WK2: Armani Weekend
Chapter 3: Sunday

(Disclaimers in Chapter 1)

PARKER MERIDIEN HOTEL
ROOM 1246
SUNDAY MORNING

Doggett ran a lazy hand down Byers' back. Most of the 
redness had gone, leaving only a stripe or two on Byers' 
ass where he'd used the belt on him. 

Even though it was morning, the heat of the New York summer 
had started up in earnest, and he'd forgotten to turn on 
the room's air conditioning the night before. The heat in 
the room as morning had broken meant that both of them had 
kicked the covers away before Doggett had awakened, and 
Byers was lying on the bed, nude and exposed. Just before 
Doggett had gone to bed last night, he'd called the hotel 
desk to have their suits picked up, cleaned and pressed, 
and delivered back to their room before noon.

Doggett knew that Byers would sleep late this morning, as 
he'd been exhausted after their play last night, and fallen 
asleep quickly. Byers would still be sore, but that 
soreness would probably be gone by the time they were back 
in D.C. He'd held back with the flogger and the belt, even 
though Byers had begged for more, and for harder blows. A 
massage and a hot shower would help him cope with the 
lingering ache, and Doggett had aspirin for him as well, if 
it was needed.

Byers stirred under Doggett's hand and made a soft grumbly 
noise, but didn't wake. His face was partly buried in his 
pillow, hair rumpled, muscles relaxed. Doggett considered 
waking him, but didn't. He was enjoying simply looking at 
him; his dark lashes a handsome contrast to his pale skin, 
those warm, soft lips slightly open, the little mole on 
Byers' cheek that gave his face character, the slow pulse 
beating at his throat. He let his hand trail up from Byers' 
shoulder to brush away the errant chestnut bangs from the 
man's face. Byers was usually so serious, so neat and 
orderly -- hair perfectly done, clothing just so -- seeing 
him relaxed and unguarded like this was a delight. Asleep, 
Byers' youthful appearance seemed even more so.

Doggett smiled to himself, pleased. He was glad he'd 
brought Byers along, and very pleased with how things had 
been going. Byers was good company, and the sex had been 
powerful and satisfying. The reality of Byers in that 
Armani, sucking him off, had been everything he'd hoped for 
and more. His sub's willingness and desire had left 
Doggett's knees weak. The man really was gorgeous dressed 
like that, in the heat of passion.

Byers' eyes fluttered open, then squeezed shut as he 
moaned.

"Still sore?" Doggett asked.

"Mmm-hmm," Byers replied.

"Where?"

"My ass," Byers mumbled, barely audible. "Shoulders and 
back."

"How's your chest?"

Byers didn't reply for a moment, obviously assessing 
himself. "Seems okay," he said eventually.

Doggett caressed his face, and Byers snuggled his cheek 
into Doggett's hand. 

"I brought stuff to give you a massage if you want. Got 
some oil to sooth the aches down some. It'll help, and then 
when we shower, you can wash the oil off."

Byers nodded.

"It's got a little scent to it, but nothing real strong," 
Doggett said. "Just a little light musk and a tiny bit of 
patchouli. No girly smells." He fished around in the 
bedside drawer until he found the small plastic squeeze 
bottle. Opening it, he held it near Byers' nose.

Byers took a small sniff. "Smells good," he said. He opened 
his eyes again, less strain showing around them. "Do you 
have aspirin? I hurt; my shoulders are stiff."

"Yeah, hang on a sec." Doggett rose from the bed and padded 
to the bathroom. He relieved himself and then brought a 
glass of water back to Byers, along with two aspirin. 

Byers was sitting up in the bed when he returned, and 
Doggett handed the glass and the pills to him. Byers took 
the pills and drank the entire glass of water. "Still 
thirsty," he muttered, obviously still half asleep.

"Go get some more water and take a piss, then come back and 
I'll do that massage for you. You'll need to stretch 
afterwards, while we're in the shower. It'll help you 
loosen up, "

Byers nodded and headed for the bathroom. Doggett watched 
as the man walked, noting his stiff movements. He'd 
probably need to work on Byers for about half an hour or so 
to get out most of the kinks and soothe his aches, and by 
that time, the aspirin would be kicking in. He'd make sure 
Byers carried more aspirin in his pocket for later in the 
day.

While Byers was in the bathroom, Doggett called down to 
room service to have breakfast sent up. He remembered what 
Byers had ordered the day before, and simply requested a 
repeat of yesterdays' breakfasts for both of them, sans 
Brentali's company and the surly waitress. The staff would 
have breakfast ready and delivered about the time he was 
done working on Byers' sore muscles.

Byers returned and collapsed face down on the bed with a 
groan. 

"You ready?" Doggett asked.

"Mmm," Byers mumbled, nodding.

Doggett squirted out some oil into his palm, then rubbed 
his hands together to warm it. Laying them on Byers' 
shoulders, he started spreading it smoothly over his sub's 
back, shoulders and sides, adding more oil as he needed it, 
so his hands would slide effortlessly over Byers' skin. 
Byers sighed and relaxed into the slowly deepening strokes, 
breathing deeply. 

The long movements of giving the massage felt good, and 
Doggett stretched himself into them, leaning his weight 
into Byers' hips and up his back. He enjoyed doing this, 
feeling the slick, oiled skin and muscles under his palms, 
his legs open to straddle Byers' body. Byers was making 
low, quiet, happy sounds, along with the occasional yip or 
hiss as Doggett struck a particularly sore spot. Working 
his way along, Doggett kneaded and twisted Byers' arms and 
shoulders, loosening them and working the heels of his 
hands or the balls of his thumbs into tight places, using 
his knuckles and the tips of his fingers to get into knots 
and ease them.

The pain in Byers' face faded as he melted into a puddle of 
warm, pliant flesh under Doggett's gentle, experienced 
hands. The aspirin was probably starting to work too, 
Doggett thought. Byers was nearly purring. It was a sound 
Doggett liked very much. It was, in fact, a sound that was 
stirring his groin, but he doubted that Byers would really 
be ready for that after what he'd taken last night. He'd 
pounded into Byers really hard toward the end, and knew 
that if he'd been fucked that hard, he wouldn't want 
anything even remotely dick-like near his ass for most of 
the next day. They'd have to settle for other forms of 
pleasure, though this wasn't exactly a hardship.

Doggett leaned down and kissed Byers' neck, and the slender 
man sighed and smiled. The oil on Byers' skin smelled great 
-- rich and masculine, almost unbearably sensual. He was 
about to move to Byers' ear when there was a knock at the 
door. Byers startled.

"Huh?"

"It's okay," Doggett said, kissing his ear quickly. "It's 
just breakfast. Stay there, I'll bring it in." Doggett rose 
and tossed a robe on, then went to answer the door. Room 
service wheeled the cart in and left it in the living room, 
departing quickly and discreetly. 

Doggett pulled one of the lap trays from the cart and put 
their food on it, then carried everything into the bedroom. 
"Okay, sunshine," Doggett said, setting the tray down next 
to Byers, "roll your ass over. It's breakfast." Doggett sat 
on the bed with him and poured coffee as Byers stretched 
and rolled over onto his side.

"Looks good," Byers said. "Smells good."

"You about ready for full sentences yet?"

Byers shook his head, picking up his fork. "No. Massage 
good. Hungry. Coffee," he grunted, eyes alight.

Doggett laughed. "You must be feelin' better."

"Yeah. The massage really helped, and I think the aspirin 
kicked in too, because I'm not nearly as stiff and achy as 
I was when I first woke up." Byers got up on one elbow and 
took his coffee, sipping it, then sighing. "Ahhh. Feel the 
power of the caffeine." He smiled.

"You look like you feel better."

Byers nodded. "Where did you learn to do that? The massage, 
I mean."

Doggett shrugged, taking a couple of bites of his eggs. "A 
guy I was seeing for a while. Was a medic, then studied 
massage when he got outta the service. Said Somalia messed 
with his head so much that he just really needed to do 
something that didn't hurt people."

"I think I could understand that," Byers said. "You do it 
well."

"Turned out to be a real useful skill. I'm gonna teach you 
how to do it too, that way you can do it for me." He looked 
at Byers, wondering what his response would be.

Byers looked up at Doggett and smiled, a pleased expression 
on his face. "That sounds like a great idea."

Doggett grinned back at him. "Of course it is." He 
chuckled. "We'll need to find somebody for me to 
demonstrate on, though, so you can see what I'm doing."

Byers smirked. "I doubt that'll be too hard. I suspect 
Ringo wouldn't mind being a guinea pig."

"Ringo?" Doggett was confused.

"Oh, sorry. Langly. He goes by Ringo usually. He's never 
much cared for being called Richard." Byers sipped his 
coffee again. "Then again, I think he'll be really 
surprised when I tell him who's going to be teaching me. Of 
course, he'll probably decide he should learn it so he can 
use it on Skinner."

Doggett nodded. "Wouldn't surprise me. Those two have gotta 
be the oddest couple I've ever laid eyes on."

"Isn't that the truth." Byers sighed. "I think Mel and I 
both about passed out when we found out about it. Frohike 
hassled him mercilessly for weeks -- Lord Manhammer and the 
Great Bear." He chuckled and shook his head.

"Lord Manhammer? What kinda stupid crap of a name is that?"

Byers started laughing. "It's his D&D character, believe it 
or not. He's been playing the same damned character in the 
same game with most of the same gaming buddies since before 
I met him. I think last time I heard, they'd become some 
deific pantheon and were out trying to solve the problem of 
the ultimate elimination of evil or something."

Doggett couldn't help but laugh as well. "Jesus, Langly as 
some kinda god. That is so wrong. Doesn't that beat all."

"All but Skinner," Byers said, a wry grin on his face. 
"Ringo says that Walter can be really rough on him 
sometimes, but they both seem to like it." A moment of 
something that might have been regret ghosted over Byers' 
face, but it was gone so fast that Doggett wasn't sure he'd 
even seen it. "Skinner's all about being the boss."

"Tell me about it," Doggett grumbled. "He's been on my ass 
lately about being more careful with this whole 
supersoldier investigation. I'm surprised he hasn't asked 
me to drop it entirely."

"What's been happening with that lately?"

"Last week, me and Monica found some really weird assed 
evidence." Doggett sighed and shook his head. "Looked 
like... jeez, like some kinda metal vertebra. We hauled it 
in for safekeeping, and were gonna have Scully look at it 
the next morning, but it was gone. No evidence of a B and 
E, no prints, no nothing. It's like the damned thing never 
existed."

"You should probably get used to that sort of thing," Byers 
said, looking troubled. "Mulder and Scully's evidence was 
constantly disappearing into the system or being stolen or 
destroyed. God only knows what happened to most of it. And 
then there was the office fire. The guys and I spent months 
working to recover fragments of the files, doing our best 
to piece things together from what was left in the file 
cabinets, and the stuff we'd collected in helping them out 
over the years. It was a tremendous loss, and a devastating 
blow to their work." He nibbled at his breakfast.

Byers paused, then looked into Doggett's eyes. "I know that 
you don't believe a lot of what they found, but I can tell 
you that the danger surrounding the Files is very real. 
This isn't like anything you've ever done before, Jack." 
His voice quieted. "If you let them get too close, they'll 
try to kill you. I mean it." He reached out and took 
Doggett's hand. "No matter how paranoid you are, you're not 
paranoid enough. Listen to Skinner. He won't talk to Langly 
about it, but Ringo's sure Skinner knows more than he's 
ever been willing to let on. Please, be careful."

Doggett squeezed Byers' hand and let it go. The man was 
obviously serious, and very troubled about the whole thing.

"I'll be careful. I always am."

Byers sighed, looking doubtful, but nodded. He turned his 
attention back to his Eggs Benedict and the slice of bacon 
that he'd snagged from Doggett's plate.

"That's my food you're messin' with."

"You snooze, you lose."

Doggett snorted. "I think you got an attitude problem, 
boy."

"I think I belong to myself right now," Byers said with an 
evil grin, "and I'm having a craving for another slice of 
bacon. You weren't eating it, so I figured it was my duty 
to keep my strength up after what you did to me last 
night." He chuckled.

Doggett mussed Byers' already rumpled hair with one hand 
and laughed. "You have a point. Speaking of which, how are 
you feeling? Not your body; I know how that's doing. I mean 
inside."

Byers looked up again, thoughtful. Shifting his weight, he 
sat. "I'm fine, actually. It was really different from what 
happened Friday night. Last night was a lot more like what 
I've done before. I mean, it's never been quite like that, 
and I've certainly never done anything that intense, but I 
knew enough about what we were doing that it was 
comfortable for me. I could cope with it. Though I'm glad 
you weren't as hard on me as I asked."

Doggett nodded. "You don't have enough experience to know 
your own limits yet. It takes a while, and I don't want to 
hurt you while you're learning. It would be really 
irresponsible to push you too far. A good Dom always takes 
care of his sub, Johnny." Doggett laid a hand gently on 
Byers' shoulder. "I want you to know that, to be sure of 
it, no matter where you go or who you end up with. Never 
let a Dom hurt you or force you to do anything you don't 
actually want to do, or that you haven't negotiated 
beforehand. If it does happen, get out the second you can. 
Walk away from the guy -- run if you have to -- and don't 
go back unless you got somebody who can mediate. If you 
ever have a bad experience, I promise that you can always 
talk to me or Sergio. We'll help you, whatever it is, 
okay?"

Byers laid a hand on top of Doggett's, nodding. "Thanks," 
he said softly. "That means a lot."

"I don't want to see you get hurt," Doggett said, "not by 
anybody. Especially not by me."

Byers shifted closer, sliding an arm around Doggett's 
waist, and Doggett pulled him close and held him. Byers 
turned his face to him and they kissed. It was a savory 
kiss, tasting of bacon and coffee and eggs. Rather than 
arousing Doggett, the kiss left him feeling a warm 
tenderness for the man. Byers was no fool, but sometimes 
there seemed to be an innocence about him that belied his 
years and experience. 

Doggett worried that some unscrupulous asshole would take 
advantage of Byers' desire to please someone, to find 
acceptance from someone he could respect and serve. Despite 
Byers' paranoia, he could see those desires burning in him. 
He thought that those wants and needs might bypass Byers' 
reason and his self-protective instincts, and land the shy, 
quiet man in serious trouble if he didn't learn how to rein 
them in. 

This weekend Byers had done -- had let Doggett do -- things 
that surprised him; things he wouldn't have expected from a 
man whose paranoia was one of his defining characteristics. 
Perhaps in wanting so much to be able to trust, Byers was 
forgetting himself. Doggett wondered if it would all be 
over Monday, when they went back to their homes and their 
daily habits. Was it just a fluke of circumstance?

Doggett released Byers, then moved the remains of breakfast 
off the bed. He lay on his side and patted the bed in front 
of him. "C'mere," he said.

Byers slid close and lay beside him, sliding a hand from 
Doggett's shoulder to his wrist. "What would you like?" he 
asked.

"Come spoon up with me," Doggett said, raising his arm so 
that Byers could curl up against him. They shuffled for a 
moment, snuggling close together, and Doggett wrapped his 
arm around Byers' thin waist, angling up until the palm of 
his hand lay cupped over Byers' heart. He sighed, 
tightening his grip on his companion.

"Feels good," Byers whispered.

"Mmmhmm." Doggett breathed in the warm scent of the massage 
oil on Byers' skin. He could feel Byers' slow, steady 
heartbeat in his palm. The difference in their size was 
just enough that Byers fit perfectly against the curve of 
his body. He didn't think he'd had such a pleasant Sunday 
morning in years. There was no rush, nowhere Doggett had to 
be, nothing he had to do. He could just lie there, holding 
Byers, savoring the physical contact and the pleasure of 
being with him. They could shower later, maybe go for a 
walk in the park again, or perhaps Byers would have 
something in mind he'd like to do. For now, all Doggett 
wanted was this. He took a deep breath and kissed the back 
of Byers' head, smiling.

"You make me feel good, Jack," Byers said quietly.

"I'm glad," Doggett told him. "You deserve that."

NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY
5TH AVENUE & 42ND STREET
MID-DAY

"What's so great about a library?" Doggett asked as they 
passed between the stone lions and climbed the stairs to 
the library's doors.

Byers looked at him, an eyebrow raised. He was dressed in 
jeans again, and a brick red shirt. "This is only one of 
the most magnificent public libraries in the world, Jack. 
The architecture is amazing late 19th-early 20th century 
Beaux Arts, and this is the epicenter of literary history 
in the United States. So many famous authors worked in the 
writing rooms here you'd think it was a university."

"But it's a library, Johnny. It's a bunch of books. It 
could be anywhere and it'd still be a bunch of books."

Byers snorted. "And The Cloisters is just a bunch of old 
stuff."

Doggett rolled his eyes. "Okay, so you got me there. But I 
know you and the guys can get into the Library of Congress 
when you need to, so what's the big deal about this?"

Byers shook his head sadly. "It's about the history here." 
He opened the door and stepped in, followed by Doggett. 
Byers took a deep breath. "Smell that?"

"Smells like books and the great unwashed."

"Precisely. That's the smell of history, Jack. Well, except 
maybe for the great unwashed part." Byers smiled broadly. 
"Those books represent a massive collection of knowledge, 
the passage of time, and the creation and fostering of one 
of the world's most impressive modern literary traditions. 
Think of the people who have passed through those doors. 
Think about the collections of letters and papers of 
hundreds of American writers. Think about all the secrets 
that are hidden here, just waiting to be discovered." It 
excited him, made his heart beat faster, thinking of all 
the famous, infamous, and talented men and women who had 
passed through those portals before him.

Doggett looked at Byers. "If I was gonna see a library, I'd 
want to see the one at Alexandria, before Caesar's men 
burned it for campfires when they trashed the city."

Byers nodded. "That's always been a wild fantasy of mine. 
If only time travel was feasible. Well, without horrible 
consequences anyway." He thought of the case Mulder and 
Scully worked on involving a scientist who had traveled 
back in time to murder himself. Bizarre.

"You've been watchin' too many Back to the Future 
marathons, Johnny."

Byers chuckled. "Yeah. Stepping on a bug and causing the 
universe to shift on its axis isn't really my idea of the 
best way to travel."

"Why here though? There are so many things to see in the 
City. Lots of bigger, more impressive stuff, really."

"I'm not so sure about that. Don't you want to see 
Jefferson's manuscript of the Declaration of Independence? 
The original Gutenberg Bible? What about the Reading Room?" 
Byers tilted his head, walking toward a stairway.

Doggett shrugged. "Haven't been anywhere near the place 
since before it was renovated in '95. They even had the 
lions wearin' hard hats. It was a mess before that. I mean, 
yeah, it must have been a nice room way back when, but 
now?"

"Everything I've seen suggests that the restoration is 
really impressive. Mark Twain was here, Jack, and the beat 
poets and Barbara Tuchman and F. Scott Fitzgerald and Dylan 
Thomas and... well, pretty much anybody who's anybody in 
literature that's been in New York has been here at one 
point or another." Byers wasn't sure why this sort of thing 
didn't seem to excite Doggett the way it excited him.

Doggett gave him a small smile. "I guess the literary life 
never really did much for me. I read a lot more when I was 
a kid than I do now. These days, I barely have time to keep 
up with what I need to know for work, much less spend time 
reading because I like to." He kept pace with Byers on the 
stairs. "I wish I could. I miss it, you know? Reading 
things for fun or just to make me think."

"I don't think I could survive without it," Byers said. "If 
the only things I ever read were related to my work, I'd 
curl up into myself and never stick my face out the door. 
But if you stop and think about it, everything is related 
to the work I do. There are clues everywhere, and when the 
guys and I are researching our stories, sometimes we have 
to look in the most unbelievable directions. I need to know 
a little about as many different things as I can to make 
sense of what we find. One story we did about six years 
back involved a scientist's stolen research that coded DNA 
sequences for a newly discovered psychoactive substance in 
musical compositions to keep them concealed. I couldn't 
believe that music theory ended up being useful for our 
work, but in that case it was worth more than all of our 
knowledge of cryptanalysis and cryptography combined. Once 
we had it broken down, it was elegant; an exquisite example 
of cross-disciplinary work on the scientist's part." Byers 
chuckled. "The music wasn't bad either, though Langly still 
says he prefers the Ramones."

Doggett looked at Byers, surprise in his eyes. He shook his 
head. "You amaze me," he said. "Music theory and 
biochemistry?"

"I like knowing things," Byers said. "I want to follow 
knowledge like a sinking star. It's about the only thing I 
have going for me."

"Will you give that a break?" Doggett said, annoyed. 
"You're always saying shit like that about yourself. You've 
got no goddamn sense of how different you really are, do 
you? Quoting Tennyson like everybody should know that poem? 
I can't believe half the stuff you and the guys manage to 
come up with. You're all a bunch of geniuses -- well, 
except that Bond guy you picked up a few months ago -- and 
the only reason other people don't notice is because you're 
always talking about this conspiracy stuff, like mandroids 
and Teletubbies and implanted microchips in people's 
brains. If you were anywhere other than publishing that 
paper, Johnny, you'd be golden."

Byers sighed. It was hard for him to hear things like that. 
He'd never thought of himself as anything special; he was 
just a man who wanted to do the right thing. Byers knew he 
was intelligent, but he didn't think he came anywhere near 
genius. Langly, maybe, when he was hacking or coding, or 
Frohike when he cobbled those inventions of his out of 
spare parts, but not himself. All Byers felt he was really 
good at was knowing multi-syllabic words and connecting the 
dots between different bits of information. "I doubt that," 
he said.

Doggett shook his head. "There you go again. What did I 
tell you about needing to learn how to take a compliment?"

Byers looked over at Doggett, coming to rest on the third 
floor landing. He snorted. "Thank you, Sir."

"You're still a smart ass, and you still don't believe me."

"How am I supposed to believe you when you're saying things 
that outrageous?"

Doggett sighed and shook his head, continuing up the 
stairs. "Maybe one of these days it'll sink in. C'mon, 
let's go look at this stuff you wanted to see."

As they were making their way up the fifth floor steps, 
Byers spotted a familiar face. He cringed and tried to hide 
behind Doggett as they walked, hoping not to be noticed.

"Hey, Munch!" Doggett said.

Detective John Munch turned to look, squinted, shook his 
head and waited for the two men to get to the fifth floor 
landing. "Hey Doggett, what the hell are you doin' with 
this loser?"

Doggett looked over at Byers with an arched eyebrow, then 
back at Munch. "Research."

Byers shifted uncomfortably, knowing that attempting to 
hide behind Doggett was only going to look weird at this 
point. "You two... uh... know each other?"

Doggett looked at him. "I was about to ask you the same 
thing."

Munch smirked. "I arrested him once. And why aren't you 
wearin' that aluminum foil hat, Byers?"

Byers glowered at Munch, embarrassed. He could feel himself 
blush. 

Doggett's eyes widened. "Aluminum foil hat?"

"Keeps out the government's mind control rays," Munch said 
with a shrug. The detective was grinning and Byers was 
convinced it was at his expense. Munch turned to Doggett. 
"So how's the basement at the Hoover? And that Mulder guy?"

"Mulder's retired now," Doggett said. "I'm doin' okay 
though, thanks."

 "Mulder still seein' little green men?"

"Grey," Byers grumbled.

"Yeah, well, whatever he's seein' I just hope he's keeping 
his clothes on," Munch said.          

Doggett's eyebrows climbed to his hairline. "God, I hope 
so." He looked over at Byers with a 'this I've got to hear' 
expression on his face.

Byers tapped at Doggett's elbow. "Agent Doggett, we really 
have to get back to work..."

Munch shook his head. "So what are you guys researching 
here?"

Doggett blinked and looked at Byers, then back at Munch. 
"Uh... genetic mutations."

"Wouldn't the sciences library be more useful for that?" 
Munch asked.

Byers shuffled and said, "Actually we're dealing with 
ethical issues in this case."

Munch snorted and gave Byers a sidelong glance. "A guy who 
breaks into warehouses is worried about ethics?"

Byers glared at Munch, irritated and showing it. "We broke 
into that warehouse because what was happening in there was 
unethical."

"Yeah," Munch said, chuckling. "And extraterrestrial."

Doggett looked confused but put a hand on Byers' arm. 
"Easy, Byers."

Munch smiled. "Nah, it's okay. You and your pals stayin' 
out of trouble, Byers?"

"Why would you care?" Byers said. He crossed his arms in 
front of him.

"'Cuz I've been subscribed to your rag for years now." 
Munch winked.

Byers sputtered. "What?" He shook his head. "Your name's 
not on our subscriber list."

Munch laughed. "You think I'm stupid enough to put my real 
name on your subscriber list? I'm listed as Richard Belzer. 
You guys even printed one of my articles a few years back 
about the Gulf Breeze sightings."

"Belzer?" Byers was stunned. That was, in fact, one of the 
names on their list, and they had published just such an 
article by that reader. "But I thought you --"

"Turned out you guys aren't nearly the nutcases I used to 
think you were," Munch said. "You've published some good 
stuff since '89." He offered a hand to Byers.

Speechless, Byers took it. He gaped at Munch.

"I really gotta be goin'; lunch break's over and I gotta 
get back to the office. Nice to see you again, Doggett." 
Munch shook Doggett's hand, then looked back to Byers. "You 
and the guys keep uncoverin' the conspiracies, Byers. But 
that new guy? Bond? What a flake." Munch grinned and headed 
off down the stairs.

Doggett turned to Byers. "What the hell was that all about? 
Aluminum foil hats? Naked Mulder? When did you meet Munch, 
Johnny?"

Byers stood watching Munch's back disappear around the 
corner of the staircase, his mouth open. 

"Johnny?"

Byers shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it," he 
said quietly, burying his face in one hand. "I just really 
don't want to talk about it. Not here, not now." He moaned. 
"God, he's one of our subscribers."

Doggett laid a hand on Byers' shoulder. "You gonna be 
okay?" There was concern in his voice.

Byers sighed and looked up, seeing a worried and deeply 
confused expression on Doggett's face. "Yeah, yeah. I'm 
fine. It was just... something of a shock, that's all. That 
was not the best day of my life."

"Munch arrested you?"

Byers squeezed his eyes shut, then took a deep breath and 
looked calmly up at Doggett. He nodded. "I'll tell you 
about it later, all right? Let's just go up to the reading 
room. I really need to sit down for a few minutes."

Byers felt Doggett's hand slide to the small of his back as 
they climbed the two remaining flights of stairs up to the 
huge reading room. The touch was comforting and reassuring 
after his rather distressing run-in with the past. So much 
for any desire to time travel, he thought. The last thing 
he ever wanted to do was end up back in that warehouse with 
a gun at his head. The thought left him panicked and 
sweaty. By the time they got to the reading room, Byers had 
his panic under control, but really needed to sit.

"You're lookin' really pale, Johnny. Are you sure you're 
all right?" Doggett sat next to him and took one of his 
hands. Byers let their joined hands rest on his thigh.

"I really don't want to talk about this in public," Byers 
said. "It was one of the worst experiences of my life."

"I'm sorry."

Byers turned his eyes to the table before him. "You had no 
way of knowing. I didn't know you knew him. If I'd had any 
idea he would be here --"

"He's really not that bad a guy," Doggett said.

Byers looked up at him. "He wasn't the problem, Jack. He 
was just doing his job. It was the rest of it that was 
awful. He just reminds me of the whole mess. Please, don't 
make me talk about this right now."

Doggett nodded. "Sorry, Johnny. Are you sure you still want 
to be here right now? We could come back another time if 
you like."

Byers shook his head. "We won't have time before we have to 
head home."

Doggett squeezed his hand. "I didn't mean it had to be this 
weekend. Maybe we can come back together another time."

Byers sighed and sat back, taking in the huge room around 
him. It was richly, even opulently furnished. Along the 
edges of the room were desks with computer terminals for 
research and writing. The ceiling had an incredibly 
realistic painting of a cloudy sky framed by wood and 
molding in its center. He lay his head on the back of his 
chair for a few minutes and just stared at it, taking it 
in.

Come back another time? It seemed like Doggett was 
interested in continuing their relationship, whatever that 
meant, after they got back home. He thought about what that 
might be like, having someone to be with, someone to turn 
to now and then when he really needed it.

Finally, Byers looked back down at Doggett, who had been 
sitting patiently, watching him. "No, it's okay. The 
memories are always with me, Jack. I can't just dump them 
in the stairwell if we leave the library. And I really want 
to see the manuscript draft of the Declaration."

Doggett nodded. "Okay. I think it's over there." Doggett 
pointed off to one side of the room. The two stood, and 
Doggett led the way. They eventually found themselves 
standing before a climate-controlled cabinet lidded with 
glass, kept behind a rope barrier. "Here it is," Doggett 
said.

Byers looked down at the ancient, stained document. He felt 
a sense of reverence welling up in him, knowing that 
Jefferson had written it. The hands of a great man had made 
the document in a time of incredible social upheaval, under 
circumstances he could barely imagine. Byers saw it as a 
testimony to what was best and brightest in the human 
species, to the spirit of men who risked everything against 
a massive power far greater than their own to gain freedom 
from tyranny. He hoped that, in some small way, he and his 
friends were contributing to that ongoing struggle. He 
stood and stared at the draft for a very long time.

Eventually, he felt a touch on his shoulder and startled. 
Turning, he saw it was Doggett.

"You been here for about half an hour, Johnny. Is there 
anything else you want to see or do here, or can we go get 
some lunch?" There was a slight touch of impatience in 
Doggett's voice.

"Sorry," Byers said. "Yeah, let's go eat." Upon being 
reminded, he could feel his stomach rumble. "I didn't 
realize I'd been here so long, and I'm hungry too."

"You doin' better now?"

Byers nodded. "Yeah, thanks. I needed some time to let it 
go."

"You maybe want Korean barbeque?" Doggett asked. "I know a 
decent little lunch place not far from here where they do 
it pretty good."

"Not sure my stomach could handle kim chee right now. 
Russian maybe? Some piroshkys?"

Doggett nodded. "I guess we could do that."

PARKER MERIDIEN HOTEL
ROOM 1246
AFTERNOON

"Talk to me, Johnny." 

Doggett hung their clean suits up in the closet. They had 
been waiting on the bed for them when they arrived after 
lunch.

Byers sighed, kicked his sneakers off, and folded himself 
onto the bed to sit. He'd been quiet and withdrawn since 
they'd met Munch at the library. Byers had said that Munch 
had brought up a lot of bad memories for him, but Doggett 
had been hoping that lunch would help him relax a little. 
He looked a little less haunted than he had, but Byers was 
still in a very dark mood.

"It must have been pretty bad," Doggett said quietly, 
seating himself next to Byers.

Byers nodded. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't be acting 
this way. It was years ago. There's no reason for me to 
still be effected by it like this."

"It's not that unusual when somebody's been through a 
trauma," Doggett said. "It can stay with you the rest of 
your life."

Byers closed his eyes, lowering his head. "I hope not."

"What happened to you?"

Byers looked up at Doggett. "Everything I believed in was 
stolen from me or destroyed, and I was on my knees in a 
warehouse with a gun at my head, knowing I was going to 
die." Byers was pale and quiet, but steady. "I lost 
everything that day. My job, my faith, my plans for the 
future, my heart, my family -- everything."

"It sounds terrible," Doggett said.

Byers nodded. "Yeah, you could say that."

"How did all that happen?"

Byers sighed. "That's a really long story. It... it 
involved Susanne, and Mulder, and Munch. And it was the day 
I met the guys. It opened my eyes to the conspiracies, to 
the truth of their existence and how dangerous they are. We 
tried to stop their plans. It almost cost all of us our 
lives. Well, not Munch. He just questioned us afterwards."

"Who were 'they,' and what plans were those?"

"The same people behind the supersoldiers, the alien 
colonization plans, the shapeshifters, and pretty much 
everything else we've run across over the years," Byers 
said. "In that particular case, they were attempting to 
test a chemical that Susanne had developed that caused 
paranoia in those exposed to it." He looked at Doggett with 
an expression that said he knew Doggett wasn't going to 
believe him.

"This Susanne was the woman you--"

Byers nodded. "I have no idea what came over me. I fell for 
her the minute I saw her. The irony was, everything she 
told me was a lie. She was trying to get information from 
an encrypted DARPA file about the test of an ergotamine-
histamine gas she'd developed under threat to her life 
while she was working at the Advanced Weapons Facility in 
Whitestone, New Mexico. The conspiracy had framed her for 
the death of her co-workers and an MP. By the time we were 
through, we'd stopped the conspiracy's test, but Susanne 
was snatched off the street right in front of us by the 
same man who was going to execute us."

Doggett wasn't sure what to say. It all sounded confusing, 
but he certainly could see how it effected Byers. "But the 
guy obviously didn't kill you. What happened?"

Byers shivered. "I still don't really know. Much later, we 
found out that the man was one of Mulder's informants." 
Byers' voice dropped away to a bare whisper. "He had the 
gun to my head, Jack. He pulled the trigger on an empty 
chamber. I... I still hear that sound."

Doggett moved closer to Byers and put an arm around him. 
"I'm sorry, Johnny. "

Byers looked at him, startled and angry. "Don't touch me." 
He slid away from Doggett, shaking his head. "I can't talk 
about this anymore."

Doggett looked at Byers, concerned about his pain and his 
distance. "You don't have to say anything else about it. 
I'm sorry you went through that." Byers was pale and upset, 
his body tense and stiff, but he wasn't shaking. His face 
was cold as granite. "It was over years ago," Doggett said 
quietly, putting as much reassurance as he could into his 
voice.

Doggett had his own share of moments like those. Lebanon, 
and the loss of his son lived too vividly in his mind, 
replaying like loop tapes in his nightmares. He understood 
the fear and the anger and the self-loathing that came with 
all of it; the helplessness of those situations, and their 
feeling of terrible inexorability. Doggett had been where 
Byers was far too often. 

"It's not over," Byers said. "It surrounds me, every day. 
All the things that were going on then, they're still going 
on. The players change, but the conspiracies continue. It 
doesn't seem to matter how many years pass, it's all right 
here." He tapped his head with a finger. "I wish I could 
forget. I wish I could erase it all." 

The sadness and anger in Byers' eyes was profound. This, 
Doggett thought, must be where his habitual solemnity was 
rooted, and the calm, sorrowful expression that usually 
occupied his face. He knew Byers was, at heart, an 
idealist, and from what little had been said, it seemed 
that much of the man's belief in things being good and 
right in the world had been shattered that day. Byers 
sounded like he'd never really recovered. 

He wished there was something he could do to offer Byers a 
little ease and comfort, some shelter from the internal 
storm, but the bearded man was cold and distant, unwilling 
to be touched. The dissociation was another feeling Doggett 
knew too well. When Byers was ready, maybe he'd talk more 
about it. That, however, might be a long time coming.

"We've still got a few hours before dinner and the show, 
Johnny. Did you want to do anything, or would you rather 
just lie down for a while?"

Byers was huddled tightly into himself, sullen. "I don't 
know," he said quietly.

Doggett sighed. "I guess we'll stay here for a while, then. 
Do you want company, or should I leave you alone?"

Byers looked at him and his face softened. "Please, stay."

Doggett nodded. 

Byers sighed and lay on his side, still looking troubled. 
He wrapped his arms around himself. Doggett slid closer to 
him, laying a hand tentatively on his shoulder. "Is this 
okay?" he  asked.

"Yeah." Byers closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to 
snap at you."

"I know what it's like, Johnny. I have my own shit to cope 
with, and I've done way worse stuff than that when I've 
been in that mood. I wish you'd let me help." He squeezed 
Byers' shoulder and raised his hand to Byers' head, quietly 
stroking his hair. 

Byers started to relax slightly, then sighed deeply. "This 
helps," he whispered. He looked up at Doggett, overwhelming 
sadness still darkening his clear blue eyes. Doggett 
wondered if he was lying. He really didn't want to see 
Byers stay in this mood.

"Move over," Doggett said. He kicked his shoes off and slid 
onto the bed next to Byers, and they both moved a little 
more toward the center of the mattress. Doggett lay on his 
back. "Okay, c'mere," he said, sliding an arm around Byers.

Byers scooted to Doggett's side, laying his head on the 
man's shoulder. He draped his arm over Doggett's broad 
chest. Doggett could feel the tension in Byers' body as he 
wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. "Try to 
relax a little," Doggett said, slowly running his fingers 
through Byers' hair.

Byers sighed and settled, still tense. "I wish it was that 
easy."

"Just breathe, Johnny. Close your eyes and breathe slow and 
deep. It helps."

Byers lay still, taking slow, deep breaths for a while. 
Eventually, the tension in his muscles started to seep 
away, but he groaned softly and fisted Doggett's shirt in 
one hand.

"What's wrong?" Doggett asked.

Byers' reply was quiet and strained. "I have a headache, 
and my body is really aching too."

Doggett nodded. "You want some more aspirin? The aches are 
partly left over from last night, but I'm gonna guess that 
the headache's just from stress, and that ain't helping the 
muscles much either."

"You're probably right," Byers said. "I don't get headaches 
very often that aren't from stress, unless I'm down with 
something."

"Hang on, let me get you some aspirin. You go ahead and 
stay here."

Doggett slid out from under Byers, bringing back water and 
aspirin from the bathroom. Byers sat to take the pills as 
Doggett lay down on the bed next to him again. Setting the 
glass down on the bedside table, Byers lay back down as 
well. He settled into Doggett's embrace, slightly more 
relaxed this time.

"Thanks," Byers said.

"You gonna be okay?" Doggett asked.

Byers nodded. "In a while. Maybe I'll be in a better mood 
when I don't hurt so much."

"Probably." Doggett ran his fingers over Byers' cheek, and 
Byers looked up at him. Doggett bent his head down and 
kissed him softly, their lips meeting with a quiet breath. 
"Just rest for a while. We've got a lot of time before we 
have to be anywhere." Byers nodded and lay his head down to 
rest.

Some time later, Byers asked, "Jack, why are you being so 
good to me?"
 
"I like you," Doggett said. "I've been havin' a good time 
with you. Why shouldn't I be good to you? Did you want me 
to be a stressed out asshole or something? I could probably 
manage it if you insist."

Byers snorted and smiled. "No, that's okay. I guess I'm 
just not used to it."

"Maybe you should be." Doggett's fingers slipped slowly 
through Byers' soft hair, his touch a caress.

"I wouldn't mind that." Byers' voice was sad but hopeful, 
as though he didn't believe there would ever be a reason to 
be used to it.

"I meant what I was sayin' earlier," Doggett said. "I 
really think you sell yourself short, Johnny. You got a lot 
goin' for you, but you refuse to see it. Maybe you should 
try just relaxing, being yourself around other people 
sometimes."

Byers shook his head gently. "It's too dangerous. You know 
that."

"Yeah, there's risks, but I don't keep myself locked in a 
warehouse basement workin' around the clock, either."

"That's true." Byers slid his hand along Doggett's chest, 
letting it come to rest at his hip. "I'm not you."

Doggett chuckled. "God, I hope not. One of me is enough for 
most purposes."

"I'm not so sure about that," Byers said, his voice taking 
on a slight tone of mischief.

Doggett smiled. "Oh? And what did you think you'd need two 
of me for?"

Byers snickered. "I'm sure you'd think of something."

Doggett drew Byers closer. "Oh yeah, I suppose I could 
think of a few things." He laughed, imagining two of him 
with Byers, one fucking, one being sucked. It sent a tingle 
down his spine, creating a slight stirring in his groin. 
"You got a dirty mind, Johnny. That innocent-looking face 
of yours don't fool me."

"I have no idea what you mean," Byers said. Doggett heard 
him snicker again under his breath. This was good. A 
returning sense of humor was a sign that Byers was probably 
starting to feel better, both physically and emotionally. 

Doggett ran a hand down Byers' back, starting to massage 
the slender man's muscles and tendons. He felt less tense 
than he had when they first lay down together. It wasn't 
long before Byers was much more relaxed, and mumbling 
quietly about how good it felt. Byers' back was warm, and 
he was starting to melt under Doggett's hand. A few minutes 
later, Doggett tugged at Byers' shirt, pulling the hem out 
of his pants, then slid his hand underneath, caressing the 
soft, bare skin.

Byers sighed. "So nice," he said quietly. His own hand 
stirred from Doggett's hip and started to caress its way 
down the outside of Doggett's thigh, moving slow and 
tender. 

Doggett could feel Byers' breathing deepen, still slow and 
relaxed, and his own kept a similar pace. Their motion was 
soft and languid, unhurried but sensual. He could lie in 
this space for hours, drifting in the quiet eroticism of 
slow moving hands and the soothing sound of gentle, aroused 
breath. Content, he would let Byers decide if things went 
further, not wanting to push if the contact was meant more 
for comfort than passion. 

Doggett knew from his own experience that at times like 
these sex had the potential to be healing and give great 
pleasure, but it could also hurt someone in a fragile, 
vulnerable state of mind, as Byers had been. There could be 
a lot of satisfaction in erotic play that didn't lead to 
more involved sexual acts, and if that was what happened, 
he was all right with it. On the other hand, if Byers 
wanted an intense, body-shaking fuck, he'd be more than 
happy to provide that as well -- or anything in between.

Byers' hand followed the line of Doggett's thigh to his 
knee, fingertips tracing the muscles under the faded jeans. 
Slowly, they trailed back up from knee to hip, sliding down 
along the curve of Doggett's ass where it met the mattress. 
Doggett tilted his hips slightly toward Byers, raising his 
knee and resting his leg on Byers' hip. He sighed at the 
feel of Byers' slim body on his inner thigh, and held him a 
little more closely. Byers moved with him, slipping one leg 
between Doggett's thighs, and moving his fingers along 
Doggett's ass to where the muscle met his back. With a soft 
motion, Byers palm cupped the firm curve.

"What do you want, Johnny?" Doggett asked quietly. The 
touch was awakening arousal in him, and he wanted to have 
some idea of where this was going before he made any 
decisions.

Byers looked up at him. "I just... I guess I just want to 
be here for a while like this." He sighed. "My headache's a 
little better, but I still don't feel quite right. I like 
how this feels, what we're doing." 

He slid his hand slowly up Doggett's side to his shoulder, 
pulling him closer. Doggett answered the movement by 
holding Byers tight to his body, and Byers made a little 
rumbly purring sound. Doggett's fingers moved on the bare 
skin of Byers' back, and Byers tucked his head next to 
Doggett's cheek.

"This what you need?" Doggett asked.

Byers nodded. "Yeah."

Nuzzling in Byers' hair, Doggett closed his eyes. "I like 
how you feel," he said. "You have a such a good body; warm, 
strong, comfortable." He stroked Byers' cheek as he let his 
other hand roam Byers' upper back. "This is good, spending 
time with you like this."

Byers squeezed him hard for a moment, then lay a hesitant 
kiss on Doggett's neck. "Thanks," he said. "It's been years 
since I could just... since anyone's been with me like 
this." His voice quieted, barely a whisper. "I've needed 
this so much."

Doggett nodded. "A lot of guys I've been with aren't much 
into it, but I like it. Some of 'em, all they want is a 
fuck, and then it's 'get outta my face.' I never understood 
that. I mean, sometimes, yeah, I've felt that way, but 
really only if the guy's been a lousy lay or a jerk. Mostly 
it feels good to hold somebody, to have 'em next to you 
like this."

Byers shifted his weight, and Doggett loosened his arms to 
let him move. With a little grunt, Byers picked himself up 
and lay fully atop Doggett's body, sliding his arms under 
Doggett's shoulders. Doggett could feel Byers watching him 
and opened his eyes as he slid his arms back around Byers' 
body.

"When I hear you talk about having been with those other 
men, all these guys you've been with, sometimes I feel a 
little envious," Byers said.

"No," Doggett shook his head. "You don't want to envy that, 
Johnny. There wasn't much to it, just sex. Most of it 
didn't mean anything. There was never any kind of 
connection. The few times there was, there were other 
reasons things didn't last. It's like the difference 
between chips and pot roast. Chips might fill your stomach, 
but they don't really feed you."

"Langly might disagree with you on that," Byers said with a 
soft chuckle. "You just... you have so much more confidence 
than I do, so much more experience. I guess that's what I 
wish I had, when I think about it."

Doggett took Byers' face between his hands. "You'll get 
there. You're a good man, Johnny. Someday you'll meet the 
right person, and you'll feel confident with him -- or with 
her -- I don't know what you really want and only you can 
know for sure. It makes a difference though, feeling that 
way with somebody, and once you feel it you can learn to 
hang onto it. Don't think that just because you're a sub 
you won't feel it, or just because it hasn't happened yet, 
it never will."

Byers looked into his eyes, a thoughtful expression on his 
face. "When I'm working, I have a lot of confidence. I know 
I'm good at what I do. I've faced so much over the years 
and gotten through. It's just when I'm in situations like 
this, when it's... intimate..." Byers hesitated, blushing.

 "But you know what you want, Johnny." Doggett traced a 
thumb along Byers' cheekbone with a soft, slow stroke. 
"You've asked for what you wanted this weekend. You weren't 
sure about what you could actually take, but you knew what 
you wanted. That's where it starts. It takes a lot of 
courage to ask, especially when it's something that most 
people think of as weird or dangerous, like they do with 
this kind of thing."

Byers nodded.

"You were so beautiful last night," Doggett said, his voice 
quiet and rough, "so hot. What we did, that was some of the 
most intense sex I've had in years." He watched as Byers' 
pupils dilated, heard Byers' breathing quicken. He felt 
Byers' heart race as he held him. "It was more than just a 
fuck. There's --" Doggett couldn't say another word. The 
feeling was sharp and dangerous and touched something in 
him too deeply. He pulled Byers down to him and kissed him 
hard, sliding his tongue into the man's mouth.

Byers responded, moaning and sucking on Doggett's tongue. 
Doggett wanted him, wanted to rip his clothes off, pin him 
down and fuck him face to face, long and slow. His blood 
was burning with desire for it, pulse pounding fast and hot 
as he held Byers and moaned into his mouth. He wanted to 
feel Byers' legs wrapped around him, chest to chest, his 
rod buried in that hot, tight ass.

They broke the kiss and Byers was gasping. "Want you," 
Doggett growled, "god I want you so bad."

"Yes," Byers hissed. His eyes were half-open, glassy and 
shining. The two men rolled on the bed, pulling each 
other's clothes off as fast as they could.

"Do you want it, Johnny?" he asked, pulling Byers' shirt 
over his head. He sucked on Byers' neck as the shirt came 
away.

Byers' hands were pulling at the button of his jeans, 
tugging the zipper down. "God, yes." Byers was panting, 
lust in his eyes.

Doggett lifted himself up as Byers pulled his pants down 
from his hips. "Do you want me?" he growled, urgent, then 
realized he'd asked aloud. The question had fallen from his 
lips before his mind had even framed it, but now it loomed 
before him, frighteningly important.

Byers had left off tugging at his pants and was pulling at 
his shirt now. "I love what you do to me, Jack, how you 
make me feel." Byers' voice was husky and deep. He kissed 
Doggett, swift and hot. "I want you." With another tug, he 
pulled Doggett's shirt over his head. "Go easy, I'm a 
little sore."

Doggett shed his pants then pulled Byers' off, as he had 
already unfastened his own jeans. "Johnny, do you trust 
me?" It was quiet, tentative, another question he felt a 
terrible need to have answered.

Byers looked at him, frustration on his face, breathing 
hard. "Don't ask me that. I don't... I can't answer. I 
don't know." He grabbed Doggett's wrist, heat in his eyes 
and in his voice. "I don't want to talk right now. I want 
you. I want to forget everything but this, everything but 
right now. Please, just help me forget. I don't want to 
think, I just want to feel you in me, feel your body on 
me." Byers' eyes pleaded with him, and Doggett pulled a 
condom and lube from the bedside drawer.

With a sigh, Byers closed his eyes and leaned back, letting 
go of Doggett's wrist. After applying the lube and condom, 
Doggett spread his body over Byers, lying between his open, 
waiting thighs. He could feel Byers' hardness against his 
own, two hot, erect cocks sliding slowly against each 
other. Byers groaned and took Doggett's ass in his hands, 
kneading at the muscles.

They clung together, kissing and touching, their bodies 
flowing in the deep, slow rhythm of their desire. Their 
need for each other expressed itself in touch and the rough 
sound of their quickening breath.

"God, Jack, you have such an amazing body," Byers growled 
as he moved with his Master. He slid a hand up from 
Doggett's ass along his back. "Gorgeous muscles," Byers' 
voice was deep and breathless but quiet as Doggett caressed 
him with the naked length of his body. His eyes were 
closed, but he could hear Doggett's deep breathing. Byers 
was lost in sensation. "Hard and strong, so powerful." His 
hands continued their journey from Doggett's ass to his 
shoulders. "Love the way they move under your skin, like a 
tiger, god, graceful..."

Doggett's mouth was at his throat, hot and wet. "Yes," 
Byers whispered. Doggett was hard and dangerous, all muscle 
and bone and sinew, and he moved like a predator in Byers' 
arms. His weight burned Byers' flesh, driving away the 
memories and the fear Byers hated so much. There was 
nothing else: the summer heat, the bed beneath him, his 
Master's powerful body driving him to ecstasy. If there was 
darkness in Byers now, it was only the blind intensity of 
his need.

Doggett rumbled above him, slick, hard shaft moving against 
Byers' own. He raised his knees and spread himself wide, 
inviting Doggett to enter him. He felt Doggett move down 
his body, a hand sliding between them, down between his 
legs. Fingers caressed his balls, then carefully slicked 
his opening as his Master sucked at a nipple. Byers moaned 
loud and his cock jerked as the sensation shot through him.

One finger entered him, and Byers yipped, still tender. 
Doggett moved slowly and stretched him carefully, still 
sucking his nipple. It was exquisite distraction as his 
Master slid a second finger into him and started thrusting, 
slow and gentle. The motion continued until Byers cried 
out, nearly weeping with want. 

"God, Jack, I need you in me, please." He couldnąt control 
the whine in his voice, or his desperation. The way Doggett 
broke his control every time they did this left Byers 
willing to do anything to have more of his Master's touch.

Doggett moved on him, panting. "Easy, Johnny. You want my 
rod, I'll give it to you slow and deep." 

Doggett took Byers' ankles in his hands and held him wide 
open, ass raised and exposed, pushing his hot, thick shaft 
into him.

"Yes, god, yes," Byers wailed, "ahhhhhhh..." Chest heaving, 
mouth wide open, Byers fisted the bedspread under him as 
Doggett kept moving deeper in one long, slow thrust. The 
motion didn't stop until Doggett was buried in him to the 
root, his balls resting against Byers' ass, hot and heavy. 
Byers couldn't stop moaning and thrashing his head from 
side to side with his body's abandon.

"God, Johnny, god, you're so hot and tight." Doggett's 
voice strained with the effort of his stillness, and Byers 
reached out to take Doggett's wrists.

"Please," Byers gasped, "don't stop. Let me feel you move 
in me."

Doggett took Byers' hands in his, pinning them beside 
Byers' head, then started pumping into him at a torturously 
slow pace. Byers wrapped his legs around Doggett's waist, 
following the intense, deep movements, crying out 
wordlessly. His opening was still sore, but the penetration 
was unbearable perfection. His every nerve was burning with 
the sensation, and the fullness of Doggett's cock in him 
seemed to fill his whole body. His hips rocked with his 
Master's gentle, endless thrusts. His hands clung tightly 
to Doggett's, fingers intertwined. 

Byers felt entirely possessed. His body was consumed in the 
intensity of their union, leaving no room for anything else 
-- he felt no fear, no regret, no paranoia -- nothing but 
heart-deep satisfaction. Byers was lost in the dizziness of 
flight and the ecstasy of fullness, and the only physical 
sensation that really registered was the agonizing, 
gloriously slow friction of Doggett moving inside him.

His grunts and cries became keening as he moved slowly with 
Doggett's deep, languid strokes. Byers lay, pierced by his 
Master's body, on the blade sharp edge of eternity. Time 
lost its meaning, and he had no idea how long the intimate 
dance of their pleasure continued. It flowed over and 
through him like a tidal force and the sound of Doggett's 
voice groaning and calling his name slid into his bones 
like bonfire heat. Where his Master touched him, fire 
remained. His kisses were blazing coals in paths along 
Byers' skin. 

Doggett's skin slid along his, sweat slicked and hot, the 
broad spread of his body caressing Byers from hips to 
shoulders. His weight was a welcome anchor as Byers' senses 
whirled, and then hot, sharp cries as Doggett came inside 
him, thrusting into him deep and strong. The throbbing cock 
inside him stroked him to his own peak and threw him down, 
shouting and jerking as he shot gouts of hot, sticky come 
between their bodies.

Doggett was still on him for a time as they panted and 
gasped together. Eventually, Byers felt Doggett slide 
gently out of him, hands stroking his sides, his chest, his 
waist, calling him back to his body. Doggett's mouth, wet 
and soft, played slow along his skin. It was a long time 
before he opened his eyes.

"Where are you, Johnny?" Doggett's voice was caring, 
compassionate. Byers felt a hand stroking through his hair. 
It felt good. He looked up into his Master's face, eyes 
still half closed.

"I'm here," Byers said, but all he could manage was a 
hoarse, shaky whisper. 

Doggett took the water glass from the bedside table, where 
Byers had set it after he took his aspirin. Propping Byers 
up against his body, Doggett held it to his lips. Byers 
tried to move to take the glass, but his limbs were limp as 
wet string. He sipped slowly.

"Thanks," he said, his voice steadier but still quiet. 
There was no energy left in him at all, and he was heavy 
with need for sleep.

Doggett set the glass down again and kissed him. It was 
very slow and careful, almost sweet. "Rest," Doggett said.

Byers nodded, slipping back down to the bed as Doggett lay 
him down and curled around his body. They held each other 
and Byers fell into warm, comforting darkness.

Doggett looked over at the clock. There was still more than 
enough time for a nap and a shower before they had to dress 
for dinner and the show. He was too drained to rise and 
clean them up just yet. It wasn't like a little semen was 
going to hurt anything.

Byers' soft, slow breathing and the calm expression on his 
face were reassuring. He was sure that Byers would sleep 
peacefully, pleasantly exhausted. It seemed unlikely that 
the man's memories of his experiences in Baltimore would be 
so pressing when he woke. Doggett doubted that anything 
fearful or distressing could have made it through Byers' 
ecstatic state. 

They had been joined, rocking together in their need and 
desire, for a long time. Doggett had been rather surprised 
that he'd been able to sustain their coupling for so long. 
He wasn't old, but he sure wasn't getting any younger 
either. What Byers did to him, how he reacted to his... his 
friend, left him wondering what he wanted when he got home. 
He knew he wanted to keep seeing Byers. That much was 
obvious. It seemed Byers was open to it, at least. They 
were good together; their erotic needs and desires meshed 
well, their personalities surprisingly complementary. He'd 
be a fool to let Byers walk away without good reason. The 
quiet man sleeping next to him had gotten under his skin 
with disturbing facility.

The whole thing left Doggett uneasy, but strongly and 
undeniably attracted. He knew that the weekend and the suit 
were expensive gifts, but even with Byers' earlier 
moodiness Doggett felt it had been well worth the price. It 
wasn't as though Byers had simply had some petulant mood 
swing, and Doggett had his own share of demons that 
threatened to consume him now and again. He found he had a 
lot of empathy for Byers, different as they were.

He watched Byers sleeping, a quiet snore escaping every so 
often. For someone so paranoid, he was letting himself be 
incredibly open and vulnerable. Shy, guarded, and withdrawn 
in so many ways, Byers was -- intentionally or not -- 
offering him something deep and precious. Was it his trust, 
action moving ahead of intention without conscious choice? 
Doggett felt a strange sense of privilege in receiving such 
a gift. The cost of a suit or a weekend in the City could 
never match the emotional value of such a thing. 

Doggett sighed and shook his head. There was too much 
paradox involved. Maybe if he was better at thinking the 
way Mulder did, he'd understand more clearly what was 
happening. As it was, the whole thing seemed on the verge 
of becoming its own odd sort of X File. Perhaps a little 
time and emotional distance would put things back into 
perspective, he thought. Maybe it would be best to think 
about it after he'd been home for a while.

He closed his eyes, intensely conscious of Byers sleeping 
in his arms. It felt right.

STUDIO 54
WEST 54TH STREET
6:30 PM

"Papers, please. Let me see your papers." The request, and 
the German accent, left Byers with a creepy feeling. He 
knew the play was set in pre-war Berlin, but he didn't 
really think he needed to feel like he was there. Doggett 
presented their tickets to the man at the door, who was 
dressed in a German military uniform. The man examined 
them, handed their ticket stubs back, and said, "Thank you. 
I hope you will enjoy your stay in Berlin."

Byers looked over at Doggett, nervous in the crowd. They 
were both dressed to the teeth, Byers in his new suit, 
Doggett in one that was equally expensive and attractive.

"Don't worry, Johnny," Doggett said with a grin, "we get 
out before the war."

Byers smiled back and shook his head. "Damned good thing, 
too. You know what they'd have done to us."

"It was over before either of us were born."

Byers looked up at Doggett. "Just don't say 'it can't 
happen here,' okay?"

"I wasn't goin' anywhere near that," Doggett replied. 
"C'mon, let's find our seats."

Byers followed Doggett through the filling theatre, down to 
a table near the stage. They sat, and Byers looked around. 
The seats must have been expensive, he thought. They were 
only one row back from the stage. Things were likely to get 
loud, and probably intense as well. That was fine with 
Byers. He'd have time and space to wind down at dinner 
after the show, and later back at the hotel. Sunday's 
opening was at seven, and they'd be out around nine thirty; 
not too late for a decent dinner by any means.

"So what do you think?" Doggett asked.

Byers chuckled. "I think we're so close to the stage that 
the Kit Kat girls will flirt with you."

"That is sorta their job," Doggett said, grinning.

"And you look like it would be such a burden."

Doggett flagged down a waiter and ordered drinks for them, 
then turned to Byers. "Having women flirt with me. A 
terrible job, but somebody's gotta do it." He made a very 
ineffective attempt to adopt a martyred expression. 

Byers laughed. 

"Besides," Doggett said, "with this show, maybe the guys'll 
be flirting with me too." He grinned a pleased, evil grin.

Byers rolled his eyes. "I trust you weren't planning on 
grabbing anyone's ass in public."

"They don't pay the actors enough for that. Besides," he 
gave Byers a seductive look, "I already have a cute ass to 
grab."

"Not in public you don't," Byers said, blushing.

Doggett chuckled. "It's okay, Johnny. I won't do that to 
you. Way too public here."

Byers nodded. "The park was too public Friday, if you want 
my opinion."

"Nah," Doggett said, shaking his head. "Nobody would even 
notice us there unless we were ripping each other's clothes 
off in the middle of the jogging trail. This ain't 
Virginia."

"And you and I aren't cover models for 'Out.'" Byers gave 
Doggett a rueful glance. "It's not like we've got nothing 
to lose."

"You worry too much. Why not just enjoy the show?"

The waiter returned with their drinks, and winked at 
Doggett when he paid.

"What did I tell you?" Byers said. "They're flirting with 
you already."

Doggett snorted. "It must be my stunning good looks or 
somethin'."

"You won't get an argument from me on that one," Byers 
muttered.

Doggett grinned broadly. "Unless they're tryin' to get your 
attention by flirtin' with me." He took a sip of his beer. 

Byers tasted his own. A German lager; no doubt ordered as 
much for atmosphere as for the flavor. "Yeah, right," Byers 
said, "I'm more likely to be trampled in the rush for your 
attention."

Doggett shot Byers a sharp glance. "Stop that shit," he 
said. "I'm not gonna listen to you run yourself down. You 
wanna do that, do it in front of Frohike or something. He 
might believe you."

Byers gave a dry chuckle. "Did I ever tell you that Frohike 
thinks he's a 'chick magnet?'"

Doggett laughed. "That's a good one. Then again, if 
Langly's been with Skinner and you're seein' me, he's 
probably the closest thing to a chick magnet you guys got."

"Oh?" Byers said, arching an eyebrow. "You seem to have 
forgotten tall, buff Jimmy of the astonishing pecs."

"I was sorta tryin' to," Doggett said. "Good lookin' kid, 
but he doesn't seem to have the brains god gave your 
average amoeba."

Byers shook his head. "Give him a break, Jack. He's not 
stupid. He's just... a little scattered is all. He thinks 
with his heart, not his head. He's a good kid, and he tries 
really hard. If you ever talked to him, you'd know his 
heart was in the right place. And besides, he's the only 
thing keeping us in the black right now."

"Okay," Doggett conceded, "so he's about as smart as a 
Golden Retriever."

Byers rested his chin in his hand and glared at Doggett.

"Sorry," Doggett said with a chuckle. "I know you like him, 
and he's helping out the best he can. It's just kinda hard 
to take him seriously sometimes. Especially when he was 
goin' on about that blind football team of his." Doggett 
shook his head, amused.

Byers nodded, knowing he wasn't going to get anything more 
out of Doggett on this one. He did like Jimmy. Yes, he 
found their resident jock insufferably annoying sometimes, 
but at least Jimmy cared. Jimmy believed in what they were 
doing, and it was hard to find people who did, who regarded 
any of them as more than a joke. Sometimes he thought he 
saw a little of his own lost hope and idealism in Jimmy's 
eyes, and he wasn't sure whether to be sorry for the young 
man or for himself. Byers' own innocence had fled in 1989, 
taking too much of him with it.

As the house lights went down and the opening lines of 
'Wilkommen' rang out with the spotlight on the Emcee, Byers 
felt Doggett's hand slide into his lap. He covered it with 
his own. In the dark, with everyone's eyes on the show, 
Byers thought it might be private enough for this 
indulgence. The warmth and intimacy of the touch was 
comfortable, and Doggett's hand didn't stray this time. He 
was certain, however, that when they got back to the hotel, 
more than Doggett's hands would be straying. He would 
welcome it then. 

Byers wished he didn't have to hide. Given his choice, he'd 
far rather be leaning against Doggett, his Master's arm 
around his shoulders, both of them comfortable and open 
about who and what they were. Sometimes he wondered if the 
price for what he did with his life was too high. He didn't 
honestly believe he could walk away from it. The price of 
his silence and complicity about the conspiracies would 
only be higher. It was not an acceptable option.

Cliff's negotiations with Fraulein Schneider over the cost 
of a cheap room made Byers laugh. "Reminds me of my place," 
he said, leaning into Doggett's ear.

"That's because it looks like your place," Doggett said. 
"All it needs is a dozen computers and a Ramones poster."

Byers snorted, almost spewing his beer. "Don't do that to 
me," he said when he caught his breath.

"You started it," Doggett hissed. "Now hush, I wanna watch 
the show." He grinned at Byers.

Byers managed to maintain something resembling silence, 
watching as much of the audience sang along with the cast. 
When Sally talked her way into Cliff's room, however, he 
couldn't help laughing again.

"Oh god, that reminds me so much of Jimmy when he came to 
stay with us. But at least he pays the rent," he said, 
hiding his face in his hand for a moment.

"Oh really?" Doggett asked. "So which of you guys is he 
sleeping with?" He gave Byers a wicked grin.

Byers tilted an eyebrow at him. "I think he's more 
interested in women than in any of us, thank god."

"I didn't think he was your type anyway," Doggett said, and 
turned back to the show.

"And what, pray tell, do you think is my type?" Byers 
asked.

Doggett just smiled.

When Fraulein Schneider and Herr Schultz went into their 
duet of 'It Couldn't Please Me More,' Doggett looked back 
at Byers. "Pineapples."

Byers chuckled. "They're great in sweet and sour pork."

"What, you want I should bring you one?"

Byers grimaced. "Not if we have to sing that song."

Doggett laughed. "Half the audience already is."

Byers shook his head. "I can't sing."

"How do you know? You ever try?"

"Yes. It was hideously embarrassing."

Doggett looked at Byers, a doubtful expression in his eyes. 
Byers wondered if this meant an attempt to prod him into 
singing might materialize at some point. It wouldn't work. 
Nothing would get him to sing. He settled into silence 
again, watching the show and Doggett until the cast sang a 
chilling reprise of 'Tomorrow Belongs to Me' and went into 
the intermission.

"So what do you think so far?" Doggett asked.

Byers shuddered. "It's very well done," he said. "Maybe a 
little too well done."

"I really like the authenticity though," Doggett said. "The 
costumes are great. Really good acting. It's supposed to 
effect you like that."

"I know. That doesn't mean I have to be comfortable with 
it." Byers looked up at Doggett. "I think I'd like another 
beer. Something not German."

"How about a Guinness or something?" Doggett asked.

Byers nodded. "Sounds about right." He didn't usually drink 
much, and figured he would probably be a little tipsy by 
the time they got back to the hotel, but he didn't really 
think Doggett would mind. Maybe it would crack a few of his 
inhibitions and let him think about some of the things that 
were bothering him. Trust. Closets. Fear. Silence. Desire. 
Intimacy. He squeezed Doggett's hand, still in his lap. 

Doggett squeezed back, warm and reassuring. He ordered a 
Guinness for Byers and another German lager for himself 
when the waiter hurried over.

Byers just hoped that if they had more to drink at dinner, 
he wouldn't end up with a hangover. He hated them with a 
blazing passion because they kept him from being clear-
headed enough to work. He didn't want to even consider how 
they made the inside of his head and his stomach feel like 
they were filled with hot, whirling sand. Byers doubted 
that it would be an issue for Doggett, who was larger and 
rather bulkier. The athletic man could probably put away 
several more than he could without even noticing. He sipped 
slowly, letting the bitter richness of the thick, dark 
stout roll over his tongue.

"Thanks," Byers said. "This is better."

Doggett nodded. "No problem. What's on your mind? You got 
that far away look again."

"A lot of things, really," Byers said. He hadn't realized 
he was that obviously lost in thought. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

Byers lowered his eyes. "I should be having fun. You went 
to all this effort and expense, and I'm sitting here 
brooding." He looked back up at Doggett.

Doggett's eyes were kind and understanding.  He leaned 
closer to Byers. "I've been getting the impression since I 
met you that you're just that kinda guy, Johnny. I don't 
expect you to flick a switch and be all sunshine and light, 
you know. Are you enjoying yourself at all, or would you 
rather leave?"

"Oh, no, not at all. I'm actually quite enjoying the play, 
it just --"

"Makes you think," Doggett said, anticipating his words. 

Byers nodded, his mouth still slightly open. He would have 
expected that from Frohike or Langly, but not from John 
Doggett. It was an odd feeling; almost too intimate. His 
body tilted closer under its own volition, and he barely 
noticed. He wasn't sure what to make of the feeling, 
whether to be happy or terrified. They were so close to 
each other now, their faces only inches away. Their eyes 
locked for just a moment and something deep and unspeakable 
flashed between them, setting his heart pounding. He saw 
Doggett's eyes widen for an instant, dark with desire, then 
Byers pulled away, knowing how close he'd come to kissing 
the man in public. He shoved down a wave of panic and took 
a deep breath, picking up his Guinness.

"Johnny," Doggett asked quietly, "are you gonna be okay?"

What the hell did he want from himself, Byers wondered. The 
whole weekend he'd been doing things he'd never even 
consider doing with or around anyone else. "I'm not sure," 
Byers said. "I think so." 

What was it about Doggett that brought these things out of 
him? He'd thought at first that he understood what was 
happening, that it was just about sex and having someone to 
talk to and be with now and then; that Doggett would help 
him get away from the office sometimes and show him a few 
of the nicer things in life. Now it was confusing and a 
little frightening and he was having a hard time focusing 
on anything but the man holding his hand under the table. 
He sipped at the stout to cover his nervousness.

Doggett squeezed his hand again. "If you want to leave, 
just let me know. Now would be the time for it, before we 
get into the second act."

"No, no," Byers said. "I'll be fine. I want to stay. 
There's just been so much on my mind this weekend that I 
guess I'm having a hard time focusing." On anything but 
him, Byers thought. Doggett's strong hand in his, 
squeezing, gave him a center in the midst of his confusion.

Doggett nodded, looking doubtful. "Well, if  you're 
sure..."

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'd like to see the rest of the play. It's 
really well done. It would be a shame to miss it just 
because I'm in a weird mood." He sipped at the stout again, 
then looked back at Doggett. What he really wanted was to 
be sitting with Doggett's arms around him, but he couldn't 
even ask for that under the circumstances. He hated having 
to hide it all, hated having to conceal and deny such an 
integral part of himself. 

If he were sitting here with a woman, any woman -- even one 
in Doggett's position -- no one would notice such a thing. 
It would be commonplace, expected that a man and a woman 
out together might hold each other. And yes, this was New 
York, and 'nobody' would notice, 'nobody' would care, but 
there was so much at risk, not the least of which was 
Doggett's job and his security clearance. If the Bureau 
found out -- Federal policies might state that they 
couldn't discriminate due to sexual orientation, but 
Federal policy meant nothing if someone was looking for an 
excuse. He knew Kersh was gunning for Doggett's ass, having 
stuck him in the basement to begin with. If nothing else, 
Byers' own history would make him a very questionable 
person to be sleeping with an FBI agent, and who knew what 
the shadows would do if they found out.

The lights went down and the Kit Kat Band began playing. He 
tried to lose himself in the music, but the whole theme of 
the show only pushed his silence and what he tried to hide 
about himself into his face. 

He wondered how Doggett could sit there so calmly, smiling 
and obviously enjoying the show. He envied the man's 
contentment in this environment, his easy willingness to 
take risks. Byers wondered why they were being so 
blatantly... together in public. This was nothing like 
going out for a beer with the guys, nothing like seeing a 
movie or going to dinner with them. It felt dangerous and 
forbidden.

Fraulein Schneider's 'What Would You Do?' ripped at his 
conscience. He did his best to expose the lies and the 
conspiracies that the government perpetrated, but what of 
the secrets he kept about himself? Was he really any less 
complicit than German Jews who denied their history and 
heritage, letting their people be dragged off to their 
deaths around them?

As the show continued, racing toward its inevitable prison 
camp conclusion, Byers wondered about the complicity of his 
own silence about his desires for men as well as women. 
Could he genuinely justify hiding like he did, when others 
were dying around him? Did being in the closet actually 
make him any safer from the powers behind the conspiracies, 
or would it simply make it easier for him to disappear 
during some covert pogrom? They were hard, disturbing 
questions. 

He finished his Guinness, sitting silent as the audience 
applauded at the curtain calls. Dinner would be a welcome 
relief. He found he didn't really want to think any more, 
at least not right now. He'd managed to work himself into a 
fairly ugly depression, and wasn't sure if more alcohol 
would help or make things worse. Frohike had told him more 
than once that he was a maudlin drunk. It probably meant 
that alcohol with dinner would just make things worse. 
Coffee was probably his best bet at this point.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TAVERN & RESTAURANT
10:00 PM

Finally seated in the second floor dining room, Doggett 
sighed and looked over at Byers. His companion had gone 
from uneasy to broody to depressed during the play. He 
realized that Cabaret probably wasn't the greatest idea 
he'd ever had, but he couldn't exactly have predicted the 
day's events when he made plans for the weekend.

"Johnny, I think we really need to talk."

Byers looked up at him, fear and disappointment in his 
eyes, as though he were expecting to be whacked on the nose 
with a rolled up newspaper.

Doggett shook his head. "It ain't what you're thinking," he 
said, offering a hand to Byers over the table.

Byers looked around, skittish, then reached out tentatively 
and took the offered hand. "How do you know what I'm 
thinking?" he asked.

"You look like you're expecting the big kiss-off or 
something. That's not what I want to say at all, okay?"

Byers relaxed visibly. He nodded. "Okay, you're right. That 
was what I thought was coming. I'm sorry."

Doggett nodded. "You don't need to apologize. This isn't 
your fault. You've been having a rough day since we ran 
into Munch at the library, and a play about the rise of the 
Third Reich wasn't exactly the most restful thing we coulda 
seen tonight. We should have just skipped it. I really wish 
you'd said something at the intermission when I asked. I'm 
not a mind reader."

Byers blushed and cast his eyes to the table as the server 
appeared. "It wasn't really the play, Jack. It was just... 
well... everything."

Doggett ordered coffee for both of them, along with the 
seafood salad. It didn't look like Byers needed another 
beer. At this point, Doggett was worried that it would just 
make Byers more depressed, and that he'd end up having to 
carry him from the elevator to their room. The last thing 
he wanted was a depressed, drunk, passed out bed partner. 
There was time enough for Byers to sober up before they got 
back, and he hoped that dinner and trying to talk through 
it might dig Byers out of his funk.

Byers opened his mouth, but Doggett cut him off. "I don't 
wanna hear the words 'I'm sorry' from you again tonight, do 
you understand?"

Byers blinked, then nodded. "Yes, Sir," he said quietly.

"No," Doggett said. "It's not Sir right now, it's Jack. 
You're... we're friends, John, and you don't have anything 
to apologize for right now. You need to understand that 
before we can really talk."

Byers looked up at him, curious. "Are you sure?"

Doggett held Byers' hand tight. "Yeah, I'm sure. How is it 
your fault for having a bad day?"

"I... I guess it isn't," Byers said.

Doggett nodded. "That's better." He sipped his coffee. "You 
know that I got no way of knowing what happened to you 
unless you talk to me about it, but from what you've said, 
I know it was pretty bad. You don't strike me as a guy who 
talks too much about what he's feeling, especially when you 
don't feel safe. I don't blame you." 

Byers tried to look away, but Doggett tugged on his hand 
and Byers looked back into his eyes. 

He continued. "But sometimes you have to, or you disappear. 
I know, Johnny. I've been there. I nearly got killed in 
Lebanon, and it took me a long time to get through that. 
Same with after Luke died." He paused, watching Byers 
holding his breath. "It's just looking like it's time for 
you to talk about whatever it is that's bugging you so 
much. Maybe not right now, over dinner, but tonight. Just 
think about it until we get back to the hotel, okay?"

Byers nodded, then gently pulled his hand away. "I'll think 
about it," he said with a heavy sigh. "Maybe you're right. 
I can't say I feel very safe, but maybe it is time."

"Is there something that would make you feel good to talk 
about?" Doggett asked.

Byers looked thoughtful for several minutes, then a tiny 
smile stretched his lips. "Yes, actually, there is." At 
that, he launched into a lengthy, enthusiastic, and 
complicated discussion of the story he'd been working on 
for the last two weeks; something involving nanotechnology 
that Doggett couldn't follow half of. 

After Doggett ordered dinner, he would interrupt Byers from 
time to time to ask questions, trying to understand what he 
was saying, and Byers would find other ways to explain 
things. Sometimes Doggett would ask Byers to go over a 
detail several times, and Byers would use different 
examples and analogies until he was able to grasp the 
complex concepts. By the time the rack of lamb had arrived, 
he was grateful for the silence while Byers ate, feeling 
like his brain had just run a marathon. Fortunately, the 
tactic had worked; Byers was much more cheerful now that he 
was focused on something he knew well and felt confident 
explaining. He also seemed almost entirely sobered up, 
probably from the combination of time and food. 

Doggett found himself astonished at Byers' technical and 
theoretical knowledge, and his patience in explaining the 
intricate, difficult aspects of his subject. While he might 
have the academic alphabet soup after his name, Byers' 
intellect was clearly a steep step above most other 
people's.

"Where the hell do you learn all this stuff, Johnny?" 
Doggett asked. "You seem to know all kinds of shit. And 
this -- this just blows me away. You actually got me to 
understand most of it."

Byers smiled shyly. "Like I said, I read a lot. I know how 
to look for things, and where. I was blessed with a good 
memory too, so it doesn't all slip away after I read it. 
Most people forget about 80 percent of what they read 
within a week or so of having read it, from what I 
understand. I don't. I mean, I don't have quite the eidetic 
memory Mulder does, but I think it's close. He tends to 
remember in a little more detail than I do. And I'm good at 
connecting the dots. I see patterns in data and information 
really well."

"You'd be a brilliant intelligence analyst, you know."

Byers shook his head and bit his lower lip. "They're all 
working for Them, Jack. I could never do that."

Doggett sighed. "You may be right about that."

"I'm sure of it. I'm not saying all of them are aware of 
it, but we both know where the information goes." Byers' 
eyes were fierce.

"I've got a pretty damned good guess, at least," Doggett 
conceded. Byers' fire and passion were intensely magnetic. 
It was hard to think when he looked like that. Doggett 
could feel the pulse in his wrists, his heart was beating 
so hard. Damn, the man was distracting. Byers, like this, 
was enough to make Doggett forget everyone, everything 
else. Good looking, brilliant, articulate, passionate, and 
very sexy, it would be hard to ask for more. Of course, 
Byers was also moody, paranoid, twitchy, neurotic, and 
distant. Doggett sighed. One thing he could say for shallow 
guys; they were a lot simpler to deal with.

"How's dinner?" Doggett asked.

Byers looked up from his plate, finishing his bite before 
he said anything. "It's really delicious. Thank you. This 
was a great idea."

Doggett smiled, relieved. The lamb was rich and tender, 
melting off the bone. "Save a little room for dessert," he 
said.

Byers gave a little smile. "Dessert?"

"How does Bailey's cheesecake sound?"

"Mmmmm." Byers grinned.

"I thought so," Doggett said. "You look like you're feelin 
better. How are you?"

Byers nodded. "Yeah, talking about the story helped get my 
head out of it. I needed that."

"You gonna be okay to talk when we get back to the hotel, 
do you think?"

Byers looked a little worried. "I'm not sure." He shifted 
uneasily in his seat. "I'll try, but I can't really promise 
anything."

Doggett stroked his fingers over the back of Byers' hand. 
"There's no guarantees in life. Trying is good enough for 
this, okay? I don't want to drag you back into it, I just 
want to try to understand what's going on with you."

"I appreciate that," Byers said, quiet. He lifted another 
bite of lamb to his mouth and paused. "I just can't help 
wondering why you even want to go through the effort, 
though. I mean, you've said yourself you don't usually see 
men for very long." He put the bite in his mouth and ate.

Doggett nodded. He looked over at Byers. "I know. But it 
wasn't from lack of trying." He took a deep breath and let 
it out. "It's different. You're different. Don't ask me to 
explain that, because I don't think I can, but... I'm lousy 
at this, Johnny, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that 
I don't want this to be over when we get back to DC. Hell 
if I know if anything's gonna come of it, and maybe it's 
not gonna last too long, but you're worth spending my time 
with. That's why I think you're worth the effort, okay?" He 
stuck a forkful of food in his mouth so he wouldn't have to 
say anything else.

"It was about closets," Byers said quietly.

"Huh?"

"At the play," Byers said. "I was thinking about closets, 
and complicity, and silence. About why I don't want to let 
anyone know this about me, why I've been so nervous when 
we're out in public together. I was thinking about how 
we're risking your job and how easy it would be for someone 
to use this... this time we're spending together against 
either of us."

Doggett nodded, understanding how easily the play could 
lead to thoughts like that. "Heavy stuff," he said. "You 
know the government has anti-discrimination policies about 
it."

"We both know those policies aren't worth the paper they're 
written on when somebody's looking for a reason to can 
you," Byers said.

Doggett nodded. "True enough."

Byers sighed. "And don't tell me you believe for an instant 
that the shadow government won't use anything they can get 
their hands on against either us if they're looking for a 
lever of some sort."

"I know," Doggett said. "That's why I keep a low profile at 
work. Clinton's whole military 'don't ask, don't tell' 
policy's cost more people their careers than when they were 
just beatin' up faggots because they felt like it."

"So does hiding even matter?" Byers asked. "Does it 
actually do anything to protect either of us, really?"

Doggett looked at him. He understood why Byers was feeling 
that way right now, but he also figured that there was a 
lot more to it than just this. "It's not like neither of us 
is doing anything to try to make the world a safer place. 
It's not like Berlin in the 30s. We're not sitting silent 
while people are being dragged away. You're trying to sound 
the horn, and I'm trying to enforce the laws that guarantee 
people their rights. In or out, we'd be doing the same 
things. Right now, I really just think it's easier for both 
of us to do our jobs if we don't let people know it's 
personal."

Byers' brow wrinkled. "I suppose that's true. But what 
would you do if somebody went to Kersh and suggested that 
you were being... indiscreet with a known felon." He looked 
away. "Like, say, me. Don't you think he'd try to use that 
against you?"

"At this point, I got no idea where Kersh stands, but he 
sure doesn't seem to be playing on a level field," Doggett 
said. "You're a damned good source though, and I doubt he'd 
be able to touch you. You and the guys provide some of the 
best tips that we get in our division. I don't think he's 
quite ready to toss my career down the shitter over 
something like that. If somebody did tell him, and he 
asked, I wouldn't deny it. Don't think I wouldn't document 
him askin' about it, either; if he tried to use that -- or 
you -- against me, I'd have his ass up before the Ombudsman 
on discrimination charges so fast he'd think I was 
Superman."

There was relief in Byers' eyes. "I guess I thought that 
since you weren't telling them, you might be vulnerable to 
blackmail."

Doggett chuckled. "I'm not tellin' 'em because it's none of 
their goddamned business who I sleep with. It's not so much 
my job I'm worried about, it's somebody trying to use you -
- or anybody else I might be with -- to get to me. But the 
straight agents have to worry about the same shit, you 
know. Hell, you've seen what Mulder and Scully went 
through. You've know 'em both a lot longer than I have. You 
were there for all of it."

Byers nodded. "That's true. I guess I hadn't looked at it 
that way."

"Because you're paranoid, Johnny. You think everybody's out 
to get you, and anything could be a valid reason." Doggett 
shook his head. "And yeah, in your case, there are people 
out to get you, but I really don't think this has anything 
to do with it. I don't think we've got any immediate 
worries about the FBI. Now, the conspirators, that's 
another story. Unfortunately, with them, no matter how deep 
you hide, if they want to find out something about you they 
will, so again, in or out doesn't really matter, does it?"

Byers sat there, looking rather uncomfortable with the 
whole thing, but there was no sign of his dark mood 
returning. Doggett was relieved. He hoped that Byers might 
be able to let it go, at least for a while.

"I guess I'm too used to hiding," Byers said.

"More than likely. What about when you were married?" 
Doggett asked, trying to put it in perspective for Byers. 
"You were doing this back then. What did you do about all 
this stuff? Did you hide the fact you were married or 
something?"

"No," Byers replied. "I just took what precautions I could 
and hoped for the best. The apartment had good security in 
it. I kept on top of our privacy as much as possible, and 
the guys and I covered our tracks as carefully as we could 
at work."

"Same as anybody else with common sense," Doggett said, 
"except you're way better at the security and personal 
privacy stuff than most people." He looked into Byers' 
eyes. "The work we do, both of us, we run the risk of 
getting hurt sometimes. That doesn't mean either of us is 
gonna quit."

"I guess I have a lot to think about," Byers said quietly.

"Finish your dinner," Doggett said, gesturing with his 
fork. "It's gonna get cold. And I still want dessert."

Byers smiled and tucked into his dinner again.

PARKER MERIDIEN HOTEL
ROOM 1246
NIGHT

"I mean, I know Langly and Skinner had to deal with some of 
this too," Doggett said as he closed the door behind them. 
"Have they been havin' any serious problems with it that 
you know of?"

Byers sighed. They were still talking about privacy and 
closets and risks, as they had been at dinner. Explaining 
Skinner's entanglements wasn't an easy task. "Not really," 
Byers said. "But I think Skinner's situation has been 
fundamentally different than yours, and he's higher up in 
the power structure. We suspect, but we're not sure, that 
he's got people in... powerful places that may be keeping 
an eye on him. There are some things he just never talks 
about, not even to Langly. I mean, Ringo's under the 
impression that Skinner doesn't talk at least partly to 
protect him. I think that may be true."

"He's had my back, Johnny. I trust Skinner." Doggett took 
his jacket off and tossed it over the back of the couch.

"So does Langly, at least most of the time," Byers said. 
"But that doesn't mean we don't keep an eye on him. He's 
been doing his best to distance himself from some of his 
more problematic contacts."

Doggett gave Byers a hard stare. "Just what kind of 
accusations are you making here?"

Byers shook his head as he headed for the bedroom. "I'm 
not, exactly. It's just... well, I don't think he would 
ever do anything to hurt Langly, ever. I know he's fought 
hard for Mulder and Scully over the years, and that 
sometimes it's been at the risk of his own life, but that's 
something you should discuss with Agent Scully, if she'll 
talk about it. But because of his position with the FBI, 
he's been in a very precarious situation on a number of 
occasions. We're fairly certain that at some point somebody 
in the conspiracy had their hooks into him. Mulder's seen 
the smoker coming out of Skinner's office. That man is 
seriously bad news. And I can tell you that Krycek used 
some of that nanotech I was talking to you about over 
dinner to kill him -- and bring him back."

"Krycek?"

"Our very own one-armed man." Byers shrugged out of his 
suit jacket and hung it up. "Alex Krycek, possibly also 
known as Valery Arntzen. We have no idea of his real name, 
his true agenda, or who he's working for. He's a wild card 
in all of this. He was a junior agent at the Bureau when 
Scully was missing for several months, and has been a 
serious and deadly thorn in Mulder's side ever since. Once 
in a while he actually does something helpful, but god only 
knows why. The information we've gotten from him has never 
been complete, but sometimes it's been enough to crack 
something open."

"Killed him and brought him back?"

"It's really complicated."

Doggett shook his head, looking doubtful. "It would have to 
be, wouldn't it?"

Byers looked over at Doggett and held his arms out to him. 
"Look, I'm not saying that Skinner is working at odds with 
us, just that he's been compromised in the past, and that 
he's still in constant danger. None of us knows who might 
try to pull his strings, or when. We keep an eye on him 
because we're trying to protect him, and he doesn't talk 
because he's trying to protect Ringo."

The anxiety in Doggett's face eased, and he went over and 
hugged Byers. "Skinner's one of the good guys," he said.

"I know," Byers said, leaning his head against Doggett's 
shoulder, arms around him. "All I'm saying is that there 
are a lot of issues that Ringo and Walter have to deal with 
that you and I don't, at least not directly. You're one of 
his agents, and he'll go to the wall for you if he can. But 
understand that there are forces working in his life that 
he can't talk about, and that may cause problems for you 
later. You need to be aware of this so that you can be 
prepared in case something happens. I don't want you 
getting blindsided." 

"So this is what you were hinting at when you said I should 
listen to Skinner about the whole supersoldiers thing, 
right?" Doggett asked, running a hand through Byers' hair.

"Yes." 

"Thanks for letting me know, then," Doggett said. He 
chuckled. "Skinner and Langly. I wonder what they look like 
when they fuck?"

Byers closed his eyes and blushed for all he was worth, 
trying not to picture Skinner with Langly. "I have no idea. 
I'm not sure I want to know." God, Langly... He took a deep 
breath.

"Skinner's pretty damned hot for a bald guy," Doggett said, 
smiling.

Byers shook his head. "Langly says he's... big." He turned 
in Doggett's arms and held his hands out, spread apart in 
an absurd indication of length.

Doggett raised an eyebrow. "Nobody's *that* big."

"Not according to Langly," Byers said. He chuckled.

"Johnny, you're weird." Doggett's voice was amused and 
affectionate.

Byers turned back into his Master's arms and pulled Doggett 
closer. Doggett tilted his chin up with one hand and kissed 
him. Byers melted against him, responding warmly. It had 
been a stressful day, and he was tired. More than anything, 
he really wanted the reassurance of physical contact. They 
breathed together, eyes closed, tongues slowly caressing. 
Doggett tasted of coffee and cheesecake, a comforting 
combination.

Doggett's strong hands caressed his shoulders and his upper 
back. It felt good, helping ease the lingering soreness 
from the previous night's activities, and his stress from 
the day. Byers sighed into their kiss. He regretted that 
this would be the last night they spent together here. He 
didn't know when they'd find another chance for more than a 
few hours stolen out of their complicated lives. Both of 
them were busy, and both ended up on the road more often 
than Byers liked.

Byers broke the kiss gently, moving his attention to 
Doggett's neck, while Doggett nibbled at his ear. The heat 
of his close breath sent a shudder down Byers' spine 
straight to his groin.

"You in the mood to play a little?" Doggett whispered.

Byers nodded, loosening Doggett's tie without taking his 
mouth from the soft, hot skin of his Master's throat. He 
moaned at the warmth of Doggett's hands roaming his body, 
loosening his own tie, tugging at the buttons on his shirt.

"Then stop undressing me," Doggett growled, low and rough, 
his hands still opening the buttons of Byers' silk shirt. 
"But you can keep doing that with your tongue." Doggett 
nipped at Byers' neck as Byers' tongue traced the inner 
edge of Doggett's ear.

"Mmmmmm..." Byers' hands fell away from Doggett's buttons 
and instead slid around the big man's back. He caressed the 
sapphire blue silk of Doggett's shirt, taking in the moving 
muscles of the strong body beneath. The combination of 
softness and rippling solidity stole his breath. He tilted 
his head back as Doggett's tongue slid, wet and demanding, 
from the hollow of his throat to the edge of beard at his 
chin and shivered. 

Doggett bit down sharp but soft at the top of Byers' 
throat, a wide hot presence across his neck, and Byers 
melted. "Uhhhhhhhhh!" Everything in him was at attention 
now; cock, nipples, his wildly beating heart. He felt 
Doggett catch his weight as his knees buckled, powerful 
arms bringing them body to body in a tight, erotic embrace.

Doggett sucked for a moment there, growling as Byers 
panted, his hands fisted into Doggett's shirt as his legs 
came back under him. "Let go," Doggett snapped, and Byers 
did. Doggett quickly pulled the shirt from Byers' body, 
then shoved him roughly to the bed. 

Byers could only moan in response, eyes closed, waiting for 
more. His shoes and socks were pulled off. Urgent hands at 
his belt, and his pants were stripped from him equally 
quickly, followed by his silk boxers, and he lay before his 
Master, naked and hard.

A moment later, Doggett rolled him onto his stomach and 
bound him with the leather wrist restraints. "Thank you, 
Sir," he whispered, tugging at them. He spread his legs for 
his Master.

Doggett's hand stroked his cheeks and a finger slipped 
along his crack from balls to spine, then vanished. "A very 
tempting sight, Johnny, but not what I want just yet." 
Doggett's voice was low and hot with desire. He rolled 
Byers onto his back again.

Byers opened his eyes, watching as Doggett kneeled next to 
him on the bed. His Master's eyes were dark, half closed 
and watching him as his breath caught. Doggett caressed 
Byers' chest and stomach with a palm, fingers following the 
curves of Byers' muscles and the hardness of his ribs. 
Byers sighed at his Master's sensual touch, arching up 
slightly as the hot palm crossed the peaks of his nipples. 
Doggett's fingers pinched and pulled, twisting, and Byers 
groaned deep in his chest, his eyes falling shut again.

The hand slipped away, replaced by the cold pinch of nipple 
clips, first on one sensitive nub, then the other. Byers 
cried out wordlessly, then gasped when Doggett sharply 
tugged the chain joining his nipples. His cock leaped at 
the sensation, steel hard with want, and he writhed on the 
bed.

"So beautiful, Johnny." He could hear the ache in Doggett's 
voice. "You're so hot like this."

"Mmmm... uh... more, Sir," Byers begged. 

"Oh, don't worry, there's more."

A hot hand on his shaft, and he could feel Doggett binding 
him with the cock and ball harness again, fastening the 
leather loops tight around him. Byers bucked into it, 
unable to resist the intensity of the dense, throbbing 
near-pain that pushed him to ecstasy without letting him 
fall into orgasm. He cried out again, and Doggett's broad 
hands stilled his moving hips. It was good, so good.

"Oh, yeah." Doggett's low voice was almost a purr.

Doggett's hot mouth explored him, wet and soft, lips and 
tongue and nipping teeth, from his forehead to the bridges 
of his feet as Byers moaned and writhed. Torturously gentle 
hands slid along his skin, teasing his sides, his abdomen, 
the ticklishly sensitive insides of his thighs. He couldn't 
form words, not even coherent syllables, as Doggett drove 
him deep into his submissive space. It was bliss, giving 
himself to his Master's will and his powerful body. Byers 
was empty of everything but lust and desire, and the need 
to submit. In this space, even his immense physical and 
emotional vulnerability didn't frighten him; it only drove 
him deeper.

He felt Doggett's arms slide under him and lift him up, and 
he opened his eyes. He was barely conscious of being 
carried until he was set gently on his knees, his head and 
shoulders resting in a chair in the living room of their 
suite.

Doggett's hand rested for a moment between his shoulder 
blades. "Close your eyes, Johnny, and wait here for me."

Byers did as he was told, trembling with anticipation and 
need.

Some time later -- it could have been a minute or an hour, 
Byers didn't know -- he heard Doggett return. There was the 
crinkle of a foil packet, and a tearing sound; was Doggett 
putting a condom on? His Master's hands roamed his back and 
his ass, smooth fingers, blunt nails, broad palms caressing 
and scratching him. A tug on the chain dangling from his 
nipples shot pleasure through him with a shock, and he 
yelped. It left him gasping.

The first slap of his Master's hand stung his ass, and he 
shouted, "Ahh -- yes!" Byers was panting hard now, his 
entire body tingling from his Master's constant touch. His 
dick ached, it was so hard and bound so tightly, but that 
felt good too. He needed this, needed to carry it home with 
him for the god-knew-how-long it would be until he could 
have it again. 

He could hear Doggett's rough breath behind him, coming 
hard and fast. "You want more, don't you, slut?"

"Yes, Sir. Please, Sir." Byers could hear the whine in his 
panting, shaky voice and didn't care. If it pleased his 
Master, if it brought more of the harsh pleasure, his 
dignity meant nothing.

The slaps fell harder and harder until Byers was sweating, 
his ass radiating heat, and then a new sensation; the soft 
leather strands of the flogger slid over his burning flesh. 
Doggett made their motion a soft caress, a tingle and a 
tickle and a decadent gentleness that was pure torment in 
Byers' deep, frantic arousal.

"Do you want it?" Doggett asked, his voice harsh and 
rumbling. 

"Please, Sir," Byers groaned.

"Convince me," Doggett said.

With a sound that was half a sob, Byers begged. "Make me 
burn, Sir -- hit me. God, I'm so hard, please, I need it." 
He could hear Doggett's breathing grow deeper, more 
aroused. "I'm aching for it, Sir, please, hit me, let me 
feel your power in it --"

The leather strands fell, the sharp snap stinging across 
one cheek, then the other. Byers wanted to come so badly he 
could taste it. He felt Doggett's body close to his again, 
and his Master pulled at the chain on his nipples, applying 
a steady pressure as the flogger struck him again, then 
again. Byers shouted, gasping, then let out a long, low 
moan as the pull on his nipples continued.

"Yes," Doggett groaned, striking Byers again. "Let me hear 
you," he commanded. "Let me hear that sound."

Byers let the sound continue, falling from his lips with 
each breath, torn from his soul as the blows came, hard and 
delicious. He loved the feel of the leather falling on his 
ass, but the pain in his nipples was building, and he soon 
he was shaking from it.

"Yellow," he moaned.

He could feel Doggett pull the next blow, slashing by in 
the air next to him, and releasing the chain he held. "What 
do you need?" His Master's voice was in his ear, soft and 
concerned, a gentle hand on his back. "Are you all right, 
Johnny?"

Byers panted and nodded. "Clips... too much..."

Doggett's hands loosened the clips slowly, removing them 
with care. The returning circulation sent a bright shaft of 
pain into them and Byers shuddered and hissed, a tear of 
pain leaking from his eye. His Master's hot palms rested on 
his chest, covering and soothing the aching nubs.

"Is that better?" Doggett asked a moment later. His clothed 
body covered Byers, comforting; his hard rod pressed 
against the back of Byers' thigh.

Byers nodded, still panting, close to the edge. Feeling his 
Master like this only made him want more.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Sir," Byers whispered. "Everything else... okay... 
that was just a little too much."

Doggett kissed him, licking the tear from his skin. "Good, 
Johnny," he whispered. "Always tell me. Do you want the 
flogger again?"

Byers nodded again. "Please, Sir, I'm so close. I need 
more. Make me come, please. I want to come for you."

He could feel the heat of Doggett's breath on his neck as 
his Master chuckled. "You will, Johnny, oh, you will. I'll 
give that to you in time." His Master took a breath. 
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, "what you give me is 
so beautiful." Doggett kissed his neck, then rose and 
caressed Byers' ass with his hand again. 

A gentle slap with a hand, and then the flogger fell once 
more. Byers gritted his teeth and groaned loudly. "Ohhhhhh, 
please..."

Doggett brought the flogger down again and again, and Byers 
bucked into the air under him, crying out with need. The 
only thing keeping him from release was the tight harness 
binding his cock, separating his balls. He could feel it 
building in him, fever and intense pressure, his body 
glistening with sweat. He struggled with the restraints at 
his wrists, needing to move, his body unable to contain the 
raw, animal passion burning in him.

"Do you want the belt, Johnny?" Doggett's voice was 
straining, panting.

"Fuck me, Sir," Byers groaned, "please!" His ass was 
blazing, his cock pounding and about to burst, and he 
needed to be filled like he needed to breathe. Everything 
in him was focused, laser sharp, every nerve screaming for 
release.

Doggett quickly slicked Byers' opening, sliding a lubed 
finger in and out of him before he could react, then took 
his arms and lifted him to his feet. "Oh, yeah. God, you're 
so ready." 

Byers felt himself pulled around, then down into Doggett's 
lap. His Master's hands spread Byers' legs over his own, 
laying him wide open, and pulled him back into Doggett's 
chest. It was like Friday, at the club, and his raw, 
burning ass felt his Master's shaft in the crack, hot and 
slick, the latex tight around his thickness.

"Yes," Byers gasped. "Please, Sir, I need you in me, fuck 
me, please..."

Doggett's hands lifted his ass, settling Byers over the 
blunt tip of his cock. "Remember Friday?" Doggett growled, 
"remember Sergio begging me to fuck you in front of him?"

Byers shouted and struggled to push himself down on his 
Master's thick rod. "Yes! Yes, Sir, please!" He could see 
Brentali, feel the man's hands on his skin, hear his voice 
begging Doggett to fuck Byers while he watched. It burned 
in him like a solar flare. God, he wanted it more than he'd 
ever wanted anything, wanted Doggett inside him.

"This is what I wanted to do to you," Doggett snapped, and 
shoved his well-slicked shaft into Byers to the root with 
one hard, fast stroke.

Byers howled as Doggett drove into him, his Master's hands 
loosening the harness on his cock and balls. He came with 
his Master thrusting into him deep and hard, fucking him 
mercilessly, still growling in his ear.

"This is what I wanted to show him," Doggett gasped, "what 
I wanted to give you. You're mine, Johnny, mine." Doggett's 
hips rocked into him, fierce, and Byers kept coming, 
gasping and crying with the intensity of his release. His 
Master's hands were everywhere on his body, moving fast and 
pressing into him hard with the force of his own orgasm. 

Doggett shouted and spasmed under Byers, driving in harder, 
biting his shoulder and stroking Byers' throbbing, spurting 
cock. Byers' head thrashed, bumping against Doggett's 
shoulder as he lost all sense of himself. Only burning 
bliss was left.

Gasping and shuddering, they spiraled down from the 
heights. Their hearts were pounding staccato rhythms, eyes 
closed, mouths open as their motion slowed.

Doggett held Byers' body against him. He was dizzy, and 
Byers' tight, sweet ass was still squeezing him hard. His 
fist was still around Byers' shaft and their chests were 
heaving together. Byers was starting to go limp in his 
arms, moaning quietly. He'd probably have to carry him back 
to bed, once he thought his own legs would be steady enough 
to bear their weight.

It was obvious to him that if he ever had the chance, he'd 
have to get together with Brentali to play with Byers. His 
sub's reaction to the idea was intense, and it was easy 
fantasy fuel. His own reaction to the idea of taking Byers 
in front of Brentali was a strong one, and there was no 
real reason not to follow up on it at some point. He knew 
Brentali would be enthusiastic about it. Friday night had 
been more than enough evidence.

He looked down to Byers' shoulder, pleased that he hadn't 
drawn blood or left a serious bruise. With one trembling 
hand, he caressed the spot gently.

Finally able to breathe well enough to speak, he kissed 
Byers' ear softly. "How are you doing, Johnny?" he asked 
quietly.

Byers was still coming down from full-body shakes. 
"Unnh..." was all he managed, but it was a content sound. 
Doggett chuckled and squeezed him tight, still buried in 
his body.

Carefully, Doggett loosened his arms. Byers lay slumped 
against him, head lolling back on his shoulder. He slid his 
hands between them, separating the wrist restraints, and 
pulled Byers' hands in front of them. There was no need for 
the bondage now, and they would both be more comfortable 
this way while they rested. He unbuckled the harness and 
removed it from his sub's cock and balls completely, and 
for once, Byers didn't even whimper about it. Doggett had 
fastened it more tightly this time than he had before, 
after seeing how much Byers liked it. 

With a gentle hand, Doggett caressed Byers' softening 
shaft.

"Sweet," Byers whispered.

Doggett grinned. "It lives."

Byers' head shook gently as he rested it on Doggett's 
shoulder. "No it doesn't," he muttered. "I think it shot 
its last load."

Doggett laughed quietly. "I hope not."

"For tonight, anyway," Byers said. He was still trying to 
catch his breath. "You're still in me," he whispered. "God, 
feels good."

"Mmm," Doggett replied, "not much longer though." His pants 
were going to be a mess. He'd have to have the suit cleaned 
when he got back to D.C., as there wasn't enough time for 
the hotel to have it done before they'd have to be up in 
the morning. They were booked on an early commuter flight 
so they'd be back in time for Doggett to be at the Hoover 
Building for work. They'd have to get to bed soon.

Doggett slid his hands under Byers. "Pick your ass up a 
little. I need to pull out of you."

Byers grumbled but did so, his legs shaky. Doggett grabbed 
the end of the condom and slipped out of him gently.

"Wish you didn't have to do that," Byers muttered.

Doggett kissed his cheek as he pulled the full condom off 
himself. "Me too, but it's done now. We need to go get 
cleaned up and get into bed."

Byers closed his eyes and groaned. "Do we have to?"

"What, go to bed?"

"No, get up right now."

Doggett grinned. "You're gonna be asleep in about three 
seconds if we don't, and you know it."

"Wanna sleep here." Byers pouted his lips.

"Oh, don't even try that shit on me, boy," Doggett said, 
laughing. He poked his hips up under Byers, jostling him. 
"Get your skinny ass outta my lap so I can get this messy 
suit off. You came all over the place."

Byers looked over at him and blushed. "I'm --"

"Don't even say it," Doggett said, a warning tone in his 
voice.

Byers looked sheepish and leaned forward with a groan. 
Doggett put a hand on his back to steady him. After a 
moment, Byers rose to his feet. 

Doggett could see how red his sub's ass was. The stripes 
stole his breath. If he hadn't just come, they would have 
aroused him again. He ran a hand lightly along the smooth 
roundness of each cheek, then slid his arm around Byers' 
waist and pulled him close. He kissed the still-hot flesh 
gently.

Byers sighed. "That was so good," he said, quiet, a tiny 
shiver running through his muscles.

"You're so hot, Johnny," Doggett whispered, letting him go. 

Byers turned to him. "So are you." A tiny, shy smile curved 
his lips.

Doggett's heart skipped a beat, and he smiled back with a 
contented sigh. God, what Byers did to him should be a 
federal felony. He rose, sliding his arm around Byers' 
waist, and they went to clean up.

~~end chapter 3 of 4~~