Day Six

It felt strange to be wearing clothes again, after not having any for so long, but Mulder was grateful for them considering the bite of the fall air when they left the house. It was only light pants, beige ones, and sandals, and the shirt was just as plain, but it was something. Today had been the first real day of routine, and he was still bemused by the sheer efficiency with which Skinner approached things.

He’d been woken by the alarm and hustled into the shower almost before he was awake. The warm water had done its job, though, and he was soon washing his Master without even being prompted. Like it was a hardship? Mulder had washed himself while Skinner dried off and got dressed, and then been surprised at the outfit laid out for him. For some reason, he’d expected to be nude for the whole day.

Breakfast had been next and he’d been elbowed away from the stove so Skinner could keep to a schedule that Mulder was still unfamiliar with, though he watched closely as his Master went through the morning routine. They were out the door a mere forty minutes after waking up and pulling into the garage of the Hoover building only twenty minutes after that.

Mulder was happy to take refuge in the fact that, as a slave, he was supposed to be looking at the floor. He didn’t have to see anyone sneering or contemptuous of his new status. If anyone made any remarks, they weren’t loud enough to be heard, thus avoiding Skinner’s notorious temper. Thankfully, they made it to the ‘inner sanctum,’ as he and Scully had always called Skinner’s office, without being stopped. Once there, he stood uncertainly behind Skinner as the AD talked to Kim about his meetings for the day.

Finally, they were inside the actual office where Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. He jumped when Skinner pulled him in for a hug, startled by the contact, then relaxed into it. Resting his head against Skinner’s shoulder, he sighed deeply, soaking up the comfort.

“You’re doing very well, slave,” Skinner said, kissing his temple and releasing him. “Now. I know we haven’t gone over office rules yet, so pay attention.”

Mulder nodded and followed his Master over to the desk.

“I want you to sit or kneel over here, you can look around or look at the floor, I told you before that doesn’t matter to me. If you feel you have something to contribute to a conversation, then you may get my attention. And how do we do that?”

A minor wave of embarrassment hit him at the pointed question and Mulder answered, “By saying ‘Master,’ politely.”

A small smile hovered as Skinner nodded confirmation. “That’s right. You have a great mind, and I plan to use it both now, and in the future. If you have to relieve yourself, just use the bathroom over there, no need to ask permission, especially if someone’s in the room with us. There’s no reason for you to leave this office without me, am I understood?”

“Yes, Master,” Mulder agreed.

Ruffling Mulder’s hair, Skinner said, “I’m not doing that just to restrict you, slave, but also because we won’t know how people are going to react to you at first. I don’t want to risk you to someone who thinks they can abuse you, if you’re out there alone.”

The concern warmed him and Mulder echoed the other man’s smile. “Thank you, Master.”

Skinner’s hand rubbed his shoulder briefly as he continued, “With Scully, you can interact as you did before. I don’t see any reason that your friendship has to change. With everyone else, err on the side of caution. Shake hands if they offer, keep your eyes down if they don’t. You’ll get to know who could care less that you’re a slave, and who’s going to try to use that status against you, pretty fast.”

The thought made him nervous, but not overly so. It was hard to be really nervous with Skinner so solid and unmovable in front of him. And since Skinner clearly wasn’t planning to leave him alone any time soon, he was safe.

“All right. I think that covers everything for now. And I know you’re going to like my first appointment.”

Which made him bounce a little in anticipation, knowing it would be Scully.

Skinner grinned at his eagerness and ordered, “Strip.”

Having forgotten about that particular rule, Mulder sighed, but obeyed without protest. It was just so humiliating to be on display before the people he’d used to work with. It exposed him so much, and he wasn’t one for being vulnerable. Aside from that, his body was embarrassing; too thin and angular, not big and muscled or truly defined, like Skinner and a lot of other men.

“Slave.”

Mulder looked over at Skinner, who was gazing at him thoughtfully. “Yes, Master?”

“Keep one thing in mind.”

“What, Master?”

“You’re my slave. My only slave. I’m an abolitionist, but I set those beliefs aside to buy you, to keep you safe. I wouldn’t do that for anyone except you, because you’re very, very special,” Skinner informed him softly. “You belong to a powerful man and you do credit to me with your obedience and beauty. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of and the people who matter, know that. Everyone else can go fuck themselves.”

That surprised a laugh out of Mulder, which was when the door opened and Scully walked in. She smiled on finding him laughing, and said, “Well, you look in much better spirits today, Mulder.”

Mulder looked to Skinner, who nodded and waved him to go over and visit. He pulled Scully close, holding on and breathing in her delicate perfume, comforted that nothing about her had changed. “It’s so great to see you, Scully!”

That was when he noticed the tall, slender man behind her and hesitantly pulled back.

Scully stepped back further and introduced, “Special Agent John Doggett, this is Mulder.”

Doggett held out his hand, which instantly gave him points in Mulder’s book. Taking it, he said, “It’s good to meet you, Agent Doggett.”

“Same here,” Doggett replied. “Look, it’s a raw deal, what happened to you. Scully and I tried to clear you, but there was just no way. I’m real sorry about that.”

Surprised, not having known that, Mulder said simply, “Thank you.”

“I’m lookin’ forward to picking your brains about some cases. They’re not X-Files, of course, but some interesting ones anyhow, if that’s okay?” Doggett asked.

Mulder nodded, liking this straight-forward man even more, and answered, “That sounds good, thanks, Agent Doggett.”

“Call me John.”

Appreciating that courtesy, suddenly realizing just how much he’d taken something so simple for granted before, Mulder replied, “Thank you, John.”

“I hate to break this up, but I’ve got a nine o’clock,” Skinner said, coming up from behind and putting his hand on Mulder’s back. “Keep me posted on the Williams’ case.”

Scully and Doggett both nodded before leaving the office.

When the door closed, Mulder was again tugged close to Skinner and wrapped in his powerful arms. He held tight, taking courage from his Master’s strength for what was coming up.

“All right, my slave, time to start the day.”

Swallowing nervously, Mulder followed him back to the desk and knelt beside it.

*  *  *  *

Walter’s gaze flickered over Mulder, but the slave still knelt quietly beside him. It would be easy enough to reach out and comb his fingers through the dark hair, but he refrained. The agent giving his progress report couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering over to Mulder in a kind of horrified fascination, much as the previous three before him. They all had the same, ‘there but for the grace of God,’ expression on their faces, and that suited him just fine.

As far as Walter had been able to tell during the trial, the Bureau was pretty evenly split over Mulder’s fate. Even people who’d made fun of the X-Files, and Mulder for investigating them, had come to his defense. There’d been no shortage of people asking to help with the investigation to clear Mulder, which had been gratifying, if useless.

The report drew to a close and Walter made a few minutes’ chit-chat, praising the man for a good effort. When they were alone again, Walter looked at Mulder for real and saw signs of stress coming through. He wanted to tell the other man to get dressed, to hide behind the clothing, but didn’t dare. It wasn’t an exercise in cruelty. It was to drum into Mulder’s head the fact that he had no rights, not even to clothes. And though there’d been a break-through the previous day, Walter knew they were a long way from being where they needed to be.

“Come here, slave,” Walter ordered softly.

Mulder winced as he stood and stretched a little before closing the distance between them. He squawked in surprise when Walter tugged him onto his lap and sat there stiffly. Walter just ran his hand up and down Mulder’s back, waiting for the tension to ease. Finally, Mulder sighed and slumped against him, tucking his head just under Walter’s chin.

“Thank you, Master,” Mulder whispered.

Walter smiled, no longer hearing any hesitation in his title. “You’re doing so well, my slave, so well. I’m very proud of you. What would you like for lunch?”

Mulder shrugged and answered, “I’m not very hungry.”

“I didn’t ask you if you were. What do you want for lunch?”

Sighing, Mulder answered, “I guess…I could go for pizza?”

Walter grinned outright at that and kissed Mulder’s temple as he observed, “I should have known, given your junk-food habit. All right, but you have to eat a salad with it, too. Your previous diet isn’t acceptable with me.”

“Master,” Mulder protested.

Since it was more of a whine than a serious protest, Walter just chuckled and scooted Mulder off his lap. “Order from your favorite place and have them deliver it here. We’ll eat in. I have one more appointment and then we can eat.”

Mulder nodded and picked up the phone, dialing the number from memory.

Shaking his head at that, Walter quickly checked his emails, knowing that he only had a few more minutes before Folsen showed up to put a definite damper on Mulder’s day. The older agent had been a virulent opponent of the X-Files at large, and Mulder in particular. If you couldn’t see it or touch it, than it didn’t exist, according to Folsen, and anyone who said otherwise belonged in a loony bin.

Walter tolerated the older agent because he had friends in high places, but had never made any secret of his dislike of the agent’s attitude. He didn’t fool himself that Folsen would be anything less than vicious with Fox.

Once Mulder was off the phone, Walter said, “I want you to get comfortable. Folsen’s going to be here for at least a half-hour.”

Mulder’s eyes widened in alarm and he asked, “Barry Folsen?”

“Yes. So feel free to get a cushion if you want to sit down instead of kneel,” Walter offered.

Thinking about it a moment, Mulder shook his head, replying, “If, if I could just, um, be a little closer to you?”

Walter smiled and said in a low voice, “You can be as close as you like, slave. I enjoy having you in reach.”

A delightful flush heated along Mulder’s face, prompting Walter to chuckle, but his amusement faded quickly when Kim announced Folsen outside the office. Mulder scrambled to kneel beside him, a good deal closer than before, and kept his eyes on the floor as Folsen entered. The older agent took a long look at Mulder and then, to Walter’s surprise, completely ignored him.

The report was as factual and dry as ever, delivered in the standard monotone voice, and Walter had to pinch himself twice to stay awake and pay attention. Somehow, the man could always manage to make the most exciting case more dull than reading the phone book. It was a talent, no doubt about that.

After the report was done, Folsen lingered only to say, “I hope you’ll be taking good care of your slave, Sir,” and then left.

Astonished, Walter stared after him for a long moment then shook his head to clear it. Glancing over at Mulder showed the younger man even more slack-jawed than he’d been, at Folsen’s completely unexpected statement. Resting his hand on Mulder’s head, he stated, “I guess people can surprise you, if you give them a chance.”

Mulder’s smile was relieved as he nodded agreement.

*  *  *  *

By the time mid-afternoon arrived, Mulder had more sympathy for his Master than he’d ever had for his Boss. The sheer amount of bureaucracy the man had to wade through was mind-numbing. Mulder longed to just close the office door and inform the rest of the appointments that Skinner was off-limits. He couldn’t, of course, so he did the next best thing. During the next short break, he asked, “Master?”

“Yes, slave?” Skinner replied absently, reading something intently on his computer.

“Can I, uh…” Mulder’s voice trailed off as he tried to figure out how to frame his offer. Skinner looked up curiously and Mulder gestured to his back and finished, “You look really tense, Master.”

Understanding crossed Skinner’s face, pleasure not long behind, and he nodded, waving Mulder to go ahead. Mulder stood behind Skinner and warned, “I’m probably not good at this.”

“Probably?”

“I think the last time I did this was in high school on a massage chain,” Mulder admitted.

Skinner shot him a curious look. “Massage chain?”

“Yeah, you know. Everyone gets in a circle and you rub the shoulders of the person in front of you?”

“I know what it is, I just can’t picture you as part of one, especially in high school.”

Mulder snorted at the dry comment and hesitantly started rubbing Skinner’s shoulders. They were rock hard with tension, so he put a little more effort into it. Skinner grunted as if in pain, which instantly stilled his hands.

“No, keep going, that felt good,” Skinner assured him.

Frowning a bit in disbelief, Mulder nonetheless started it up again, attacking the shoulders with his hands and trying to rub away the strain by sheer force of will.

Several minutes later, Skinner tapped his hand and said, “Thank you.”

Not seeing that it had made any difference, from the way Skinner’s jaw was clenched, Mulder sighed, replying, “I’m sorry, Master, maybe I could take lessons?”

Startled, Skinner frowned at him. “You did a great job.”

“You don’t look very relaxed,” Mulder pointed out.

A faint grin surfaced as Skinner informed him, “This is as relaxed as I get in the office. Did you think that my ulcer was reserved for you and Scully alone?”

Relieved by the teasing, Mulder just sat down when the door opened and someone he didn’t know walked in for the next appointment. Wondering if maybe he could convince his Master to let him read a book the next day to keep his mind occupied, Mulder let his gaze wander between Skinner and the newcomer. It was an accounting meeting that was actually wrapping up one of his last cases where the rental car they’d used had exploded thanks to a telekinetic. Unfortunately, the woman had died of an aneurysm shortly thereafter, her brain overwhelmed by the stress she’d put it through.

When it was over and the man had left, Skinner looked to Mulder, clearly skeptical. “Telekinetic?”

Mulder grinned and repeated firmly, “Telekinetic, Master. We were lucky to get out of that one alive. She really didn’t like Scully.”

Shaking his head, Skinner looked like he was going to say something further when the phone rang. The amused expression vanished on hearing who the other person was, though, and Mulder straightened in response to the change.

“Now? This can’t wait?” Skinner demanded, eyeing Mulder impassively. “Yes, all right, I’ll be there. Ten minutes.”

“Master?” Mulder asked hesitantly when the phone was hung up.

Aggravated, Skinner said, “It’s fine. A.D. Kersh wants to see me about something that apparently can’t wait. Stay here and do not leave the office. I’ll be back within the hour.”

Mulder hopped to his feet, reluctant to be left behind, even in the sanctity of Skinner’s office. “I can’t come with you?”

Cupping his face, Skinner answered, “I’m sorry my slave, not this time. But you’ll be perfectly safe. Kim isn’t going to let anyone inside while I’m gone. Why don’t you try and take a nap? I know today’s been stressful for you.”

“I won’t be able to without you around.”

Skinner’s thumb brushed over his cheek. “Try.”

Mulder sighed and nodded, wanting to ask him to not go, sensing that something bad would happen when his Master left, but shook it off. He was a grown man, for crying out loud, and even as a slave, he should be able to take care of himself in an empty office for an hour or less. He was surprised by the brush of lips over his forehead before Skinner left, but pleasantly so.

Smiling as the door closed, Mulder turned and looked around the office. It wasn’t like there was a lot of trouble he could get into.

*  *  *  *

The gnawing feeling that something was about to happen crawled over Skinner as he walked to Kersh’s office. He’d left Kim specific instructions to let no one save Scully or Doggett into his office when he wasn’t around, so that would have to be enough. It wasn’t as if Mulder was going to try to escape again.

Uneasy, Skinner entered the elevator and hit the button for the fifth floor.

*  *  *  *

Fifteen minutes after Skinner left, Mulder was bored to tears. He wasn’t going near the desk, not wanting the temptation to nose around to rear its ugly head, so he was left with the office window area, or the chairs. He looked outside for a long time, staring at the familiar DC street-scene, but eventually moved to sit sideways in the chair, his legs dangling in the air.

Time alone to think wasn’t always a good thing, as in this case. He couldn’t help going over and over the encounter with Skinner last night in bed. Why had it happened, when Skinner had told him he hadn’t wanted Mulder for a sex slave? Granted, he’d enjoyed the reward, but his Master had tipped his hand a little too soon, showing him how much he was loved in the very tenderness of his kisses. But could there even be love between a Master and Slave? If so, what kind would it be? Not one of equals, and that bothered Mulder.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that when the fire alarm went off, Mulder jumped a mile in surprise. Getting to his feet, he hesitated, not knowing what to do. He couldn’t just go out there on his own, naked and without his Master, he’d be defenseless against anyone who wanted to take him, freeman or Master, it wouldn’t matter.

The door opened and Kim exclaimed, “Get dressed! Quickly! As long as you stay with me, you’ll be all right.”

Mulder nodded and hurried over to his clothes, yanking them on and then shoving his feet into the sandals. Kim took his hand and led him out into the crowded hallway that was filled as people moved quickly but calmly to the fire escapes. “Is this a drill?”

Kim shook her head and answered, “There was no notice about one, so I don’t know what’s going on.”

The stairwell was even more crowded and Mulder put his arm around Kim’s waist, not wanting to get separated in the mass of people. It took a few minutes to get to the lobby and once there, he pulled back and they resumed holding hands, no longer jammed in as before. Mulder shivered when they got outside; the temperature had dropped and his clothes were scant defense against the biting wind. Even knowing that Skinner hadn’t meant for him to face this kind of exposure, Mulder resolved to remind his Master that strange things happened all the time, to them more than most, and he should have a coat.

People milled around, talking to friends and co-workers as they waited for the all-clear to go back inside. A woman Mulder didn’t know came up and started talking to Kim and he stayed as unobtrusive as possible. Someone shoved him from behind and Mulder staggered a few steps. He turned around, his heart falling into the pit of his stomach as he took in the belligerent posture of the man glaring at him.

“What do we have? An unclaimed slave?” the man taunted.

Kim hurried forward and exclaimed, “He’s with me! Leave him alone!”

“He belongs to you?”

“Um, no, he belongs to…”

“Then you can’t interfere.”

Kim stepped between Mulder and the unknown man, exclaiming, “You have no right to do this! This man is no unclaimed slave and I work for his Master!”

A different man grabbed her, dragging her aside, as the first taunted, “You’re probably helping him escape.”

Kim struggled against her captor, but she was no match for him. Mulder looked around for help, but they were surrounded by a group of men who were clearly in on this. Whether it was by design or they’d fallen in together to mess around with him didn’t matter. He and Kim were mostly blocked from view of the rest of the crowd and those who could see what was going on, weren’t going to interfere.

“Look, this isn’t something you want to do,” Mulder said quietly, trying his best to stay calm.

The man strode closer and snapped, “You threatening me, boy?”

Holding up his hands, Mulder shook his head. “No, Sir, it’s just that my Master is protective of me and he’ll be very upset if you hurt me.”

“So protective that you don’t even wear his Chain?”

The sneer hurt on an unanticipated level deep inside Mulder, and his hand gripped his stomach as if the wind had been knocked out of him. It was a valid observation. If Skinner really prized him as much as he’d said, why didn’t Mulder have a Chain?

Mulder reflexively bent over the fist that slammed into his stomach, the wind knocked out of him for real. It was followed up by a punch to the face, then two more, one connecting savagely with his nose in a spurt of blood. He dropped to the ground where a boot impacted his ribs and when he curled up into a ball, there were more kicks to his back.

“I think you need a proper Claiming, boy, and I aim to give it to you,” was growled into his ear.

Even though he was barely conscious, Mulder’s survival instincts kicked in when his pants were pulled on. He knew he couldn’t fight back, he knew it, but fear of any punishment he might get was negated by the beating he was currently receiving. He lashed out with his foot, catching his attacker in the chest and sent him sprawling. Not for long, unfortunately. Just as he started to stumble to his feet, he was tackled onto the hard pavement. His head was slammed a couple of times into the unforgiving sidewalk and darkness encroached.

From a distance, he heard someone shout, “Hey! Get the hell off him! Move it! You sons of bitches, move!”

The weight on him was gone suddenly, but Mulder couldn’t summon the strength to move. Careful hands lifted him and he flinched, trying weakly to get away.

“Mulder it’s me, it’s Doggett,” a familiar voice soothed. “Take it easy, don’t hurt yourself more, all right?”

Recognition finally struck as he put voice with person and he stopped struggling, sinking into the lanky man’s hold.

“Jesus, they worked you over good. Kim’s already called an ambulance and they’re on the way. You just hang on, okay?”

Mulder managed to open his eyes finally and the worried face of his replacement hovered unsteadily in view as he whispered, “Sorry. Tell my Master, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Doggett answered firmly. “You just stay with me, okay?”

But the darkness carried him away even before Doggett finished speaking.

*  *  *  *

Never again, Walter thought furiously as he hurried down the hospital corridor. I am never leaving him alone ever again! I don’t care who wants to see me!

Catching sight of John, Scully and Kim at the end of the hall, Walter breathed a sigh of relief at Scully’s body language; pissed, but not worried. That meant Mulder was okay. Before he could ask, Scully informed him, “Mild concussion, bruised kidneys and a couple of bruised ribs, but he’s going to be fine.”

“Sir, I am so sorry,” Kim apologized, clearly distressed by what had happened. “You left him in my care and I should have been able to protect him in your absence!”

Walter shook his head and assured her, “It’s not your fault, Kim, no one blames you. You’re not even an agent, you weren’t expected to defend him. I shouldn’t have left him alone.”

“To be fair, Sir,” Doggett began. “You could hardly have known there would be a fire alarm or that you’d be away when it happened.”

Thinking about the late night phone call, Walter wished he could be as sure. “Is he allowed visitors?”

Scully nodded. “He’s drowsy from the painkillers, but awake. Or, he was five minutes ago. He’s in room 502, just over there.”

“Thank you, all of you,” Walter said quietly.

There were murmured good-byes and Walter walked the short distance down the hall to the room Scully had indicated. He closed the door behind him and stood beside the bed, looking down at Mulder’s bruised and swollen face. Guilt swamped him, knowing that he’d failed his slave the very first time they’d left the house.

Mulder’s eyes opened and he flinched on looking in Walter’s direction, which caused Walter’s jaw to clench with further guilt. Then Mulder whispered, “Who’s that?”

Fear ran through him at the thought that something had happened to Mulder’s vision and he stepped forward, answering, “It’s me.”

The tension relaxed and Mulder reached out, sighing, “Master.”

Walter caught the hand and brought it to his lips. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got run over by a Mack truck.” Mulder answered, trying to focus on him.

The apology he was about to give remained unspoken as Mulder drifted back into unconsciousness. Sighing, Walter sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked the hair back from Mulder’s forehead.

*  *  *  *

Bill McNamara had been afraid for his life exactly twice. Once had been in the middle of a war, with bombs going off all around him and gunfire even more plentiful. The second time had been when he’d been held at gun point by a junkie with wild eyes and a very, very unsteady trigger finger. Both times, he’d had the hope that somehow, some kind of miracle would happen and he would be saved. Both times, that had happened and he’d lived to tell the tale.

For the third time in his life, Bill McNamara stared death in the eyes only this time, there wasn’t even the hope of a reprieve. Of all forms for his death to take, a bald man with glasses hadn’t been anywhere on the list, and yet that’s what it had come down to. This dark-eyed man with the coldest, most implacable expression that Bill had seen since his Drill Sergeant. The knife that burned against his throat seemed almost an absently held weapon, despite the steady, firm grip which held it.

“Who are you working for?” the man demanded, not a single emotion touching his voice.

Swallowing nervously pushed his Adam’s apple against the blade, but he couldn’t help himself. Trying not to do that again was futile, especially when he answered hoarsely, “No one!”

“You just attacked a slave for the hell of it?”

The cool question took a second to register and Bill gasped in shock, “This is about the slave!? Jesus, Mister, we were just having some fun!”

Leaning in close enough for the hot breath to hit his face, the man whispered, “Raping someone, even a slave, is not fun. Beating someone into the hospital, even a slave, is not fun. If you’d done that to anyone else, you’d be in jail on your way to being a slave yourself.”

But it’s just a slave! Bill wanted to shout. He didn’t dare, not with the frighteningly murderous look in his attacker’s eyes. He kept his mouth shut.

The knife sliced shallowly along his throat, but didn’t cut him open like he’d been positive it was going to do. The worst of it was that he couldn’t fight back. He was a Freeman, sure, but this guy was a Master, the ring on his hand impossible to miss. He couldn’t even really report this unless he wanted to go through hell in the legal system. Taking on a Master was technically possible, but seriously not recommended if you wanted any kind of future. So unless you were independently wealthy or had friends in high places, you just took whatever they dealt.

Bill had neither, so he just collapsed limply in on himself after the man wiped his blade on Bill’s shirt and walked away.

A tall, slender man with a rugged face stepped forward, giving him a cool, contemptuous look as he said, “I suggest you find other ways of having fun. And I wouldn’t recommend reporting that slave, either, or you might not like the results.”

After they were both gone, Bill staggered to the bar where everyone studiously ignored him except the bartender. A bottle of whiskey was set in front of him, along with an empty glass. Pouring the liquor with a shaky hand, Bill was barely able to bring it to his lips without spilling it.

It was definitely time to find a new set of guys to hang out with. He just didn’t need shit like this and scoring off a slave was not fucking worth it.

*  *  *  *

When Walter returned to the hospital room after getting some breakfast the next morning, Mulder was awake and truly aware for the first time. He thought that he could see an accusation in the hazel eyes that slid away from his and sighed to himself. This was not going to be fun. He stopped by the bed and greeted, “Good morning.”

“Morning, Master,” Mulder replied, subdued.

At a loss with how to proceed, Walter finally settled on, “I just talked to your doctor. He said you can come home this afternoon.”

Mulder nodded and said, “That’ll be good. You know how much I love hospitals.”

It wasn’t even a fraction of the sass that Mulder usually gave him, even during his short tenure as a slave, and Walter mentally sighed again. Mulder was taking his failure to heart, as he had every right to do. He’d clearly lost faith that Walter could protect him. “Well, I’ll let you get some more rest. The doctor wants to give you another MRI to make sure that you’re all set. I’ll be back this afternoon.”

“Yes, Master.”

Helpless, Walter didn’t leave right away, but when it became obvious Mulder wasn’t going to look at him, he had no choice. Outside in the hall, he had to take a few breaths to calm down, the fear that he’d lost Mulder before he’d ever really had him, clogged his throat to make breathing difficult.

Scully! he realized with a start. Scully knows him best and can give me some insight with how to proceed!

Bolstered by the course of action, Walter started for the elevator.

*  *  *  *

His stomach was a mass of nerves and Mulder perpetually hovered on the edge of nausea as he thought about what might happen next. He’d fought back against a freeman, even one who’d been intent on doing him injury and rape. Skinner was clearly upset about what had happened and just as clearly unable to punish him, due to his injuries. Would it even be Skinner who punished him? Was he allowed that small mercy, or would there be some kind of official and public punishment?

It was about an hour after Skinner left that Scully showed up and he couldn’t even pretend a cheerful façade for her.

“So who ran over your dog?” Scully teased lightly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Sighing, Mulder answered, “I just want to get it over with.”

Scully frowned. “Get what over with?”

“My punishment,” Mulder replied, not meeting her eyes. “At least that way we could move on, you know?”

The frown increased as Scully questioned, “Punishment for what, Mulder?”

Surprised that she even had to ask, Mulder informed her, “Fighting back. I know that it’s a serious offense. Do you think it would be possible to have Skinner do it, or is there going to be some kind of official thing?”

Scully blinked at him for a few moments, then a gentle smile surfaced and her fingers brushed through his hair. “Mulder, you’re not going to be punished. Skinner and John tracked down the men who attacked you and there’s no way that they’re going to make a complaint.”

Confused, Mulder asked, “Then why is Skinner so upset with me?”

She laughed softly and answered, “The two of you are the kings of miscommunication, I swear. Mulder, he thinks that you’re upset with him because he didn’t protect you. On your first day out of the house, no less.”

It was Mulder’s turn to stop in surprise, then he protested, “But there’s no way he could have known what would happen!”

“Of course not,” Scully agreed. “Just as there’s no way for him to know what’s going on inside that head of yours, if you don’t tell him. Look at it from his point of view. The very first time he takes you out into public, you’re beaten into the hospital. He feels as if he failed you. And since you were all non-verbal about what you were thinking, Skinner had no reason to think otherwise.”

Mulder groaned and flopped his head back against the pillows. Of course Skinner would think all of that. The man took the weight of the world on his shoulders without even being asked.

“Feeling better now?”

Making a face at her amused question, Mulder asked, “I don’t suppose you know when he’s coming to pick me up, do you?”

*  *  *  *

Walter was more than surprised to find a smiling Mulder waiting for him in the hospital room. He was already dressed, as well, so Walter asked cautiously, “Ready to go?”

Standing from the bed, Mulder nodded and answered, “Yes, Master.”

Not sure what had wrought the change, Walter nonetheless took a breath and said, “I know that I…”

“Master?” Mulder interrupted politely.

Walter frowned. “Yes?”

“You didn’t fail me.”

He searched the other man’s gaze but found only sincerity there and slowly relaxed, seeing that Mulder didn’t blame him for the lapse. “Nonetheless, at least for the near future, you’ll accompany me to all meetings. I don’t care what Kersh or anyone else has to say about it.”

A pleased and relieved smile surfaced on Mulder’s face and he agreed, “Yes, Master.”

Walter closed the distance between them and put his hand at Mulder’s waist, carefully propelling him forward. They walked easily together and even though technically Mulder should be walking behind him, as stated in their rules, Walter wanted to feel him close. He was still shaken by the near miss the day before and enraged that if Doggett hadn’t arrived in time, Mulder would have been raped.

Having taken care of the paperwork on the way in, it was a straight shot to the car and only a short time thereafter that, that they arrived home. After ensconcing Mulder in bed upstairs, despite his protest, Walter made a light supper of soup and crackers. He allowed the other man to feed himself, making himself scarce on the excuse of needing to get some work done.

In reality, Walter found himself staring at the Chain he’d had made up the moment he’d figured out that Mulder wasn’t going to be declared innocent and started the campaign to buy him. It was a thick gold chain that would reflect beautifully against Mulder’s skin, especially when he got tan in the summer. It was plain, without jewels, but the engraving was what made it special to him; ‘Walter’s Fox.’

Sentimental, no doubt, but using Mulder’s first name meant something to him, considering that only Scully and Mulder’s mother were allowed the privilege with impunity. He just wasn’t sure when to bring this up, or how.

He didn’t realize that he wasn’t alone any longer until the floorboards creaked by the door. Walter grimaced to himself at being caught staring at the Chain like some love-sick fool, which, really, he was. Lowering the Chain, he looked at Mulder, who stood uncertainly in the doorframe.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Master,” Mulder whispered.

Walter’s lips twisted and he waved Mulder over. The slave moved stiffly into the room and knelt, looking up at him with something like hope. Raising the Chain into Mulder’s view, he confessed slowly, “I’ve had this for over a month now, I just wasn’t sure when I would give it to you. I know that you know by now, having you as my slave means more to me than just someone to keep house. And honestly, Mulder, if you’d never been convicted, I probably wouldn’t have breathed a word of how I felt for you, what I wanted from you.”

Licking his lips, Mulder asked, “What do you want from me?”

“Everything,” Walter answered simply. “And I’ll give you what you need in return. I won’t lie to you. If you disobey me, or do something to endanger yourself or others, you’ll be punished and it will fit the trespass. All the previous rules are still in effect, though I would like to call you Fox, instead of Slave. I won’t have you unwilling, though. You never have to worry that I’m going to use you against your will. We’ll continue on as we have been, if that’s what you want.”

Mulder stared at the floor for a long minute. “If I want to, to be your slave in every way?”

Walter’s heart beat faster at the question, but he controlled himself, forced himself to reply, “Then you will be. You will be cared for and protected to the best of my ability, and have my love and devotion as well. You’ll have boundaries and rules and a routine that will probably bore you out of your mind at times, but a freedom within those boundaries that I think will surprise you.”

Instead of answering, Mulder simply turned around and offered his bare neck. Walter swallowed against a too-dry throat at the permission and set the Chain around his slave’s throat, locking it into place. He bent forward to kiss the back of Mulder’s neck where the lock rested and felt the small gasp and shiver his action provoked…and smiled. Maybe things would work out for them the way he’d hoped for after all.

“The man who attacked me, he questioned why I didn’t have a Chain and it threw me,” Mulder confessed softly, turning slightly and raising his eyes to meet Walter’s. “I wondered if maybe you really didn’t value me as you’d claimed to, because you hadn’t even Chained me, let alone...”

When Mulder’s voice trailed off, Walter supplied, “Let alone Claimed you?”

Nodding almost reluctantly, Mulder turned the rest of the way around and whispered, “I hate being a slave, I hate it more than you could possible know, but...being your slave...that’s, well, I think I like it. I, I know I do, but I have such a hard time reconciling myself to it. I’ve never, this kind of thing never interested me, you know? I’ve never even been with a man, a strange thing to say at my age, but true, and I sure never thought of myself as, well, submissive, but this...you...”

Walter smiled faintly as Mulder searched for the right words with obvious frustration. Cupping the other man’s face, he suggested, “It fills something inside you that you didn’t know about? It feels good to let me be in charge of you? It’s a relief not to have to worry about getting out of line because you know that I won’t let you, and if you do cross a line, I’ll be there to pull you back in?”

“Does that make me...what does that make me?” Mulder questioned, his frustration growing.

Brushing a thumb over Mulder’s cheek, Walter answered, “Human, Mulder. It makes you human.”

“Well, I feel like it makes me weak,” Mulder muttered, looking away from him.

Thoughtful, Walter questioned, “How long have you been on your own, Mulder? Emotionally speaking.”

Mulder shrugged. “I don’t know. Since Sam’s kidnapping, I guess. We weren’t exactly the Brady’s before that, either.”

“So you think that letting someone take care of you for the first time since you were a boy is weak? And you think I’m arrogant,” Walter observed dryly.

A smile touched Mulder’s lips as he replied, “Just a little, but I see what you mean. And I know that, I do, but I can’t help it, you know? It’s just how I feel.”

Mulder moved to kneel between his legs and rested his hands on Walter’s thighs, looking up at him with as much uncertainty and vulnerability as Walter had ever seen. Covering Mulder’s hands with his own, Walter waited.

There was a long hesitation, then Mulder asked, barely audible, “Can I have everything of you, too?”

Walter pressed his mouth to Mulder’s, kissing him with as much love as he could and giving his heart away in the process. Mulder moaned into it, opening his mouth further, and Walter took the invitation to deepen the kiss. His hands slid down to grip Mulder around the waist and pull him tight as he devoured the man in his arms, hungry for everything being offered. It just about killed him to do it, but Walter ended the kiss and buried his face against Mulder’s throat.

Mulder returned the hug just as tightly and he felt warm lips touch below his ear as the words, “Claim me, Master, please,” were whispered hot in his ear.

Shuddering with the need to do just that, Walter shook his head and pulled back. He kissed Mulder hard and deep, and then said, “Not until you’re recovered. I don’t want you hurt any more than necessary, and you’re already injured.”

“But…”

“No,” Walter interrupted with finality.

Mulder sighed, but acquiesced with, “As you wish, Master.”

Tilting Mulder’s face up, Walter placated, “That’s not to say that we can’t do other things while we wait for you to heal, but not tonight. I think we’re both exhausted and an early night would do us good.”

Mulder smiled at that and started to stand, accepting Walter’s help and leaning against him as they left the office. Walter put his arm around Mulder’s waist, a smile hovered about his own lips as he caught Mulder playing with the new Chain around his neck. They separated at the bed, which Mulder climbed into with a groan, and Walter continued on to the bathroom to get ready for the night.

Settling into the bed beside Mulder, he let the slave find his own position for comfort which wound up being his back to Walter’s front, head on a shoulder, instead of the pillow. Sighing in deep contentment, Walter kissed the back of Mulder’s neck and closed his eyes.

“Master?”

The soft word almost didn’t penetrate Walter’s sleep befuddled brain, He dragged himself back from the edge of dreams and replied, “Yes?”

“Please call me Fox.”

For a long moment, Walter couldn’t move or speak in response, the joy that lit through him was so complete. He gently squeezed his arm around Mulder’s midriff and whispered, “I’d be honored to.”

Mulder sighed deeply and whispered back, “Night, Master.”

“Good night, Fox,” Walter replied, grinning like a loon in the darkness before nuzzling Mulder’s shoulder and closing his eyes again.

Day Nine

The second day at work was better, and worse, than the first. Better because Mulder pretty much knew what to expect and what was expected. They got to the office early, as was Skinner’s habit, and Mulder took his place at his Master’s side with a book. That was the ‘worse’ part, as it was a book about statistics that he was expected to get a good way through, if not finish, by the end of the day. He hated statistics and was tempted to think the assignment was some kind of punishment, except that Skinner had said that he was going to need help with budgeting for new projects.

So he cracked opened the book after settling on the floor and proceeded to take in the utterly mind-numbing world of statistics that he hadn’t visited since college. By the time lunch rolled around, the morning appointments going by in a blur of voices, Mulder was about ready to kill himself by beating the massive book over his own head multiple times.

“How’s it going?” Skinner asked after ordering lunch.

Mulder gave him a look and sighed deeply. He didn’t want to risk his ass with a smart-mouthed answer, which was really the only kind he could give to that particular question.

Laughing softly, Skinner observed, “I think statistics are a good thing for you. Maybe you should read volumes two through four the rest of the week.”

Horrified, Mulder exclaimed, “You wouldn’t!”

Ruffling his hair, Skinner replied, “No, I wouldn’t be that cruel.”

Mulder sighed in relief and asked, “How are you handling the Benton case?”

“By letting Scully and Doggett handle it,” Skinner said pointedly.

Wincing, Mulder explained, “I just meant, are you going to let them qualify if as an X-File? Because it doesn’t really deserve to be.”

Arching an eyebrow at him, Skinner prompted, “Go on.”

“It’s a hoax,” Mulder said, shrugging. “A pretty good one with a lot of people involved, but still a hoax.”

“And you could tell this just from hearing a one-sided conversation?”

“Well, yeah. I know all the tricks, Master.”

Skinner gave him a thoughtful look and picked up the phone. “Agent Scully. I’ve decided that cases other than the Benton one are more deserving of your attention. Yes? Good, I’m glad to hear it. Report in when you get there.”

When he hung up, Mulder asked, “What happened?”

“They’d already decided it was a hoax and moved on to the next case,” Skinner informed him. He paused for a long moment, then motioned for Mulder to come closer. When he did, Skinner placed both hands on Mulder’s shoulders and looked at him earnestly as he said, “I appreciate how difficult it is for you to let this go, but I think Scully worked with you long enough to know when something is a hoax or not, as she just showed us.”

Mulder sighed and agreed, “I know. I know she is, it’s just…hard.”

Kissing his forehead, Skinner echoed, “I know. And you’re doing very well, Fox. I’m proud of you.”

For some reason, hearing that sent a flush of pleasure through him and Mulder straightened up a bit more. He returned Skinner’s smile and just stared at him until Kim buzzed to let them know that lunch had arrived.

Day Thirteen

The next few days passed in a blur of learning and routine for Mulder. He found out that Skinner was as detail-oriented and ruthlessly efficient as he was for a very good reason; all the responsibility heaped down on him. As an agent, Mulder hadn’t ever really put himself in the other man’s shoes. As his slave, Mulder couldn’t help but witness exactly what Skinner went through every day, and it amazed him that Skinner did it so very well.

It was something of a relief to be given work to do, both because it kept him occupied and because it helped his Master. He looked forward to finishing up whatever he was given and seeing the pleased, almost relieved, expression on Skinner’s face, that there was one less thing for him to do. Mulder made sure to do everything right the first time, no matter how mind-numbing or stupid it seemed to him. The point was, after all, to take some of the burden from his Master, not add to it by needing to get his work double-checked.

When they got home in the evenings, Mulder took Skinner’s coat from him, hung it up with his own new one, and went straight into the kitchen to start dinner. He was still working on fairly simple dishes, but could follow directions without trouble and had managed to make a pretty decent pot roast mid-week. Skinner’s pleased and sated look at the end of that meal had been enough to send Mulder’s pulse into overdrive, wondering if that might be close to what his Master looked like after sex.

Something, unfortunately, that he hadn’t yet seen.

Putting his thoughts back into the ironing that he was supposed to finish before bed, Mulder wondered why Skinner had been holding back the whole week. Not that he’d withheld his touches and hugs, no, he’d been just as tactile this week as when Mulder had first before his slave. There just hadn’t been any move to go further than they’d already been. Plenty of delicious kissing and make-out sessions, nominally while Skinner was watching the news, and shoulder and foot massages that left him a limp rag, just no actual sex. Not even any heavy petting, and it was more than a little frustrating.

“You about done?”

The quiet question startled him, but Mulder nodded and smiled over at Skinner with, “Definitely.”

Skinner chuckled and observed, “You’re getting pretty good at that, you know. I almost have starched shirts.”

“Just because some of us didn’t learn the fine art of ironing in the army, doesn’t mean you should mock us,” Mulder retorted. He’d discovered over the last few days that his flippant remarks in private were as looked for as his obedience in public. It was an odd dichotomy, but one with which Mulder was perfectly happy.

“No, that’s true,” Skinner agreed, moving to stand behind him and sliding an arm around Mulder’s waist. “Here, do it like this.”

Therein followed an ironing lesson that Mulder would never forget. Skinner’s voice, warm and low in his ear, gave him tips on how to position the shirt and iron. His hand covered Mulder’s on the iron itself, running the appliance over the white shirt smoothly and without hesitation. His body pressed full-length against Mulder from behind, distracting him with its heat and solidity. By the time the ‘lesson’ was over, Mulder was more than half-hard and knew he’d never look at ironing in quite the same way.

Groaning, he leaned back against Skinner and complained, “You’re really trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

Skinner sucked on the juncture of his throat and shoulder and answered, “Maybe. Come on, time for bed.”

When Mulder was simply left there, the whole thing apparently not affecting Skinner whatsoever, he was about ready to scream and throw a tantrum, if only to get some seriously personal attention from his Master. Then he really remembered what it felt like to get a serious spanking and quickly reconsidered.

Sighing morosely, Mulder turned off and unplugged the iron, hanging up the shirt and then the board before leaving the laundry room. He headed upstairs and was surprised to find Skinner not in the bedroom. Frowning, he walked back downstairs and looked through the rest of the house, but couldn’t find him anywhere. Not being that large of a house, Mulder started to worry that something had happened in the scant time they’d been separated, when his name was called from down the hall.

Mulder turned towards Skinner’s voice to find him coming up from the basement, something in his hands. Relieved, he met his Master halfway and saw that it was a small, wooden box, not unlike the jewelry one he’d organized the week before. “Master?”

Smiling at him, somewhat distant, Skinner said, “Go on and take a shower. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

Though he wanted to ask what was going on, something in the other man’s expression told him it wasn’t the right time. So he simply nodded and headed for the stairs.

“Oh, Fox?”

Looking back, Mulder found an odder expression on his Master’s face and replied, “Yes, Master?”

“Be sure and clean yourself thoroughly.”

Mulder swallowed hard at that, reading something of anticipation in the older man’s face. Was he finally going to be Claimed? Had his Master deemed him healed enough to do so? Or was it going to be ‘regular’ sex? Either way, Mulder’s cock hardened a bit in its own anticipation and he grinned happily before hurrying upstairs to shower.

*  *  *  *

Walter caught the happy look on Mulder’s face before the other turned and practically ran upstairs with no sign that he’d been beaten earlier in the week and grinned in response. He’d been teasing Mulder almost non-stop for the last week and it was easy to see that the other man was eager for things to be taken up a notch or five.

Shaking his head fondly, Walter headed into the office and sat behind his desk, setting the small box on it. It had been a long time since he’d taken it out, a long time since he’d even thought about it, if he was being honest. He opened the box and found the silver ring tarnished from neglect. A bit of regret hit him at that, but he shook it off and took it out of the box, trying on the ring to find that it still fit him perfectly. He opened the polish that he’d found earlier and started cleaning, not stopping until it gleamed and looked new.

Going upstairs, he found Mulder sitting in the middle of the bed, in a meditation. Walter took a long moment to just look at him, soaking in the lean lines of his body and the quiet happiness on his handsome face. He’d been the one to put that look on Mulder and it warmed a place deep within himself that this might have been something Mulder needed, that his slavery wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, even if it had come about in a completely bad way.

He climbed onto the bed and stretched out, watching his slave and holding the ring until Mulder came back to him from wherever it was that he went in his meditation. Finally, almost a half-hour later, Mulder’s eyes blinked open and he instantly looked at Walter. Smiling, Walter greeted, “Welcome back. Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Mulder confirmed, smiling in return. “Sorry about that. I didn’t even realize I’d needed it until I was doing it.”

Gently massaging a nearby thigh, Walter said, “No apology necessary.”

One of Mulder’s hands covered his, but the other reached out to settle on Walter’s bare scalp. “Thank you.”

Holding up the ring, Walter said, “I found this almost ten years ago. It was a couple of years before I was assigned to the X-Files, but something told me that I had to buy it, so I did. Even married to Sharon at the time, I knew that there was someone out there who would be putting this ring on me, to mark me as theirs, in a way that I’d never been hers.”

Mulder took the ring hesitantly and his breath caught when he saw the etching of a tiny, running fox on the inside of the band. His eyes met Walter’s and he said, “You would wear this?”

In answer, Walter held out his left hand and waited. Mulder took the hand, his own trembling, and slid the ring onto the wedding finger, then brought it up to kiss. Walter tugged him down into his arms and held him tight, whispering, “I wanted you to know, to have some sign, that my heart belongs to you as completely as your body belongs to me. I love you, Fox, and nothing is ever going to change that.”

Mulder held on just as tight, face pressed to Walter’s chest and mumbled, “Everything. Everything’s yours, not just my body.”

The words sent a rush of elation through him and Walter didn’t move for a long time, just holding Mulder and feeling his surrender viscerally. When Mulder pulled back, Walter didn’t stop him, just laced their fingers together so he wouldn’t go far. Not that it looked like Mulder was planning to, settling down on top of him as he did with an almost predatory expression. Grinning, Walter prompted, “Something you wanted, Fox?”

Mulder shifted back and forth over Walter’s groin, causing even more blood to rush south, and answered, “Maybe a little something. Can you guess what, Master?”

Rolling his hips up so that his cock rubbed up against Mulder’s ass, he said, “I might.”

“Please, Master, please Claim me tonight,” Mulder pleaded, his fingers tightening on Walter’s.

Walter nodded and tugged him back down for a long, hard kiss, devouring him with intent until Mulder lay limp on him. He rolled them and hovered over Mulder, not breaking the kiss, and ran his hands over the warm skin of his slave’s chest. Tweaking the nipples caused Mulder to gasp into the never-ending kiss, pinching them hard provoked a shudder. He rocked their erections together constantly, pleasure filling him at the contact, and finally broke the kiss to suck his way down the slender torso.

Mulder arched into his bites and kisses, groaning and clutching at Walter’s head as he lingered over the nipples. Taking his time, Walter worked them over, alternating gentle nibbles with hard bites and barely-there licks. When he was finished, both were red and swollen and sensitive to the touch, if Mulder’s begging for him to stop was anything to go by.

Grinning fiercely at how Mulder sagged in relief when he moved on, Walter pulled away altogether to get rid of his clothes, only just remembering that he was still dressed.

“Master?” Mulder asked hazily as he pushed up onto an elbow to look for him.

Yanking his shirt up and off, Walter tossed it onto the floor, appreciating the way Mulder’s eyes narrowed in lust at the sight of him. Shoes and socks were next, and then pants were kicked aside so that he stood before Mulder in boxers that hid very little. Rubbing his hand over his crotch, he asked rhetorically, “You see what you do to me?”

Mulder stretched over the bed so that he was level with the erection and replied, “Let me take care of you, Master, please. I want…”

“What?” Walter prompted.

Licking his lips, Mulder finished hoarsely, “I want to taste you. I want to have you inside me.”

Walter chuckled and reached down to cup his chin as he replied, “Oh you will, Fox, trust me. But you can taste me too, if you like.”

With eager hands, Mulder tugged the boxers carefully down, over the engorged flesh which bounced up to hit Walter’s abs. Shimmying out of the last of his clothes, Walter moved within reach and sighed in relief when Mulder took him in his mouth. It was sloppy and definitely inexpertly done, not helped by the awkward angle, but the enthusiasm more than made up for it, in Walter’s opinion. Just feeling Mulder’s mouth on him, the tongue sliding over and around his cock made him even more desperate to be inside his slave.

Reluctantly pulling free of Mulder, Walter ordered, “On your stomach, my slave, I have need of you.”

Shuddering with his own need, and looking just a little fearful, Mulder rolled so that he was draped over the pillows at the head of the bed and then spread his legs in blatant invitation.

Walter had to grip and twist his cock painfully so that he didn’t come on the spot at the sight. He climbed back on the bed and settled between Mulder’s legs. Gripping the ass in both hands, he squeezed and massaged it for a few minutes, loving the feel of it in his hands, and then lay down.

“What are you…” Mulder started to ask and then gasped when Walter’s tongue licked a broad swath between his cheeks. “Oh shit!”

Grinning again, Walter licked lightly around the hole, rimming Mulder almost delicately, and causing the other man to squirm at the sensation. This was the only lube allowed in a proper Claiming and even though he knew it wouldn’t be enough, given Mulder’s virginal status with men, Walter wanted to make it as painless as possible. He stayed there for several minutes, loosening Mulder up with his tongue and feasting on him to his heart’s delight.

By the time he lined up his cock, Mulder was incoherent and pushing back against him. Gripping the hips firmly in one hand, Walter forced the head of his shaft into the tight hole with a grunt of effort. All the relaxation in Mulder’s body vanished, accompanied by a cry of pain at the intrusion. Walter paused and ordered, “Relax, Fox, as much as you can.”

Mulder nodded, panting heavily, and Walter pushed the rest of the way inside his slave, barely keeping himself in check as he watched his cock sink into the untouched flesh. Mulder was visibly shaking when Walter had mounted him completely, his hands clutching the headboard. Taking a few minutes to let him get used to the violation, Walter soothed Mulder with gentle caresses and kisses on his back and shoulders. Releasing a long, shaky breath, Mulder finally nodded and said, “I’m okay, Master, please, Claim me.”

Groaning at the permission, Walter pulled almost all the way out and thrust back in hard, his balls slapping beneath Mulder’s ass. The tight friction was better than anything he’d had in a long time, and knowing it was Mulder beneath him, Mulder who bore his Claiming with muffled cries and bravery, made it even better. Love filled his heart even more than before and soon, he was rutting heavily in and out of his slave’s body, drawing closer to orgasm.

He paused long enough to pull Mulder onto his hands and knees and reached below to encircle the other man’s cock. Gratified to find it half-hard, despite the obvious pain, Walter stroked the shaft, finding a rhythm that caused Mulder to groan in pleasure. That taken care of, he shifted the angle of his thrusts until a loud cry of ecstasy was wrung from his slave. A fiercely triumphant grin exploded onto his face and Walter kept up the stroking and stimulation of Mulder’s prostate, wanting them to come together.

It was a whirl of flesh to flesh, pants and groans, hitched words of need and love escaping, and all too soon, Walter felt himself tense in the moment before orgasm. Humping rapidly into the now more-than-willing body beneath him, Walter speared Mulder in one last thrust and came, filling him to overflowing. That pushed Mulder over the edge and he came as well, clamping down hard on Walter’s cock and wringing more seed from him in another, minor orgasm.

Thoroughly spent, Walter dropped them to their sides, hooking a leg over Mulder to keep them plastered together, wanting to be as close as possible, for as long as possible. Kissing every bit of skin that he could, Walter murmured, “I love you Fox, Gods above, I love you so much.”

Mulder’s hands tightened on the arms around his chest and he replied, just as breathless, “I love you, Master.”

It was a long time before Walter’s heart slowed so that it didn’t feel like a freight train in his chest, and he held tight to the precious man in his arms the whole while. Gentle kisses rained down over the bruises and bites in mute apology. His hands found and laced with Mulder’s and he heard his slave sigh deeply before drifting into sleep to become so much deadweight in Walter’s arms.

In the darkness, feeling the warm, vibrant man in his arms, Walter knew that his life was complete. That this unwilling slave had become willing because of him, to mold himself to Walter’s heart and life, kept him awake with both ecstasy and fear. It was a tightrope that he would walk gladly for the rest of his life, giving as much of himself as he possibly could in some sort of reparation for the freedom stolen away from Mulder. It was more than he’d ever given anyone, since his heart had been destroyed in Vietnam.

Walter nuzzled the still damp back of Mulder’s neck and closed his eyes, contentment and lassitude having their way with him despite the whirl of thoughts. He was simply too sated from their physical joining, to stay awake. Kissing Mulder’s ear, he murmured, “My slave, Fox, my willing slave. You’ll never know how much that means to me.”