Author: WitchQueen
Author e-mail: witchqueen@poboxes.com
Title: If You Can't Take the Heat...
Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: M/Sk
Categories: PWP, Humor
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Implied (but not actual) cannabilism, implied (but not actual) corruption of St. Scully and Girl Scouts, and a very dirty kitchen
Notes: Olivia (I think it was Olivia) said something about Skinner tiredly rubbing everything *except* his balls when Fox pushed him too far, and then I had to run with it.


"Fox," groaned Walter. "Get away from me with that thing."

"But, Walter," he said, rubbing the thing in question along Walter's cheeks, getting them all wet in the process. "You said you liked doing it."

"I don't want you to touch me with that anymore. We've been at this for five hours, Fox, and I'm tired."

"But I'm not."

"Fox, you're incorrigible, and I'm going to take a nap."

"But we're almost finished, Walter!" His whole body shook with indignation, and he sprayed white droplets all over the kitchen.

"And you can finish alone, Fox." He went to the freezer and removed one of his balls. "I understand how important Scully is to you, and how important this is to her, but I don't see why you signed me up for all of this long, hot work. Yes, I enjoy this in small doses, but not enough to do it for 25 Girl Scouts and their adoring parents." He rubbed the ball gently, mindful of its cold but enjoying the powdery crystals formed by its juice. Then he put it in his mouth, sucked, and groaned as the cold hit his back tooth.

"You should have had one of my balls, Walter."

He spit the offending pile of frozen mush into his hand. "But your balls are warm, mushy, and disgusting. I told you to put them in the refrigerator three hours ago."

"I wanted to eat them as we went along. That's why I started out making a third again as many balls as you did." Fox's eyes lit up as his lover bent over to throw his partially defrosted ball in the compost. "You know, Walter, maybe we have been at this too long." He put his hand on Walter's very firm ass and squeezed.

Walter jumped up to face him. "You goosed me!"

"I did. And now I'm going to lick you." And Fox licked up all of the cookie icing he had carelessly splattered on his lover's face earlier. "Maybe we should take a nap," he said in a warm, rich tone, very nearly a purr. He took his lover's hand and placed it on his crotch. "You could see if these balls are as mushy as the melon balls you rejected."

"But, Fox, the kitchen is a mess. Why, oh, why did you volunteer us to produce the desserts for Scully's troop banquet? And why did I agree?"

Fox once again put his hand on his lover's ass, but this time the effect was to move their lower halves closer together. "I believe there was some talk of a reward. Do you really want to wait until after we've cleaned the kitchen to get to it?" He emphasized his argument with a lick underneath Walter's right ear, an extremely erogenous patch of skin on the hard, muscled body.

"We could do before and after, baby, you think?" This in a breathy, high-pitched voice none of his colleagues at the FBI would have recognized.

Suddenly, a ding rang out from above the oven, reminding them about the very last batch of cookies. Fox grinned. "Done."