremble. "Yes, sir." I saw a tear fall from his eyes, and knew he was near breaking already. Another welt, snapped down hard on the curve of his backside. He gave a hoarse cry, and the next blow brought a sob. By the time I'd laid on the full dozen, Alex was sobbing like a broken child, and I was in love. I looked up at Sir, pleading silently. He stood and moved to lean down, one hand reaching out to caress Alex's brightly striped bottom. He yelped, but stayed as still as he could, nearly as well trained as I was. "Alex, never again, never again should you obey Spender's orders over mine. He wants you dead, dear boy, I merely want you. Am I understood completely, my child?" "Yes, sir." "Good. Now, you handled all that very well, far better than could have been expected. I'm going. Let Fox tend to you, Alex. Let him bathe you, treat your wounds and then you may share the evening." I was stunned. This was a huge reward, and we both knew it. Alex sat up, turning to the side somewhat stiffly. He sniffled, but met Sir's eyes. "You don't have to do this. I was bad, I know that. I don't deserve a reward." "No. But there is no one else that deserves Fox, either. Enjoy each other, while you may." Sir kissed me on the mouth, kissed Alex on the forehead, and then left. In the bedroom, lying in each other's arms, Fox and Mulder had both begun to cry softly. Skinner, having originally come back upstairs to shoo them both down, had listened to the whole story. Now, seeing the tears in Mulder's eyes, he sighed, his morning happiness fading into grey. Silently, he went back downstairs. Part Four Breakfast was a quiet affair. Fox and Mulder had held each other long enough for comfort, then shared a shower before dressing and coming downstairs. Fox saw that Skinner had already made coffee—no surprise, the big man seemed to like his own best. But he was eating a bowl of cereal as well. "I'm sorry, Skinner, you don't usually eat so soon after you get up." Fox always made breakfast. Fox made every meal, counted it as a point of pride that Skinner was enjoying his meals and that Mulder was eating regular ones. "Forget it. Just grab something quick, we have a lot to do today." The voice, while not sharp, betrayed Skinner's somber mood. Mulder could almost visualize a black cloud over the man's head, and Fox looked genuinely concerned. "Yes, Skinner." Fox pulled down the healthiest cereal from the shelf and poured a bowl, then took a small glass of juice and a cup of coffee. Mulder followed suit, with the least healthy cereal, and skipping the juice. They ate in silence, but it was vaguely uneasy, and Mulder couldn't handle it anymore. It reminded him too much of mealtimes at home. "So, what's on the agenda today?" "We go back to the apartment. We go through the files, get the one Krycek mentioned. I thought it might be a good idea while Scully's gone, to spend a couple of days there, actually. We'll come back here to sleep and such, but we can work from there." "Sounds good." Mulder watched Skinner pick up his bowl and dump it in the sink, rinsing it cursorily, and then striding out without a word. "Is he mad, that we stayed upstairs?" Mulder looked into his clone's worried eyes. "I don't think so. He is the jealous type, but not like that. He wouldn't have invited you to join us in the first place, and he told you to spank me. No," Fox shook his head. "Something else is wrong. Something's happened. I didn't hear the phone, but I might not have. I need to see to him. You have a glass of orange juice." Fox left, and Mulder didn't realize that he'd mindlessly obeyed until the juice was half gone. A few minutes later, Fox was back down. He didn't look happy, looked near the verge of tears, actually. "Fox? You okay?" "He won't talk to me. He says nothing's wrong, that nothing happened, and that he's allowed to have a bad mood without his temporary slave pitching a bitch, and would I please just finish up in the kitchen and get ready to go." Fox's eyes had shifted color slightly, going a faint gold, and Mulder realized he was angry. "Do my eyes do that?" "Do what?" "Turn color when I'm angry?" "Yes." Fox offered it flatly, busy eating his cereal and thinking. Mulder quickly finished his own breakfast, and in minutes they were ready to go. Skinner got in the back seat, and Mulder assumed the driver's seat. Fox opened the back door, but Skinner shook his head, pointing to the front passenger door instead. Fox obeyed smoothly, but Mulder knew he was still concerned. Mulder caught a glimpse of Skinner's face in the rear view mirror and saw the flicker of regret at Fox's bowed head, and decided that they couldn't spend the day like that. Taking the key, he lowered one window a fraction, then exited the car. A quick flick of the lock activated the child locks, effectively trapping the men inside. "Mulder, open the door." It was a hard, flat order. "No, sir. Not until you tell Fox what's wrong." Brown eyes flashed to the clone, the open mouthed shock quickly reassuring him that Fox had nothing to do with this. "Don't get involved with this, Mulder. It doesn't concern you." "It does, sir, if only because it involves the both of you. Something happened between the time you left that bedroom and the time we joined you for breakfast, something that upset you. Now, if it's personal, that's fine, don't tell me. But you can tell Fox anything, and you're hurting him by shutting him out. So you tell him, or I'm going inside and see if this joint gets ESPN." Skinner looked furious, and Mulder swallowed hard, but he'd faced down a furious Walter Skinner before, and it would be worth it to help Fox...who had disappeared from view. A moment later, the doors unlocked, and his clone sat up. "What the hell did you do?" Mulder was confused and growing bewildered. "I disabled the fuse that receives commands from the remote, and physically triggered the locks." Fox looked from Mulder to Skinner. "I'm sorry, Skinner. He was trying to help me, it's my fault. I'll talk to him later. He won't interfere with us again." Fox had gotten out, and now he held Skinner's door open for him, back turned to Mulder. Incredulous, Mulder threw the keys to the ground. "You ungrateful bastard!" Fox turned to him, and Mulder felt himself take a step back in the face of the fury. "No, Mulder, you're the ungrateful one, you always have been, you spoiled little shit! Now listen to me and listen good, there isn't much I have in this world that I don't owe to you. My relationship, such as it is, with Skinner is one of those few things. I am not going to let you mess around with things you know nothing about. I know it's a hard concept for you, Mulder, but the entire planet is not yours for the saving. This is my master, my relationship, my problem, and you will back the fuck off or I will kick your ass, is that clear, Oxford?" Hurt beyond belief, Mulder only had time to register the stun on Skinner's face, before he bolted back into the house, and the safety of the downstairs bedroom. He felt like a child, running away, but the shame couldn't be helped. He'd begun to think of Fox as part of him, as part of his family, despite the lustful nature of the relationship, and it was like being suddenly thrust back into that aloneness, that horrible loneliness that had only just begun to fade. After about ten minutes, there was a soft knock on the door. "Mulder, it's me." Skinner's voice was low and regretful, and Mulder debated, before calling for him to come in. Skinner had taken his jacket off, and now he took off his glasses, cleaning them on a handkerchief. "I overheard you." The words, not the trite platitudes Mulder expected, brought his head up. "What?" "This morning. I left to make coffee and then I went back upstairs to see if you were through playing. Hell, I was even thinking of joining you, if you weren't. But then I heard Fox talking. I overheard the whole story, and when I looked in, you were crying. Both of you were crying. That's what happened." "I don't understand, sir, not completely." Skinner sighed, and took the chair just inside the door. Sitting with his elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his legs, eyes checking out the carpet, he looked uncomfortable. "I'm not good at sharing my feelings, Mulder, especially not intimate feelings. Like most men, I can do sex on a dime, but try to make me share my heart and I stonewall. But I can see that I'm not going to be able to do that, not with you and Fox together." He took a deep breath, and then looked Mulder in the eyes. "I care about you, Mulder. A lot. I've never felt or acted on it, because it wasn't right or the right time. And, frankly, I was chicken shit. But the feelings are there. I want you, you know that, it's not a secret, hasn't been for a couple of days now. But it's more than that, Mulder. That's why this morning hurt. You were crying over Krycek. It seemed pretty obvious to me that, like your clone, you feel something for him. I was jealous, I got hurt, I sulked. That's the truth, though I'm not proud of it." Mulder took a moment, thinking about what Skinner was saying to him. "I don't love Krycek. I'm not in love with him, either. I won't deny an attraction, there is one, but it's purely physical. I get next to him and it's like a match to gasoline. I can't help but want him. But I don't love him, Walter." The use of his given name brought Skinner's head up, and he looked at Mulder with a hopeful confusion. "Then why were you crying this morning?" "Because it hurts, when you keep finding out you're the reason other people suffer. Scully's my partner, she gets hurt, I get too close to the truth, my father dies. They use you to get to me, they use my clone—my clone!—" here his voice went up, and grew frustrated and angry, "as a complete system of reward and punishment. I might not have known him, but he was still out there, getting the shit beaten out of him, because of me. I may not have any lost love for Alex, but they used his genuine love for me to keep him in line. That's why I don't hate him, why I can't just kill the rat outright. I know how much he's suffered for me, for my sake, my cause. Christ, he lost an arm, and that wasn't the worst? All because of me. If I am a selfish prick—and I am, I know it—then I've got damn good reason to be." It was Mulder's turn to slump, and Skinner hesitated only a moment before going over and sitting next to him. One big arm slid around his shoulders, and Mulder turned into Skinner's chest gratefully. The other arm held him there, secure, while he pulled himself together, soaking up the warm heat of the older man. "Why did Fox get so mad at me? I was just trying to help." Mulder couldn't help the desperate tone to his voice, and he held a little tighter, needing the reassurance. "Fox was protecting me. Protecting us, our relationship. He's my slave, Mulder, however temporary and unwilling on both our parts." Mulder eased back, and Skinner continued softly. "You don't have much experience with this kind of thing, and everyone plays it differently, but some things don't change. A master and slave belong to each other. As a result, they have a responsibility to keep the other safe, free from harm. Any threat to that is usually met pretty harshly, and you insinuated yourself right in the middle of myself and Fox. Not only that, you were trying to force me to answer to him, that's not right. Yes, I should have spoken to Fox, and I would have. He would have made me answer him eventually. You didn't let him do his job, didn't let him be the one to help me. And you didn't let me turn to him. That deprived him greatly, Mulder. Fox is an excellent slave, a very proud one. Healthy pride, for the most part. He's got a touch of your arrogance, but that's easily tended." Skinner offered the last with an affectionate look, as he brushed a lock of hair off of Mulder's forehead. "Besides, he's threatened by you." "Why?" "Because...damn it, okay. Because he knows that I don't think of him as a substitute for you. He may look like you, have a lot of your same patterns, but he's not you, and I never lose sight of that, never. I can't. No matter how hard he tries, he'll never be you for me. No one could ever be you for me." There was a great tenderness in Skinner's voice as he said this, and Mulder looked up, into eyes so dark they were nearly black. A gentle kiss can move the earth, given at the right time and place. This one was, and that soft touch of Skinner's lips to his own, drew a soul deep sound of need and longing from Mulder. Skinner returned to the parted lips, tongue delicately flicking along the line of that beloved pout, before easing into Mulder's mouth, caressing. The kiss continued for several luxurious moments, until Skinner eased them apart. "Slowly, Mulder. And later. Right now, you need to talk to Fox." "Yes, sir." It was automatic, and Skinner stroked his thumbs over Mulder's temples. "You really do want that, don't you? You don't just want me, you want some of what you're seeing with Fox. You don't want to be my slave, I don't think, but my boy, maybe?" Mulder was scarlet, and couldn't push a single sound out. Skinner, seeing his distress, pulled him close again, hugging him tightly. "I order you not to answer that, not yet. C'mon, let's get you to Fox." Skinner placed a firm brief kiss on Mulder's mouth, then stood him up, lightly slapping his fanny to get him moving. Mulder bit at his bottom lip, not seriously, just enough to help him focus on Fox, and not on how his entire rear seemed to tingle from the brief touch. "Where did he go?" "He's upstairs in our room." Skinner sounded sure, and so Mulder headed that way. He opened the door to find his clone, still clothed, kneeling up in a corner, hands clasped on top of his head. Mulder had never personally seen anyone sent to stand in the corner before. It was a bit of a shock, but apparently not to Skinner. Mulder watched as Skinner looked at the clone kneeling with absolute stillness. A single snap, and though Fox didn't move a hair, Mulder saw him come to full attentiveness. "Mulder's here, Fox. You will talk to him. I won't force you to apologize, but you will be honest and you will be open and receptive. You will also explain yourself as fully as he needs you to. When the two of you are done talking, I'll expect to see you, both of you, downstairs in the den. I'll expect a full report. Fox, you'll be punished once I'm satisfied with that report. Am I understood?" "Yes, sir." "Yes, Skinner." The voices matched exactly, only the wording was different. "Come here, Fox." The clone obeyed, moving to stand in front of Skinner. "Look at me." The hazel eyes raised, and Mulder noted that they were a pale beige now. He wondered idly if his own were sporting that hue, tried to check surreptitiously in the mirror, without luck. "I'm not mad, Fox. I understand. Make sure he does." It was spoken without much volume or heat, but it was a pure command, nonetheless. "Yes, Skinner." A nod, and Skinner kissed his slave, before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. There was a brief, awkward silence, until Fox spoke, his voice a strained whisper. "Mulder?" When Mulder looked up, he saw tears standing in his clone's eyes. His face showed his sorrow and his regret easily. "I'm sorry, Mulder." Murmuring his own apologies, Mulder's arms went around Fox, holding him close, soothing as best he could. "Hey, it's okay, we had a fight, a misunderstanding. It happens in families." "It does?" Fox asked the question into Mulder's tie, prompting a sympathetic grin. "Yes, it does. And now we apologize, check, and then we talk about what happened." "Okay." They moved to sit on the bed, but then Mulder kicked off his shoes, and scooted back to lie down, holding out his arms for Fox. The man eagerly followed suit, and soon was pillowed on Mulder's chest. Mulder began idly stroking a hand through those long thick locks, enjoying the way the silken heaviness slipped through his fingers. Fox, calmed by the petting, sighed. "I'm sorry, Fox. I didn't realize that I was interfering, not like that. Not until Skinner explained it to me. I was just trying to help both of you. You were sad and he was sad, and I couldn't stand the idea of spending the morning like that. Of course, being me, it never occurred to me that you'd work it out yourselves, that the situation wouldn't be resolved without my immediate and impulsive solution, or that I might be making things worse. I'm sorry." "No, Mulder. I knew you didn't realize what you were doing. True, you shouldn't have butted in, but you were just trying to help. I had no right to talk to you like that, especially not in front of Skinner. I knew better, Mulder, I had the knowledge and the experience to make a better choice and I failed to do that. I'm sorry, Mulder." "Fox? Do you really think I'm a threat to you?" There was a long moment of silence, and Mulder felt the faintest of trembles go through the body in his arms. "Yes." It was a painful whisper, but Fox leaned back, forcing himself to meet Mulder's eyes. "How can you not be? I'm nothing more than a copy of a man so incredible, the world demanded two. Alex loved you before he ever loved me. That's okay, I understand now that he loves us both, differently. Skinner's a different story. Skinner cares for me, but it's nothing compared to the way he feels about you. He doesn't even see me as you, can't. I'm a nice enough man, but I'm not you, and the differences are so glaring to him, that he can't even pretend. I've never failed to make someone believe I was you, not in a fantasy, not until Walter Skinner." Here, Fox sat up, looking down at his donor with a desperate need in his hazel eyes. "I failed with him, Mulder. Failed! I've never failed at anything before. I'm always the winner, always the best, second to none. Except you. No matter that our genes are the same, no matter that I studied your life in intricate detail, no matter I was given as much of the same knowledge as humanly possible, I will never be able to be you, not completely. I may have a better memory, but I don't have your mind. I have a younger body, but it doesn't have your exact grace. I have your voice, your speech patterns, but I promise you, Skinner could tell us apart in the dark, just by what he'd hear in a single word. I'm good, but compared to you, I'm not good enough. Not for Walter S. Skinner." There was a faint pink blush to Fox's face, and Mulder knew it was the tinge of humiliation. "That's why I got so mad at you, Mulder, so frustrated by you. I can't be you for him, the least you can let me do is be me for him. Let me comfort him, let me coax the truth out, in a way that won't leave him feeling vulnerable and exposed. Let me be his confidant, a safe vessel for his secrets, an open channel for his grief. I'm his slave, it's the only card I can play with him, and you took it out of my hands. I have so little of him, Mulder, and I need every bit. Please, until my Alex comes for me, don't take my master. Share him, yes, please, I beg of you to do that, but don't take him away from me. Respect me, respect him, and respect our relationship that much, at least." Mulder, too overcome to speak, managed a nod. "Thank you." Fox leaned down, kissed Mulder on both cheeks and his mouth, and then lay back down in his arms. After several minutes, Mulder tried speaking again. "Fox, I really am sorry. You were right, I am a spoiled shit. I have reason to think I'm the center of the universe, but it doesn't excuse my acting like it. I...well, I was thinking if...if you want to, um...if you want to p-punish me, that'd be okay. I'll take it." It was Mulder's turn to flush, and he did so, feeling the heat of his face, the quiver in his breathing. "You think you deserve to be punished?" Fox's voice gave nothing away, and Mulder only nodded, knowing the other man would feel it. "Then you do. But not by me. No, if you need punishment, you go to Skinner. He's my master, it's his place to chastise you for the way you treat me. I can't punish you, Fox. I'm sorry, but I won't do it." "Okay." "Do you understand, Mulder? Really?" "I think so. You're his property. If you've been badly treated, it's up to him to deal with it. If you punished me, it'd be taking some of his authority." "Yes. Good, you do understand." Fox rolled onto his stomach, leaning up on one elbow to look at Mulder. "You're such an amazing mix, Mulder. I don't blame them all for either loving you or hating you, you don't leave any room for in-between. The middle ground's just impossible with you." "Why?" "If you don't know, I couldn't possibly explain it. Come on, we've got a report to make and I've got a punishment to take." "We. We've got a punishment to take." Fox nodded, and holding hands tightly, they headed down to the study. The door was open, but Fox still paused in the doorway, knocking on the frame. Skinner was behind the desk, working on the computer. He shut down, then turned to the doorway, motioning them both inside. For Mulder, it was like being back in the office, a little, and he found himself assuming his usual stance. Skinner noticed, but said nothing, aside from a quiet, "Report." Fox gave it, telling Skinner what had been said between them, with Mulder chiming in on what he thought were salient points. Mulder took a deep breath and then, at the very end, spoke softly. "Sir, I told Fox that if he wanted to punish me, I'd take it. I understand now that if I'm going to be punished, it has to come from you, and why. The, um, the offer stands, sir. It's deserved." He was unable to say any more, and he jumped out of his skin when he felt Fox take his hand. His clone gave it a reassuring squeeze, and Mulder relaxed, taking a deep breath, managing a quick, grateful grin. "Very well. I find the report acceptable. Fox, it's time for you to be punished. Go to your case, and bring me the implement you hate. Double time." Fox snapped out a "yes, Skinner" and was off, not running but trotting. He was doing a genuine double time, Mulder recognized it from the Academy. Mulder stood uncertainly while Fox was gone, not sure if he should leave. In the past, Skinner had made it a point to punish Fox in front of him, but this might be different. And if he stayed for Fox's punishment, would Fox witness his own? That was, if Skinner decided to punish him. Of course, Mulder reasoned internally, Skinner might not punish him physically at all. He never had, with the one exception, but Mulder had asked for that one, had laid himself deliberately across the lap... "Mulder!" It wasn't loud, but a sharp bark, and Mulder startled heavily, looking up at Skinner. He met the man's searching look , then was puzzled when Skinner gave a small chuckle. "Christ, you think loud. Here's what's going to happen. When Fox gets back, I'm going to punish him. While I do that, you will be sitting in that chair over there," Skinner nodded toward a plush chair on the opposite wall, "and you will watch. After that, I'll put Fox in the corner, and I'll punish you. He will hear, but not witness. A few minutes to recover and we'll get back in the car, and try this again." Mulder nodded, not quite trusting his voice. "It won't be bad, Mulder. I'm not going to punish you the same way I do Fox. You did different things, you have different pasts, different needs. Don't forget, no matter what it looks like, I would never do anything to harm Fox, nor would I go too far. But it won't be easy, not for any of us. Prepare yourself." "Yes, sir." Mulder had just gotten it out, when Fox came back down the stairs. He stopped in the doorway and dropped to his knees, putting the implement in his mouth. Mulder didn't recognize it, but he was too distracted by Fox's quick, unhesitating crawl across the floor. He was crawling at double-time, and Mulder watched the way the muscles bunched and released, the graceful scurry. He couldn't do that, not in a million years, Mulder was just sure of it. Skinner motioned Mulder, and he remembered to go to the chair, taking his seat. He was glad Skinner had told him to watch, because he honestly didn't think he could not watch. Fox was kneeling in front of Skinner's chair, the bigger man having turned it when Fox came in. For a long time, nothing was said or done, and Mulder saw the slight tense and then relax of Fox's shoulders. Skinner took the implement from Fox's mouth, standing up as he did so. Mulder still wasn't sure what it was, but now Skinner was talking. "Fox, I said I wasn't mad, and I'm not. But you were out of line. It was my place to take care of Mulder, not yours. You're mine, boy, you belong to me. Any insult he throws, comes to me, not you. You have every right to defend yourself, but you weren't doing that, were you?" "No, Skinner." "This is punishment, Fox. Go back to 'Sir' or even 'Master,' whichever you prefer." "Yes, Sir." "In addition, you knew he didn't know what he was doing. You were hurt at me, pissed off at me and you let all that out on him. It's not his fault you aren't him, any more than it's yours." "No, Sir." There was a tearful sound to the words, and Mulder knew this was a painful place for Fox. His heart went out to his clone, but he bit his lip and kept quiet. "Fox, have I ever lied to you?" "No, Sir." A confused tone now, and Mulder wondered where Skinner was going with this. "Would I lie to you, Fox?" "No, Sir." It was true, even Mulder knew Skinner wouldn't lie to his slave. "Then we're going to settle this once and for all. Ask me how I feel about you." "S-Sir?" Fox sounded bewildered, but Skinner reached down with his open hand and swatted Fox's rear hard. "I will not repeat myself, boy, especially not during a punishment. You will ask me how I feel about you." There was a hesitation, and Skinner landed another heavy spank to the waiting rear. A three second pause, and another spank. "You are pissing me off." Skinner's voice showed he was getting angry, and Fox took a deep breath, and forced the words out. "Yes, Sir. H-how do you f-feel about...about me?" Mulder was stunned. He'd never heard Fox stutter, couldn't conceive of the man as being anything less than fluid. Mulder stuttered, of course, and stammered, when he was very tired or very emotional... Oh. It wasn't a genetic stammer, so it hadn't been fixed in the tank, it was a psychological one. An interesting parallel phenomenon, one that he'd think about later. Right now, he held his breath to hear Skinner's response. "You're a handsome, marvelous, incredible individual. Yes, Fox, an individual. I don't see Mulder when I look at you, you know that. But neither do I see a clone. I see Fox, you, yourself. That scares the hell out of you, doesn't it, boy?" "Yes, Sir." That surprised Mulder, but Skinner only shook his head sadly. "It's true. I see you the way I would any other man, I treat you the way I would any other man, or nearly so. I judge you on who and what you are, not what you are not. That's new for you, too, and just as scary, isn't it?" "Yes, Sir." Fox sniffled, but Skinner ignored it. "What's more, I care about you. Very much. There's even a part of me that loves you. No, I'm not in love with you. But you have this: you are the last slave I will ever own. Never again, will I work another human being this way, will I be Master to a slave. No one has ever had me this long or this deeply. No other slave has ever gotten so much of me, Fox. No one, including my beloved wife, God rest her soul, who refused to understand or accept why I stopped letting her call me Master, and who left me because of it." Skinner paused at Mulder's gasp, haunted brown eyes flickering over him, and back down to the now crying man at his feet. "Fox, I can't give you my heart. But I can give you a part of my soul, for good or ill, darkness and light. This part. You are my slave, Fox, and that is not something to be said lightly. And I will damn sure not let you pout because you don't have more. It's more than you have a right to, Fox, and you know it. That's the real reason you're being punished. For petty jealousy. For not coming to me with your real fears, choosing instead to hide them under a false self-pity that even managed to fool Mulder. He bought your poor, pitiful clone act hook, line and sinker. Not me. It's bullshit, Fox, pure manipulation, a hustle. It's unbecoming, it's unfair and I will not tolerate it in my slave, especially not directed at Mulder. Is that clearly understood, boy?" "Yes, Sir." Fox was all but sobbing now, and Mulder was reeling from what Skinner had said. "Now, I know part of it wasn't an act. You did tell Mulder you were threatened by him, and you hinted at why. And you genuinely do feel that way, sometimes. That's okay, Fox, you're only human, so to speak." A snort, as Fox was taken off guard, and tried to snicker through his tears. "Yes, Sir." "But you come to me, Fox. You tell me the truth, the whole truth. And you do not manipulate Mulder, is that perfectly clear, Fox William?" Mulder started at the name, the shadow of his father crossing his soul. "Yes, Sir. It's cl-clear." "Good enough. Bare your ass and get it across this desk. Now!" There was no anger in the tone, but it was deadly serious, and Fox yanked down his trousers and shorts and literally threw himself across the desk. Skinner rolled up his shirt sleeve and loosened his tie, unfastening the top button of his collar. One hand steadied Fox with its presence in the middle of his back, the other raised the implement to a level with Fox's backside. Mulder saw that it was a thin, rod-like piece of some milky material. "Six of the very best, Fox. That's always what you'll get when you're dishonest with me. Normally I'd add to it for the rest, but I think that can be understood, this once. Brace yourself and count them off, but don't thank me until we're done." "Yes, Sir." Mulder saw that Fox was, indeed, bracing himself. Skinner drew back his hand and brought the rod down with what appeared to be full strength. A bright, nearly purple line appeared across the cheeks of his clone, and Fox cried out, before panting harshly, "One, Sir." Five more followed, the welts flaring on the pale skin, looking to Mulder as though they were cutting deeply, and it took all his will to remain still and quiet. Fox was yelling loudly with each lick, though he remained perfectly in position. Mulder could see the trembling of his legs and arms, the rigidity of his back and neck. The whole body spoke of pain, and the face was screwed up tightly, the mouth an open-wide exception. "Six, Sir. Th-thank you, S-Sir." It was gasped out, and Skinner left Fox in position for a long moment, reinforcing his control with every second. "Stand." Shakily, and with Skinner's hand supporting him, Fox did so. His eyes were glassy, and his lip torn slightly. Skinner ran a thumb over it, and when it came back with a trace of blood, he sighed regretfully, but reached around and placed a hard spank on each well-lined cheek, drawing a pleading yelp with each one. He then took Fox into his arms, and cuddled the young man close. "I'm sorry, Skinner, so sorry. You were right, Sir, about everything, all of it. I was so bad, I can't believe I was so bad..." "Shhh. Hush, baby, hush. It's okay, I've got you." Skinner proved the literal truth of that statement by lifting Fox off of his feet and carrying him over to the love seat across from Mulder. "Mulder, get me a cold washcloth and a glass of water, please." "Yes, sir." He all but ran to get them, needing to get away, if only for a moment. His thoughts were whirling, a tide pool's flow and ebb. Mulder brought the things back as quickly as he could, knowing Fox was waiting for them, and his hands shook as he gave them to Skinner. The older man had already made good use of his handkerchief, and now he used the cloth to wash the face. Fox had already stopped crying, and Mulder stepped back a bit, wanting to see the welts. They were only dark red now, and he could see that Skinner hadn't drawn blood once. Mulder had expected to find streams of it. It really had looked and sounded worse than it was, he supposed. Still, Mulder knew his clone had a high tolerance for pain, and he'd definitely found it difficult to bear. "Here, Fox, small sips. That's a good boy, one more." Fox sipped obediently, and Mulder looked back up at Fox's face. He looked like he'd been crying hard, which was to be expected. He also looked calmer, more peaceful, and that, Mulder hadn't expected. As he watched, Skinner bathed the face again, and then pressed a kiss to the broad forehead. Fox sighed, a deep, heartfelt sigh of relief. "Thank you, Skinner." "You're welcome. But I think we're going to keep using 'Sir.' I think you need more reminding just who and what you are than I've been giving you." "Yes, Sir." "Quiet now, I want you to rest for a minute, then you're going in the corner to reflect." Fox snuggled closer against Skinner's broad chest, and Mulder realized that it was going to be his turn soon. Swallowing nerves, he moved toward the desk. The implement was still on it, and Mulder looked at it with fascinated horror. It was long, thin and he knew it was flexible. A hesitant touch showed it to be a hard plastic. "It's an acrylic switch." Skinner's voice came from right behind him, and Mulder only just managed not to leave the floor. Reaching around Mulder, Skinner picked it up, and Mulder's throat turned into the Sahara. When Skinner only moved to put it by the door, to be taken up and put away later, he couldn't help the sigh of relief. "Mulder, I told you I wouldn't punish you the same way I did Fox. He's got a lifetime's practice dealing with pain and punishment. You have nearly none. There's no way in hell I'd whip you with that thing. You'd get addicted after the first stroke." Filing that cryptic comment away for later, Mulder saw that Skinner was now pointing to the desk. Mulder's hands reached for his pants, but Skinner shook his head. "Leave 'em up, this time." Mulder was annoyed beyond belief to realize he was a little disappointed by that. It gave him enough control to let him stretch across the desk, the same way Fox had. He saw Skinner open a drawer and take out a ruler. "Mulder, why do you deserve to be punished?" "Um, I-I locked you in the car and tried to make you talk to Fox." A large hand spanked down hard on one cheek. It smarted, and Mulder's teeth went to his lip. "No. Try again." "I-I..." There was a pause, while Mulder tried to figure it out. Finally, another spank landed on his other cheek. "I want an answer, Mulder." Remembering that Fox had only gotten three spanks before Skinner had gotten angry, Mulder tried hard to put it together, then could have slapped himself for the simpleness. "Because I acted without thinking." It was what he always did, what Skinner was always scolding him for at work. Apparently, the A.D. in Skinner remembered, too. "Yes, and I've always wanted to paddle your backside for it, and never could. Until now. Brace yourself, but don't count and don't thank me." "No, sir. I mean, yes, sir... I think..." "It's okay, Mulder." Skinner's hand came to rest on the back of his neck, and Mulder instinctively relaxed under the firm, yet light touch. "It's your first time, I promise to be gentle." "But will you still respect me in the morning?" They shared a smile, and then Skinner moved his hand to Mulder's back. "Ready?" "Yes, sir." The ruler had heft. Mulder gasped at the sting, not expecting it to feel so different from Skinner's hand. It left broad, hot bands across his backside, and he couldn't help but squirm and gasp. A dozen, and then the ruler was being placed on the desk. "Stand." Mulder did so, clenching his fists to keep his hands from going back behind him. And then Skinner's arms were around him, and it was his turn for comfort. His turn for breathing in Skinner's clean scent, overlaid with forgiveness. It was a heady combination, and Mulder clung, unashamedly. He needed this, needed closure, god, he'd never had closure like this in his whole life, not with anything. It felt so good, so right to be leaning against a strength greater than his own. That was new, too. Mulder had never met anyone stronger than himself. Not physically, there were lots of people that could best him that way. But mentally, emotionally, in terms of sheer resilience and determination, no one could even match him, much less exceed. Until now. Until Skinner. The man might not be as bright or intuitive or even as comfortable with himself as Mulder, but he was a fucking rock. A stone, a huge chunk of granite, unassailable. Mulder could send every bit of himself at Skinner, lash out at the man with all he had, and when it was over, and Mulder was diminished, Skinner would still be there. Unmoved, if not untouched. Mulder wasn't even really aware that he was thinking, it was just a soft buzz at the base of his brain, a subtle shift of recognition and adjustment. All he knew was that suddenly Fox's peaceful look of relief and contentment made absolute perfect sense. His face was raised, and Skinner's mouth covered his own, before he was eased away. "Thank you." Mulder whispered it, and Skinner nodded, lips quirking at one corner. "It's okay, Mulder. One step at a time." Another brush of his lips, and Skinner was moving back to the corner, where Fox was standing. Leaning actually. His forehead was tilted against the walls, resting on his folded hands. His striped backside stuck out, but his posture wasn't stiff anymore. The rear looked painful to Mulder, a hard pink with the darker welts, but Fox was probably used to much worse. Skinner ran a hand lightly over the bottom, and Fox winced audibly, but didn't protest by so much as a held breath. "If I have to repeat this lesson, Fox, it'll be doubled. Will I need to repeat it?" "No, Sir." The voice was calm and sure, and Skinner smiled, raising his hand from the sore flesh, and tangling it lightly in the hair instead. "Then kiss me, and fix your clothes. We need to get going." "Yes, Sir." Fox wrapped both arms around Skinner's neck, and kissed him soulfully. A faint pat to the behind, and Fox stepped back, adjusting his clothing. Fox didn't linger, simply drew up his briefs and pants, tucked his shirt back in and fastened himself, though Mulder couldn't imagine how he was going to sit in the car with that rear. When they got to the car, Skinner put Fox in the back, lying on his stomach, and took shotgun beside Mulder, although he half turned in the seat so he could look at both men. "Mulder, I want to warn you about something. What happened today was partly my fault. I had a hunch I wasn't working Fox enough, and I ignored it. That was a mistake. He needs more, Mulder, and he's going to get more. While he's still receptive, still open from earlier, I'm going to take him deeper. He's been on companion mode. When we step into that apartment, I'm putting him on slave mode. He'll be using 'Master' exclusively, and he won't do a damn thing without a specific order from me. Before we leave, I'll bring him out of it slowly, and then he'll be Fox again on the way home. Just warning you the behaviors and actions will be a lot more varied and intense, especially the sexual ones. If you have a problem, let me know, and let me know at once, understood?" "Yes, sir." "Good. Let's go." Mulder tried not to let his feelings show at this announcement. He kept his face as neutral as he could. Inside, he was quivering. Mulder wasn't sure how he'd feel when it actually happened, but the thought of watching Skinner work Fox as a slave sent a duo of arousal and fear through him. Wondering if it was due to Skinner or Fox, kept him occupied until they reached the building. Part Five Fox was silent as the elevator bore them to the hidden top floor. Mulder saw that it wasn't a bad silence, Fox looked nearly serene, though it was just as obvious that he had more than a few mixed feelings. Whether they were mixed about what was going to happen or where it would be happening, Mulder wasn't sure. And he didn't dare ask. Skinner, too, looked thoughtful, as though mulling over several possible choices, and not sure about any of them. Mulder wondered if he might be trying to figure out how to work Fox. Skinner hadn't shown any hesitation in anything he'd done yet, so it was just a guess on Mulder's part, with nothing to back it up. Trying to figure out how you decided what to do to a slave sent Mulder's mind scrambling uselessly. He couldn't begin to know. Fox was a switch, he'd said, moving back and forth between the two roles. That thought drew Mulder's brows together tightly, and his lip was habitually used as a worry stone, the teeth pinching and pressing at the fullness as his brain worked on what it would be like to know both sides, to be a Top or a Dom or a Master, whatever the right word was, and then be expected to kneel and serve. A rough thumb dragging gently across his bottom lip made Mulder startle out of his thoughts. Skinner was looking at him with affectionate amusement. "Leave that lip alone. I understand that it's a fabulous lip, and it deserves to be chewed on, but not like this. New rule for you, Mulder, one of Fox's that I think you should share. I catch you biting that lip, I check it. If there's blood, what do you think'll happen?" Mulder's throat closed to a tiny tube, barely allowing air. His eyes were huge, and Skinner just barely kept the smile from breaking through as he watched the combination of fear, lust and indignation play over the features. Instead he just kept looking calmly, expectantly at Mulder, until the younger man cleared his throat, and managed a rough whisper. "You'll spank me?" Skinner bestowed a kiss of reward, and then let the smile show. "Good boy." Mulder hated walking with an erection. Hated it. When the doors slid open mere seconds later, he followed Fox and Skinner slowly, willing the rush of blood to any other part of his body. Skinner opened the door and motioned for Fox to go first, then Mulder. "Mulder, why don't you make coffee and some iced tea?" "Yes, sir." He moved to do so, but he could easily see from the small kitchen area straight into the living room, and so he didn't miss anything, yet had a sense of giving them some privacy, and having some for himself. Fox stopped just inside the living room, turning and standing loosely, head and eyes down. Skinner stood behind him, body very close, but not touching. They just stood there for a long moment, until Mulder noticed Fox's breathing begin to shift. It became slower, more even, and the last of the tension left his long frame. As though it had been the signal Skinner was waiting for, he now reached out, sweeping Fox's hair to one side, baring the nape of his neck. Skinner's lips were pressing against Fox's skin, but Mulder could still hear the quiet words easily, realized that the room's space had been designed with acoustics in mind. A whispered command would reach easily from one end to the other. Impressed again, even though he didn't want to be, Mulder pushed aside the thoughts of the men who'd planned all this, turning his attention back to Skinner and Fox. "You've been in companion mode since you came to me. That's about to change. Do you remember your command words?" "Yes, Sir." It was a throaty whisper, and Mulder saw Fox close his eyes as Skinner's tongue lightly trailed up his nape, making the clone shiver. "Good. When I say 'William,' I want you to drop to your knees, Fox. I want you kneeling, head on the floor, hands folded on top of your head, eyes closed. I don't have to tell you that I want it instantly. You hear that word from me, you drop like a rock, falling into position on the way down. Got that?" "Yes, Sir." "That is always to be your reaction to that word from me. I don't care if it's here, in the car, in the middle of the Hoover. If you hear me say 'William,' you hit your mark, boy, is that perfectly clear?" "Yes, Sir." "I know you have a near flawless memory, Fox, but I also know it takes time to learn a behavior. So, we'll be practicing. A lot. And don't expect any leniency, because there won't be any. I'm a fair man, but when a lesson must be learned, I prefer my slave learn it the hard way. Makes for a quicker learn and a better kept lesson. So, you mess up and that sore ass of yours is going to pay." "Yes, Sir." Fox's eyes were closed again, and now the breathing was quicker, lustful dread showing on the hungry face. "Do good, Fox, and you'll be equally rewarded, I promise you that. So," Skinner reached out now, and fastened his teeth over the sensitive flesh, sucking firmly if briefly. "I want you to strip, I want you to prep, and then I want you back out here with a nice thick cockring in one hand and a plug in the other. Clear?" "Yes, Sir." Fox was nearly panting now, and with a last kiss to the red mark he'd made on Fox's neck, Skinner sent him off with a mild swat. Skinner watched him go with a wistful gaze, one that Mulder had just started to ponder, when the firm voice spoke again. "Your water's boiling away." Startled, Mulder turned, rescuing the water and determinedly seeing to the coffee and tea. He rummaged around and found cookies and some fruit that was still good. Making a plate up, and thinking that Fox was rubbing off on him in more than just a sexual way, Mulder brought the tray out. "I thought you might want a snack." "Thanks." Skinner took a grape, munching it appreciatively. "Mulder, I want to remind you that what you're going to see may be difficult for you. If you have a problem, I want to know about it. I want you to tell me, the minute something bothers you, is that clear?" "Yes, sir. I do understand, Walter, and I won't go noble." "That's a relief. I have enough to think about with Fox. I'm going to have to trust you to be honest with both of us. Besides, I don't want you to be afraid of me. Not ever. It's complicated, because you are attracted to this, you want the dominance, and that's fine. I like the idea of having you submit to me. But not like this. Still, there's bound to be some overlap, and I don't want anything spoiled for you, out of fear or confusion." Emboldened by the warm concern in Skinner's voice, Mulder came over, standing in front of him, and shyly reached up, kissing the stern mouth. Broad hands settled at his waist, sliding around and down, and then his backside was being held firmly, the fingers squeezing, pulling Mulder closer, pushing him flush against the solid body in front of him. Mulder was still leading the kiss, though, and the combination of thrusting his tongue into Skinner's surprisingly pliant mouth, and having his body moved like a puppet, drew a small groan of need from him. He kissed Skinner until the urgency had passed, and then began to slowly detach himself. The hands on his rear tightened nearly to pain, then rubbed soothingly, before dropping away. "Wow." Skinner chuckled softly, but he admitted he enjoyed Mulder's delight in every new experience. Besides, the man could kiss. "Thanks, Mulder. I needed that." "Me, too." A hug, simple and pure, and then Skinner turned away with a wink, needing to switch his focus to the slave that would soon be coming out to join them. Mulder understood, and used the time to organize the files on a long worktable set up along one wall. It was discreetly tucked behind a filigree screen, keeping it out of sight, but it was fully functional, the latest in home office equipment neatly hidden in pop-up drawers and shelves. When closed, all one saw was a whitened oak table, thickly topped but easily seen as an ordinary dining set. A gentle push, and a small panel raised, revealing hinged shelves that rose as well, and were then locked in place with the single flick of a small metal bar. The shelves held the relatively slender combination fax/scanner/printer/copier and paper. A panel in the wall slid up to reveal a monitor, installed and tilted so that it could be viewed without needing to be out and on top. The keyboard came from a recessed drawer in the front and slid out on a ledge that could be swivelled 180 degrees. It would let lefties and righties both work in comfort. The chairs looked like dining chairs, with the exception of body—conscious padding and casters on the legs. Wishing against his will that he had a similar set up in his own home, Mulder laid out the case files that they had, along with their notes. He'd just gotten it all set up when he noticed the bedroom door opening. Standing in it, completely nude, was his clone. He'd seen Fox nude before, but he gasped aloud. Never in his viewing of this body, had he seen it like this. Fox was flushed from his shower, and his body was empty of all jewelry. His collar was gone as well, and Mulder realized that without the trappings, his clone looked smaller, much more vulnerable. Fox looked impossibly naive, innocent and young, too delicate for the lengths of stark black leather in his left hand, the blunted crudeness of the equally stark plug. Swallowing against a suddenly dry mouth, Mulder let his gaze shift toward Skinner. The older man was dressed simply, a plain button down shirt and khaki pants. The shirt was open at the throat and the sleeves both undone and rolled up to near the elbow. It was a good look, casual yet reassuring in its familiarity. It also made Skinner look larger and even more authoritative in comparison to the nude man waiting so simply across the room. "Come here, Fox." The words were a low rumble, and Fox began to pad noiselessly over to him. "William." The word was offered so casually, over the rim of Skinner's coffee cup, that it took Mulder a moment to realize what had been said. It was only when Fox froze for the same moment, then dropped into position, that he realized what Skinner had done. The man walked toward Fox, and Mulder tensed, but he only went past him, heading into the bedroom. He came out soon after, in his hand a broad thin oval of cream colored wood with gilt trim around the tapered edges. It was about the size and shape of a tennis racket. One side was wood, but Mulder could see that the other was covered in cream leather. It was this side that Skinner applied soundly to the bottom exposed by Fox's position. The slave winced as his welts were spanked, but it wasn't harsh, and Mulder knew that Fox was used to much more. Three loud slaps of the leather only, and then Skinner reached down, putting his hand out. "Plug." Fox silently handed it up, and Skinner positioned it carefully before seating it in one smooth motion. Fox gave a tiny gasp, and Mulder felt a sharp pang of worry before remembering that Skinner had told Fox to prep himself. Doubtless he'd been stretched and lubricated, and Skinner would have checked for that when he positioned the plug. Relaxing, reminding himself sternly that Skinner would never do anything to hurt either of them, Mulder went back to his watching. Those sure fingers swiftly fastened the straps of the plug, narrow black leather, to the base. They would connect at the other end, to the base of the cockring. It would be securely held within Fox, and allowed for no accidents. "Kneel up." Fox did so, hands still on top of his head, in what Mulder thought must be Skinner's preferred positioning. It was interesting, gave a lazy look of indolence, mixed with school boy chastisement. Mulder watched as the complicated piece of leather was examined, and then Skinner was casually strapping Fox's still erect penis and his testicles into it. The ring fastened just under the head and again at the base, with wide ribbons of black leather leading from one fasten to the next, running the length of Fox's cock. The balls hung loose but well-separated, and the head stood out unencumbered, making it look all the more desperate, as though straining to be free of the constraints. "Collar, plain black leather, thick but not wide. Two rings, at least. Go." Fox scrambled to his feet, walking swiftly into his bedroom and coming back out moments later with the requested collar. Skinner took it, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small set of what looked like dog tags. They slipped easily onto the front ring of the collar, dangling just below the line of the leather. A snap and point to the floor, and Fox knelt before Skinner. The man held the collar out in front of Fox for many long seconds. "Fox, this is a gift. Never think of it as anything less. Alex can make me take care of you. He can blackmail me into agreeing to be your temporary top. But only I can offer you my collar, is that clear? I'm giving you something I've only ever given to two other people, and one of them I married. This is not a duty. It's a gift of love, a token of esteem and respect, from me to you. And I do love you, boy, in my own way. Is that all understood between us?" Fox's eyes were wide, and shimmered suspiciously, but the only response was a nod. "Then I will ask. Will you accept my collar, and all that it means, until such time as I choose to remove it, or Alex orders it removed? Speak." "Yes, Master." It was spoken in a whisper that was nearly awed, but it was serious, too. Skinner brushed his mouth across Fox's, and then swiftly buckled the collar snugly around Fox's neck. "You're mine now, Fox. You belong to me just as you do to Alex, though we don't love each other the same, to be sure. Bring me one of his charms." Fox did so, and Skinner held it out patiently. Fox kissed it reverently, and then Skinner was fastening it onto the ring in the back. "I charge you with the task of being true to this collar, Fox, and to the men that own you. You bear tokens from both of us, and I expect you to obey us both. If there's a conflict, you tell me, but you obey us both. Should a situation arise and you can't ask, then you obey Alex." Mulder's eyes blinked with the shock of that, and Fox, too, broke form slightly, looking up at Skinner for a flash. "I know. Not what you expected. He loves you, Fox. He knows you in ways I never will, and he can only want what's best for you. I'd like to know before you pull the trigger, but I expect you to obey Alex above me. Understood?" "Yes, Master. Permission to speak?" "Granted, but be brief." "Thank you, Master." The relief was easy to read on Fox, and Mulder realized the sense of conflict that must have been looming over his clone. Mulder wondered what Skinner had meant about pulling the trigger, and made a mental note to ask both of them later. "You're welcome, Fox. Now, bring me a jewelry case. I like you decorated." "Yes, Master." Fox stood to go, and Skinner's voice was quietly stern. "Down. You will not stand again until ordered to do so, and then I want you right back down on your knees. I want you no higher than kneeling up." "Yes, Master." Fox dropped to all fours, and crawled into the bedroom. He came back out with a small jewelry case in his mouth. Skinner took the case, kissed the lips that had shielded the leather from Fox's teeth, and then patted the couch beside him. Fox knelt on the couch beside Skinner like a puppy, and Mulder found the sight oddly appealing. "These." Skinner pulled out a pair of small hoops, a light chrome finished teardrop dangling from each chromed hoop. He shut the case, setting it on the low coffee table, and then simply lowered his mouth to one of Fox's nipples. Mulder had begun trying to work, but now he gave up, unable to do anything but stare as one of Skinner's big paws pinned Fox's wrists behind his back. The other hand had a secure hold on Fox's flesh, holding the nipple in place as Skinner suckled and nipped, stroking with firm swipes of his tongue. Fox was groaning, head back, eyes closed, obviously loving the attention. Skinner pulled back, attached the first hoop to the now stiffened bud, and then attacked the second nipple with equal intensity. When it, too, was a dark red and standing stiffly, Skinner adorned it, and then passed his palm unexpectedly over the head of Fox's erection. The slave gave a small buck, the pleasure of the touch apparent. Skinner then lifted him, settling him face down across his lap. A gentle series of hard pats, nothing more, and Skinner palmed the base of the plug, shifting it very slightly within Fox. "Beautiful, boy. Just beautiful." A louder smack, still just noisy, not painful, and then Skinner was rubbing his hand along one long thigh, simply enjoying the feel of the muscle. "Alright. I want you to stand up, and go get me the three files you think are going to help us the most. You can walk them back. Then get yourself a glass of tea and join me at the work table." "Yes, Master." Skinner helped Fox to his feet, kissed him firmly on the mouth, and tweaked a nipple. "Go." "Yes, Master." Fox left, and Skinner came over to the table to join Mulder. Mulder was nearly as hard as Fox had been, and now he blushed scarlet at the knowing look in Skinner's eyes. His hot face was tilted up, and Skinner gave him a reassuring smile and a wink. "It's okay. It turns me on, too. Now, what have you got for me?" He motioned to the files, and Mulder gratefully began explaining his latest thoughts. Fox came back into the room and Skinner waited until he was half-way across before speaking firmly. "William." The man dropped down quickly enough, but put the files down carefully to the side, before resuming the rest of the position. Skinner sighed, shaking his head negatively. He walked over to the coffee table, picked up the paddle, and landed it six times, using the wood now to scold Fox. "I don't care if you're carrying a tray of glasses. I don't care if you've got loose diamonds in both hands. When I say 'William,' you drop and tuck, is that absolutely clear?" "Yes, Master. I'm sorry, Master." Skinner stroked a hand across a reddened cheek, accepting the apology. "Get up and carry the files to Mulder. I'll be back with you in a few minutes." So saying, Skinner retreated into Fox's bedroom. Fox picked up the files, and set them carefully on the table. His face was pink from being scolded, but he only stepped into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of tea. He downed it in a series of long swallows, and then poured another. Moving to Skinner's chair, he put the glass on the table beside it and then knelt, sitting back on his heels and waiting patiently. "Are you okay?" Mulder asked it softly, and was surprised when Fox not only didn't answer, but didn't even meet his eyes, keeping his usual position, hands on top of his head, eyes lowered. "You can't talk to me without permission, I guess. I didn't think about that, sorry. But I know you'll remember everything I say, so I want you to know, I'm not worried about anything. Or frightened. Skinner talked to me, and I'm okay. I promised him I'd tell him if I wasn't, and I meant it. You don't have to be worried about me, if...if you were. I'd like to talk later, I have some questions, big ones. Maybe when you're just the companion again, you could answer them for me. I could trade you, like before. Fox, I'll probably pout, but I will understand, if you'd rather not." Skinner came back out, a small zippered bag in one hand. Taking his seat, he patted his thigh, and Fox was soon seated in his lap, legs hanging off one side, head resting on Skinner's shoulder. "Okay, Mulder, finish catching me up now. Fox, listen closely and make mental notes of anything we need to revisit. Let's begin." They worked solidly for a good three hours, pausing only for bathroom breaks and more caffeine, though Fox had switched to water after his third glass of tea. It was hard; intense attention to fine detail and nuance sometimes their only clue, and everyone was starting to show signs of needing a break and some lunch. Fox had just asked permission to head for the kitchen, wondering what he still had that wasn't bad. Now, as he carried Skinner's cup and his own glass into the kitchen with him, the command came again. "William." This time the drop was immediate, so fast that it was followed by the sound of the china and glass landing on the tiled floor of the kitchen. Fox had literally just let them go the instant he'd heard the command, and now Skinner smiled, nodding. "Good, Fox. Very good. Come here, boy." It was a rich, warm invitation, and the sound crawled over Mulder's groin, even as Fox crawled to Skinner. "I promised you a reward, boy, for good behavior, and you did that perfectly. Stand." Skinner stood as well, and now he kissed Fox, hands buried lightly in that mass of hair. It was one hell of a kiss, and Mulder eased away, going to the kitchen and cleaning up the glass and cup. The cup had chipped, being fine bone, the glass hadn't, being heavy crystal. Mulder put it on the counter with the chip, not sure if Fox would want to try and fix it or just toss it. He busied himself with the dishes, but he could easily still see them, Skinner's hands roaming Fox's body possessively. Mulder didn't mind watching them, simply hadn't wanted to intrude on Fox's reward. The slight distance let him continue enjoying the sight and sound, but gave the illusion again of privacy. Now, Skinner eased back holding his arms out slightly from his sides. "Here's your reward, boy. Every time you do that perfectly, you get to take an item of clothing from me. Anything you expose, you have permission to touch, though I may direct how, and I choose the item order." Fox looked delighted, eyes glowing and a smile stretching that bottom lip to its fullest. "Thank you, Master." "You're welcome, Foxlet. Take off my shirt." "With pleasure, Master." Fox did so, stripping the starched cloth from Skinner's broad shoulders and chest in an erotic tease. He stroked, he kissed, he even caught the skin between his teeth in mock bites. Skinner was wearing a plain white short sleeved, v-necked tee under the shirt, but there was still a lot of skin revealed. And Fox made the most of it, until Skinner turned him around, bending him over the work table. He unfastened the plug, careful to move it a few times before easing it out, and loosened the cock rings. With his fingers, he explored the hot recesses of Fox's body, checking him after a morning wearing the plug. He also fondled Fox's cock, for the same reason, turning the safety check into a slow, twisting hand job. "Like that, boy?" Fox's moans assured him that he did. When Fox thrust back onto Skinner's fingers, they were removed long enough for Skinner to place a hard spank on each cheek, then thrust back inside swiftly. Fox rose up nearly on his toes, but he didn't thrust back. "That's better. If I want you to pump that ass, I'll tell you." "Yes, Master." It was breathy, and rose in tone on the end, as Skinner let go of Fox's cock and began toying with his nipples. "Ahhh!" Fox threw his head back, as Skinner stood him up, holding him tightly against his chest, before sinking his teeth into the tender junction of neck and shoulder. Skinner held the bite past the point of comfort, but Fox was harder than Mulder had ever seen him. When Skinner finally let go, licking at the livid mark soothingly, Fox slumped in his grip. Skinner seemed to be waiting, but Mulder, dumbstruck again by the blatant eroticism of what he was watching so intimately, couldn't figure out what for. "Not begging, Fox? Why not?" Skinner's voice was neutral, and Fox shivered as the big man again dropped his hand to the aching hardness between Fox's legs. "B-because, if you wanted—ah!—wanted me to come, you'd tell me...t-tell me so. Beg— oh, Master!—begging would ju-just piss you off. I'm supposed to...to think about what, ummm, what you want right now. You'll gi-give me what I need, when I...I need it. Ahhhh!" Skinner was masturbating Fox in earnest now, and with a look of tender regard that went unseen by Fox, but not by Mulder, Skinner whispered, "Good boy. Come for me, Fox." He did, arching his back and straining up onto his tiptoes. He would have collapsed immediately after, but Skinner held him up, disentangling them, and then sweeping Fox up into his arms. "I'm going to clean him up and let him rest. You should take a break, too. We'll be about an hour. Join us, if you want to." Skinner was looking at Fox, but talking to Mulder, and then the room was empty, and Mulder was aware he was gripping the counter so hard it hurt. Letting go, Mulder thought about it for a whole two minutes, could see the time tick off on the microwave clock. Slowly, heart pounding, Mulder kicked off his shoes and took off his pants and shirt. Clad only in his boxers, Mulder moved to the bedroom door. Fox was on one side of the bed, Skinner gently tucking him in. A washcloth and bowl of water testified that he'd already been cleaned up, and now Skinner pulled the sheet up to Fox's neck, brushing his lips over Fox's forehead. "Sleep." "Yes, Master. Master?" "Yes?" "Thank you." Skinner tapped the end of Fox's nose, and hushed him, turning on a white noise machine on Fox's bedside table. The slave drifted off almost immediately, and Skinner came around the bed, holding his arms out to Mulder. Mulder was shivering. He was looking around, his eyes flickering from one piece of equipment to the next. He lingered on the St. Andrew's cross, the padded horse, the ornate vase holding various canes. His eyes scanned the rows of crops, the whips arranged by thickness, and hung on the wall like art, the chains, in lengths and sizes stored on velvet trays inside the armoire. He looked up, seeing a pair of pale cuffs dangling not an inch above his head, and it was too much for him. Turning, he fled the room, followed closely by Skinner. Solid arms wrapped around him, and Mulder instinctively began to struggle, kicking back and fighting dazedly to get loose. "Stop it, Mulder!" There was a note of annoyance in the sharp, low tone. The white noise generator would keep Fox from being awakened by most normal sounds, but Skinner's voice was different, and he didn't dare speak any louder. Mulder, the stress of the morning releasing in him by struggling more at this warning, got a lucky connection with his heel against Skinner's shin. He didn't have any shoes on, so it wasn't bad, but he heard a muffled sound of pain, then an ominous growl. The next thing Mulder knew, he was tucked completely under one of Skinner's arms, leaned over a strong hip. A hard spank to his barely clad bottom made him freeze, and he remained still as two more handprints were blazed into his backside. Panting, heart pounding, throat nearly closed with emotion, Mulder felt tears stinging his eyes as Skinner spoke in a voice that was still quiet, but no longer annoyed. "Okay now?" Mulder sniffled, but nodded, knowing there wasn't any fight left in him. Skinner stood him up, and after a moment spent staring at the center of Skinner's chest, Mulder stepped into the embrace he trusted would be there for him. It was, and the hands were comforting now, stroking over his back and holding him tightly, while he trembled and tried to regain control. "I'm going to move this to the couch, Mulder, okay?" He managed a nod, and then Skinner had swept him up the way Mulder had seen him sweep Fox up, just minutes before. The older man carried him to the couch, sitting down with Mulder in his lap, but not offering to let him go. Finally, Mulder pulled back, needing to look into Skinner's face as he talked. "I'm sorry. I got in there, and all the chains and whips and that wooden thing...it was just too much. I freaked. Did I hurt your leg?" Skinner grinned, shaking his head. "About as much as I hurt your ass. It's okay, Mulder, I knew what happened. I didn't think about the setting, how it might be overwhelming for you. I apologize." Mulder nodded, wiping at his face. Skinner produced a handkerchief, and Mulder took it, feeling a bit foolish, but charmed by the gesture as well. He wiped his face and then shyly put a hand back, rubbing at the still stinging flesh. "I know you hit me more earlier, but somehow, this was worse. Why?" "Because earlier, you knew you deserved it. You knew I wasn't angry. You asked for it, you submitted to it of your own free will, and we'd talked about what was going to happen. This time, it was my choice. I decided you needed it, I gave it to you without asking or setting a limit, and you didn't know whether I was angry or not. It makes a big difference, Mulder. For me, too. I worried about it, but you needed to be stopped before you got completely freaked out." Mulder thought this over, nodding at last to show his understanding and agreement. "You had implied consent, you know. We've talked enough, and you know that I...well, I want that. Want this. I want you to stop me. I want you to give me what I deserve, even if it's a spanking." He should have been blushing, but he wasn't. This was too honest a conversation, too important a conversation, for him to be concerned with anything like that. "I know. I never would have laid a hand on you otherwise, Mulder. I hope you can believe that." "I do, sir." "Good. Then can I assume it's safe for me to try kissing you? Because you look so damned heartbreakingly vulnerable right now, I don't know how much longer I can withstand temptation." Mulder managed a smile, and let his arms wind around Skinner's neck. The kiss started out slow, but then deepened, and before he knew it, Skinner was laying him back on the couch, and moving to lie between Mulder's spread legs. Skinner had opened his pants, and Mulder was still wearing his boxers, however tented and revealing, and now, as Skinner began kissing his way down to Mulder's nipples, he felt the thickness of Skinner's erection against his own swollen sex. With a sigh, Mulder let his head fall back, simply absorbing the touches to him, the touches he'd gone so very long without. Every caress erased a smudge of loneliness in Mulder's soul, every kiss eased a fractured part of his soul, and Mulder was helpless in his healing to do anything but lie back and gratefully accept. It seemed fine for Skinner, who murmured soft encouragement against the pale skin, endearments into the hollow of a breastbone. There was the sound of cloth being pushed aside, and then there was cool air on his too hot flesh. And then Mulder arched half off of the couch, his whimper of need surpassed by a sound of surrender, as a large hand wrapped around his cock, pulling it firmly against another hungry cock, stroking them both. Slick with readiness, both cocks slipped and slid, rubbing urgently against each other and the calloused tunnel of Skinner's fist and fingers. It was enough, and Skinner's mouth claimed Mulder's, swallowing whole the sound of his passion, taking it into him and feeding it back with his own. Later, much later, as Mulder realized he was breathing, and that the man on top of him felt wonderfully heavy and solid, and that he felt wonderfully light and empty, Mulder also realized that this was what he'd been searching for, his whole damn life. Relieved to have finally found it, Mulder held it close to his heart, and fell asleep. Part Six They didn't sleep long. The sound of Mulder's cell phone woke them, and Mulder reached down onto the floor, picking up his jacket and grabbing his phone by instinct and habit. "Mulder." It was only when he'd opened it and answered, that he realized he was lying wrapped up in Skinner's arms, the bigger man a solid, warm presence beside him. Dazedly, he let his eyes raise to Skinner's. They were wide awake and sans glasses, and Mulder reached out, tracing with some fascination the ridge of one eyebrow. "...you even listening to me, Mulder?" Scully's voice sounded more than a little irritated, and Mulder quickly yanked his attention back. "I'm sorry, Scully, I was asleep when you called. Would you repeat that, please?" She sighed with frustration, but did so. "That Italy connection you phoned with seems to be panning out. There are a few leads that way. Interpol is faxing us some documents that might help. Any luck over there?" "Yeah, Fox has given us no less than six solid leads, all with strong connections. We're going to have some lunch and get back to work." "Me, too. I'll call you if the documents offer anything new." "I'll update you on our part later tonight." "Fair enough. Um, Mulder, if you're having Fox do a lot of recall, make sure he gets some rest and some carbs. He's burning a lot of fuel when he does that." That it was Dr. Scully speaking was apparent, but Mulder was still grateful for her concern for his clone. "Will do. Thanks, partner." "Sure." There was a hint of warmth in her tone, and Mulder was able to smile softly as he disconnected. "Anything I should know?" Skinner's voice was a warm rumble near his ear, and Mulder shook his head, turning slightly so that he was facing the man. "Not really. Italy seems to be the right track, she'll call later. And we're supposed to make sure Fox rests and eats carbs, if he's doing recall." Mulder's voice trailed off as he realized that Skinner was leaning in for a kiss. The firm mouth covered his own with restrained need, and Mulder drank it in, wrapping his arms around Skinner's neck, feeling the broad hands of his boss slide down his body, cupping his ass. "God, Mulder, you taste good." Skinner proved he meant it by gently biting at Mulder's neck, then tonguing the spot slowly and lightly. Mulder shivered, his only recently satisfied sex half-roused already. "So do you, Walter. And you feel even better." Skinner rolled them so that Mulder was lying on top of him, and one of his hands tangled slightly in Mulder's hair, using the short length to draw his head back slightly. It didn't hurt, but Mulder gasped at the feel. "Look at me, Mulder. Look into my eyes, and listen carefully. Are you listening?" Mulder started to nod, but the movement was cut short by the realization that he'd pull his own hair if he did so. "Yes, Sir." "Good, because this is very important, and I want to be sure you understand me completely. This," and here Skinner motioned to himself and to Mulder, then back again, "us, me and you, it's not because of the situation. It's not because of Fox. It's not because we've suddenly discovered that we share opposite ends of the same sexual spectrum. It's not any of those things." Mulder, wide-eyed, heart pounding, could only swallow. "It's real, Mulder. Take away the unusual circumstances, take away the sexual revelations and you still have us. We've been in love for a long time, Mulder, we were just too afraid to show it before, and we don't have to be now. Fox isn't the reason we're in bed together, isn't the reason why you feel so goddamn right in my arms. He might have been the catalyst, but he wasn't the cause, Mulder. You were. I love you, and that won't change as soon as your clone is gone and we have to go back to our regular lives. If anything, that'll make it stronger. Do you understand me, Mulder? This isn't play, isn't part of a game. This is for keeps, full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes. We don't go back, only forward. Are we clear on that?" Mulder did nod, not caring or even noticing the resulting tug on his hair. Skinner's mouth quirked, but then he used his free hand to lightly pop Mulder on the rear. "Answer me, boy." "We're clear. I understand, Sir. And...and I couldn't agree more." Looking absolutely stunned, Mulder managed to choke it out, and Skinner released his hair, sliding his palm over the scalp in a caress, before cupping the back of Mulder's head and bringing his face down for another kiss. The sound of Mulder's stomach growling paused them. "Sorry." "Don't be. It's nearly two, we should get something to eat besides each other." The words brought an unexpected flush to Mulder's face, and Skinner smiled gently at him, before taking a last kiss. He scooted Mulder over just enough for them both to sit up, but didn't relinquish his hold on the man. Instead, Mulder was now sitting in his lap, legs around Skinner's waist. "You like having me on top of you. Are you sure you're not a closet bottom?" A firm spank to Mulder's bottom was Skinner's answer to that little bit of impertinence, but Skinner chuckled as he landed it. "On occasion. I like to feel my lover inside me from time to time. And sometimes, you're just in the mood for a good, solid fuck, you don't care much who's driving." Skinner cupped Mulder's avidly listening features in his hand. "And never forget, Mulder, the heart of this is love, and love, real love is only possible between equals. And we are equals, Mulder. No matter how many times you call me sir and I call you boy, we're equals." Mulder, awed by how much Skinner was saying, and how easily he was saying it, could only whisper, "Equals, Walter." "Good boy." Satisfied, Skinner kissed him again, and then, with a smile and a wink, motioned to the table beside Mulder. "Glasses, please." Mulder handed them over, and Skinner put them on, before eyeing the bedroom door. "I'm going to call him, if you're ready." "Sure." "Attend me." It was spoken loudly, but not yelled, and with the white noise generators Mulder wasn't even sure that Fox would be able to hear Skinner. Apparently training counted for more than acoustics, because moments later Fox was kneeling by the couch, having crawled into the room. "Yes, Sir?" "Is it safe to order some food in? Best defensive assumption?" Fox thought a moment, then nodded. "Yes, Sir. It should be. They've had time to do or get what they wanted, and they have to assume I'm with you. This apartment is fairly defensible, at least as safe as anywhere else. Besides, Alex said it was safe to come back here." "Good enough. Order us some food, I don't care what kind so long as it isn't pizza, and provided it has carbs for you. And vegetables for Mulder." The last was said with a wink to Fox, who smiled at his genetic twin's visible look of distaste. "Yes, Sir." "Do that, then bring me a hairbrush, your choice." Mulder drew in a breath, wondering what Fox had done wrong, but his clone didn't even blink. "Yes, Sir." Fox moved to the phone, and if Mulder found it slightly surreal to watch a vision of himself order Chinese take out—in Chinese!—while kneeling on the floor and wearing leather fetish gear, he kept the weirdness to himself. While Fox ordered, Skinner got up, regrettably easing Mulder off his lap, and used the small bathroom just off the living room. When he got back, Fox was just coming back into the living room, a hairbrush in his mouth. The handle was held between his teeth, carefully covered by his lips, to prevent marring the surface. Skinner took it, looking at it curiously. It was a pale golden wood, with black streaks and smudges through it, pretty but unusual. Skinner palmed the wide rectangle, slapping it lightly in his palm, brows drawing together as he examined the results. "What is this wood?" "Hackleberry. It's nearly white when you first cut it, but then with time it begins to go gold like that. It was handmade in the late 1800's. Sir bought it at a family auction a few years ago. The bristles are a mix of boars hair and camel hair. The lady of the house thought it was the ideal combination for detangling and smoothing." "What about the back of it?" "It has some sting and a little thud, but not too much of either. It's a mid-range instrument." "That was an excellent assessment, and a good choice, Fox. Give it to Mulder." Fox did so, and Mulder took it like it was a snake. Seeing this, Skinner chuckled. "Relax. I want you to brush his hair, not paddle him. I'm going to take a shower. Fox, give Mulder the money for the food, let him answer the door. But until then, Mulder, I'd like you to brush Fox's hair for me. And you have permission to talk, Fox. You can ask and answer freely." Skinner stood, the sound of both men quietly agreeing and thanking him making him smile at them. He got all the way to the door of the bedroom, before turning with a look of tease. "You know, Mulder, just because I didn't ask you to paddle him, doesn't mean you can't. Just like it doesn't mean he can't paddle you just because he's in slave mode." Turning, Skinner left them there, both staring at the innocent implement of grooming between them. Fox moved first, settling himself in front of Mulder on the couch, with his back to him. With a complete lack of experience, Mulder began to draw the brush through Fox's hair. "Tell me, okay, if I'm doing this wrong. I've never brushed another person's hair in my life." "You're not doing it wrong, but try using long, slow strokes. And start with the ends and work your way up to the scalp, then go from the scalp down." Mulder changed techniques at once, and Fox gave a sigh of pleasure. "That's nice. I love having my hair brushed." "Fox? Can I ask you a few questions about earlier?" "Of course. Skinner said you could." "Yeah, but I'm asking you." Fox turned slightly, so that he could look at Mulder from the corner of his eye. The clone saw that Mulder was visibly thinking, and offered him a smile. "Mulder, you can ask me anything at all. I'll share everything I can with you." "Thank you." Mulder paused his brushing and reached out, hugging Fox briefly, before resuming. "Are you and Alex equals?" "Of course." The answer was not what Mulder expected, and Fox took the brush out of his hands, turning to face him fully. "You're surprised by that, aren't you? You shouldn't be. I'm not less of a person or less of a man because I'm his slave. If anything, I'm more of an individual, because I'm strong enough to give like this. I can do what I do, and still retain the core of who and what I am, without blinking. I've been tested to my absolute limits, physically, mentally and sexually, and I've come through each trial more sure of myself and my place and my soul." He paused here, eyes taking on a look of remembered grief and pain. "Spender told me that I didn't have a soul, that I was a created being, and thus, soulless. It took me a long time to work that through, to figure out if I believed him or not. I struggled for years with the idea, before Alex finally proved to me that Spender was wrong." "How'd he do that?" Mulder was fascinated. It wasn't exactly where he'd meant the conversation to go, but it was beyond intriguing. Now, Fox gave a small laugh, and the grief and pain were replaced by love and gratitude. "He took me to an art museum." "I don't understand. Because you could appreciate art you have a soul?" "No. It's natural that as an intellectual being I'd have some sort of appreciation for art. It's a skill, it can be taught like any other. No, it wasn't that at all. My master took me to a museum, and stood me in front of a Van Gough. It was 'Starry Night,' and though I'd seen pictures, nothing could compare to the reality. After I'd stared at it for a long moment, Alex asked me one question, that made it all clear, all so easy for me." "What'd he say?" Mulder couldn't imagine, and now Fox's eyes were soft and beginning to glisten slightly, but they were full of triumph. "He said, 'This painting is the work of a man. It's not organic, it's not made with anything out of the ordinary. There's nothing on that canvas that hasn't been used by other artists, for other purposes, with different results. This artist was a flawed human and, at the time, considered a failure, as were his experimental results. It was created by a man, to fit his own personal image and needs. Now, look at that painting, Fox, and tell me, does it have a soul?' And then he stepped back, and just let me look, let me stare at the painting, and I was hearing the song in my head, cross-referencing, and bringing up Van Gough, his life and the history of this painting, all of it." Fox lowered his lids slightly, bringing his knees up under his chin, and laying his head sideways atop his folded arms. "I knew Alex was seeing the painting differently than I was, all art being subjective, but there are some works that the whole world acknowledges are special, and this is one of them. I was looking at the bright whorls, the velvety tone to the blues, the representation of greatness both given and unattainable, and it hit me. If this painting can affect so many people, in so many ways, if so many different types of people can react to it, and all find something to love or hate, some part of it that speaks to them, relates to them, then yes, it must be alive in some way. And since that couldn't be a physical life, it must be a spiritual life. The only logical conclusion was that this painting, this collection of ordinary materials constructed in an ordinary fashion by an ordinary man, had a soul. And that meant that I could have one, too, regardless of my origins. I'm a created work, but I have a soul, and it is my own." Fox whispered the last, and Mulder noticed the tear trickle over the bridge of his nose, as it fell. Reaching out, he took Fox into his arms, holding him closely. "I never thought otherwise." Mulder whispered it into the top of Fox's head, and his clone hugged him back tightly. Mulder ran his hand up and down Fox's back, just a warm feeling of affection between them. "Why did Skinner want me to brush your hair?" Mulder asked the non-sequitur casually, more or less thinking aloud. "He thought I could use some time alone with you, and vice versa. His way of making sure you're really okay with this morning." "H-he didn't seem as comfortable with the slave routine as he does when he's just...well, handling you, I guess." "It doesn't give him the same level of pleasure, to be sure. He doesn't want a slave, Mulder, just a companion. He wants..." Fox trailed off, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "He wants me. He wants us to have what you two do, when you're his companion." Mulder offered this with a blush, but also with a faint smile. "Exactly. Only more. The question is, what do you want?" "The same thing." The words flew out of Mulder's mouth on their own, and in the doorway, Skinner smiled broadly. He'd been doing what Fox had said, giving them some time alone, but Fox's last question and Mulder's answer had reached him clearly as he came into the small space. Skinner spent a long moment just looking at them, sitting on the couch together, heads close to one another, holding hands again. They did that a lot, he'd noticed, and the innocence of the move wasn't lost on Skinner. Despite their strong sexual feelings for one another, there was an equally strong feeling of family. It was slightly bizarre, but undeniable. Now, seeing Fox smile at Mulder, watch him tilt his head up for Mulder's kiss, Skinner felt a stirring of his own desire. They were gorgeous together, it was something he'd never even imagined, in all his fantasizing over Mulder, and Skinner was willing to bet that Alex would be equally affected by the sight. The thought of Alex made him vaguely uneasy, though he knew now that Mulder didn't love the Russian. Admittedly, it was more the idea that Alex had his own Mulder, so to speak, a resource of that magnitude, that made Skinner uncomfortable. Between the two of them... Pushing that thought aside, Skinner turned his attention firmly back to the two men on the couch. Mulder was once again brushing Fox's hair, and the slave was very nearly purring. "Your hair's amazing. I've never known a man with hair this long. Not many women, come to think of it." "Thanks. It used to be longer. At one point, it was down to my waist." "Wow. Why did you cut it?" "I didn't. Sir did. He didn't like it that long. In fact, he hated it once it got past my shoulders." Mulder's brows drew together tightly. "If he hated it that way, why did he let you grow it out?" Fox answered so casually that it took Mulder a moment to catch what he actually said. "Because it had to be that long before he could make a flail with eighteen inch strands, once the hair was braided." Mulder froze as his brain processed this. "He made a whip out of your hair?" Fox turned to look at him, grinning at Mulder's incredulity. "Yes, and it stings like a mother. Would you like to see it?" "Maybe later." Mulder looked ill at ease, and Fox lost his teasing look immediately. Skinner, too, grew concerned and moved toward them. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." Fox said this worriedly, lip between his teeth, and now Skinner sat down on the other side of Mulder. He didn't give the younger man a chance to protest, simply pulled him into his lap, cuddling Mulder close, noticing the slight edge to the tension in the long arms. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" Skinner asked it into Mulder's temple, the man having ducked his head into the juncture of Skinner's shoulder. The doorbell rang, forestalling Mulder's answer, and Skinner swore softly. Looking at Fox, he asked, "Will he freak?" Fox shook his head. "He's seen worse, believe me." Not waiting for further orders, Fox pulled some money from an envelope in a side table and put it into his mouth, crawling to the door. They heard the door open, heard a hearty male voice greet Fox. "Hey, dude! Playtime again, huh? Can you speak or is he having you run silent, run deep?" "I have permission to speak, Joey, but it's a bad time, sorry. It is nice to see you again." "Understood, man. I'll catch you later. Um, do I get my usual tip? It's cool, either way, I understand the concept of later." "I'm not sure. Just a moment, okay?" Fox crawled back to the living room as quickly as he could. "Sir? Alex usually tips Joey by letting him give me a couple of swats. Permission?" "Granted." Mulder, Skinner had noticed, was watching with huge eyes, staring over Skinner's shoulder in shock, though careful to keep most of his face hidden from view of the delivery boy. The guy was slumping, and reminded Mulder strongly of Langly. He watched now as Fox knelt in front of the twenty-something, smiling. "Permission granted, Joey. How do you want me, Sir?" The words were smoothly delivered, and instantly Fox went from greeting the usual delivery boy, to serving him. The respect and submission were clearly audible, and the young man looking down at Fox seemed to gain two inches in height. "Stand against the wall, please." The voice was different, calmer, more mature, no trace of the juvenile left. And there was a confidence in the way he was now standing, shoulders back, head up, eyes level and clear. Fox immediately took his place against the wall, standing with his head braced on his arms, and his backside thrust out perfectly. "Are you ready, pretty boy?" There was genuine affection in the tone, and Fox again smiled over his shoulder. "Please, Sir?" It was spoken like a polite child requesting more cake, and Joey moved to one side. "Very nice. Two only, I know you're in a hurry." Joey drew back his hand and slapped Fox on the backside. It wasn't too hard, but it was solid enough to leave a red mark. One more on the other side, and Joey stepped back. "Done." "Thank you, Sir." Fox made it sincere as he turned, dropping to his knees. Immediately, Joey was himself again. "Thanks, man. Have a good night." "Goodnight, Joey. By the way, you're getting better. That was very nice, and the talk was nearly dead on." "That's wicked cool, dude. Gratitude, much." With a slight bow, and looking inordinately pleased with himself, Joey left, and Fox brought in the food, two bags in each hand and one in his mouth. Skinner snapped and motioned him up. Fox gratefully stood, all but running to the kitchen and setting down the bags, before returning just as swiftly to Mulder, looking at him with the same concern he'd shown earlier. "What's wrong, Mulder? Please, if you won't tell Skinner, at least tell me." "You just let that guy spank you." Mulder sounded bewildered, and Skinner frowned as he thought he understood what might be going on here. Fox looked slightly confused, as though not seeing how that related. He shrugged in ambivalence. "It's his usual tip. It was only a couple of swats, Mulder. It didn't even hurt, despite how many times I've been punished today." Mulder stood suddenly, yelling almost. "That's just it! My god, how many times in one day would you let yourself be hit?" Fox eyed him with a great deal of confusion this time, before that brain began working, and realization dawned. Reaching out slowly, Fox gathered Mulder into his arms. "This isn't about you, Mulder. None of this. You don't need this, you won't start wanting it. In three years, you won't find yourself in the hallway getting spanked so some college kid can feel less like a loser for a couple of weeks. You won't be growing out your hair just so that you can be whipped with it later. What I am, what I do, what Skinner does to me and for me and with me, none of that is your fate." "But how do you know?" Mulder did yell this time, and turned to his clone with an almost desperate need for reassurance. "How do I know? I would have sworn none of this was me, was my fate, but Skinner's spanked me twice and given me easily a dozen single swats, and I've cherished every one of them. I admitted what I wanted earlier, and I know he won't let me back out, I made him promise not to, but how the hell do I beg him not to go forward? For all I know, I may want forward..." Fox, closing his eyes briefly, leaned far enough away from Mulder to be able to kiss him. And kiss him, he did. Fox's mouth drew out every bit of fear and insecurity, the heat of Fox's tongue burned away the need to babble, and Fox's hands held Mulder steady while his nerves calmed. At last, Fox slowly released Mulder and looked gently in the flushed face of his genetic donor. "I am not you. It's been a hard lesson to learn, but I have learned it. I am not you, and you are not me. I love you, Skinner loves you, and you can trust me when I tell you that we will never let you go too far forward. Never. I swear it, Mulder, on my love for Alex, we will not let you get lost." Mulder exhaled deeply, a shuddering breath that had been held too long. Skinner, having thought this might be the issue, wisely said nothing, only waited for Mulder to turn and look at him. "Walter?" "I won't let you hurt yourself, Mulder. I may tan your ass until you can't sit for a week, but I won't ever let you make me hurt you, I promise. I'll swear it on whatever you want me to swear. I won't let you become something you're not." Relief flowed over Mulder like a spring rain, all fresh coolness, and he sighed deeply. "Thank you. I believe you, you don't have to swear. I just...well, it's a lot to think about. And my god, but you've done things that I've never even dreamed about, Fox, and it just all got mixed together in my head. I'm sorry." "Don't you dare apologize. You were freaked and that's okay. You told us, that's the main thing." Skinner stood now, coming over to him, and taking Mulder into his arms, holding him close. Fox moved toward the kitchen, intending to leave them alone together, but a slightly shaky voice stopped him. "Hey! You get back here, or else." Mulder was smiling at him from the safety of Skinner's chest, and Fox obeyed, though he couldn't help but tease. "Or else what?" "Or else I'll have to come to you?" It was the best he could manage, and Fox took pity on him. Soon, all three men were in a three way hug, and Mulder eagerly absorbed the feelings. Skinner allowed them all a few more moments, then spoke firmly, as he drew away. "Alright. We need to eat. Fox, you go set things up, then go to your room and put on a pair of sleep pants and a shirt of some kind. I don't like eating with a naked slave. Go." "Yes, Sir." Fox turned to leave, and Skinner swatted his backside remonstratively. Fox dropped to his knees, and crawled out of the room. "Mulder, I want you to go to the bathroom, sweetheart. Blow your nose, wash your face, do what you need to do, then get your cute little behind back out here. Understood?" "Yes, Sir." Skinner tilted Mulder's head up and kissed him firmly, then turned him and sent him off with a swat as well, if a lighter one. Mulder managed a grin as he left, and Skinner returned it, before dropping down onto the couch and closing his eyes. God, this was going to be difficult, at best. But worth it. So very, very worth it. Skinner chuckled, thinking to himself that there were not many men his age that could claim a young, handsome lover, much less such a lover and an even younger, handsome slave. It was good for his ego, if bad for his back. When they were all settled at the table, plates filled with only slightly cooled food, Skinner outlined the plan for the rest of the day. "We need to get in some more work here, a good few hours at least. After that, we'll pack a few more things for you, Fox, and we'll head back to the house. On the way, we'll go by my place and Mulder's, take another case each. I'd like to get our information together and then see if the Gunmen can come over again. By that time Scully should have something for us, and they can help us sort through it all. They might see something we don't." "That sounds good." Mulder nodded, and stood to call them. Skinner's hand closed lightly on his wrist. "Finish eating first, please." Mulder looked at Skinner carefully, but knew it was a request, not an order. With a slightly self-depreciating grin, Mulder sat back down, rewarded by the silent praise in Skinner's eyes. Turning to his slave, Skinner frowned slightly when he saw that the young man was only picking at his food. "Fox? Why aren't you eating?" "I don't usually eat much when I'm being worked, Sir. If you order an enema later, it'll be easier to take on an empty stomach." Mulder's fork clattered slightly, and Skinner stroked a thumb over the back of Mulder's hand, even as he spoke to Fox. "I'm not going to be doing that. Besides, you need your strength. Eat, Fox." "Yes, Sir." Fox immediately tucked in, and Skinner noticed that he was especially fond of the duck. When all three men had finished, Skinner pointed to the empty container. "The duck your favorite?" "Yes, Sir, one of them. Especially sliced thin like this. Mr. Liu refuses to give me the recipe for the sauce, though. I even got permission to pout, and he still didn't give it to me." Fox looked like he was considering pouting again, and Skinner chuckled, teasing his slave. "And do you always get what you want when you pout, boy?" "Almost always, Sir." There was a gleam of wickedness in the bright eyes, and an almost impish look took over Fox's features, his words a near challenge. Mulder, well aware that he was watching another side of his own personality, wasn't sure whether to laugh or be embarrassed. It was a side he usually kept tightly hidden, but Fox was playing it with great joy and delight, and finally, Mulder decided to simply be envious. He could be a brat, he knew that, had always known it about himself, though he'd had no idea what to make of the knowledge. Skinner, giving Fox a mock-stern glare, apparently did. "You know what you'll get if you try pouting with me?" "Yes, Sir. A spanking." He lowered his eyes as he said it, making his face into a look of demure appropriateness. "That's right." Fox waited until a satisfied Skinner had his mouth full of tea, before peeping out from under the lids and saying coyly, "Exactly what I want, as usual." Mulder chortled, as the humor caught Skinner just right and the liquid tried to become an inhalant. Fox had the nerve to giggle, knowing Skinner wasn't really choking, and that the thunderous glare he was now receiving was mostly for play. The big man's eyes sparkled, and his mouth was full curve, even as he mopped at his face and shirt. Fox, having slid just slightly to the side, waited a three count, then took off running, Skinner close behind him. It was a small apartment, and it didn't take long for Skinner to capture his charmingly willfull slave. Of course, they both knew his slave had allowed himself to be caught, but that was part of the fun. "Brat!" "Yes, Sir." Fox, currently being carried out of the small bathroom over Skinner's shoulder, said it easily, and Mulder caught the wink Fox threw to him. In the back of his mind, Mulder knew this little show was for his benefit. Skinner and Fox were showing him that there was a lighter side of this type of play, one that Skinner even seemed to enjoy more than the heavier options. Not that Fox wasn't enjoying himself. Remembering that Fox had told him Alex wouldn't stand for brat antics very often, Mulder had to grin as Fox was upturned over Skinner's knee. A robust, if only moderate spanking followed, with Fox squirming and even kicking his feet slightly. The slaps sounded much worse than they were, and while Fox was coloring nicely, it was only a dark rose. The fact that his clone was actually still giggling, was another big clue to Mulder. Skinner paused, running his hand along the silken skin, soothing the mild sting of his spanks with a slow caress. "Come here, Mulder." Mulder walked forward slowly, not entirely sure what was going to happen, but trusting Skinner. When he got there, Skinner patted Fox's bottom lightly. "See this shade? Not really pink anymore, but not really red yet, either. That's the shade I think would look best on you. Maybe just a little darker, but not much. This is all the spanking I want to give you, Mulder. Not that I won't have to punish you from time to time, because I will. You want me to punish you too bad for it to not happen a few times, at least. But for every day, just for fun, this is the most you'll get." Mulder, thinking, put his lip between his teeth. He let one of his hands rest lightly on Fox's rear, feeling the heat and knowing it wasn't bad. Even with the welts from his earlier, genuine punishment, this spanking hadn't done more than stung Fox. "Can you handle that, Mulder? Is it what you want?" Skinner was very serious, and Mulder chewed absently as he tried to picture it, to think it through. Finally, he was able to answer. "Yes. It's just about perfect, actually. I wouldn't want a real spanking all the time, I'd get too scared. And while I'd certainly expect more from a punishment spanking, for play, this looks like what I've always dreamed about, fantasized about." "I was right about something else, too." Skinner said it with a touch of reluctance and sighed, reaching out to Mulder's lip with his thumb. There was a small smear of blood on it when he drew it back. "I will have to punish you from time to time." Mulder swallowed hard, and his face flamed as he recalled his new rule and the consequences. Closing his eyes, he nodded to show Skinner he understood. "Fox, get up." The slave did so, and now Skinner's hands settled gently on Mulder's waist, drawing him closer. Mulder was relieved when he was seated in Skinner's lap, and the bigger man's arms closed around him. "Don't be scared, sweetheart. It's your first time, and a hard habit to break. Besides, you've been through a lot today already. How about this, how about if I take down your pants and bare your bottom for my hand? You've never been spanked without your clothes, have you?" "No, Sir." "Then that'll be enough. I'll give you the same spanking I just gave Fox, nothing harder. How does that sound, Mulder?" "Wrong." Both Fox and Skinner looked at him with concern, and he reached out, kissing Skinner lovingly on the mouth. "You're being too easy on me, Walter. We both know I'll never get past all this if you don't give it to me right, no matter how freaked I am. I love you for giving me a break, and I know you're just afraid of losing me, but you have to trust me, too. I'm not that fragile, Walter, honest. You haven't backed off yet, please don't start now, not when everything is finally starting to come together for us." Those eyes were alive with feeling, and Fox knew again that awe of Mulder. Maybe it was because he was Mulder's clone, but Fox had always found the man fascinating. While Fox's curiosity and charm were carefully cultivated, Mulder's was real. While Fox could easily outthink his genetic donor, he didn't have Mulder's genuine intuition. Fox was seldom more aware of his limits, his restrictions, than when watching the real thing. Mulder was amazing, and Fox was as captivated by him as the men that had tried to recreate him. How anyone could know Mulder and think Fox was anything but another individual, despite their faces, was beyond the clone. Fox might be able to submit wholeheartedly and with perfect form, but it was nothing compared to this careful, deliberate struggle to submit from Mulder. The beauty of the man's effort and genuine desire to make the effort, was enough to take Fox's breath away. "You're right, Mulder. What can I say? I'm only human, too, and the thought of giving you too much to handle worries me. I'm sorry." Skinner cupped Mulder's face in both of his hands, and kissed him apologetically. "Okay, revised plan. Same as before, but when you've been well spanked, I'll give you two more. With that." Skinner motioned to the hairbrush that was still sitting on the coffee table from earlier. "That's fair, Mulder, I only give Fox two for that rule, and since I'm using a paddle, I won't have to do it very hard. How does that sound?" "Like the hard-ass A.D. I know and love." The words were accompanied by a very sweet smile, and Fox felt a pang of longing for his own hard-ass master. "He loves you, too. Now stand up, baby, and let's get those pants down." "Yes, Sir." Mulder did, and Skinner took great delight in skimming the clothing down past the slender rear, letting it pool in the middle of those long thighs. "You know, Mulder, only the last two are punishment. The rest, we can both enjoy." "I sort of planned on that, Walter." Mulder's voice held a hint of shy amusement, and Skinner chuckled, even as he laid Mulder down across his lap. The man looked like a virgin sacrifice to the gods of spanking, and Skinner reverently stroked his hand across Mulder's bottom, letting them both get used to the feel of skin on skin. "Beautiful, just beautiful." Skinner's voice held a note of worship, despite the fact he'd had nearly the same bottom in his lap only moments before. Fox ducked his head a moment, struggling to deal with the very novel feeling of inadequacy that was trying to get his attention. Squashing it firmly under his love and happiness for Mulder, Fox made a mental note to speak to Skinner about it later. For now, he savored the image, much as Mulder had done earlier, of a version of himself being spanked. Skinner had enjoyed the feel of every inch of Mulder's backside under his hand, and now he removed that hand. He was pleased to see Mulder squirm slightly, and knew the skin was tingling, ready for more, and slightly sensitized. The eyes were closed, and Mulder's whole body seemed to be straining for the blow. Taking a steadying breath, Skinner brought the palm of his hand down crisply on Mulder's bare left bottom cheek, feeling the tension in the muscle as it bounced slightly with the spank. Mulder startled slightly, and then gave a low murmur of amused surprise. "Oh, wow." It was different than through his jeans, or even his boxers. The feel of Skinner's hand clapping on his naked flesh sent a thud of desire through Mulder, and his cock began to harden even more. The second spank caught his right cheek, and then Skinner began a random rhythm, taking his time, and making sure that each of them was getting the absolute most from each precise spank. Mulder was dripping sounds, little gasps and soft moans, mumbled words of pleasure, nothing that would make sense, except as proof of his appreciation. Skinner had figured that Mulder would be vocal, and he wasn't disappointed. The little breathy noises were going straight to his crotch, and his erection was a match for Mulder's own. It was a shame that punishment had to follow this. On the whole, Skinner would much rather fuck Mulder right now, than paddle him. Still, duty was duty, and reluctantly, Skinner stopped spanking, reaching for the hairbrush. "Oh, shit...um, maybe your first idea was right, Walter. Maybe we can just end it here?" There was a distinctly pleading tone to the husky voice, and Skinner ignored it, placing the back of the hairbrush on Mulder's flushed hindquarters, aiming carefully. "No, please!" It was faint, and Mulder tensed as though he were going to try to push off, but Skinner only tightened his arm and brought the wood down firmly. Mulder yelped, the newness and his already sensitive rear ensuring the blow felt much worse than it was. "Ouch! Walter, that hurts, please..." Skinner again ignored the pleading tone and placed the second spank with equal deliberation. "Ow!" Mulder squirmed, but Skinner was through. He gentled Mulder by rubbing his hand lightly over the sore bottom, feeling the man relax gradually, hearing the panting turn back into regular breathing. "Punishment's over, sweetheart." Mulder shifted off Skinner's lap, with Skinner's help, and knelt, rubbing the last two spank spots gingerly, a very thoughtful look on his face. He was quiet for a long while, and Skinner all but held his breath, waiting for a reaction. "Walter?" "Yes, Mulder?" "Will you make love to me? Right now?" "I'd be honored." Taking Mulder's hands, Skinner helped him up, and together, they headed into the bedroom. Just as they were near the door, Mulder's phone rang. It was still in his pants pocket, and apologetically, he dug it out, answering it. "Mulder." "It's me." Krycek's voice came through, strong and clear, and Mulder noted that he didn't sound rushed this time. "Are you okay?" Mulder found it odd to ask, but wanted to be able to reassure Fox. "I'm fine. I'm in a safe place on a safe line, and I've got an hour. I don't have an update for you and Skinner yet, but damn it, I miss the hell out of my slave. Is he okay?" "He's fine. Looks like hunting dog on point right now, but that's not surprising. He always knows when I'm talking to you." "Good. Let me talk to him." "Sure." Mulder held the phone out to Fox with a smile. "It's Alex. Take your time and enjoy." With a brilliant smile, Fox headed over to the couch. "Master?" Mulder smiled at the way Fox began to glow as soon as he heard Krycek's voice. But then his attention turned back to Skinner. "He's got his love, I've got mine. C'mon, let's consummate this relationship." Skinner reached out, kissing Mulder passionately, relieved beyond words at the way things were turning out. Swinging Mulder up into his arms, Skinner grinned at the surprise on Mulder's face. "This okay?" "I like it. But I'm too heavy for you to be carting around." "No, actually you're not. You're not fat by any means, and while you're no lightweight, I'm used to carrying your weight or better. It's no problem. Now, stop talking. I can think of better things to do with a half-naked, freshly spanked Mulder than listen to him fuss about me carrying him." Mulder knew he should have made a token protest, but he couldn't. He agreed too much. Relaxing into the experience, Mulder simply let his head rest against Skinner's shoulder. "Good boy." "God, Walter, when you call me that..." The rest of the thought was taken over by a kiss, and then the bedroom door was closing behind them. raven@aeneas.net

Title: Certs Author: Raven Email: raven@aeneas.net Pairing: As far as pairings go, this is mostly M/M, with some M/K, M/Sk, and M/Sk/M and M/K/M thrown in for good measure. If I get extremely kinky in later chapters, there might even be M/K/Sk/M, but I'm not promising anything. Rating: NC-17 Author's Notes: This is an AU. (No! Surely not...) It contains no real spoilers for anything, and has very little to do with canon beyond the characters and basic background. I've taken more liberties than an entire fleet of sailors, so don't expect this to be an X File, but more a character piece. Additional Author's Notes: This is pretty much for Gaby. We occasionally babysit each other's muses, and one of her Mulder muses fell in love with one of mine. We caught them in bed together and the Clone stories were born. Now, if you can handle that, accepting this story should be a piece of cake with chocolate icing. [g] Warnings: This story deals with some D/s and BDSM concepts that fit my own personal fantasies. They aren't always realistic or even safe. It doesn't work like this in real life, folks, so play with sane consensuality and be true to your own heart. Summary: Sometimes the person we know the least is the one that looks back at us from the mirror. Mulder finds an even truer reflection. Disclaimer: The characters within these stories belong to Fox, 1013, et al. There is no profit made or intended from these stories, and they should be considered as being for entertainment purposes only. back to top

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