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Calendar Guy: July by rac

Calendar Guy: July
by rac / May 1999
Rating: NC-17, m/m sex
Spoilers? LOL
Archive: yes (please let me know where, thanks :-)
Summary: A July 4th vacation uncovers more than Mulder expects
Feedback-- yes! Brown-nosing or other kinds of communiques to :-)
Author's Notes: I forget who started this, but I cheerfully toast her anyway. The original idea was a fantasy calendar of Walter shots--and we actually pondered whether MP's fan club could chivvy him to make one for about 5 minutes...but when we scrapped that idea, it became clear we'd just have to make one ourselves. Ha. Then it became further clear we'd have to write the stories to explain the shots.... Dedicated to all those writers who've given me damp WS moments over the years.
If you'd like to read this enhanced by, er, visual aids... please go to the Requited site (and don't forget to read the other months!) http://enook.net/hl/rac/rac.htm


Calendar Guy: July
by rac

"You're an obsessive, crazy man, Walter. It's got to be at least 95 degrees out here, and that's in the shade. Not to mention the 95% humidity."

"Your butt's on a seat, it's not like you're running. A nice breeze cools you off the faster you go...what's the problem?"

Mulder watched from his newly acquired seat on the porch of their beach front condo as Walter downed half a liter bottle of water. His neck stretched upward, his throat muscles working hard. The man didn't seem to often go about doing anything the easy way.

"Oh, I dunno...could be that I'm sweating like a stuck pig, and I could think of a few other things we could be doing on a swelteringly hot day at the beach. We could've stayed home and biked, instead of driving three hours to Ocean City." A stray ocean breeze puffed its way through the mid-afternoon humid haze, stirring Mulder's hair where it plastered wetly against his head.

"Sweating like a stuck pig," Walter grunted and lowered the bottle, setting it aside as he yanked his drenched tank top over his head. "I would've thought you'd been on the hot seat so many times, Mulder, that this felt familiar to you."

A white, wicked grin flashed his way, and Mulder grimaced. "Very funny...are you saying I sweat like a pig when you're reaming me out?"

Eyebrows rose and the grin got wider in response.

"Let me rephrase that," Mulder hurried to say before the other man had a chance. " 'Sweat like a pig in your office when I've been put in the hot seat.' Unfairly, as usual," he hastened to add.

Walter's Orioles ballcap plopped on the bike seat and the tank was draped over the handlebars. "I've seen you sweat it out before, Mulder. No matter how cool you wanted to be." A small towel appeared and Walter rubbed it all over his head, down his neck and over his face. "And it was never unfairly, and you know that. At least, when it was only me." The sunglasses turned Mulder's way as Walter stared at him. "You do know that anything I've done had a greater purpose. Lose the battle but win the war. Some of those battles were yours, and I sacrificed them for your own sake."

Mulder frowned, hating to be reminded of such moments, but he knew Walter was being honest. And, in the long run, most likely right.

Maybe.

"Yeah," he agreed huskily. "Yeah, I know. It's okay, Walter." He reached out a hand and ran it soothingly down Walter's leg, the crinkle of hair tickling his palm, moisture slicking the way. His thoughts willingly turned speculative. "You sure you want to go the other way on the bikes now? We're here...the ocean's calling. Listen to it," Mulder cajoled from his seat on the steps.

The surf was very calm this afternoon; no ocean storms kicking up the waves, just miles and miles of a mid-summer high pressure system blanketing the region in hot, cloudless, sunny weather. Even the seagulls, normally loud and raucous as they fought over tourist's scraps, seemed lethargic and mainly quiet this afternoon.

"How about you wait for me while I do the boardwalk in the other direction? It shouldn't take me more than a half-hour." The ballcap went back on his head, but the tank top was chucked up on the porch, discarded. Walter stood on the walk in his Nikes and white socks, and skin-tight black bike shorts, faintly streaked darker where sweat had wet the fabric.

Mulder blinked, frowning again as he tried to remember. "You wearing anything under those shorts?"

A bland, blank expression was aided by the sunglasses shielding Walter's eyes. "A little hot to be wearing layers, isn't it, Fox?" A leg went smoothly over the center bar and he kicked off, his bike catching into gear. "See you in a bit, lazy."

Mulder watched him as he rode down the boardwalk, fairly crowded on this upcoming holiday week. They'd never have gotten a place to stay if not for the fact Walter owned time-share in the resort. Mulder had kidded him no end when he'd found out about that.

"Time share, Walter? Time-share? You've got to be kidding."

"Look," Walter had grumbled, "it works for me. It's not just here in Ocean City, there's resorts around the world I can trade for. Wouldn't you like to go to Mexico, or Rio on the spur of the moment?"

Mulder had shut up at that, having to accede to Walter's better assessment of the situation. "So this is your original time-share week, July fourth week?"

"Yeah, it's prime here, so I have access to any other prime time slot in any other resort. Most years I've simply rented it out, made some money."

"Let's go out of the country next year," Mulder had grinned and curled around his big guy as they'd sat together on the sofa.

Of course, that had sounded reasonable to Walter.

Mulder now hiked himself up from the porch and went into the condo. He took a quick shower and fixed himself a large glass of iced tea, fixing another and keeping it in the fridge for Walter when he returned, no doubt dehydrated and exhausted by the bike ride.

Finally, wearing a modest pair of swim trunks, he wandered back out front, surprised to spot Walter returned already. He was standing over by the walkway that went through the building to the interior and the pool, his bike standing off to one side. A cold water shower head stood sentinel, waiting for all beach-goers to use before hitting the pool, designed so most of the sand would stay on the beach side and not clog up the filter system in the pool.

While Mulder watched, Walter divested himself of his shoes, socks, ballcap and sunglasses, stacking them neatly by the bike. A grin creased Mulder's face; Walter was such a damn Marine. Then he immediately thought of Walter's very thorough and systematic way of approaching some other things in life, and shivered, quite content with the man's tendencies.

With no fanfare, Walter stood under the oversized shower head and pulled the chain. A sluggish cascade of water squirted out, and Walter jerked slightly as the water, first hot from sitting in the warm pipes, then turning comparatively cold, drenched him. It caused his chest hair to mat down, darkened the light dusting of hair on his legs...and darkened and soaked his bike shorts. Tight to begin with, now, drenched as they were, they were nigh on invisible. Mulder could see with exact accuracy what he was wearing underneath, and it seemed to be a jock. But Mulder couldn't exactly recall Walter putting on a jock strap earlier--

Mulder nearly dropped his tea as Walter casually reached up and began prying the bike shorts down over his hips. "Walter?" he called out instinctively, gaping at the man smiling over at him. What the fuck--?

The sopping spandex finally peeled away and Walter was left standing there, nearly nude. Nearly. Might as well be, Mulder thought to himself, wordless as he contemplated his staid, conservative superior and lover.

He stood wearing the most provocative, tiny, black thong bathing suit Mulder had ever had the privilege--and believe me, Mulder thought to himself, it was a privilege-- to see on a male body.

Mulder knew his jaw was hanging down around his knees, knew also there wasn't a thing he could do about it at the moment. He was completely blind-sided, stunned. Not to mention swamped with paralyzing lust.

The water continued to run as Walter pulled the chain again, now with his bike shorts hanging dripping from the handlebars. Water cascaded over miles--it seemed like miles, Mulder thought--of muscled tanned skin, down over two of the most perfect globes of glutes Mulder had ever seen, especially in public.

"Walter." Finally, he could talk again.

"Hmm?"

The man acted like he was lazing around in his own shower, taking all day to wet down. Lust had hardened Mulder's own anatomy until it was painful. With jerky movements, he hopped down from the porch and walked over to the bike and clothing. Grabbing all the clothing, he blinked once at Walter, leaning in and talking softly near his ear.

"So you're into public displays, huh. Unless you want a public display of male sex on the boardwalk, I'd hurry up and get that gorgeous ass of yours inside our condo. Now."

Mulder saw white teeth grinning as he pulled back, brown eyes tracking down to where Mulder's own swimsuit was straining against its seams. Taking Walter's things, he retreated back to the condo, closing the tinted sliding doors behind him.

He dumped the shoes and things on a table, waiting. It wasn't long before the bike was wheeled to stand beside Mulder's on the porch, and the sliding doors squeaked back and closed.

Walter stood dripping on the carpet, unrepentant and aroused.

Mulder grabbed his wrist, pulling him toward the bedroom. "I don't have a clue what's gotten into you today--"

"You, I hope," Walter laughed.

Damn. Mulder yanked the brawnier man to the bed, where he toppled willingly. The wet thong came off in five seconds, Mulder's suit in another five. The bedside table yielded the lube and a condom, and within a few minutes, Mulder had made Walter's wish come true.

"That what you wanted?" Mulder stretched out over the damp, hot skin beneath him, trying hard to make it last, to not bury himself violently over and over in the tightness surrounding him.

"Yeah," Walter growled, "yeah." He pushed back, making Mulder gasp.

"Hold on, dammit, I'm trying to take it slow here." When his partner didn't listen to him, Mulder grabbed hold of both wrists and yanked them back behind Walter's back, securing them in one hand. "I can see a disobedient boss needs to be reamed out occasionally, too."

Before he thought about it, Mulder's hand descended on Walter's beautiful butt, leaving a red hand print. Then another, and another. By the time he was done, they were both heaving as powerful orgasms swept through them, leaving them shivering as Mulder clung to Walter's back with arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Jesus." Mulder lay sprawled bonelessly over Walter's body, knowing he wasn't any lightweight, but not able to find the energy needed to roll himself off, much less remove himself carefully and discard the condom. "I can't believe you wore a thong in public. I can't believe you even *own* a thong."

Muscles stretched and rolled around beneath Mulder as Walter stirred. "Seems I got my money's worth out of it. I think you have hidden administrative abilities, Fox, no matter what the others may think." Walter chuckled, and Mulder snorted into his neck.

Reluctantly, Mulder stirred, taking care of the used condom and grabbing a towel to wipe off his partner and the sheets. They curled up on the dry side of the king bed, naked and lazy in the afternoon gloom of shuttered blinds.

"What are we going to do tonight?" Walter mumbled with his eyes closed. "Hit the amusement parks? The water slide? I can wear the thong again..."

Mulder started laughing, an image of Walter skimming down the large water slide in a scrap of material no larger than the palm of his hand branded onto his brain. He could feel incipient stirrings in his groin. Walter had found his "on" button, it seemed.

"Okay," he agreed, laughing. "But if they arrest us for indecent public display, it's all your fault."

Mulder wondered what other surprises Walter had in store for him during the week. It seemed they'd celebrate July 4th this year with a real bang.

--the end of unbridled silliness--

Original Fantasy Calendar Image:

Walter in Nikes and black spandex bike shorts and nothing else, his bike standing in the background. He's all sweaty and he's cooling down by dumping a container of water over himself. An expression of ecstacy is on his face, his eyes closed as his head is tilted upward.

-- --
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"The test of literature is, I suppose, whether we ourselves live more intensely for the reading of it."
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