"Shut the fuck up!" he yelled.

"Hold me like you held him."

"Shut up!!"

"Let me kiss you like..." With a wrench and howl, Doggett pulled his hand free and staggered away. He stumbled a couple of steps away, hands over his ears, trying to block out anything else. Shit! Shit! Shit!

"Agent Doggett!" He heard that. Mulder shouting. He wasn't going to turn round. No way. No fucking way. Breathe. Calm down.

"Agent Doggett." Scully touched his back.

Doggett jumped. Shit. He was a nervous as a... Shit. He was going to think, as a virgin in a prison yard, but all things being equal, his mind shied away from that particular analogy. His hands fell from his head. They felt a bit stupid pinned up there, anyway. Looked as if he was hiding his taxi-door ears, like some kid.

"Agent..." she paused. "John."

She'd never called him that before. Her hand was moving in little circles on his back. He knew his tee-shirt was wringing wet, and it probably felt horrible under her hand, but she was doing it anyway. Trying to make him feel better. Doggett sighed and looked up. "I'm all sweaty," he apologised.

"Doesn't matter." She stared at him. Her blue eyes were looking straight at him, daring him to stare back. "Are you going to be okay?"

Not are you okay? She could probably guess he wasn't okay. He had to give her points for that. He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. I guess."

"Good."

They smiled a little at each other. He appreciated her blunt approach. No B.S.

"If you need anything..."

He shrugged. "Nothin' a damn good shower and sleep won't put right, Agent Scully." He gave her the Doggett-patent grin, hoping she'd believe the lie. He didn't think he could go into any details right now. Actually, most of the details about tonight, but that was another matter.

"Right." Scully waved over to Mulder. "Let's get you a ride home. You can write up the report tomorrow and file it on Monday."

Mulder jogged over to them. "Yeah?"

"Agent Doggett needs a ride home. Can you grab one of the Bureau cars?"

Mulder looked from one to the other, the finer points of the evening just oozing from his curiosity-bag. "Okay," he said, turning and striding away, his compliance with Scully amazing Doggett.

He waved his hand after the retreating back. "How'd you do that, Agent Scully?"

She just smiled one of those Scully-smiles and took her hand from the small of his back. "Trade secret, Agent Doggett." They moved towards the road. Both ambulances pulled away through the confusion.

"Thanks," he said, not elaborating.

Scully turned and nodded. "No problem." She glanced sideways. "Did you spot your back up?"

Doggett's stomach dropped into a bucket of ice. "Back up?"

Scully smiled. "Our unofficial, undercover back up."

He had two, maybe three heartbeats to decide what to say. Yes, he saw Skinner. Or no, he didn't see him. Even yes, I saw him and spoke to him. There was even - yes, thank you, I saw him, and he dances like a champ, and kisses even better. No maybe not. He'd hate to see her drop that kid on the alley floor. Decision, decisions. They reached a car with its door open. Mulder was giving the driver instructions.

"I saw him." He turned to look at his partner. Was it dark enough to hide his taxi-doors turning red?

"Kind of hard to miss, isn't he?"

He grinned. "Kinda." Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck. He was suddenly so tired he didn't know what to do with himself. It felt as if someone had put him through an industrial wringer. A yawn took him by surprise.

Scully chuckled. "Get some rest, Agent Doggett."

He nodded. "I intend to sleep for a week, Agent Scully."

She laughed. "So, I'll check up on you around lunchtime, then?"

He grinned. "That'd be good." He climbed into the back of the car and sagged. Scully slammed the door, and the driver took off. Turning to raise a hand, he watched the other two agents standing in the wet alley, watching him leave. He wondered what they would say about tonight in their reports. And what they would be saying to each other about it. About him.

As the car sped through the night towards Falls Church, Doggett decided he was just too damned tired to care much. Maybe he'd care again tomorrow, maybe it wouldn't be so complicated after a good night's sleep. Oh, yeah. And a shower.

The car pulling up woke him. Home. He peeled his damp shirt from the leather seats with a face and climbed out. "Thanks," he said to the driver, and reached for his key. God, he needed that shower.

The car sped off. Obviously just been on a training course about defensive driving. Doggett smiled to himself, as the car took the corner on two wheels. He turned and slipped the key in the door. Habit forced him to scan the street before opening up.

There was a car on the verge across from his house. The detective in him gave it the once-over. Make, model, registra.... Damn. He knew that car. Knew who owned it. He narrowed his eyes and looked through the windshield. The figure raised a hand. Skinner.

Swallowing, sudden nervousness chasing away tired thoughts, Doggett held up a hand in return. He watched Skinner climb out of his car. This was nuts. He was acting crazy. He ought to wash up, get into bed and go straight to sleep. That's what he ought to do. He watched Skinner's large body jogging across the road. Shit. What the hell. Maybe it'd be kinda nice to have some company, for a change. His cock jumped in his pants, remembering the kiss on the dance floor.

Skinner reached his front step. He hesitated, questioning. Doggett pushed the door open wide. He was intrigued to find he didn't have a problem with inviting this man into his house. "You comin' in?"

Skinner grinned. "Sure?"

"You bet." As he kicked the door shut behind them, Doggett brought his hand up to the wide chest in front of him, while Skinner put his mouth over his. He licked the warm lips, strangely satisfied to feel the mouth open up to accept his tongue.

What d'you know? Seems you can teach an old dog new tricks. Wonders would never cease. You'd be proud of me, Rudy, he thought, as he kissed Skinner with enthusiasm. "What d'you want?" he asked, opening the fridge. He peered in. If he remembered, there was a six-pack of Bud stuffed in at the back.

"Whatever you got."

The reply made Doggett jump. Skinner was standing right behind him. "Must you creep up, like that?" he grouched, smiling. "I still haven't gotten over gettin' my ass grabbed all to hell and back."

Skinner laughed. "Occupational hazard of having a tight butt, Agent Doggett," he said, patting said butt.

"Yeah, well. It's a bruised butt, tonight, thank you." He grabbed two beers and slammed the fridge. "Here." He wandered through to the lounge. "I need to sit down."

Skinner followed, swigging from the neck of his beer. "I thought your ass was painful."

"Yeah, well. My feet feel worse." He threw himself down on the couch. With a groan, he leaned forward and pulled at his laces.

"Here." Skinner kneeled down in front of him. "Let me."

Doggett frowned. "You don't have to do that."

Skinner put his beer down and pulled a foot into his lap. "I know."

"Really..." He reached for his foot, only to get his hand batted away.

"I know."

"You say that a lot."

Skinner looked up, a grin on his face. "Yeah. I kn..."

"Know?" Doggett finished for him, laughing. "You're nuts. You know that?" The boot slid off and Doggett groaned, his head falling back. "Oh, man. That is soooo good."

The other boot followed, and Doggett lay in utter bliss as his socked feet were rubbed back to life. "Shit, you can do that forever."

"You'd get bored."

"I could keep you in the closet and drag you out to rub my feet every day." The hands on his feet paused, and Doggett looked up.

"The closet?"

The two men stared at each other, then burst out laughing.

"Oh, God... I'm sorry, Skinner," Doggett gasped. "I didn't mean that like it sounded."

"I should hope not."

Doggett pulled his feet away from the hands and leaned forward. He rested his chin on his knuckles and quietly regarded the man sitting perfectly at ease on his lounge floor. "I had no idea," he said, when he'd finished mapping every line on the other man's face.

Skinner tilted his head, blinking. "About what?"

Doggett shrugged. "You know."

"You mean about you? Or me?"

Pulling in a deep breath, Doggett let it out in a sigh. Talking about 'stuff' was always a bitch. That was half the reason he imagined men and women clashed. Guys just didn't do the talking about 'stuff' thing. And here they were. Two guys. Talking. Or at least trying to. He grunted. "Take your pick. You?" He looked the A.D. up and down, smiling. "Most definitely. And me?" He gave a rueful shake of the head. "I'm still not sure."

A dry cough of laughter. "Oh, that's reassuring."

"No, I'm sorry. I don't know what I mean. I..." Doggett threw up a hand, helplessly. "Look. Up until tonight, I'd never even..."

"I can imagine."

"Can you?"

Skinner nodded. "Ex-Marine, remember?"

"Yeah, but..."

"No 'buts'. I know."

Doggett's eyebrow lifted in amusement. "You're saying it again."

Skinner smiled back. "I know."

He looked different when he smiled. Younger. Relaxed. Almost... Could you call another guy handsome, Doggett wondered? He put out a finger to touch the A.D.'s cheek. The finger traced down to a cleft chin, then he sighed and dropped his hand. Shit. He could feel his beard.

"What?" Skinner asked.

"Nothing."

"Don't tell me that sigh was nothing." Skinner put his hand on Doggett's knee. "I'm a trained F.B.I. Agent, you know."

Doggett grinned, despite himself. "I know," he replied.

Skinner smirked. "You're doing it, now."

Doggett snorted. "Seems I'm doing a whole bunch of things, now."

"That sounds like regret."

"No."

"Disgust, then?"

Doggett looked up. "God, no." That wasn't it. He wouldn't want Skinner to think that.

"Then what?"

"How about... Confusion?" Doggett offered. That was as good a description as any.

Skinner nodded. "I can deal with that." Getting up off the floor, he moved to sit at the far end of the sofa.

Doggett smiled at that. "I won't scream rape, you know. I'm not that confused." He patted the sofa.

Skinner grinned and moved up. "Promise?" he said

"Cross my heart." He leaned back.

Skinner studied his Bud label. The clock ticked in the kitchen. Both men drank their beer.

"You think I'm gay?" Skinner said at last.

Doggett gagged on a swig of Bud. "What?" he choked out, wiping his chin on his arm.

"You heard."

"Yeah, I heard." He frowned. "What kinda question's that?" Jesus!

Skinner shrugged, looking into the dumb television. "Clear enough, isn't it?"

Doggett sucked the foam from his forearm. Fuck. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Yeah, Boss, I think you're a screaming faggot? He wouldn't be saying that to the larger man in this lifetime. "God, Skinner. Whadd'ya want me to say?"

"Well, are you gay?"

"Jesus Christ, man!" Doggett sat forward again, his beer forgotten.

Turning in his seat, Skinner rested his arm on the back of the sofa and smiled. "The point I'm trying to make, Agent Doggett. Is that I don't care what you think I am." He touched the back of Doggett's neck. "And I couldn't give a flying fuck about what you think you are, either. I've been married." He shrugged at the surprised face Doggett tried to cover. "I don't know if the way I am contributed to the end of it, but for most of the 17 years, it was a good marriage."

Doggett nodded. He could understand and empathise with that. His own marriage had been good, for all but the last bit.

"What I'm trying to say... Is that I think I'm old enough, and ugly enough to be secure in whatever sexuality I care to choose. Therefore I shall do what I like, whenever I like, with whomever I like. And, strangely enough, I like you, John Doggett."

He didn't look drunk, Doggett thought. And he didn't think he was on drugs. Ma Doggett's oldest boy wouldn't be winning any beauty contests soon. If Skinner thought he was anything special, he must be crazy. Only a mother could love a face like this. "You're crazy, you know," he said, shaking his head.

"More than likely."

The hand on Doggett's neck began to stroke sensuously through his short hair. "You say that like you don't care."

Another shrug. "I don't."

"You're tickling me." Doggett told him, squirming his shoulders.

"Tough."

Doggett stared. Skinner just stared back. As he watched, Skinner's tongue came out and ran over his bottom lip, hypnotizing Doggett. What had happened, that he couldn't take his eyes off this man? Did touching him qualify to drag his common sense out and stomp it to death? "How bout you should stop," he suggested helplessly, wondering where he was going with this.

The fingers carried on tickling his hair. "You could try and make me."

A shiver of apprehension ran through Doggett's belly. Ladies and Gentlemen! Here we have it: The Line. The Line will define the rest of his evening, and quite possibly, his life. Stay on this side of it, and they will both drink their beer, until Skinner leaves to go home, no lasting harm done. Cross The Line, and the evening goes someplace he'd never even dreamed of, and he would spend the rest of his life wondering if the whole thing could be excused by alcohol. The Line lay just to Doggett's left, draped across the sofa between the two of them.. His eyes flicked down, half expecting to see a length of yellow and black warning tape lying next to him.

He looked up at Skinner. There was nothing on the other man's face to indicate what was going on inside his head. He wasn't naive enough to miss the fact that Skinner was handing the decision over to him. His choice. It was all up to him.

At his nape, the stroking in the bristly hair had become unbearable. All his nerves seemed to have run to that one spot, to bask in the attention. He leaned his head back. Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight has been brought to you by the letter O, for... Okay.

Wedging his beer down the side of the cushion, Doggett reached across with a hand cold and damp from the bottle, to cup the side of Skinner's face. "Maybe I don't want to stop you," he said, closing the last few inches between them, to put his lips to Skinner's. Doggett felt the word 'Good', echo in his mouth as he leaned in. He didn't intend to give Skinner the opportunity to say anything else. Line crossed, Ladies and Gentlemen, he told himself, working his tongue between Skinner's lips in a slow, sensual slide that jolted him all the way to his toes. Well and fucking truly crossed. Doggett kissed him for a long time. Getting to know the taste. Learning this other mouth.

In time, his other hand came up to join the fun, exploring Skinner's side and back. And Skinner, in turn, used his free hand to slide up and down Doggett's thigh. Finally licking his way out of the embrace, Doggett took a in shaky breath. Skinner did this kissing shit far too well. He was getting hot and bothered again. "I need a shower," he said.

The A.D. smiled. "Join you?"

"I could live with that." Doggett stood and held out a hand.

Throwing an extra towel over the warm rail, Doggett reached in and adjusted the faucet. Yep. Hot enough. He peeled the tee-shirt over his head, grimacing at its smoky smell and general dampness. Definitely dead. He threw it into the open hamper. He looked down at his chest. The tape had left a red mark down his sternum. He poked it. Damn stuff. You'd think with all the advances in technology, the F.B.I. could come up with something that didn't take off half your Goddamned flesh.

"What's so fascinating?" Skinner came round the door.

"Fuckin' tape." Doggett turned to show him the mark. "Itches like hell."

Skinner pushed his hand away and looked.. "You big wuss," he said, running a finger over the redness. "There's hardly anything there."

Doggett frowned. "Hey! It hurts!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"It does!" Doggett didn't want to think he was whining, but he wasn't sure.

"Poor baby!" Ducking his head down, Skinner placed a kiss on the offending spot.

Air whistled through Doggett's teeth. Shit.

Skinner glanced up at him. "That hurt?" he asked.

Doggett shook his head. It hadn't hurt. Quite the opposite. He tried to remember to breathe. "I...er." Shit. He couldn't even breathe properly, let alone talk.

Skinner cocked his head on one side as he looked at him. "You having a change of heart?"

Doggett sighed and sat on the toilet seat. Rubbing his forehead with his hand, he shook it slowly. "No. Not at all." He looked up to the dark eyes. No. It wasn't that he was changing his mind. His old mind was way back on the floor of a sweaty nightclub. This mind was brand-new and fresh. Positively virginal, in fact. That was the stumbling-block.

"Then why have you gone..." Skinner waved a hand at him.

Doggett chuckled. "All girlie?"

He got a snort in reply. "I wouldn't have put it quite in those terms." The big man leaned back on the wall and folded his arms. "But something like that, maybe."

Holding his hands out in front of him, Doggett checked to see how steady they were. Rock-solid, he was pleased to note. "It's just that I..." He stayed staring at the hands, not wanting to look at the other man for a moment. "I think you know, I never..." God. This was so embarrassing.

Skinner moved to squat in front of him. He placed his hands on the splayed knees, forcing Doggett to look at him. "Trained F.B.I., remember?" The knees were squeezed. "We'd be on the bathroom floor by now, if I thought you'd ever done this before."

Doggett grinned. "Think you're that good, huh?"

"Dunno. You'll have to let me know."

The teasing words sparked something deep inside Doggett. Not quite panic, but standing very close to it, disguised as excitement. He put a nervous hand over Skinner's. "You still wanna...?"

"I want to - if you want to."

"I... think so."

Skinner huffed. "Flatterer."

"Gimme a break, here. I've never even danced with another guy, let alone..." He indicated Skinner's mouth. "It's all kinda new, y'know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

A big hand came up to caress Doggett's face. He leaned into it and closed his eyes. I could get used to this attention, he thought. He turned and placed a kiss in the palm, because a hundred years ago, his wife had told him she liked it.

"So..." Skinner leaned forward and nuzzled Doggett's cheek. "You've never kissed another man?"

"Well..." Blood and dust on Rudy's lips. "Not exactly." He opened his eyes to clear the rubble away. Didn't want to remember that, now.

Skinner grinned. "Not exactly? What does that mean?"

Doggett shook his head, not returning the smile. "Not right now." He ran a hand through his spiky hair. "Don't wanna ruin the mood."

Skinner barked. "What? This mood?"

That got a chuckle. "Yeah. Okay. Sorry." He ran his fingers down Skinner's face in apology. "Tell you another time, okay?"

A shrug. "Okay." As if dismissing the whole thing, Skinner gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Let's hit that shower, Marine. Before all the hot water pisses away." Skinner stood and stripped his tee-shirt off in one smooth movement, dropping it to the floor. He started on his belt with Doggett helplessly staring from the toilet seat. Eyes stapled to the huge, hairy chest, Doggett wondered how the hell the man had managed to pull off any wire-taps without screaming. He also offered up a small apology to Mulder, he could understand him having noticed this body, now. The acres of muscle and bone were kinda hard to avoid staring at. He suddenly felt very skinny indeed. "That's a 'yes', then?" Skinner asked, pausing on his zipper, lifting an eyebrow at the scrutiny.

A tiny blush coloured Doggett's face. He stood up, hoping Skinner wouldn't notice. "Yeah. Let's get cleaned up." He reached for his own pants.

Actually, considering he hadn't done this with anyone since his divorce, Doggett thought he remembered how to share very well. His stall was just big enough to accommodate the two of them, if they stood close together, that was. Doggett grinned into the spray. Not that that was any hardship. Having a hot wet body pressed up against his back was erotic, bordering on the exquisite. He leaned his head back on to Skinner's shoulders, as the other man soaped his chest and belly for him. Silken hands glided from his underarms to his hips, stroking deliciously, but never once dipping lower. And to Doggett's satisfaction, his dick had woken back up and was straining to see what was going on. The hot water massaged it pleasantly.

"Good?" The deep voice rumbled in his ear.

Doggett grunted, too blissed out to speak. The chest behind him rumbled in laughter. A hand tweaked a nipple, gently. "Thank you," Doggett muttered, the memory of the club rushing in.

"What for?"

He snorted. "Not hurting me."

The soapy hand stroked his chest. "I wouldn't do that."

Shit. What did he mean by that, Doggett wondered? Pushing himself away, he turned round and looked at the other man. Water ran in rivulets off the bald skull, dripping off the curiously flat nose. The dark eyes regarded him solemnly. The bigger man hadn't touched him in an overtly sexual manner, at any time. He'd washed Doggett's body and hair with studied matter-of-factness. No groping, grabbing or indeed anything which might startle or bother him. Not quite what Doggett had been expecting, but very comforting all the same. Not that he thought that Skinner would slam him up against the shower wall, and butt-fuck him til he screamed. Well... Not really, anyway. Well, okay, one nasty image from a vice-squad video tape had flickered briefly through his mind, but only for a fraction of a second. He'd never have invited Skinner into his house, if he'd taken that thought seriously.

But it was nice to get confirmation, all the same. This was a good man. His guts had hinted at it, and the way Skinner conducted himself had re-enforced it. Doggett nodded. Okay. His eyes travelled down the wet statue in front of him. The body hair flattened by the water looked darker, the skin glistening a gold sheen. He looked good, Doggett had to admit that much. Straight or not, he had to admit the man was buff. In amazing shape for... Well, shit. However old he was, he was in great shape.

Doggett put his hand out and laid it on the wet chest. Another First. Never touched a guy like this. Not with anything like this intent, anyway. He rubbed the skin, marvelling at the feel of the hard muscle under his hand. He could feel the nub of a nipple under his palm.

Skinner breathed deeply, not moving an inch. Letting Doggett roam free. His dark eyes slid shut. Relishing the chance to explore, Doggett reached for a handful of liquid soap and rubbed his hands together putting them to Skinner's shoulders. The soap made his hands slide easily over the golden skin. Nice. He was kinda surprised to realise how nice it did feel. He soaped the chest, watching the hairs perk up under the bubbles. Impulsively, he leaned forward and touched his own chest to Skinner's. He rubbed it back and forth. This was a most unusual sensation. Guy hair. It was all crinkly on his smooth chest. Another First. He did it some more, grinning. It tickled.

"Having fun?" Skinner asked dryly, cracking open his eyes.

Doggett laughed. "Yeah. That okay?"

Skinner's arms came out to either side. "Be my guest," he said.

Taking the man at his word, Doggett helped himself to more soap and began to work a lather up on the rest of the body. Different from a soft woman's body. He didn't feel he had to be so gentle. This body never shifted as he massaged his hands deep into muscle. As his hands got to waist-level, he glanced down. A sizeable boner was bobbing up between them. Actually, it was more like one and a half boners, as his own dick was seriously putting in an appearance. Water dripped in slow-motion from the end of Doggett's nose and on to Skinner's cock. The sight flared inside Doggett's belly, the urgency of the heat taking him by surprise. Shit. He stared, fascinated by water rolling off hard flesh.

"You could always take a picture," suggested Skinner.

Doggett laughed, slightly abashed at having been caught staring, there was a quick moment of having breached locker-room etiquette, but he squashed it down. He was allowed to look at this man's body. Shit, he was supposed to look. "Yeah. I could always get one framed up for my desk."

"Have to be a real big frame," Skinner dead panned.

"Show off." Doggett chuckled. "Can you imagine the reaction at the Bureau?"

Skinner grinned. "Agent Scully would probably deliver early."

"Got rather a high opinion of yourself, haven't you?"

Shrugging, Skinner grinned. "Hey - what can I say? I'm a guy."

Yeah, thought Doggett. I kinda noticed that. His eyes dropped down between them again. Skinner's high opinion stared right back. He watched his left hand come up of its own accord and he wondered why. The opinion bobbed as Skinner shifted his weight and Doggett flicked his eyes back up. He wanted to ask a question, but the words were wedged in his throat, stuck behind his masculine pride.

Skinner nodded. He obviously understood the strangled expression. "You're allowed to touch."

Glancing down, Doggett was surprised to see his hand already on the move. His body seemed to be 2 steps ahead of his brain tonight. Twitching, his cock agreed. The soapy hand glided over hard flesh to the sound of his mind notching up yet another mark on the world's weirdest scoresheet. First Time he'd touched another man's dick. How bout that? These damned Firsts were coming thick and fast. The unintentional pun made him smile.

"Something funny, down there?"

Doggett looked up, still gripping his handful. "Just thinkin'," he said.

Grunting at the pressure Doggett was exerting, Skinner raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"That this is nice." Doggett shrugged and squeezed some more. "Seriously fuckin' weird. But nice, all the same."

"Glad you approve, Agent Doggett." His hands came up to hold on to Doggett's biceps. "But if we don't get out of this shower soon, you're gonna have to wait a while for any further approval."

"Okay, you're the Boss." Unable to resist sliding his hand a couple of times more before letting go, Doggett laughed at Skinner's pained expression. He took pity on the man and let go, reaching behind to turn off the shower.

Skinner flung the curtain back, quickly stepped out, and reached for the towel rail. He grabbed the nearest one, wrapped it around his fist and glared at Doggett. "Want to try that again, Agent?" he asked, snapping the towel back and forth, threateningly.

Doggett grinned, not in the least bit intimidated. "Sure."

Dropping the threat, Skinner nodded. "Good. Then get out of there and do it properly, soldier."

He threw the towel at Doggett and snagged himself another, draping it around his shoulders and walking purposefully out of the bathroom. The thought of where he was headed made Doggett go hot and swallow quickly. He rubbed his head briskly, thanking the barber for the time-saving haircut, and hurried to follow Skinner. He found Skinner standing perfectly still in the middle of his bedroom, the light from the hallway seeking out and highlighting all his muscles. Doggett wondered if he was standing there to get that very effect, or if he just hadn't liked to help himself to the lights. Whatever - it was real easy on the eyes.

"Nice room," the man said, dropping the towel on a chair.

"Yeah." Doggett walked in, admiring the view. His threw his own towel on top of Skinner's. "I'd give you the number of my interior decorator, but she don't speak to me any more."

Skinner lifted his chin in understanding. "Ah."

Standing there, just looking at one another, Doggett was very aware of his nerves. Bad enough that it was depressingly seldom he had any other person in this room since his divorce, but that situation was compounded by the fact that this particular person, was usually behind a large desk whenever they spoke. And absolutely not butt naked. "I...um..." He raised his hands, tried putting them in non-existent pockets, on his hips, and finally folded them over his chest. Shit. His dick hung down, bored with waiting. Oh great, he thought, rolling his eyes.

"Gone shy?" Skinner's voice was soft and teasing.

"Gone 'something'," Doggett sighed.

Skinner held out a hand. "It's chilly. Come here."

Relieved to have the burden of decision taken from him, Doggett complied. He took those last few steps over to the man standing in front of his bed and large arms went around him, skin still slightly damp from the shower. He was right. It wasn't as warm in here. Doggett shivered and the embrace tightened.

"Better?" Skinner asked.

"Hmmmmm." Doggett hooked his chin up on to the bare shoulder and nodded. Much better. They stood, savouring the moment, Skinner rubbing his hand up and down Doggett's back, until the other man relaxed enough to return the gesture. "Nice," Doggett murmured.

"Yeah." More rubbing.

Basking in the physical contact, Doggett idly wondered if it would be out of place for him to ask for another kiss. He was stunned at the way he was fast becoming addicted to the bigger man's technique. Never would have thought to look at him in the office, that beneath all that prim and proper exterior, Skinner kissed like... Shit. Like a 'pro'? Nah. Too cold. Like a whore? Uh-uh. Too cheap. Oh, yeah. Doggett grinned as a tiny snatch of music ran through his head. Yeah. Kissed like... A horny angel. Oh, yeah... He breathed in the scent of Skinner's warm skin. Fuck out of place. He lifted his head off the shoulder and looked Skinner straight in the eye.

"Yeah?" Skinner studied his face.

"Can I get a kiss?" Doggett asked softly, still a touch nervous, despite his internal bravado.

Skinner grinned. "Sure," he said, ducking that tiny bit to oblige.

Oh, man. The deep breath served him well. Shit. Who taught him to kiss like this? Doggett wondered, desperately trying to keep up. Hairy, horny fuckin' angel... And wouldn't you know? His dick perked up, anxious to join in the action. The kiss gravitated down Doggett's face, and along his jaw-line, disappearing down one side of his neck. He chuckled, lifting a shoulder.

"You really are a tickle-bunny, aren't you?" Skinner grinned up from somewhere near a collar bone.

"What can y'do?" Doggett said, shrugging. It was sometimes a problem.

Skinner looked at him. "What can I do?" he said, running his hand along Doggett's face, making him shiver for another reason. He lifted an eyebrow and leaned in to whisper softly in one of the curled over ears. "Lots of things," he breathed.

Fuck. Doggett's body burst out in a riot of goose bumps, draggin his erection up by the throat. Threat, or promise? He couldn't decide which and that thought excited him. How fucked up was that? Skinner dragged his lips across Doggett's face and kissed him again, finally unlocking both Doggett's knees and passion. Grasping the back of Skinner's neck, Doggett bit down into the kiss with all the pent-up lust from the entire evening, and probably the last couple of years. Straining his neck muscles, he pushed his tongue deep into the other mouth, stroking and suckling into the wet embrace. Skinner's spit tasted of beer and ridiculously, an echo of aftershave. The strangeness of it roared through Doggettt's body, straight to his cock. He scraped his chest across Skinner's, the hairs igniting his nipples, following that trail down to his groin in a delicious wave. He dick was throbbing time with his heartbeat, a crazy thrashing thing in his chest.

Skinner sucked his tongue, the rough surface rasping the underside of his own, in a manner that brought moisture bleeding to the tip of his cock. Desperate little noises of excitement leaked out of his throat, swallowed down into Skinner's mouth. Fuck! He scrabbled harder for purchase on Skinner's body, his cock now straining as hard as the rest of him, for release.

Skinner broke the kiss, gasping and laughing. "Easy!" he coughed out, holding Doggett by the arms. "Jesus, Doggett." He stared at Doggett's panting face. "You really woke the beast, there, didn't you?"

Doggett just looked at him, chest heaving, brain somewhere between his legs, fuck-stupid.

"Easy," Skinner said again. "We've got all night." He ducked his head to plant a quick kiss on a wet, open mouth. "Slow down." He pushed gently on Doggett's arms, knocking his knees against the edge of the bed, and depositing him on the quilt. "Sit."

Eye-level with Skinner's dick, Doggett stared, the haze clearing. Nothing like a one-eyed trouser-snake lookin' you in the face to bring you back to the Real World, he thought, blinking. The bed dipped as Skinner sat beside him.

"Here..." A hand pulled him backwards to lie down. "Lie down. Get your breath back."

Doggett allowed himself to be pushed, flopping back and levering his legs up. Shit. He'd nearly lost it, there. He sneaked a glance at the man sitting next to him. Skinner was looking down at him with an amused expression on his face. One hand rested lightly on Doggett's shoulder.

"Better?" he asked.

"Was better before," Doggett told him truthfully.

"Yeah, but would've been over pretty quick at that rate."

Doggett gave a chuckle. "Yeah. Probably." Had been good, though.

Skinner shifted to bring his legs up to lie propped up beside him. "Besides. I'd rather take my time," he said, running his hand all the way from Doggett's shoulder to groin in a languid sweep.

Shit.

Doggett pushed his hips up to meet it, making Skinner laugh. "You are eager, aren't you?"

"It's been a while," he told him, wondering if painful honesty was a normal side-effect of allowing another man to put his hands on him. Skinner nodded, not saying anything. He stroked again, avoiding Doggett's groin, this time. The tease made him grin. "Bastard," he said, softly.

"Get over it," Skinner replied, kissing the creased forehead.

Seizing the opportunity to extract revenge, Doggett grinned and ran a hand over the A.D.'s head. "Always wanted to do that," he laughed.

"You and the entire western world," Skinner complained, rubbing a grumpy hand over his own head. "What is it about 'bald'? Everybody wants to touch."

Doggett chuckled. "Dunno. Maybe it's cause it's so damned masculine."

Skinner looked dubious. "You think?"

"How many bald women d'you know?"

"I see your point."

He couldn't resist the pun. "That's cause I'm butt naked, sir."

That brought the grin back to Skinner's face. "Oh, yeah." A warm hand ran down his body from collar-bone to groin, again. "So you are, Agent Doggett."

Goose bumps prickled a trail behind the hand as it brushed lightly. Fuck, Doggett didn't know whether that tickled or turned him on. Okay, so if his boner was any indication, it was a turn-on. But still... That hand. He squirmed. "Tickling," he said.

"Really?"

Doggett didn't like the look in the A.D.'s eye. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to let on about that. "Yeah. Gimme a break." He stopped the wandering hand as it fluttered over his belly. "It's fuckin' torture when you touch me like that."

"You want I should be firmer with you?"

Anything but the tickling. He let go of Skinner's hand. "Yeah." With distressing ease, Doggett suddenly found himself grabbed by hip and shoulder and flipped on his stomach. "What the..?"

"Be still," Skinner whispered, just as suddenly all over him, spreading himself across his back like a second, hairy skin. Hands pressed into his skin, hard enough to move the flesh.

"Shit..." Doggett gasped. This was... He strained up, with absolutely no effect. This was... Not good. He'd never been held like this, naked under someone else. He felt... He frowned. Disempowered, almost helpless. He heaved again. Fuck that. Not almost, he was fuckin' helpless. A sick feeling surged up, bringing quick, sharp pictures from a thousand crime-scene photographs with it. The hands were everywhere. He wouldn't... no, surely he wouldn't? He felt a strong, hairy leg force its way between his, and Doggett began to struggle in earnest, panicking.

The hands stopped. "Hey!" Skinner shook his shoulder. "Hey... Relax."

Breathe! Doggett told himself, biting down on a yell. Above him, he was vaguely aware of a head dipping down to kiss the side of his neck. He turned his head towards it, breathing raggedly.

"Hey. I'm not gonna hurt you." Another kiss.

Doggett concentrated on his breathing, controlling it, calming himself.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think." Skinner stroked a hand over the heaving shoulders, as if soothing a frightened horse. "I forgot..."

"Yeah?" Embarrassed now, at his reaction, Doggett cleared his throat and licked his dry lips.

"Yeah." The head came down again and gently kissed the side of his mouth. "Forgive me?"

Way to go, doofus, Doggett thought, cringing. Make the guy feel like an animal because you've never been in bed with anyone stronger than yourself. Nice goin'. He cleared his throat. "Sure. No problem." He turned a touch more to return the kiss. "It's just..." He shrugged. "You know."

The dark eyes regarded him. "I know," he said

"Yeah." Maybe he did. You never knew, maybe the A.D. had been here, once. Shit, everyone had to have a 'first time'.

"So we're okay?" The tone of Skinner's voice killed the last of his panic. The guy was worried.

The idea of that pleased him in a way he couldn't have foreseen. Doggett smiled. "Sure." The smile went wonky, pulling wickedly up to one side. "If you're gonna offer a make-up kiss."

The relief was touchingly evident in Skinner's expression, despite his light words. "Why, I think I can just about force myself to oblige you, in that department." Leaning over, he applied himself diligently to Doggett's mouth.

Almost worth the scare, Doggett thought, with a corner of his mind that wasn't making the most of the apology. He opened his mouth wider, trying not to broadcast his pleasure by groaning. Fuck. This bastard knew how to do this right.

Draped over Doggett like an electric blanket, Skinner pulled his mouth away, sighed and chuckled. "You do that very well," he said, running his hand over a smooth shoulder.

"I was just thinkin' the very same thing, Mr. Skinner."

They lay quietly for a moment, content to stroke and be stroked. Doggett wondered if Skinner was allowing him to pull himself back together again. That was a pretty astute move, if he was. He needed a moment. No great surprise, his boner had gone AWOL when he'd started to flip out.

Skinner kissed his shoulder. "Cute freckles," he muttered.

Doggett turned his head and glared. "I am not 'cute'," he growled.

Skinner chuckled. "I'd beg to differ with you on that, Agent Doggett."

Still glaring, Doggett shook his head. "Not cute. No way." Not in a million fuckin' years. What was this guy on? "Since we're having our first disagreement, d'you think you could quit callin' me 'Agent Doggett'? Makes me nervous, you know?"

Skinner propped himself up on one arm, his face amused. "And me lying naked on top of you, doesn't?"

"No. Strange as that may be. But being called 'Agent' while you doin' it is more than a little freaky." Doggett wriggled an arm free and knocked a knuckle lightly on the A.D.'s forehead. "So quit it, okay?"

His hand was grabbed. "Okay. But no more of that 'Boss' stuff, from you, either." He shook the hand in his. "Deal?"

"Pullin' rank, Sir?" Doggett grinned wickedly.

"Works every time, Agent Doggett."

"Yeah? Well you can just kiss my ass!" he laughed, then abruptly snapped his mouth shut when he realised what he'd just said. The lack of lighting hid the furious blush that roared across his face.

"Why, Agent Doggett," Skinner laughed. "On a first date?"

Shit! What a dumbass thing to go and say! Doggett could feel the heat form his face radiating onto his arm. "Screw you, Skinner," he muttered, mortified.

Skinner roared with laughter. "Oh, this just gets better and better, doesn't it?"

Doggett groaned, giving up all pretence of control and buried his burning face in the bed covers. Tonight's faux pas brought to you by the letter M, for Moron. His body shook with Skinner's loud amusement. Oh, this was just peachy. The laughter eventually died away to occasional chuckles. Then it went quiet. His head still firmly pressed into the bed, Doggett waited to see what would happen next. If he was lucky, Skinner'd fall asleep and he'd slink off to spend the night on the couch.

A hand brushed across his shoulder. "You still in there?" Doggett ignored him. "Hey?" He could feel a hand on the back of his head. He wasn't sulking. Not really. "Hello..." Skinner's mouth was very close. The words ruffled the stubby hair. "John?"

First time he's called me by my given name, Doggett thought. No wait. He did it at the club. Just before he took me dancing.

"John." Not a question, this time. More a thinly veiled order.

"What?" he muttered into the sheets, replying out of habit.

"Cut yourself a break." Soft kisses touched his skin. Across his shoulders and moving down his spine. Doggett shivered. Skinner shifted, and the kisses reached the small of his back, and then with a sudden rush of surprise, one landed on his butt-cheek. Shit. Doggett's head came up. He craned his neck to look behind.

"Thought that'd get your attention." Skinner grinned.

"Bastard," Doggett told him, a faint smile on his face.

"Oh, yeah." He dipped down and kissed the other cheek, making Doggett clench and laugh.

"Quit it!"

There was a gleam in Skinner's eye. "You sure?"

Oh, boy. These deciding moments just kept comin' and comin'. Doggett swallowed. He wondered if the lump he'd just forced down was what was left of his masculine pride. "No," he said, very quietly. "I'm not."

Skinner's warm hand wandered down to his hip. "I'm glad," he said, and began to pull Doggett over on to his side. Silently, he began to kiss down Doggett's ribcage, to where his hand cupped his pelvis, and staring, Doggett wondered with half his mind, whether he had gone totally fucking insane. "Lie flat," Skinner whispered, pushing him into the mattress. He smiled up at Doggett, stroking thumbs over his hips. "And try to relax."

Giving a grunt of derision, Doggett sighed and reached above his head to snag a pillow. Shit, if he had gone insane, then he might as well be comfortable in his certification. He stuffed the pillow under his head and flopped his arms back to his side. "Relaxed," he told Skinner, lying through his teeth.

The other man chuckled and shook his head, obviously not fooled for a second. And then he took the last of Doggett's sanity by bending his head and licking up the side of his groin.

"Fuck!"

Skinner looked up. "In good time," he laughed, making Doggett grimace.

Doggett muttered, squirming. "Jesus, Skinner."

There was a moment of anticipation when he had a chance to brace himself, before Skinner ducked down and did it again. This time, he just bit his lip and watched. At some point during the proceedings, Doggett understood how Skinner had risen to the ranks of A.D. He was thorough, methodical and utterly focussed. In the space of around fifteen minutes, he licked, kissed and nibbled just about every inch of Doggett's legs, belly and chest, gathering up what was left of Doggett's tattered self-control and chucking it into a corner of the room. All the while, studiously ignoring his erection, which was straining at the leash with neglect.

The moisture on his skin from Skinner's mouth was bobbing it up in patches of goose bumps, which in turn, were soothed back down by long strokes of a hand. The combination of gentle touches from Skinner's lips, and the burn of beard on his skin was distracting, distressing and utterly delightful.

"Shit," Doggett hissed, his hips lifting involuntarily as Skinner skimmed by his dick again. His balls were going to explode with frustration any second now. "Bastard," he told the man settled between his legs.

Skinner merely looked up at him. "Smile, when you call me that," he grinned.

Doggett grunted at him, with a creased-up face. He was doing that thumb thing on the delicate skin next to his hips, and it was teetering on the border of agony and ecstasy. Any second now, he was going to have to scream and push Skinner off. He took his lip between his teeth and began to count down from one hundred in his head. He had been a Marine, for Chrissake. He could fight this insane urge to howl.

And then Skinner grabbed his dick hard, and in one silken, sensuous sweep, dragged his tongue up, and swallowed it down. The yell ripped out of Doggett's throat, yanking his head off the pillow, and straightening his legs as if shot. "Fuck!!"

Gripping the base tight in fingers of steel, Skinner stopped Doggett from coming there and then by a hair's breath. "Oh, shit, shit shit..." Doggett panted. The act of looking down at what was going on between his legs was very nearly undoing him. "Oh, God..." Slowly, he watched himself fall out of a grinning mouth. The sight made his belly clench with lust, and his nerves screamed both approval and frustration. There was a freakin' riot going on in his groin.

"Good?" Skinner asked him, rather smugly.

Nodding was all he was gonna get right now, Doggett thought, his breath charging in and out of an extremely tight chest. He idly wondered what Skinner would have done, if the shock had brought on a coronary.

"Oh, good," Skinner said, satisfied, and gave Doggett another suck, bringing slender hips off the bed in a spasmodic jerk.

"Jesus!"

Up and down, pause at the tip, then sliding down...It had been a long time since anyone had done this to him, but his body remembered. Recalled and relished. And it didn't care in the least that for the first time, it wasn't a Sue, a Carolyn or even an Anna lying with their head between his legs. His hips jerked in approval, once, twice...

"I'm gonna..." he gasped, feeling the familiar build-up to the moment that common courtesy dictated, he should issue warning to his bed- partner.

"No, you're not," Skinner assured him, squeezing down hard again.

The sensation faded. "Shit." Propping himself up on one elbow, Skinner watched frustration and relief jostling for position on the angular face. "What're you tryin' to do to me?" Doggett croaked out, eventually.

The other man chuckled. "Drive you crazy," he said.

Doggett nudged him with a knee. "Mission accomplished, you bastard." Skinner blew cool air over his dick, making it twitch. "Fuck, Skinner," Doggett groaned.

"Maybe... one day," he said, enigmatically, stroking the inside of a trembling thigh. "But not tonight."

"What?!" Doggett snatched his body up on his elbows, not believing what he'd just heard. Skinner just carried right on petting, oblivious to the look on Doogett's face. "You can't..." The phrase, 'leave me like this' perched itself on the tip of Doggett's tongue. He swallowed. "You just can't stop," he said, hoping it hadn't come out as a whine. "I've got a gun, Skinner. I promise you I'll fuckin' use it."

Skinner grinned at him. "Oh, I don't intend to stop," he said, kissing the end of Doggett's dick, momentarily distracting the other man.

"Then..." Doggett swallowed around a dry throat. "Then what?"

Skinner's hand went underneath his knee and pushed it up, bending it. "You'll see."

Never mind two steps behind his body, his mind was practically in the next fuckin' state. What the hell was going on now? He didn't like not knowing. Actually, knowing was sometimes a bit tricky, too, but he thought, on balance, not knowing was worse. In his mind, he'd studiously stuffed the mental pictures of what vice-squad tapes told him men did to each other in bed, behind a wall. But they had popped out every now and again during the evening, just to wave and remind him of some basic facts. To remind and worry him a little. "Skinner..." he began.

"You think we could move on to first-name terms, now..." Skinner looked pointedly at Doggett's crotch. "Considering?"

Sighing, Doggett rolled his eyes. "Okay... Walter. Mind tellin' me what's the plan?" He nodded down at his wet dick. "Bein' as I'm kinda involved?"

Skinner scraped his nails gently down the back of Doggett's thigh, making him hiss. "Houston, we have a problem," he said, with a little grin. Doggett shook his head. He was lying in bed with a lunatic. "Thing is, John," Skinner said, never pausing in is journey along Doggett's leg. "I'm very aware that we're in a brave new world for you." Doggett felt a blush threaten. "And much as I'd like to fuck this cute virgin ass into the mattress..." The blush stopped threatening and raged over his face and into his ears. "I'm sure you'd appreciate a more 'gradual' approach." He stopped stroking and looked up at Doggett's face. If he noticed the colour of his ears, he didn't mention it, for which Doggett was absurdly grateful. "Am I right?"

Doggett swallowed. Shit. Not a lunatic, just a mind-reader. He nodded, slowly.

"Besides, I'm willing to bet you haven't got a spare bottle of Astroglide in that bedside drawer of yours. And I'm far too old and boring to want to go downstairs and get olive oil out of your kitchen." He smiled. "It's such a bitch to get out of the bed linen." Doggett gaped at him, words completely out of the question. "Okay, then." Conversation over, Skinner bent and began to apply himself again, much to the delight of Doggett's dick.

Quite frankly, Doggett was amazed at the range of noises that came out of his throat while Skinner worked. He hoped it didn't make him sound like an idiot. But he couldn't seem to stop himself. Not only was that incredible mouth milking him from his toes upwards, but he was taking the time to caress the inside of his thighs and balls, the gentle touch making his nuts ache. Fuck. Ironic that none of his women lovers had ever been quite this good at b.j.'s. Must be some truth in the old joke that it takes a man to know what another man wants. A tiny thought wondered if the rule was the same for women.

Skinner had paused, long enough for Doggett to eventually look up. He craned his neck to see. "What you doin'?" Curiosity overcoming impatience.

Skinner looked up and grinned. "Wait and see," he laughed and then his hand disappeared.

Strange, Doggett thought, and then his mind blanked as he lay back down, that talented mouth sucking away all thought. A hand went under his left butt cheek, lifting him up a little. Doggett groaned as the angle caused him to slip further down the A.D.'s throat. And then he gave more of a shout as a wet finger disappeared between his cheeks. "Yow!" Relentlessly, the intrusion pushed further, surprise making Doggett's eyes bulge open. "Shit..." And then, all of a sudden, it was inside him, and the shock of the unfamiliar feeling shutting his mouth with a snap. For a second, the blow job was driven out of his mind. Fuck.

He took a deep breath, sorting out the sensation, not at all sure he liked it. He frowned, feeling himself clamping down. Not even his wife had done this, in all the years they'd been married. Would Skinner be offended if he said he didn't like it? And then the thought disintegrated as Skinner pushed in and did something else making the whole of Doggett's groin explode. "FUCK!" Later, he would hope he hadn't screamed that out, but if he was honest, he probably had.

Loudly.

When the world trickled back into focus, when his hearing slipped back, and his eyes cracked open, Doggett finally remembered to breathe again. He gazed, glassy-eyed at the ceiling, panting.

Oh.

My.

God.

Somewhere, down by his recently departed dick, Skinner was chuckling, softly.

"Tha..." he croaked. No. It was too much to expect his voice to work properly.

"Good?" Skinner offered, helpfully.

He nodded. That was beyond good. More like nearer to amazing... outstanding... or even fuckin' incredible, actually.

"I aim to please."

Doggett encouraged his head to move so he could look at the other man. He was sure his neck muscles creaked. Skinner was gazing up at him, chin on a fist, a smug expression plastered all over his face. Doggett wondered what expression was all over his. "Your aim was... Pretty amazin'," he ground out, knowing it'd be pointless to say anything else, after that vocal reaction.

Skinner waggled his eyebrows, still grinning. He looked like a Cheshire cat, thought Doggett. One that had got the cream. He blinked, amused at his own analogy.

"Can I?" He lifted a boneless hand.

"Can you what?"

"Reci... repric..." He sighed. Reciprocate was way too hard for his post-coital tongue. "You know."

Skinner smiled and shrugged. "You want to?"

Pausing for a second to check with his libido and masculinity, Doggett was pleasantly surprised to find them both nodding. "Yeah," he said, propping himself up on one elbow. "I do."

Crawling up the quilt to lie beside him, Skinner made himself comfy on the pillows and waved his hands. "Help yourself." He lay totally relaxed, a faint smile still on his lips. "Whatever you feel comfortable with."

Well, thought Doggett, pulling himself up to a sitting position. There's an offer you don't get every day. He could imagine that he would be the envy of the entire Bureau typing pool, if he was of a mind to tell them. Then again... Maybe not.

He let his eyes roam over the expanse of golden flesh displayed on the bed and scratched his chest. What to do, and where to start? Well, at the top was as good a place as any. He rested a palm on the centre of Skinner's chest and leaned up and put his mouth to his lips. Good plan, he thought, as the other man held his head and went at it, with gusto. It'd been a while since they'd kissed, felt good to re-acquaint himself. Taking the initiative, Doggett moved his mouth and began to work his way across Skinner's face, wondering at the feel of the beard under his lips, trying to decide how he felt about it. Actually, it wasn't as strange as he'd have thought. Kissing another man. Affection was affection. And he liked Skinner. Liked the way he did big cat impersonations in the back of his throat, as the kisses disappeared down the front of his chest. Doggett moved to sit astride Skinner's legs, wanting better access. The idea of sitting nude on top of another man was negligible. Seems you could adjust to anything, he thought.

He ran his hands over Skinner's wide shoulders, and down the arms lying on the quilt. The hairs on them tickled his palms. That was something you didn't find on a woman. Shit, he thought with a grin. Hair like this, was something you didn't find on him.

"Amusing yourself?"

"Yep."

"Okay, then."

Silence fell between them, while Doggett explored. He ruffled chest hair every which way, learning how it moved, deeply intrigued, because he had none. He bent to taste, to see if the skin tasted any different, and then rolled Skinner's nipples like radio-knobs, making the other man laugh. Scraping his nails down a trim waist, he grinned at the jump of the muscles. "Ticklish?" he teased.

"Uh-uh." Skinner shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Silence again, while Doggett let his fingers wander through the line of hair that pointed the way from Skinner's belly button to his groin. He combed the short hairs, re-arranging the way they lay on Skinner's belly, then he bent to kiss his handiwork, dipping his tongue into the little hole. Pulling a face, he sat up quickly, fishing between his teeth. "Yeuch."

"What?" said Skinner.

"You're shedding."

Skinner burst out laughing.

Doggett made spitting noises. "It's like making love to Gentle Ben." Wiping the stray hair away, Doggett stared down at the man under him. God. Making love. Did he just say that? Well, whadd'ya wanna call it? He asked himself? 'Fuckin'? Is that what they were doin'? No - he answered himself. It wasn't that. 'Fucking' wasn't the right word, at all. It didn't even begin to cover this. Skinner stared back. Still smiling that big old sappy smile. Doggett found himself grinning back. Yeah. Okay. Making love. That'd do it.

"Quit your bitching," Skinner told him.

"Who you callin' a bitch?" he demanded, tweaking a nipple, and bending forward to bite Skinner's side. He sucked hard, leaving a mark. "Explain that in the Bureau showers," he grinned, looking down at the bruise.

"You dipshit!" Skinner said, rubbing the spot and flicking Doggett's knee with the other.

Looking down at Skinner fussing, his eyes found themselves drawn down to his groin. Doggett pondered the dick sitting between them, pointing relentlessly up at the ceiling. He reached out and ran his fingers up it. Skinner shivered. Okay, so he likes that, Doggett thought. Let's start from there.

"Good," Skinner told him.

Doggett nodded. Yeah. I bet. He played for a while, learning the noises Skinner made on the different strokes. Deep noises, little grunts. It was like playing the world's strangest instrument. String instrument, or one you could blow? The thought made him grin. One way to find out. Doggett leaned closer, plucking up the courage to return the favour. And found himself hesitating.

Above him, a deep voice rumbled. "It's not as bad as you might think."

"I know." Doggett looked up. "My wife always used to say the thought of it, was worse than actually doin' it."

Skinner roared with laughter."Mine too." He shook his head. "You think there's a seminar they all go to?"

Doggett pulled a face. "I think it's obligatory, after ten years of marriage."

Skinner shook his head. "I hear you."

"Wonder if they'd do it more if they knew how good it felt?"

Skinner snorted loudly. "Less, probably."

"Yeah." And with that thought laughing in his head, Doggett moved that last inch or so and took Skinner in his mouth. Not as bad as he'd imagined. Not that he'd ever really given this serious thought. Well, not very often, anyway. Just on the odd millionth occasion Rudy had offered to do him.

It was a bit salty, a bit sweet, but mostly just warm skin. Fair enough. Working his head up and down to the sounds of satisfied Skinner-grunts, Doggett closed his eyes and gave the job at hand his full, undivided attention. He used his free hand to fondle a set of balls that were rapidly disappearing up tight against a groin. Wasn't going to take long, at this rate. He experimented, seeing how far down he could take it. Coughing and choking, Skinner's erection fell out of his mouth. Oops. He glanced up. "Sorry."

Skinner just grunted. His eyes stayed shut, but a big hand came up to bury its fingers in what hair the barber had seen fit to leave.

"Kay," he muttered, patting. Try again. Have to be careful not to bite off more than he could chew, he told himself. Doggett bet whoever thought that one up, didn't have this in mind. He worked his way up and down, paying attention to the sensations he knew he liked, alternating deeper strokes with tip-work.

"Oh, god..." Skinner groaned, his fingers still tangled in Doggett's hair, his hips twitching. He was trying to hold back with the thrusting, Doggett guessed. Didn't want to choke him to death. He sucked harder.

"Ow... Shit!"

All of a sudden, he felt Skinner's body clench, his balls tighten, and he braced himself for the inevitable. Well, he might be willing, but his technique stank, he thought, as a good deal of Skinner's come flowed back out of his mouth and on to his groin. Shit. He coughed, gagging on the speed and sheer volume of what was pumping out. Not what you'd call very graceful, at all. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Damn! There must be a special way to do that, without getting into such a fuckin' mess.

He glanced up at the other man. A goner. Totally fuck-blind. Eyes shut, jaw slack. Oh, well, he might not be the world's best cocksucker, but at least he got the job done. He grinned. Rubbing the spilled come into Skinner's belly, he flopped down next to Skinner, and waited for him to recover. More Firsts. That scoresheet must be gettin' pretty full up, tonight. "How y'doin'?" he asked, eventually.

Skinner opened one eye. "Out-fucking-standing, my man," he grinned. "I'm impressed."

Doggett inclined his head. "My pleasure."

That got him a look from both of those dark eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked. Running his tongue around the strange taste in his mouth, and thinking seriously about the question, Doggett scratched his nose. Was he? Sure, it was an unusual way to spend his Friday night, but on the whole, he'd had a real good time. Good enough to maybe want to do it again, sometime? Sure. Tomorrow, maybe?

Skinner waited for his reply. Looking at him, blinking.

"Yeah," he said, at last. "I am."

"Yeah?"

Doggett grinned. He'd thought he was supposed to be the insecure one. He leaned over to kiss Skinner, softly. "Yeah. Relax, okay?"

Skinner kissed him back and snaked an arm around his shoulders, pulling Doggett into a hug. "I'm glad," he said.

Resting his head on the tanned shoulder, Doggett hooked a lean leg over Skinner's hairy one. This was comfortable. Lying in someone else's arms. Especially someone like this. An equal? Maybe. A friend. Hopefully. Doggett put his hand over his yawning mouth.

"Am I boring you?" Skinner joked.

Doggett laughed. "Nah. Just beat." He yawned again, just to prove a point, then plopped his hand on Skinner's chest. "You wore me out." The chest rumbled with quiet laughter. Then Skinner yawned, too.

"Must be catching."

"Yeah." he hoped Skinner would sleep over tonight. It'd be nice just to go to sleep together, not have to do the whole, 'shall I call tomorrow' thing before slinking away into the night. Doggett closed his eyes and sighed. He didn't think Skinner would just presume. He'd have to ask. "You'll stay. Tonight, I mean?" he said.

"That okay? I'd like that."

"Sure."

Easy as that? Man, this was easier than with a woman. Doggett smiled against Skinner's shoulder. How about that? Damn shame he'd never get to tell Rudy that he had been right, all along. Man, would he get his ass well and truly kicked by Lt. Wallis for fuckin' about, wasting all those years.

Something was tickling at the side of his face. He reached up a hand to scratch and was surprised to find his fingers coming away wet. Doggett stared at them, dumbly. What the hell?

Beside him, Skinner lifted his head to see what was holding his attention. He touched the moisture on Doggett's fingers. "What's all this about?" he asked, pulling himself up on an elbow. He took the hand in his own to wipe it dry. "Regrets?"

Doggett nodded. Oh, yeah, regrets, alright. He turned to look at the man lying next to him,. But he needed to explain. Needed to take away the pain that had been in Skinner's voice when he asked that last question. "Not about this," he replied, moving his fingers to entwine them with Skinner's. "Not about you." Bringing their clasped fists to his mouth, he kissed the back of Skinner's hand. "Trust me."

Skinner nodded, carefully. "Then... What?"

What indeed. Doggett thought for a moment. More correctly, more honestly, it was a case of 'who'. He realised it was important to explain to Skinner, but his throat was thickened by blood and dust from a Beirut car-bomb. "I had a friend..." he began. His eyes were stinging like a bitch from all that friggin' dust. Skinner nodded again. "Way back in Service." Doggett cleared his throat. His voice sounded all funny. "A good friend." He grinned. "The best. Could drink like a ten-dollar whore, and fight almost as well." A bark of laughter chased away the catch in his voice. "He'd take a bet on anythin' man. Fuckin' anythin'. How quick a dog-turd dried in the sun... How many times the Drill Sergeant said 'fuck'... Which new grunt'd puke first in the bar... Anythin'." Skinner chuckled. "He could strip a Harley engine, an A-K 47, or a Beirut whore..." Doggett held up his hand and snapped his finger. "Slicker 'n snot, man." He laughed softly. "Great guy." Doggett lay there in the dark room, running Rudy's video tape in his mind. The one he very occasionally, allowed to make him cry.

"He dead?" Skinner put his hand gently on to Doggett's belly.

Nodding, Doggett dragged his arm over his face. He sighed. "A while now," he said.

"Tough break."

"Yeah." Ain't that the truth, Doggett told himself.

"Your lover?"

Doggett started, surprised. "No. I told you. I never..." Rudy, his arm draped over his shoulder as they argued whether John would ever drop his pants for a b.j., lurched into focus. Closely followed by that old favourite, the first - last, bloody kiss. Shit. That damned dust again.

This time, Skinner wiped his face for him. "Okay," he said nodding. "But you did love him." It wasn't a question.

Whadd'ya know? The letter T, for Truth. Doggett looked at Skinner's finger, then into his own heart. "Yeah..." He thought about how the admission altered his view of himself. Strangely, it didn't change a thing. He nodded. "I did."

"That's good," Skinner leaned over and kissed the end of his nose.

"He wanted to..." He shrugged, looking Skinner's body up and down. "You know..."

"Uh-huh."

"But I never let him... Always said 'no'." The stain of Rudy's blood had stayed on his lips long after the MedEvac team had taken the broken body away. The bitter taste of his blood had stayed in Doggett's mouth for much longer. His gruff, ex-smoker's voice had gone quiet. "I didn't have the balls."

Skinner stroked his head and down over the creased face. "It's okay."

Doggett frowned. "Maybe I might have..." He gave a derisive snort. He knew damn well he wasn't anywhere near as Rudy. Hadn't got the balls to be a gay Marine. Crazy old Rudy, still offering sex, even as the dry Beirut ground drank his life from his shattered legs.

"He knew," Skinner said.

Doggett looked up, hopefully. "You think?" That might help. Ease the guilt.

"Sure. He was still your friend, even when you said 'no', wasn't he?"

Doggett nodded. Yeah. For five years after first asking. And then every day for the entire five fuckin' years afterwards.

Skinner shrugged. "There y'go, then."

Doggett smiled. "Actually, I did kiss him. Once."

Skinner chuckled. "That's what you meant by 'not exactly', then?"

"Yeah." Not exactly. Not exactly what Rudy'd had in mind. Not exactly what Doggett'd had in mind, either.

"Like it?" Skinner asked, innocently.

"I didn't get the chance to find out." Doggett gave a crooked smile. "He died about two minutes after I did it."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry."

Doggett shrugged. "S'okay. Prob'ly wouldn't have done it at all, unless..." Yeah, then they'd probably have spent the rest of their lives, drinkin' beer, play-fightin' and raggin' on each other to hell. Rudy callin' him a dumb queer-bashing Redneck, and him calling Rudy a screaming faggot queen. And they'd have lived happily ever after. Or unhappily after. Who knew?

"Glad you did it?"

"Yeah." And for the first time, he really believed himself. He yawned hugely, again.

"Close your eyes, John Doggett," Skinner told him, kissing the top of his head. "God knows, you could do with the beauty sleep."

"Screw you, Walter Skinner," Doggett grinned, doing as he was told.

"One day, John Doggett," Skinner laughed. "One day."