Welcome back to the 21 Day Plan universe, just for this one day, a snippet in honor of Bertina's and Diandra's birthdays. For Bertina, there's hot sex. For Diandra, of course, some mild DoggettTorture and lovin' MulderComfort. Disclaimer: I've never done this before, said the woman, as the credit card machine fell out of her purse. Urm. I mean, no Mulders were harmed in the creation of this story, nor was a dime made on my part. Rating: NC-17 archiving: not really archive worthy if you ask me. Just a snippet, not a real story at all. A Fictional Birthday I hadn't wanted to put a whirlpool tub this big in the new bathroom, but Fox insisted. It wasn't nearly as big as the one in that hotel room in Cedarburg, but it was longer and deeper than a standard tub by far and two tall men could easily fit into it. We'd lucked out, got a good deal on a floor model. I'd still been doubtful and ready to walk away from it, but then Fox threatened to go out and buy a bigger tub without consulting me. Okay. So we got the tub. There are few things Fox doesn't get his way on. The bathroom was a few finishing touches short of being done, one of which I was working on right now. All the major jobs were done, and thank God Walt has a good hand at the plumbing, because I'd never have been able to handle it all by myself. Call me paranoid, but I don't trust strangers coming into my house and working on it. Especially not permanent kind of work where they can get into the walls of the house. I'd heard enough stories from Fox. I don't think that there's anyone out there who'd care enough to bug the bathroom of two middle-aged guys, but I wasn't taking chances. So, we built the bathroom and the rest of the basement conversion ourselves. We needed the room, what with Walt and Jilly settled in seemingly for good, and the two boys living with us full time, and then Billy still splitting his breaks between Scully and us. It was a regular zoo around here. Fox and I had decided we needed a little retreat from the chaos, so a nice bathroom was in order. Plus, though we'd originally intended for there to be two offices and a rec room down here, we ended up setting it up as one master suite, one bedroom for Jack and Mulder's office. Jack just wasn't ready to be on a separate floor from us. We were back in the basement again, though I had to say that this was far better than our days in the damp, musty office of the X-files ever had been. Right now, bless Walt and Jilly, Jack was out for a good several hours, being taken to the zoo, then to the movies, then shopping. For as long as he could stand it. Charlie was off at Scully's house for the weekend. We had the house to ourselves for a few hours in celebration of Fox's fictional birthday, the one on the papers for his new identity. Tomorrow we'd have the family party, but this afternoon was just for us. I just wanted to get a few of the finishing touches done before we gave the tub its virgin soaking and christened it another way. The bathroom was beautiful, if I do say so myself. Those little white, hexagon tiles covered the floor and the walls up to chest high. I'd let Jilly pick the paint color above them, and she'd picked a grayish brown she'd called taupe. Women. Only women called a perfectly normal purple "aubergine". There was a huge mirror and dual sinks, so two guys could shave together in the morning. All that was missing were the pictures that Fox wanted to put up. He insisted on prints of all of the classic shots of the supposed Loch Ness Monster and other suspected sea serpents. I know. But what Fox wanted, most of the time, Fox got. I'd laid them out and marked positions on the wall. Personally, I'd have preferred not to put nail holes at all in the perfect expanses of wallboard. As it was, I was only going to put in one hole per picture. I had the hammer poised exactly over the nail, ready to drive it in just so. Just then, Fox walked into the bathroom and called out, "John!" Distracted at just the wrong moment, the hammer went down with a crash. Right on my thumb. I howled. I swear I saw stars. I dropped the hammer. Right on my pinkie toe. I know. It's stupid beyond belief to use tools of any kind without shoes on. I should know better. I was just going to hang a few pictures, no chance of injury, right? And I probably should have taken the time to go in search of the finish hammer rather than just using the first hammer I came across, the big framing hammer, weighing in at a good several ounces heavier than the finish hammer. Thumb in my mouth, I hopped around the bathroom on one foot, the other cradled in my uninjured hand. It was so classically slapstick that it would have been hysterically funny if it didn't hurt so damn much. Thankfully, Fox took charge of the situation, and I was almost grateful, even though one way of looking at it said it was all his fault, startling me like that. "Okay, tough guy," he said as he made me sit down on the toilet, lid down. "Let's get a look and see how bad that really is." I like to think of myself as the in-charge one, the core without which the household would collapse. But honestly, Fox is just as capable as I am. And given to great tenderness at times. Like now, he gently pried my thumb out of my mouth and looked at it closely. "Not as bad as I feared," Fox said. The nail was already changing color. It was throbbing. "A bit of ice to stop the swelling and you'll be fine. Let's look at that toe." He examined my foot and frowned. "You might have broken the toe, but all a doctor is going to do is tape it. You can call Scully and ask if you want a second opinion. But Doctor Fox says ice all around and off your feet for you, young man." He set me up with the cold water from one of faucets running over my thumb while he went upstairs to get some ice, leaving me to contemplate my own stupidity and the row of Loch Ness monster pictues on the tile, staring at me accusingly. In short order, Fox returned with two plastic bags of ice wrapped in kitchen towels. He made me lie down on our bed with one bag on my thumb, one on my foot. He slipped me three ibuprofens and a glass of water to swallow them with. It took him about fifteen minutes of puttering, which included hanging his damn Loch Ness monster pictures to notice my moodiness. It took him three tries to get one of the pictures just perfect, even though I'd marked the spot for the nail, measured out to a sixteenth of an inch. He's a perfectionist in his own way, which is a very different way than mine. Pictures hung to his satisfaction, he sprawled on the bed next to me. "What's up, guy? It's not like you to sulk." "What the hell did you want, anyway?" "I saw one of those millipede things and I thought you'd get a kick out of being the big man and killing it for me. You know they gross me out. I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were busy." Then he kissed me to make it all better. I wasn't really angry with him. When he let me up to breathe, I told him so, then added, "I just wanted to make everything perfect for your birthday. Then I wanted to, you know, christen the tub. Can't do that with a stupid icebag on my foot and hand. You know how hard you are to buy for. I thought I could give you this perfect birthday." "You know it's not really my birthday," Fox said. "Anyway, I don't need anything for my birthday. You've given me everything I've ever wanted. You spoil me and make things perfect for me all the time. I've got an amazing family with two beautiful children. I've got a great house that you've worked so hard at making even better. I don't need a perfect day because my life is perfect for me." "You're just trying to make me feel better," I said. "Flattery gets you nowhere with me." Cuddling, which was his unspoken, but already in force, plan B, would get him anywhere, anywhere at all with me. It was nice, even though it wasn't sex, to get some uninterupted quality time with my guy, just playing with his hair with my uninjured hand. He was getting steadily grayer at a rapid rate. Before long, his hair would be pure white, I thought. He played with my nipples and stroked one of his long legs up and down my legs, pretty much anything to distract me from my still aching extremities. Slowly, the medication, ice and Fox cuddles worked their magic, and I didn't hurt anywhere near as much as I had. Actually, I'd say, all things considered, despite some residual throbbing, I felt good. A couple hours later, when he judged that I was sufficiently distracted, he asked, "So, just what were planning to do to me in that tub of ours." "Oh, just the usual. Make this ass mine," I said, reaching down and patting the ass in question. "Oh, you think you could, huh?" Mulder said, a wicked glimmer in his eye. "You know I can," I said, trying for sweetly assured dominance. "Wrong answer, guy," Mulder said, his caress was now possessive. He shifted his weight suddenly so that instead of just his leg resting on me, his whole body was lying lengthwise on me. "It's my birthday. For my present, the only thing I want is this sweet ass of yours. And you on your back, your legs wrapped around my waist." "I thought you said it wasn't really your birthday." "It's close enough. There's no point in protesting, Mr. Doggett, because I can feel right here that you want to give it up as badly as I want to take it. Unless you've started carrying a flashlight in your shorts. So, if you're not in too much pain, I suggest you get with the program." "No, no flashlights here," I said, not able to help the little smile on my face. "Unless you've got one on you." He responded by kissing me and parting my legs with one of his knees. Thrusting with his hips, he rubbed our cocks against each other. It was frustrating, with fabric straining to keep us apart, though a delicious kind of frustration. He had me panting and grabbing at any part of him I could get at. My right hand was pretty much out of commision, but my left was roving, insinuating itself under the waistband of his shorts, feeling the soft skin of his ass, the hair in his ass crack. He rolled off me suddenly and I protested the loss of his mouth on mine. Until my shorts were pulled down and his luscious mouth descended on my cock, engulfing me completely in one smooth motion. The man sucks cock like a demon. Or an angel. I was turned on already, but once he started in on my cock, I was flying. He spread my legs and I felt a cold, slick, lube-coated finger invade me. Well, I suppose you can't really invade someone who's inviting you in. I squirmed and not just let him in, but tried to get more and more. He found the magic button inside me and traced his finger over it gently, nearly sending me to the ceiling. I was pretty good at topping Fox, but the man was just a master when it came to topping me. He knew my every little spot, every trick in my book. My hurting thumb and toe were forgotten completely under the sensual assault from Fox. We'd been having intercourse a lot more recently, and mostly Fox topping me, so it wasn't that long before I was ready for him. No, begging for him. I'm sure if anyone else were to ever see me begging to be fucked, they'd have thought it was pretty funny. I do not beg. Except to Fox. There was a tear of a foil wrapper. He handed the unwrapped condom to me. "Put it on me," he said. I knew what he wanted, a little trick he'd taught me once. I put the condom in my mouth, positioning it just so. Then I took his cock into my mouth. If you do it right, the condom unrolls over the cock as you deepthroat the guy. I'd never been able to take Fox into my mouth deep enough to unroll the condom all the way. But right now, like always, Fox didn't care as I continued to unroll it with my left hand. I thought he'd want me to suck him a while longer, but no, he lifted my head off his cock and pushed me back onto the bed. True to his word, Fox had me on my back, my legs around his waist in very short order. I was rock hard and on the verge of coming almost immediately. I looked into his eyes. They were green with only a hint of brown at the moment and the look of lust in those green eyes was so obvious, so sweet, that I gasped and, if possible, my cock got stiffer. His thrusts were hard and deep. If he kept on this intense, he'd be coming in minutes. Part of me wanted to stop him, to slow him down, make this last longer. But another part would regret it being over, but still demanded that he keep up the pace, even if it meant it'd be over soon. "It's okay, guy," he told me. "Let it go. Give it up to me. You know exactly what I want. Give it up to me." Balancing on one hand, he reached between us and stroked my cock hard a few times. Just shifting positions increased some internal stimulation and even without the hand, I would have come. I spilled my semen just moments before he did. He shuddered on top of me as he came, then immediately buried his face in the side of my neck. He hugged me tightly and then let me go. "I love you, guy," he said. "I meant what I said earlier. About my life being perfect for me." Fox seemed inclined to pull out of me and leave the bed, presumably to get a cloth to clean us up with. Screw that. It could wait. I'd rather be sticky with a Fox in my arms, than clean with empty arms. And I always liked the feeling of still being penetrated after we were done fucking. He was slowly getting soft though, so I let him pull out, but I kept him close to me, relishing the heaviness of his body on top of mine, the solidness of him. The comfortable way I knew every inch of his skin. My fingers roved over the skin of his back, feeling for all the usual scars and bumps. I found them all and nothing new. It was a good feeling, being with Fox like this and I hardly cared when my thumb started to throb a little again. "It's perfect for me too," I said, big smile on my face.