Title-Melange

name-Scribe

fandom Sentinel/X Files Xover

pairing- Blair/Jim/Mulder

status Answer to my own Never Too Drunk To...You Know challenge. WIP

criticism-feel free

archive-You bet. Lemme know where.

disclaimer-None of the boys are mine, but this is strictly for fun, not for profit.

summary-Off duty Mulder observes some action with Jim and Blair, up close and personal. They get him interested in home cooking.

notes: 'melange': n. A motley assortment of things: a mixture.

rating-NC-17

by Scribe

Mulder tried to relax during his enforced time off, he really did. "One week," Skinner had warned him. "One solid week, I don't want to see you anywhere near my office, your office, Scully's office, field investigations, the morgue...I mean it, Fox. You're ragged out, and you won't be any good to us at all if you don't get some goddam REST."

But, well, work was what he DID. He spent a couple of days mostly sleeping, which was damn unusual, considering his insomnia. Maybe he did need this time off, if he was so exhausted that he could sleep ten and twelve hours at a time. He hadn't done that in years. But between the bouts of sleeping...what?

The Lone Gunmen had a certain amount of entertainment value, but they were off limits, too closely associated with work. Fox didn't want to risk Skinner imposing another week's 'vacation' on him. Scully had found someone to keep her occupied in her free hours, at least for the present. Fox just didn't have a wide range of friends and acquaintences. Normally, that didn't bother him too much. He kept busy. But now...

He rented some videos, and spent another day binging on pornography and delivery pizza. Many people would have been amazed at how clean his kitchen was for a bachelor. The fact was, he never really used it. Oh, he made coffee, and heated up the occasional take out leftovers. But he'd never really had to clean the oven or stove, because they never had the opportunity to get dirty.

By Thursday, he had read all the magazines in his apartment, twice. When he found himself inking in all the 'O's in an issue of Hustler, he knew he had to do something. As long as he stayed away from any official Bureau investigation, he should be okay. So he considered his options, by digging into his mental Rumors file.

There was that supposed psychic, helping the police on a string of babysitter killings that lookd like someone was taking the Halloween movies WAY too seriously. But that was an ongoing police investigation, and the FBI could be called in at any moment. Besides, they were operating in Florida, and that was too far to go on such short notice.

Then he remembered one intrigueing possibility. He'd overheard another agent in the cafeteria talking about a guy he'd worked with in Washington on a terrorist case, a police detective named Jim Ellison. This Ellison must be good. Mulder had enough experience to know that contact with the local law enforcement was not pursued very energetically, despite the PR. For a local detective to take an active, even prominent role, in such an investigation was unusul, to say the least. The reason he'd been included was right up X Files alley.

During his military career, Ellison had spent eighteen months on his own in the jungles of Peru, defending a territory and awaiting transport. The very fact that he had survived was amazing, and the ordeal had blessed, or cursed, him with accutely atuned physical senses. According to the information he could gleen, this Ellison had hypersensitive taste, smell, sight, hearing, and touch. The agent claimed that they were so strong that they practically amounted to the fabled sixth sense. But the abilities came with a price. Ellison ran the risk of losing control of his abilities, and being consumed by sensory overload, zoning out. He had to work with a partner, who functioned as his anchor, keeping him grounded and in control.

Ellison was on the Cascade police force now. That wasn't too bad a drive, Mulder thought. If he'd agree, it would be interesting to watch him work. He might. His dealings with the Bureau had been pretty civil. So Mulder took the chance. He got the number of the Cascade Police Station, and dialed.

"Cascade Police Department, how may I direct your call?"

"Detective Jim Ellison, please."

"One moment."

There were the clicks that accompany interoffice call transfers. After a couple of rings, the phone was picked up. "Desk of Detective Jim Ellison. What can I do ya for?"

Mulder was taken aback. The voice sounded pretty young for a seasoned police detective. "Detective Ellison?"

"The Big Guy is in the can right now, he'll be back in a minute, unless he's fighting with that burrito he insisted on having for lunch. I'm his partner, Blair Sandberg. Can I be of help?"

"Maybe you can, Detective Sandburg..."

"Oh, I'm not a detective. I'm not a police man. I get reminded of that time and time and time again. I'm officially an observer and consultant. I'd put my title as Guide, or Shaman. Ya see, in the ancient tribal cultures, there have always been certain individuals who were blessed with the duty of protecting the tribe, and they had their Guides to help them, so Jim and I..."

There were scuffling in the background, and a yelp. A gruffer voice came on the phone. "Sorry about that. He has a tendency to rattle on. Jim Ellison, here. Who am I speaking to?"

Well, this one believed into getting down to the meat of the situation. "I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder."

"Feebe, huh?" There was no derision in the nickname. "Something I can help the Bureau with?"

"No, not exactly. This is more of a personal matter."

"I'm listening."

"It's a little hard to explain. I operate in a branch investigating what we call the X files..."

It sounded like someone had snapped their fingers. "Yeah, Gordon told me about that." Gordon had been the agent in charge of the terrorist investigation. "You must be Spooky Mulder."

Fox almost groaned at the despised nickname. He heard Blair Sandburg yammering excitedly in the background. Something about the mystical connections of South American tribes and the Anasazi. Apparently Gordon had really run his mouth. "Shut up, Blair. I can hear him over you, but you know it pisses me off to have to filter you out. Hey, Mulder, sorry about the 'Spooky' thing. It won't happen again."

"That's alright."

"No it isn't. That name pisses you off. Just say so."

"I didn't say the name pisses me off."

"You didn't have to. Your heartrate did." Fox was silent. "I know you're still there. You don't need my senses to hear you breathing. That's why you called, isn't it? My Sentinel abilities? You have a case you need help on?"

"No, not a case. I was just wondering...This is sort of a personal interest of mind. I have some time off, and I wondered if you'd consider..."

"Just a second." The sound was muffled, as if a hand was held over the mouthpeice. He could only make out occasional words, spoken by two different voices. "...wants to know if....up to you....sounds nice enough...sure, been a long time...what the hell...always send him to...okay..." Ellison came back on the line. "Why don't you come down and spend some time with me and my partner? Get a look at how this works, and how we operate."

"Uh...yeah. That would be terrific."

"Could be. Need one of us to pick you up anywhere?"

"No. I'll rent a car and drive down."

"Great. When can we expect you?"

"Well, I have to get a rental car, then make reservations..."

"No need for that. I have an apartment, and there's plenty of room."

"I couldn't ask you to..."

"I'm insisting. After all, this is on your own dime, right? No expense account."

"Yeah..."

"If you leave early tomorrow, you should make it to the station around lunch time. We can all have lunch, get acquainted, then hit the streets for a few hours. Then we'll have all day Saturday free to talk. Sound okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess..."

"Great. See you tomorrow." He hung up.

Fox blinked at the receiver in his hands. He had the feeling that he had just been ordered to Cascade, when he'd called to make a simple request. Was Ellison always this overwhelming? Hell, he sounded like a near match for Skinner. Fox hung up, then called Hertz and made arraingments for the next day.

*************

The next day did not start out auspiciously. He might not be going in his official capacity, but he still felt obliged to hold up the Bureau image, so he decided to wear the usual dark suit instead of casual clothes. He'd worn it so long that it seemed like a second skin. Unfortunately, the best second skin was at the dry cleaners, and the second best second skin seemed to have mated with a full blown dandelion. It was covered in bits of white fluff. Mulder picked off a small handful before giving up and putting it on anyway.

It didn't take long to drive to Cascade, and he arrived well before noon. Parking in the visitor's lot, he got directions up to Major Crimes. The division proved to be a medium sized office, containing several desks. Only one of them was occupied at the moment. A model handsome man in an Armani suit was making notes in a folder. He looked up as Fox approached. His eyes skimmed the lanky detective's body from head to toe, calculated the cost of his ensemble to withing fifty cents, and decided to forgive him, anyway. "Can I help you?"

"Detective Ellison?"

"He stepped out for a minute, should be right back."

Fox nodded. "The can?"

The man, his nameplate said "RAFE" grinned. "Not this time. He hasn't had lunch yet. He doesn't go till a couple of hours after lunch. A regular guy, is our Jim. His desk is over there, if you want to wait."

Fox took a seat beside the indicated desk, and looked around. Ellison's desk was no nonsense, spartan. It was in direct contrast to the one beside it. This one was buried under mounds of files, stacks of books, a drift of pencils and pens, small, carved figurines, and what looked like pottery shards. Fox peeked at the name plate that was half buried under a pile of museum brochures. "Blair Sandburg."

He had whispered the name to himself, barely breathing it. A voice out in the corridore called. "He's got a class this morning. He'll be here soon." A few seconds later *how far down the hall had he been?* a very tall, very muscular man came through the door, a file folder in his hand.

Lazer blue eyes zeroed in on Muldar. *Damn, I only THOUGHT Rafe gave me a good once over* The man moved quickly across the room, almost flowing, offering his hand. Fox shook hands with him. The man's grip seemed an extension of what Fox had already gleened about him: it was firm, quick, and completely lacking in macho bullshit pissing competition. "You must be Special Agent Mulder. I'm Jim Ellison." He indicated the messy desk. "My partner is subbing an introductory anthro class this morning for a little extra cash. He'll be here soon."

"Are you psychic, or something?"

"Or something." He dropped the folder on his desk, where it lay in solitary splendor, then sat. "Your wondering why I volunteered the information? I heard you mention his name."

"But you were...Well, you weren't close enough to hear."

Ellison laced his fingers across an admirably flat belly and cocked his head. "It's what I do, Agent Mulder. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"You really heard me?"

"Yes. And I can tell by your increased heart rate right now that the idea...affects you. I'm not sure if it's disturbance, or excitement. What else can I show you to help convince you?"

Mulder thought. He pulled out his wallet, and removed a limp paper slip. It had at one time been a business card, but it had obviously gone through the washer a couple of times. He held stood up and propped it against a pile of folders on Sandburg's desk. Even at close range, it was a blur, the ink faded and spidering into the fibers of the paper. "What does that say?"

Ellison glanced. He didn't shift, didn't squint. His eyes flicked over the smeary paper, then he grinned at Fox. "You trying to corrupt my partner, Agent Mulder?"

"What do you mean?"

"Leaving him a business card for. let's see, 'The Hot Box Video Store and Boutique'. Mm, special five for three rentals on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"Really?" Mulder examined the card again. He made out '5/3' "I'd forgotten about that. Okay." He tucked the card away and sat back down. "I believe the hearing and seeing part."

"I don't know what to do for the taste and touch. I can touch your skin and tell you if you're a fraction of a degree above or below normal body temperature. I could taste a drop of your sweat and tell you how much meat you've eaten in the last twenty four hours."

"That's not necessary."

"Smell?"

"Sure. What can you tell me about smell?"

Ellison got up, picking up the folder. "We can get to that in a minute. I need to take this in to my boss. I'll be right back." He headed toward an inner office, weaving through the desks with the grace of a jungle cat.

Mulder watched him go, bemused by the shift and flow of muscle that was hinted at beneath the man's tight jeans and sweater. Rafe noticed, and smiled. "Pretty damn impressive, huh?"

"Yeah, pretty damn impressive."

"Makes me feel like a damn ninty-seven pound weakling sometimes."

***********

The door to the hallway swung in hard enough to bang against the door with a shiver of glass, and a smallish figure bounced in. "Oops, sorry 'bout that!" He grabbed the door knob and shut the door with an elaborate show of gentleness. "You're my witness to the Big Guy, Rafe. I shut it carefully." He...well, scurried wasn't quite the word. Mulder associated scurrying with small, timid things. Small he might be, but timid...

Shining dark blue eyes locked on Mulder, checked out the empty chair behind the desk, ticked off Ellison's partner's desk, skimmed over Rafe, shifted to the inner office door, and returned to Mulder in the space of about a second. His glance was as fast as a pinball zipping between bumpers. He hitched a book bag higher up on one shoulder, and came closer. Mulder was reminded of a Ray Bradbury story, where a boy spoke of the soles of new sneakers as being filled with such things as wound springs, willowy saplings, panther sinews...all dedicated to giving wings to the feet. This boy could be a poster child for those sort of shoes.

He was young, about a head shorter than Mulder. Fox decided that he was someone's son, come to drop off a message about groceries to be brought home, or laundry to be picked up. It surprised Mulder that a cop's child would be allowed such...liberalities with his appearance. The youth had the longest hair Mulder had seen on a man recently, a spectacular crop of loose brown curls.

"Hi! You must be Agent Mulder. The Big Guy told me about you. Where is he?"

"Talking to the captain, I think." Must be Ellison's kid. There wasn't any real physical resemblence, but there was an intangible something that said those two were connected somehow. "Nice hair."

He wasn't offended. "Takes a bit of work. Don't know how the girls stand it, having to style theirs all the time. I just use a good herbal shampoo and a creme rinse every now and then. I've considered a hot oil treatment, but Jim says I don't really need it, but I may treat myself for my birthday, or something..."

It was the near breathless run on that made it click for Mulder at last. He pointed a finger at the younger man. "Blair Sandburg?"

"Guilty as charged." Ellison came back out of the inner office. "How'd you guess?"

"Certain pre observed verbal tendencies."

"In other words, your yakking." Ellison tweaked one of the long brown curls.

Blair grinned. "I am what I am."

Fox ventured. "For a minute there, I thought he was your son."

Thee was a sudden choking sound from Rafe, and he quickly became interested in something in his wastepaper basket. Ellison and Sandburg were smiling at each other in a 'we've got a secret' manner. Jim said, "Not all that far off the mark, Agent Mulder. We need to get on with lunch. I think Montoya is going to make a pass this afternoon, and I want to be ready for him."

"Are you three going to Burger King, or an actual sit down restaurant?" asked Rafe.

"I was thinking about Adobo, the South American place."

"Good choice, three stars. They'll let you in, since lunch is a little more casual, but..." Rafe came toward them. "You, Agent Mulder, are in desperate need of a sprucing up. Did you take a roll in a pile of angora sweaters, or what?" Rafe picked a piece of fluff off Mulder's shoulder and puffed it away.

Mulder wiped helplessly at his sleeve, mumbling, "I don't know. I tried."

"Hold still. I'll fix everything." Rafe pulled what looked like a cardboard tube on a plastic handle out of his pocket. He showed it to Muldar. "I always carry a lint roller. Never can tell when it'll come in handly. Now, spread your legs, hold out your arms, and stand still."

Behind him, Fox heard Jim whisper to Blair, "Do those words remind you of anything?" He was answered by a giggle. Fox did as he was told, and Rafe began to remove the lint. He worked his way down. First, he ran it over Fox's shoulders, stroking the same area several times for thoroughness. Then he gripped Mulder's wrists in turn and gave his left, then his right arm a work over, not neglecting the arm pits. When he ran it down his sides, Mulder twitched ticklishly.

Rafe smoothed the roller over Mulder's chest, leaving a clean black expanse in it's trail, his eyes firmly on his work. Mulder stared at his bent, dark head, glad that the pants were just a little baggy. It wouldn't do for anyone to know how he was reacting to this.

"Turn around." Fox found himself looking at Ellison and Sandburg again. Jim was in his seat, Blair perched on the edge of the desk near him. Ellison had one arm casually around the younger man's waist. They were both watching him, smiling.

Ellison said, "You can put your arms down now, if you want to, Mulder. Rafe's through there.

Feeling foolish, Fox lowered his arms as Rafe ripped a length of adhesive off the roller and discarded it, then started on his back. He stroked the entire length, his touch so firm that it swayed Mulder's torso forward a little with each push. At last the roller moved down over the seat of his pants. "Lot of lint here." he heard Rafe mumble. "Did you sit in it?" The roller moved over the curves of his butt several times.

"And that just leaves the legs." The roller moved from the top of his thighs to his ankles in long, even strokes. The backs, then down the sides. Mulder waited for Rafe to move around front to complete the de-linting. He almost stumbled when, instead, Rafe grabbed his belt in one hand for balance, reached between his legs, and started cleaning the front. Mulder stayed frozen till he was done, praying that he wouldn't go over the bulge that was making it's way down the inside of his thigh.

"There," said Rafe brightly, standing up. "Much better. What do you think, guys?"

Jim nodded, but Blair shook his head, curls waving as he hopped off the desk and took the roller from Rafe. He ripped off the used paper, exposing fresh adhesive. "You missed a spot, Rafe."

Mulder stiffened, spine and cock, as Blair gently rolled the cylynder over his crotch, stroking in up and down his fly. Blair stepped back, and cocked his head with an innocent smile. "There! NOW he's presentable. Let's go!"

On their way out the door, Ellison hesitated long enough for the two others to get a little ahead and muttered to the other detective. "You're a goddam cocktease, Rafe, you know that? Thanks."

On the way out Blair explained, "We think Montoya is behind a string of jewel thefts in the area, but we haven't been able to get any solid evidence yet. If we can catch him passing anything to a fence, we have him. He hasn't been near any of the known fences so far. None of his men have left town, so we're pretty sure the jewels are still here. He knows that if he travels anywhere, we'll be right on his ass. Shame to, 'cause he's got a real saggy ass. You'd think the dude would spend some of that cash on a gym membership or a personal trainer or at least a Soloflex."

Mulder looked at Jim. "Is he always like this?"

"Except when he's sleeping or unconscious."

*************

Out in the lot, Mulder started for his rental. Jim laid a hand on his arm and steered him toward an old pickup truck. "No sense in using two cars when there's enough room for all of us." Mulder found himself allowing the physical guidance, a bit surprised. Ellison got in the driver's seat, and Sandburg shooed Mulder into the center before taking the passenger seat himself.

It was a good thing the bench seat was pressed as far back as possible to accomodate Ellison's long legs, or Mulder would have found his knees up around his shoulders. They all fit, okay, but it was a bit tight. Mulder found his left leg rubbing against Jim Ellison's firm, denim clad thigh. Blair threw an arm companionably across the back of the seat where it rested just behind Mulder's neck.

Blair continued talking the entire way, holding forth on the way cultural heritage was reflected in different cuisines. Mulder occasionally felt a silky strand of hair tickle the side of his face. All he'd have to do was turn his head, and his nose would be buried in the fresh scented curls. The idea made him feel...well, not uncomfortable, exactly.

At the restaurant, they had been admitted with only a small sniff. The maitre de had started to lead them to a table right beside the kitchen doors. Jim had quietly observed that there were still some nice booths open, and they'd like one of those,please. When the maitre de ignored the comment, beginning to lift cutlery from another table to set a third place, Jim had lais a gentle hand on his arm, and softly repeated himself. The maitre de got a look at his face, and suddenly remembered that one of the booths wasnt reserved, if the gentlmen would just step this way?

Ellison and Sandburg took one side, Mulder the other. Mexican food, Mulder knew. Plenty of take away Mexican food available near his home. But the South American dishes listed were confusing. He allowed Blair to choose for him, and wasn't disappointed. There was a spicy meat and vegetable stew (they didn't tell him what cabrito was till after he'd eaten it, and he didn't care by then), fried slices of some starchy plant, and grilled sea bass with a spicy citrus-chili salsa. Refreshing and filling at the same time. Ellison and Sandburg had tea. Since he wasn't on duty that afternoon, Mulder indulged in a couple of strong, flavorful imported beers.

Sipping his second beer, Mulder watched as Blair stole the cherry tomato garnish off Jim's plate and popped it quickly into his mouth, grinning at his companion's complaints. "If you want some, dammit, tell me. I'll buy you your own plate." And it suddenly snapped. OMC. Why hadn't he noticed before?

Old Married Couple. Well, it was the new millenium, after all. And Sandburg and Ellison were a long way from being the first partners to end up in the sack together. It was just a little hard to picture. Ellison was so...masculine. Without the macho bullshit, but there wasn't an effinimate molecule on view. Sandburg? Well, long curly hair aside, he was still distinctly male. The tight little body was sleekly muscled.

Where had that thought come from? Mulder studied them some more, puzzled. It didn't seem to be what he would have expected from a 'typical' gay relationship. Neither one seemed to be the 'wife'.

After lunch, they drove deeper into the city, and parked. "What are we interested in here?"

"Nothing here. Three blocks in that direction." Mulder squinted. He could make out a bit of green in the direction indicated.

Blair got a pair of binoculars out of the glove compartment and handed them to Fox. He peered through them, and suddenly a small park in the city, a pocket sized bit of green grass and trees, came into focus. Children, too young to be in school, tumbled in a sandbox and crawled over gym equipment under the watchful eyes of mother's and grandmothers. There were several small tables, surfaced with chess/checker boards in one area. Two ragged young men, one fair and one dark, were hunched over one board, taking turns whipping peices around the board between slapped out intervals on a timer's clock.

At another table, an elderly man lounged alone. The white men of a cheap plastic chess set were arrayed before him, ready for battle. The other side of the board, and the chair before it , were empty. "That's Montoya." Blair offered. When Mulder stared silently, Blair said, "What?"

"I'm trying to see if his butt is as saggy as you said, but it's hard to tell with him sitting down. So now what?"

Jim settled back into his seat. "We wait. You know how to do a stakeout, don't you?"

"I'm more than intimately acquainted with stakeouts. What am I looking for?"

"Anything that interests you. I'll be keeping watch myself." Ellison took a pair of dark sunglasses off the dash and put them on.

Mulder regarded him dubiously, and offered the binoculars.

"He doesn't need them," Blair remarked. "He's dialing up his visual sense. That's why he has the shades, to keep from solarizing, washing out."

"So the enhanced senses aren't a full time thing?"

"Not now. He's learned to mute them when he needs to. Otherwise he'd be in sensory overloar, he'd zone out. It's kind of like what happens with exactly the opposite situation, sensory deprivation. He goes into himself in self defense."

Fox didn't feel quite right, discussing Ellison as if he wasn't there. Ellison said, "It's alright. I don't mind. If you want to know about this thing, you need to listen to the Chief there. He's a big part of it."

"You weren't looking over here. How'd you know..."

"You were worring about how I'd react. Heartrate, respiration, body heat..." His head tipped toward Fox marginally. "You're body temp is running about a degree over normal. Are you feeling sick?"

"No, that's normal for me. It's like that all the time."

"Oo, hot blooded." Without looking, Ellison slapped Blair lightly on the back of the head. "Sorry." Blair proceeded to explain Sentinels and Guides.

**************

"Cool. So you think it's genetic? Sentinels AND Guides?" Fox looked from Blair's piquant, animated features to the rugged, stoic expression on Jim Ellison's face.

"To a degree. I need more cases to study before I can be sure. I've located a couple I think qualify, but none of them have bonded with a Guide yet. And they're a lot shyer than the Big Guy about discussing things. Course it took me awhile to get him to open up, and he still has a self destructive tendency to repress sometimes..." Blair neatly dodged a half hearted slap aimed at the back of his head.

Ellison made a universally recognized hand gesture, not looking away from the park. "Repress this, Sandburg."

"Any time, any where, Ellison."

Fox was feeling like a definite third wheel. "I think I'll go take a closer look."

Jim still didn't look around. "Negative. This is just a look-see operation."

"So? I'll look, I'll see."

"Can't have it, Mulder. Just sit tight for a little longer. Have Blair tell you about deep cultural trends in horror movies. It's one of his many obsessions."

Blair touched Fox's arm, and jerked his head slightly toward the door. Fox raised his eyebrows. Blair mimiced popping the door handle. He pointed at Fox, arced his finger across his own body, then pointed at the door, and made shooing motions. Light dawned. Fox nodded.

Blair said, enunciating clearly, "Jim, I think I need to make a quick trip into the alley. All that tea."

"Since when can't you hold tea?" Ellison growled.

But as he spoke, Blair had been opening the door. Instantly Fox scrambled over Blair's body, out the door. He felt fingertips graze the back of his jacket, but Sandburg managed to get tangled up with the Sentinel, and Fox was out on the sidewalk and starting down the block before they got straightened out.

He thought he might be in trouble when he heard the driver's side door open, and feet hit the pavement. Then her heard Sandburg, "C'mon, Jim. What're you gonna do, drag him in off the sidewalk? Kinda conspicuous, huh?" Fox kept walking rapidly, hearing the angry mutter fade behind him.

It didn't take him long to reach the tiny park. Now he had to decide what to do with himself. He paused beside the sandbox, watching the toddlers who were tumbling about like a litter of puppies. That earned him laser beam stares from some of the women. The tall man in the slightly rumpled suit looked too damn intense for them to feel comfortable about him hanging around their charges. He sauntered away as casually as possible.

Next he went to the two young chess players, and watched their game for a couple of minutes. One of them, he had a goatee and short, spiked, marigold colored hair, noticed him. He whipped a pawn into another position and slapped the clock, ending his turn. As his companion frowned at the board, he smiled at Fox. "Hey."

"Hey. Who's ahead?"

The boy shook his head. "Ain't like that, man. I'm doin' better on time, anyway."

"Mmm. There's a lot to be said for going slow in some things."

There was a smack. The dark haired boy had shifted a rook, and slapped the clock.

"Shit! Lemme see..." Blondie whisked a knight in an arcane pattern, slapped the clock. His friend sat up straighter in surprise, then leaned forward in fierce concentration. "That should hold him for a minute. What's your name?'

"Fox."

The boy gave him a long look that took in everything. "Yes you are."

Uh huh. Fox smiled, and tipped his head slightly toward the older man, sitting by himself. "Is he waiting for anyone in particular?"

The boy looked disappointed. "Him? Man, you can do better than that. He ain't even daddy material."

"I just like to play chess. He's got his own toys."

"I think he's waiting for someone, but you could try, I guess."

There was a triumphant yawp, and the dark haired boy slid a bishop across the board, capturing a pawn. As he hit the clock, the blonde boy glanced down and gasped, "You cocksucker!"

"Oh, there's news. That'll teach you to pay attention to the game, you slut. Get out of that." The dark boy raised cool eyes to Fox. "Sometimes Boz forgets who brought him to the dance. If you're interested, drop back by almost any afternoon, but he's with me right now." He also gave Fox a once over. "Unless you're interested in threesomes?"

"Maybe some other time. I didn't drink my orange juice this morning."

Fox strolled away, coming up beside Montoya. "Looks like you're ready for a game."

The older man studied him. "I don't think you're the right player."

Fox seated himself opposite him. "Well, granted I'm not up to master status. But I wouldn't mind a little instruction." There was a small cardboard box on the table. Fox opened it to find the black chessmen. He started setting them up.

"No, really young man. I'm waiting for someone."

Fox lined up pawns. "So give me a game while you're waiting." He rested his chin in his palm, elbow on the table. "It'd have to be more fun than just sitting here...playing with yourself." Fox didn't have Sentinel hearing, but he still heard a faint whoop that he identified as Blair Sandburg laughing.

Montoya seemed to find it amusing also. "Alright, young man. Prepare to be thoroughly humiliated."

"As long as I don't have to wear a dog collar. Damn things chaff." There was another whoop, just on the edge of audible. Fox assumed that Ellison was reading his lips *or listening, I think maybe he can hear this far if he pushes it. But if he has it up that high, Sandburg must be puncturing his eardrums.*

It was a slaughter. All Mulder knew about chess was the basic moves. Intricate patterns and theories he could understand, but his own style had always been to bull straight ahead, as Scully and Skinner had often lamented. Dark peices piled up on the other side of the board. Mulder realized that Montoya was playing with him, as well as against him. There had probably been several opportunities to finish him off. At last Mulder managed to capture a pawn, feeling absurdly proud.

And feeling something else, too. The little plastic peice didn't feel right. As Montoya made his next move, Fox idlely fingered the chessman, running his fingers around the base. Fox lifted his head, looking casually up the street toward the parked truck. He mouthed the words. "Down here. Now." If only Ellison wasn't too pissed to trust him.

There was a distant rumble of an engine, and the truck started down the street slowly. Fox managed to capture another pawn on his next move, but his royal couple was left exposed, and Montoya took his queen. There wasn't any chance of winning without her. *Well, there never WAS any chance of winning, Fox. You know that. Chess isn't your game. Darts, maybe.*

The truck was now parked in front of the grassy area. Ellison and Sandburg exited. Fox saw Boz scoping Blair's ass, and his companion slapped the young blonde upside the head. Fox heard some angry words about "...every fucking peice of meat that walks past."

Montoya saw them coming, and the smug triumph on his face soured. He began scooping chessmen into the box. "I'm sorry young man, we'll have to finish this some other time."

"But I was winning, wasn't I?" Montoya spared him a derisive look. "Okay. Lemme help." He reached for the chessmen.

"No, don't touch them!" The tone was sharper than a dollar ninety-eight set of plastic chessment warrented.

"It's no trouble." As long limbed as he was, Mulder could be very convincing as 'klutzy'. He knocked half of the remaining peices onto the ground with one grab. Montoya made a hiss of anger.

Sandburg and Ellison were almost there. They couldn't do anything unless there was probable cause, some indication that Montoya had something not quite above board in his possession. Fox got up. "I am so sorry. I'll get them for you...Oops."

The heel of his shoe came down on an ivory colored castle just as the Sentinel and his Guide arrived. There was a brittle crunch, and Mulder shifted his weight. "I think I broke it." A grinding sound. "I'll buy you another set."

Montoya was frozen, horrified. Fox lifted his foot, and looked down. The peice was reduced to a tiny pile of shards. Nestled in the pile were several sparkling crystals about the size of sunflower seeds. "Wow, what's this?"

Blair stooped, examining them. "Well, my speciality is anthropology, not gemology, but I'd say they look a hell of a lot like diamonds. Jim, didn't the Venkmaan store lose a pot of loose stones like this not too long ago?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact they did. Montoya, want to tell us what you're doing with suspicious stones hidden inside your recreational materials?"

Montoya didn't. Montoya very stupidly decided to go for a gun. In the second or so it took him to reach into his jacket and half pull the weapon, there were two clicks. He found himself looking directly down the barrel of his erstwhile opponent's gun. Too far away to be struck down, should he feel so foolish as to try, but undeniably close range. In his peripheral vision, he saw Ellison's gun directed at his temple.

"You're a sore loser, Mister." Fox complained.

Sandburg relieved Montoya of his weapon, then used his cell phone to call for a cruiser. While Fox kept a steady bead on Montoya, Ellison handcuffed him. Montoya was making sputtering noises about just cause, illegal search and seizure, and entrapment. Fox shrugged. "I suppose you can TRY that. Of course, I'm off duty, and you played the game. It might be worth your while to consider telling the friendly police officers about who else was involved in this with you. They might speak nicely to the DA on your behalf."

As the cruiser pulled up, the two other chess players came by. The blonde one had a carrying case and the time clock in his arms. He was regarding all of them with round, impressed eyes. "That was too kewl for words. All you guys are cops?"

Blair jerked a thumb between himself and his partner. "We are." He pointed at Mulder. "He's a Feebe."

"Oh, wow." Boz turned melted chocolate brown eyes on Mulder. "Do you carry handcuffs?" Mulder hooked his pair off the catch on the back of his belt and dangled them. Boz breathed lightly through his mouth. "Oh, wow."

"Wipe your chin, Boz." His companion drawled. "We gotta go." He put an arm around his friend and started to lead him away. Over his shoulder he called, "Remember what I said. We're here most afternoons, if you're ever interested in a triple." He glanced at Jim and Blair. "Or a quadruple, or a quintuple. Bring the handcuffs."

Blair gave a blushing Mulder a sunny look. "Isn't it good to see kids who can play nicely with others?"

***************

They spent the rest of the afternoon getting Montoya booked and writing reports. Mulder was of the private opinion that paperworks was the curse of modern civilization. Blair, of course, babbled on about the various record keeping methods of different cultures. Or he did till Jim finally had enough and clapped one big hand over his mouth, grabbing the back of his head with the other. "Blair, you're my best bud, but I swear I'll hang you up by your hair if you don't SHUT UP for five minutes." Fox kept tabs. Blair made it exactly five minutes and four seconds.

It was early evening when they were through. Montoya hadn't been able to get through to his lawyers, so they had the thin satisfaction of knowing that he'd at least have to spend the night in jail. On the way to the loft, Blair insisted that they make a stop at a store for supplies. "You two chill, I won't be long." He slipped out of the truck and bounced into the store.

"If he was pink," Fox commented, "I'd swear he was related to the Energizer Bunny."

"Yeah, he wears me out sometimes. Makes me feel old. Of course, he makes me feel young, too."

Fox looked at his hands, feeling awkward. He ventured, "I'm close with my partner, Dana, but not...um..."

"Lovers. It's alright, we aren't worried about keeping it secret. With the new department regulations, no one will give us any trouble." He shrugged. "Not officially, anyway. And we can take care of the other kind. Sentinel and Guide bond on all levels, that includes sexual." He turned slightly in the seat, toward Mulder. "Does that bother you?"

"No. I guess I can see how...I mean, the human body is beautiful."

Ellison's blue eyes bored right into Fox's hazel ones. "Some of them more than others. Fox, how much do you want to know about all this Sentine/Guide thing?"

He didn't hesitate. "Everything."

"Everything?" He smiled, as Blair bustled back out, carrying a large brown paper bag and a smaller white one. As he got in, Jim said, "Blair, Fox is curious."

"I thought he might be."

"What do you say?"

"I say yes."

"Good. Fox, hold real still for a minute." Jim reached over and gripped Mulder's wrists. It was like having handcuffs snap closed.

"Uh...what're you..."

Blair touched his shoulder in a calming gesture. "Be easy. He's going to scent you."

Scent? It didn't sound too dangerous. Ellison shifted closer on the bench seat, and brought his face very close. Mulder forced himself to remain still and not try to pull back. He wouldn't have been too successful if he had: Ellison's grip was more than firm, and Sandburg was right beside him. There was really no where to go.

Jim leaned in, shutting his eyes. He stretched a little, and the tip of his nose brushed Fox's hair. Then he moved lower. His cheek glided by Fox's. Fox could feel the slight sandpaper rasp.of a five o'clock shadow. From the corner of his eye he could see the intent look on Ellison's face. His nostrils flared, and he dipped his face against Fox's neck, drinking in a deep breath. Fox stiffened at the contact, but Blair gripped his shoulder harder. "Easy. Don't break his concentration now."

Ellison bent lower, traveling down Fox's chest. The FBI agent jumped when he pushed his face into the crease where his arm joined his torso. "Sandburg, he's sniffing my pits. I didn't use deoderant soap last night."

"Will you relax, it's different for him than it would be for me or you. He's getting to know you."

Scooting and bending, Jim's face was now hovering somewhere around Fox's belt buckle. "Yeah, I can see that." Ellison suddenly dipped his head and pressed his face against Fox's crotch, snuffing deeply.

Fox jerked, his voice rising, "Okay, now I'm creeped out."

"Jim." Blair reached over and touched the Sentinel. Jim didn't respond, rooting deeper. "Damn, you must smell pretty good, Fox. He's zoning. JIM!" Blair took hold of Jim's short hair and tugged. "Let him go, Big Guy." A low growl rumbled in Ellison's chest. Fox suddenly felt lightheaded. "Ellison! Let him go!"

Jim slowly lifted his head. For a second, Fox thought it must be an elaborate practical joke, putting one over on the Feebes, because Ellison was smiling. Then Fox realized that it was more like he was...showing his teeth. He had his eyes open now, and they were frighteningly blank. "Sandburg?" Fox whispered. "Do I need to get my gun? Is he gonna kill me?"

"He doesn't want to kill you, Fox." As Sandburg spoke, Jim released one of Fox's hands. With his free hand, he smoothed Fox's hair back from his face. Then his fingers sank into Mulder's hair, gripping tightly, beginning to pull him forward. Blari grabbed Jim's chin hard, turning his partner's face toward him and said sharply, "JIM! Cut it out, man. You're freaking the Feebe."

Ellison blinked slowly, and his gaze came back into focus. He released Fox, sitting back into his place. "Sorry. Did it get a little intense?"

'No more than, say, brain surgery. What did you DO?"

Jim started the engine. "I fixed you," he tapped his head, "here. Now I'll know you anywhere, any time." He put the truck in drive. "I'll be able to pick you out blindfolded in a roomfull of people. I'll be able to track you through the city if I have to. I'll be able to enter a room and tell whether or not you've been in it recently."

"It's a little scary at first," Blair confided. "I didn't have anyone to explain when he did it to me. I thought maybe he was about to rape me."

Jim drawled, "For it to be rape..."

"...I'd have had to be unwilling. I know, I know. Vain Bastard."

The apartment was nice, two levels. Most of the livingquarters were downstairs, and there was a large bedroom and bathroom in a loft. In the kitchen, Jim got a beer for himself, Blair, and Fox, without asking. Fox wasn't going to complain. It was an imported Australian brand, much stronger than American brews. "Megan recommended these. Said Monty Python had it right when they said American beer is like making love in a canoe. Fucking close to water."

Blair almost choked on a mouthful of suds. "I'm sorry," he sputtered. "I should see that one coming by now, but he gets me every time. You two go sit, talk, whatever. I'll throw dinner together." He was unloading onions, peppers, tomatos, and a couple of lovely looking sirloins.

Fox examined them apreciatively. "Steak. Medium rare."

Blair pulled them out of his hands. "Jim takes his bloody, of course. But forget it. I didn't buy enough to eat them plain. I'm gonna be working with them. I'm trying to get Caveman to cut back on his red meat consumption a little."

Jim shrugged, finishing off his beer. "What can I say? I'm an omnivore with a heavy emphasis on the carnivore." He grabbed another beer, handed one to Fox, and said, "C'mon. I think there's a b-ball game on right now."

Fox quickly drained his first beer, taking the second. "Shouldn't I stay and...

"Out of my kitchen, Mulder. It's my night to cook, and I don't need either of you lanky geeks getting in my way."

In the living room Fox said mildly. "My feelings are hurt. I'm not a geek." He took a long, thoughtful pull on his beer. "A nerd, maybe."

"He meant it affectionately." Jim switched on the tv, and they lost themselves in the game. Fox could hear clatters and chopping sounds from the kitchen. In a little while, mouth watering smells began to drift out. He wasn't the only one who noticed. He saw Ellison tilting his head and sniffing discretely. Fox began to feel much less resentful that he wasn't going to have steak.

When the food was ready, Jim popped a tape in the vcr to record the remainder of the game for later. "When it's done, you eat. It pisses him off if you delay meals too long. Weird how someone raised as uh...liberally as Blair can be so tight ass about some things."

"An artist likes for his work to be properly appreciated." Blair shooed Fox to the table, while Jim got him a fresh beer. In a moment Fox was digging in to a mysterious concoction heaped over fluffy rice. He identified beef, bell peppers and onions, but a lot of it totally escaped him. He detected hints of soy and ginger, but it wasn't Chinese. There was a little chili flavoring, and maybe some cumin, but it wasn't Mexican.

"This is good, but what is it?" he asked.

Jim swallowed a forkfull before answering. "Blair's famous melange. I can't get the hang of it myself."

"Melange? Is that like...goulash?"

Blair broke a chunk off a loaf of Italian bread, and passed the rest to Mulder. "Quit trying to classify it. Melange means a mixture, a motley assortment of things. You just pick things you think go well together, and throw them in the pot. Pow. Very seldom turns out less than excellent."

"I usually like to stick with what I'm familiar with, but..."

"But it's good to experiment sometimes." Ellison finished for him. "Never can tell. Sometimes you find something that really kicks." He held up his beer bottle. "Here's to curiosity and experimentation."

"I'll drink to that, but then again, I'm a scientist." Blair clinked his bottle with Jim's. They looked expectantly at Fox.

"Sure, good enough toast. I don't see how I can argue with that, since I think I'm part cat. Curiosity and experimentation." He touched his bottle to Jim's, then Blair's, and drained the last of the brew under the watchful gaze of the Sentinel and the Guide.

"The great thing about melange," Blair sifted soap into the dishwasher, then shut it and punched buttons. A watery rush started inside. "...is that it's pretty much one dish. Easy to clean up after."

"Except I wish I could convince you to use the splatter screen when you fry," groused Jim, wiping down the stove.

"Nag, nag, nag. You are so anal retentive sometimes, Ellison."

"That's not what you said last night."

Fox rolled the still cool glass of the beer bottle across his forehead. When you were around a couple, any couple, who had a highly charged sexual relationship, it either made you irritated, or horny. Fox found that he was tending toward horny. He just hoped he could get through the rest of the trip without doing or saying anything that would get him in trouble.

Fox wasn't entirely a stranger to homoerotic feelings. Studies showed that most males went through a sort of pseudo gay stage at an early age, with crushes and hero worship. Usually they switched to girls, often they chose to move in to a consciously gay lifestyle. Then, Mulder thought, there's the one's who don't know what the hell to think, like me.

He liked women. A lot. Scully had featured in more than one fantasy fueled bout of self satisfaction. But...Well, there was Krycek. There were times, even when he was beating the crap out of him for a perfectly good reason, that Mulder had felt the urge to lay a hard liplock on the pouty mouth he'd just bloodied. And other times he watched the flex of muscles under the proper white shirt Walter Skinner always wore, and wondered what would happen if Skinner ever wrapped those big arms around him, and didn't let go?

Fox sighed sadly, peering into his now empty bottle. It was impossible, really. One was his superior, and was too damn honorable to have intimate contact with a subordinate, who might feel pressured. The other would probably give him the ride of his life, but was also likely to neuter him, if he felt so inclined.

He felt someone nudge his shoulder, and looked up to find Ellison holding a bottle of whiskey and Blair juggling three glasses of red-gold liquid. "Come on, screwdrivers in the living room, and we'll get some serious bullshitting done."

"Sounds good." Fox felt the floor shimmy just a tiny bit as he made his way into the living room and sprawled on the couch. All right, he was already a little drunk. So what? He didn't have to drive, he had a bed for the night.

It was an excellent whiskey, very smooth. Good thing because each time he lowered the level in his glass, they replinished it. They talked a lot. Jim told about his stint in Peru, the isolation and danger that seemed to have awakened his lambent talents. Blair told about his rather avante garde upbringing. Fox told them about some of the X Files, the closed cases so that there'd be no danger of any fallout on his new friends.

The level of liquid in the bottle dropped. At some point Fox realized that Jim and Blair weren't really drinking all that much. In fact, they were still mostly sober, while he, on the other hand, was approaching plastered. Well, screw it. He was having a good time.

Jim rewound the tape in the vcr, and cued up the remainder of the basketball game. Jim and Blair settled down to watch, while Fox carefully made his way to the bathroom for a much needed nature break. He peed for what seemed like five minutes, shook off. Then he stood there for a moment, just letting his mind wander in a pleasant alcoholic fuzz. He'd gotten drunk often enough on his own. Often enough for it to worry him a little. But it was different, getting drunk with someone you liked. Didn't leave you feeling empty.

And he liked Ellison and Sandburg. It surprised him how much he DID like them. They were both smart, and funny, and good cops. And cute...

Hold on, Mulder, he thought. They're guys. *yeah, like you never considered grabbing Krycek's ass. You'd have done it if he wasn't such a snake* No, I'm not really...He remembered Jim's face pressing into his crotch. He'd felt the hot breath through his trousers.

Slowly, unconsciously, Mulder stroked himself. His penis immediately stirred with interest. He remembered the fresh smell of Blair's hair, the soft tickle as strands blew against his face, and Blair's cheeky, "Anytime, anywhere." He squeezed. His own groan of pleasure took him by surprize, and he opened his eyes. Looking down, he saw that he was half hard. "Oh, shit, Mulder." He stuffed himself back into his pants and flushed. Then went back downstairs.

Blair was sitting on Jim's lap when Fox arrived, blowing in his ear. Jim kept ducking his head, but he wasn't making any real move to escape the attention. Fox cleared his throat. "Uh, do you guys have any asperin?"

Ellison frowned at him. "Headache?"

"Not yet. But if I swallow a few before I go to bed, it should make the morning after a lot easier to deal with."

Blair pointed back at the kitchen. "I got a fresh bottle. White bag, on the counter. Want me to get it for you?"

"No thanks, I can manage." Fox went into the dim kitchen, not bothering with the lights. The small white bag was sitting near the sink. He got a glass, ran a little water, and rummaged in the sack. He came up with a bottle of asperinbgv, family size, and shook out two tablets. He swallowed them, chasing them down with water, and set aside the glass, putting the asperin bottle on the counter.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he spilled the rest of the contents on the counter. Disposable razors, shaving cream, condoms...Wow. Three boxes of assorted rubbers, and two tubes of personal lubricant. Exactly how active WERE these guys? Just contemplating the possibilities made him a little stiffer.

"You okay, Fox?" Fox whirled around, hiding the jumble on the counter behind his back. Blair was already halfway across the floor. "You look kind of flushed."

"No, I'm fine. Why don't you go back and talk to Jim, and I'll be there in a second."

Blair came closer. "Jim's immersed in the grunt and sweat of professional athletics right now. Are you sure I can't do anything for you?"

Fox felt a trickle of sweat at him temple. "No, nothing. I'm okay. Really."

The younger man was almost toe to toe with him now. "I don't think so. You look like you need something really, really bad." He went up on tiptoe, grabbing Mulder just behind the ears. "And I just happen to be very good at being very bad."

Fox Mulder did his best impression of a statue as Blair Sandburg kissed him in the darkened kitchen. After a second, Blair pulled back fractionally and looked up at him, cocking one eyebrow. "Dude, you're insulting me. I happen to be a very good kisser."

"Uh..." Blair didn't believe in wasting opportunities. The second Fox opened his mouth, he kissed him again, this time slipping his tongue in. There was several seconds of busy, moist silence. When he pulled back this time, Fox said, "Ye-ah. You are."

"So? Kiss back." He pressed his lips to Mulder's again, tongue flicking out. This time Mulder met it, and there was a very pleasant wrestling match. Fox found himself leaning into it, so that Blair could relax and stand flat footed. He felt hands working at his tie, sliding it loose. Then they shoved his jacket off his shoulders. Fox was still gripping the counter behind, and this effectively trapped his arms.

Blair was licking into his mouth steadily. Fox thought muzzily that if he let go of the counter, he could get the jacket the rest of the way off. Then he could push Blair away. Or grab him. He wasn't sure which. But right now the counter was the main thing that was holding him up, because his knees were getting very unsteady.

"Blair..." he mumbled. "Blair, stop it." His voice held no conviction, and Blair, unsurprisingly, ignored him. Blair had started to unbutton Mulder's shirt. He got a few buttons undone and reached inside, stroking his chest. "Blair...Jim."

"Jim's busy. You taste good." Blair kept kissing. DAMN, heWAS a good kisser. If he was anything like this with Jim, why didn't Ellison constantly look like someone had smacked him?

"No, Blair. You..." Blair got another two buttons undone and kissed the hollow of Fox's neck, darting his tongue into the shallow depression. Fox hissed. "You've gotta stop. I mean, you and Jim..." Blair nibbled at his throat, and Fox let his head flop down, his cheek coming to rest atop Blair's silky hair. "What the hell would he think..."

The light snapped on. Fox was temporarily blinded. A voice from the doorway drawled, "He'd think you were making out with his lover in the kitchen."

If Fox had been frozen before, he was cryogenic now. It was like liquid nitrogen had been pumped into his veins, stealing all the nice Blair inspired warmth. He was way too drunk to reach sober anytime soon, but he took a hefty step toward it. "Oh shit." He swallowed hard, and said quietly. "Hi Jim."

"Hi Fox." He was carrying the three empty glasses, easily cradling them all in his big hands. He walked up beside Fox and Blair, and set them on the counter. Blair had stopped kissing Mulder, and turned around. Now he was slowly rubbing his body up and down Mulder's lanky frame, like a large, tawny cat. Jim regarded him indulgently. "Having fun, baby boy?"

"Uh huh." Blair gave a squirm. Even with the imminent prospect of death, or at the very least major hospitalization, Mulder couldn't hold back a huff. The smaller man reached behind, arms going around Mulder, and cupped Mulder's ass. "He's a nice one. Can I have him? Pretty please?"

"Well Fox?"

"Huh?"

"Blair wants to fuck you. You wouldn't be cruel enough to say no, would you?"

"I'm very confused." Fox said clearly.

Jim smiled benignly. "What needs explaining?" He leaned back casually against the counter also, arms crossed, legs crossed at the ankles. "Do the shimmy, Blair. He'll like that."

Fox would never later be able to describe exactly how it was that Blair moved against him, but it made his breath start to hitch, and sweat break out on his forehead. "I don't understand why you aren't killing me."

"Do you want me to kill you?"

"Um, no. But I thought...You and Blair..."

"We're lovers. We're married, to all intents and purposes. But don't you know married couples who swing?"

Blair had his shirt unbuttoned the rest of the way, and was tugging the hem out of his pants. "Loving couple seeks curious single for fun, games, and..." his hands settled on Mulder's chest and began circling his nipples. "experimentation. Though Jim and me are pretty well past the experimentation these days. But we're always happy to help a newbie."

"We swing, but we only do it together, and we only do it with someone we both think is hot."

"You mean you guys..."

"Remember what you said to the blonde in the park, Fox?" Fox nodded. Jim snapped a finger against an empty glass, making the crystal ring. "Well, you've HAD your orange juice."

Blair had turned back around to face Mulder, and was leaning in to him. One thigh had edged between Mulder's legs, and he was sliding it up and down slowly, grinning up at the FBI agent. "You mean both of you?" Mulder murmured.

Mulder still had his tie on, hanging loosely against his opened shirt. Jim removed it. "Yeah. We both think you're sexy."

"But I'm not...oh." Jim had put one hand across the back of Mulder's neck, and he was squeezing, gently but firmly, rubbing and loosening the tensed muscles.

"You're not?"

"I mean, I've thought...hnnph." Blair was running his hands over Fox's ass, tracing the outlines of his cheeks through the seat of his pants. "But I never did."

"Oooo, cherry pie for dessert," cooed Blair, nipping at Fox's neck.

"I thought you were probably kind of inexperienced," said Jim. He urged Blair a little to the side so that he could slip his hand across Mulder's chest "Then you put away all that hooch, and I noticed you were looking interested."

"You got me drunk so you could have your way with me?"

"Don't be so Pearl Pureheart, Fox." Blair chided. "The booze just loosened you up a little."

"And the pheromones coming off you have had me hard most of the evening," said Jim. "But I was worried you'd be skittish, so I sicced Blair on you."

"You SENT him in here?"

"Don't get all offended, Mulder," Blair said. "I was coming whether he suggested it or not. We just figured that, well,..."

"We thought that if I was the one who pushed you up against a counter and stuck my tongue in your mouth, you might faint. I'm told that I can be a little intimidating sometimes."

"Nah. You're a pussycat," Fox said. Ellison pushed, then tugged. Suddenly Fox found himself sandwiched between Blair's smaller, warm body, and Ellison's large, hot one. He gasped, "A leopard, maybe."

"So Fox," Jim's voice was a quiet, dark rumble by his ear. Four hands were roaming over his body, dipping and sliding against interesting and interested places. "What do you say?" Fox shuddered as Jim pressed his face into the his hair, biting and tugging at a few strands. "And you might keep in mind that I'll be able to tell if you're lying to me."

Only one thing was worrying Mulder by now, and he wasn't sure if it was bothering him enough to make him pass up this chance. But he had to say it. "One thing I'm kinda scared of. Jim, what if you...uh, Blair said that sometimes you get lost in sensations, and this afternoon in the truck, you got kind of spooky. What if you zone?"

Fox was remembering that blank look, the bared teeth. And Blair had said, "He doesn't want to kill you, Mulder." Now Mulder recognized that moment. Through his own experiences, he'd run across many incidents where the primitive, animal part of the brain gained ascendency, and he knew how dangerous it could be. They'd been moving into one of those moments in the truck that afternoon. There, under the hot midday sun, they'd approached one of those 'fight or fuck' moments, and it had barely been deffused. A few more seconds, and it would have been either a serious brawl, or an attempted rape. And, comparing himself with Ellison's strength, Fox wasn't so sure it would have stopped at attempted.

"It's okay, don't worry." Blair pulled back from his seductive manipulations to address Fox's concerns. The playfullness was muted, and Fox saw that he was very sincere. "That's why I'm here. I'm the Guide, remember? If he gets too far gone, I can call him back. But Fox," Blair reached back to caress Jim's face. Ellison turned his head and licked his Guide's wrist. "When he rides close to the edge...Oh, man, is it sweet. Just don't worry. We'll take care of you."

Fox's body pretty much made the decision for him. He found that he'd let go of the counter, and was now being pretty much held up by the other men, as his legs were very iffy now. His hands free, he reached both in front and behind. His left hand cupped against Blair's crotch, and his right slid over the rough jeans that were painted over Ellison's inner thigh. Blair made a chirping noise, Jim grunted softly, then said, "I think that's a yes. I seem to remember this tile floor as being fucking cold..."

"Yeah? It's not like you were on the bottom, Jim, but you're right."

Mulder mumbled, "Tile floor?"

Blair nibbled his chin. "Last Thanksgiving. Remind me to tell you sometimes. We're still finding cranberries."

"So let's adjourn upstairs. Blair, I'll help our friend here, you get the supplies." Jim led Mulder to the door, supporting him when he wavered, but not ceasing his explorations. Fox heard Blair scooping things into the paper sack. As they went into the livingroom, he heard the refrigerator door open. Jim yelled back over his shoulder, "Leave the fucking canned cream. I'm not changing the sheets tonight, Blair, I mean it." There was muffled grumbling, but then the patter of feet following them.

Blair slipped past as they went through the livingroom, pinching Fox's butt in passing, and ghosted up the stairs to the loft. Halfway up the stairs, Fox's knees started to give out again, but Ellison held him up with scarcely a grunt, and kept them going, "Believe me, you don't want to do it your first time on the stairs. Sexy as hell, but bad for the back."

They got to the bedroom, just as Blair was peeling the covers down to the foot of the bed. He'd already turned on a bedside lamp, and draped a sheer peice of cloth over it, muteing the light to a soft glow. Wow, Mulder thought, I not only get screwed, I get romance. Cool.

Jim gave him a little push, and he tumbled onto the bed. He could tell when he landed that it was a sturdy motherfucker. Good thing, too, he mused, pulling himself into the center and turning on his side to watch the other two men.

They were both stripping. It was, again, a study in contrasts. Ellison stripped efficiently and quickly, with no wasted movements. Jeans and shorts were skinned down in one motion. His clothes ended up in a small puddle on the floor. Blair was more enthusiastic. He fumbled with buttons, dragged a shirt over his head impatiently when it was half undone, almost tripped himself getting out of his pants. Garments flew to the distant corners of the room. It was going to look like a laundry basket had exploded in here.

Fox was wondering how this was going to work when Blair pounced on the bed next to him and bit his thigh through his pants. Fox yelped in surprise and pleasure. "You're wearing too damn much." Blair sing-songed. "It's rude to be more formally dressed than your hosts."

"I don't want to offend Miss Manners." Fox grinned, and shucked out of his already unbuttoned shirt. When he reached for his belt, Blair pushed his hands away.

"Just wait. Jim likes to do that."

Ellison was at the foot of the bed. Now he got up on it, and crawled up slowly. Fox went very still as he moved up over his legs. Jim looked up the length of his body, gazing into his eyes for a moment. Then he braced his hands on either side of Fox's hips, bent his head, and gripped the leather strap of the belt at the buckle with his teeth.

His chin pressed into Mulder's crotch for leverage, and he pulled, starting to ease the leather tab out of the final loop. It took several seconds, but the end of the belt finally slid free, and was left caught on the metal tongue. Jim again grabbed the belt in his teeth, and gave his head a hard, sideways jerk that popped the metal bit out of the hole. Then all he had to do was nudge the loose edges away from each other, and the belt was undone.

The button was trickier. Mulder wouldn't have believed it was possible to undo a fly button with teeth and tongue, but Ellison managed it, working with intent concentration. By the time he was done, Fox was trembling, whispering, "Oh, damn. Oh, fuck." Blair bent down and started kissing him again, taking the sounds into his own mouth. He felt Ellison catch the tab of his zipper and begin to haul it down one notch at a time. Shit, Mulder thought, I hope I don't come in my pants. That would be pretty humiliating.

Finally his pants were completely open. Then Jim buried his face in the open fly...and just breathed. Fox could feel the heat and moisture of his breath through his jockies. His cock responded with intense interest. He'd already been half hard, now he stiffened and grew under the warm breaths. It was like in the truck, only a million times sexier. Fox had no doubt now that Ellison would be able to pick him out of a crowd in a dark room.

Fox was incredibly turned on, but there was still an edge of fear. "Blair," he whispered against the other man's lips. "He's...not gonna bite me, is he?"

He felt Blair smile. "Not yet, anyway. He knows you're not ready for it. Just let him do what he wants. You won't regret it." He licked Fox's cheek, then said, "I'm really enjoying being a good host, here, but a good guest keeps up his end of the entertainment, dude."

"Oh. Then I can....?" He ran one hand under the silky fall of Blair's hair, stroking his back. The other one glided up his ribs to the soft pelt on his chest.

"Yes please." said Blair simply.

Fox began to explore Blair's body, marvelling at the difference in texture and density compaired to a woman's. In most places, Blair's skin was just as soft and smooth as any woman's, but it was firmer to the touch. There was the promise of strength in the way the muscles slid beneath the skin.

In his groping, Fox encountered something hard, metalic. When he brushed it, there was a tiny hiss from Blair. Fox raised his head and focused, and saw that Blair's nipple was peirced, sporting a tiny gold ring. His cock immediately swelled to full blown hard-on status, and Ellison growled softly down around his crotch. Fox touched the ring gingerly again. "Did that hurt?"

"A little, when it was done. I was careful to have a professional do it, so I didn't lose any sensation."

"Now?"

"It aches a little bit when I'm aroused, but that only makes it even hotter."

Fox leaned over and delicately lapped at the little nub. It stiffened to pebble hardness. Fox took it and the ring into his mouth and sucked softly. Blair tangled his hands in Mulder's thick brown hair, arching up to him. Fox pulled back, licked again, and looked up at him with a faint smile. "Ache now?"

"In the best possible way, you tease."

Jim had turned his head, and was rubbing his cheek against the bulge in Mulder's underwear. "You smell so good," he whispered. "So damn hot and fuckable." He hooked his fingers in the waistband of Fox's pants and proceeded to skin them and the jockys down.

"Oh man." Fox clutched at Blair, wide eyed. "I think we're getting to the main event here."

"Sh, relax." Blair rubbed Mulder's twitching abdomen soothingly. "If you really don't like anything that's happening, just say so."

"And he'll stop?" Fox sounded dubious.

Blair chuckled. "You're doing all the worrying about Jim. Did it ever occure to you that I might want to mount up?" Fox gave him a startled look.

"There's nothing set in stone in our relationship, except that we love each other. We both top AND bottom, depending on the mood. Though I gotta admit, Jim seems to be pretty much into 'fuck animal' mode right now."

"That'd...hurt?" It was questioning, and interested.

"A little, at first. But Jim is incredibly careful, even when he's this horny. He wouldn't give you more than you were ready for."

Jim had discarded the pants, and now he prowled back up Fox's body till he was on hands and knees over the man. He stared into Fox's eyes, and Fox went limp breathing shallowly. "This sounds fucking Victorian, but I think I'm about to get ravished."

"Good choice of words, Fox." Blair commented, reaching over to caress Jim's back.

"Yeah, well, writing all those reports, you get bored..."

"Shut up." This time Ellison kissed him, and it was a whole different ballgame from Sandburg. Blair had been light and teasing. Jim was sheer, raw hunger. It was like he was going to devour Mulder, starting here. Mulder made a surprised 'mphf' sound under the assault, which seemed to encourage Jim. He drew Fox's tongue into his own mouth and sucked it greedily.

Fox scrabbled at Jim, hands sliding frantically, as if Jim were a rock face he was afraid of slipping off. He reached down blindly and his hand found Jim's cock. He closed instinctively around the engorged flesh, and stroked, squeezing.

Jim broke the kiss abruptly and buried his face in the crook of Mulder's neck, dropping his weight down on the man beneath him. When their erections pressed together, Mulder yelped and bucked upward. That was all it took. Instantly they were straining against each other, hips thrusting rapidly.

"Oh, man, this is gonna be quick," Blair murmered, eyes shining. He stroked himself in time to the couple's thrusts. He reached down with his other hand, touching the back of Jim's legs. Immediately his lover spread them so that Blair could reach down between them. Blair's hand moved carefully against the writhing flesh, gently tickling and squeezing both sets of shifting balls.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Fox came first. His whole body went rigid, and he made a gargling sound. Jim felt a hot splash of liquid on his belly, and increased his rubbing frantically. Blair clamped a firm grip on his balls, squeezing a little, and he came, too, adding his own hot seed to the mess that slicked both himself and Mulder. At almost the same moment he heard Blair's whimpering cry, and felt the splash of his cream on his hip. All three men went still, and the room was quiet except for ragged panting.

Blair let himself collapse across Jim's heaving back, and heard Fox grunt at the added weight. He smiled dreamily, and murmured, "Well, that was the easy one I think we'll be able to make it last a little longer this next time."

There was a muffled groan from the bottom of the pile. "Next time? I'm not going to be able to move for at least eight hours."

Blair laughed. "We'll see." He heaved himself up, giving Jim's ass an affectionate slap, which elicited a satisfied grunt. Blair went to the bathroom and returned in a moment with some damp, warm towels. He nudged his lover. "C'mon, stud muffin. Clean up time. If we don't do it now, things will get pretty goopy by the end of the night."

Jim rolled off of Mulder, taking one of the towels, and he and Blair cleaned themselves quickly and efficiently. When Fox reached for the spare towel, his hand was lightly slapped away. "This is what I like," said Blair as he began to wipe Mulder down. "If it wouldn't break the rhythm, I'd haul your sexy, spermy butt in there and give you a bath. It's sooo much fun to play find the soap."

Mulder had really thought that all he wanted to do was doze off, but Blair's ministrations were changing his mind. Even through a wet towel, the boy had talented hands. By the time Mulder was damp and clean, he was also semi hard again.

"See?" Blair said smuggly.

Fox stared down at his cock in honest perplexity. "It's never done that before. Not so soon, I mean."

"I think the main reason more guys don't have seconds more quickly is that they've got so much performance anxiety that they don't really try. The second time can be reeeealy good, cause you're relaxed, and you don't go off so quick."

"You talk an awful lot."

"I'll shut up if you suck my cock."

"Uh..." Mulder darted a glance at Jim, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching them with hooded eyes.

"Don't worry. He likes to watch. It'll get him hot again, then you'll have a real treat."

Fox was rubbing Blair's belly consideringly. "I'm afraid to ask."

"If it's alright with you, after you do me, he'll fuck you."

"Oh." Mulder had an idea. "Well, could he...you know, while I..."

Blair laughed, delighted. "That's the spirit! Yeah, he could. But not this time, Fox."

Fox frowned sulkily. He'd kind of liked that idea. "Why not?"

"Damn, you're sexy when you pout." Blair kissed him. "Because you're still a little drunk, and you're still a little cherry, and do you really think I want your teeth around my cock when Jim slams it to your virgin ass?"

Fox winced. "Ow! Point taken."

"Some other time, definitely."

"Well, then..." Blair was kneeling beside him on the bed. Fox turned on his elbow and nuzzled the lower edge of his abdomen, just where the crinkly brown hair started. He slid down till his lips landed on the top of Blair's cock in a gentle kiss. Blair sighed happily.

Fox continued, placing delicate kisses down the length, marveling as it began to rise to meet him, as Blair stiffened. When he got to the end, he considered, then planted a softly sucking kiss right on the tip. Blair pushed his hips forward, nudging insistently at Mulder's lush lips. Mulder drew back just a fraction, not ready for that yet, but gave the crown a generous lick in apology. That got a gasp.

Okay, that seemed to work. Fox went to work with his tongue, lapping up and down and around, swirling. He was like a child with an ice cream cone, working diligently to keep the ice cream neat and symetrical while he ate it gradually.

*Maybe he never did this before, but he's a fucking natural* Blair was dripping with precum now, another attraction for that soft, maddening tongue. Mulder was swiping droplets off his cockhead, and again he tried to push forward, only to have him draw back. "Mulderrrrrr," Blair whined. "You are such a goddam cocktease."

Jim had been watching this intently. Blair saw that he was erect, and stroking himself slowly. "Jim, baby, hold up." Jim's massaging paused, and he looked at Blair with heated, questioning eyes. "I know, I know. But save it for him, Big Guy. It won't be much longer. Think of how much better it'll feel if you can load that yummy ass with your cream." For an instant, Jim's hand tightened, and Blair laughed breathlessly. "Damn, bad idea! DON'T think about that! Think about basketball, think about tax returns...Ooooo...."

Fox had finally taken the head of Blair's cock into his mouth, and was sucking on it softly. He slanted a glance up at Blair that said, "Cocktease, huh? Got your attention, didn't I?" He let go with a slurping sound and said mildly, "You promised to shut up."

"Shutting up. Just keep doing that."

Smiling, Fox bent down and this time slid half of Blair's length into his mouth. Blair hoped that groaning didn't come under keeping his mouth shut, because if it did, he was shit out of luck. For a second he was afraid it did, as Fox pulled back. But he only drew back till his lips rested around the crown, then eased back down.

*thankyouthankyouthankyou* Blair decided that he must have done something very right in a previous life.

Mulder approached felatio like he did many things in his life: perhaps not with finesse, with with dedicated intensity. And it seemed to be appreciated a lot more than his efforts in other areas, judging by the noises Sandburg was making, and the little thrusting motions of his hips.

Blair slid his hands into Mulder's thick, soft hair and, well...he didn't DEMAND...He just sort of made gentle physical suggestions. Mulder obligingly fell into a rhythm that was stunningly pleasurable. He accepted a liitle more of Blair's cock each time. Blair was amazed at his capacity. Maybe the alcohol helped him relax, but he'd never managed to get this far down anyone's throat, not even Jim. Jim loved him, but with the sensitivities, somethimes the gag reflex was just too strong to be overcome.

Mulder pushed Blair's hands away, grabbed his hips to hold him still, and pushed down as hard as he could. He managed to take the entire shaft, till his nose was pressed to the brown curls, then he made a swallowing motion. Blair abandoned his effort to remain silent.

His body bowing tautly, thigh muscles quivering with strain, he threw back his head, long hair whipping, and shouted, "FUCK, MULDER! GAA, YEAH, EAT ME!" He exploded, and there wasn't any question of to swallow or not to swallow, as deep as he was buried. It was sort of a given. When Mulder eased him back out, Blair was scarcely sticky. Everything had gone directly down Fox's gullet.

Fox was panting breathlessly, looking a little surprised with himself and the world. Blair said apologetically, "I'm sorry I didn't warn you, man. I didn't realize I was that close, and when you deep throated me...I wasn't expecting it."

"Neither was I, to tell you the truth. I don't know what came over me."

Blair stretched out beside him. "I came over you last time."

"Oh, yeah." Mulder licked his lips thoughtfully. "I'm runnin' into all kinds of new taste sensations tonight."

Blair giggled. "First melange, then cream of Sandburg."

Fox shoved a handful of Blair's hair into the guide's face in playful remonstration. He felt a touch on his ankle, and looked down. Ellison was gazing up at him, stroking his leg. His cock was very erect.

Jim looked at Blair. "Was that nice, baby? Looked like you enjoyed yourself."

Blair smiled beatifically. "Soooo good, Big Guy. Fox is the most talented virgin I've ever heard of."

Ellison turned his gaze to Mulder, his hands sliding up Fox's thigh. "What do you say, Mulder? Ready to get rid of the virgin label?"

"Let me get this straight." Fox glanced between Jim and Blair. "After all that, I'm still a virgin?"

"Did either one of us get his cock up your ass when I wasn't looking?" Ellison asked.

"No. I may be drunk, but I think I'd've noticed that."

"You're a virgin on the verge." said Blair. He stroked Mulder's shoulder. "C'mon, Fox. It's be a shame to come all this way, then balk at the last hurdle, so to speak."

Fox looked at Jim, and said hesitantly, "You gonna be able to go slow?"

Jim smiled. "When it counts."

Fox took another look at Ellison's erection, and whispered to Blair, "Are you...SURE that he'll...FIT?"

Blair grinned and patted his head. "I'm living proof. I'm smaller than you, aren't I?"

Fox took a deep breath. "Okay. How do we...uh..."

Jim was stroking the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs. "Depends on how you want it."

Blair volunteered. "Since I'm the outside party, I want to make a suggestion. Why don't I sit and hold Fox facing out, and you can do him missionary style? That way we can both see his face when you pop his cherry."

"Sounds good to me. Fox?"

"Oh, hell, what do I know? I'm a virgin. Sure."

Fox sat up, and Blair scooted behind him, stretching his legs out on both sides so that Mulder's head lay on his shoulder. Blair put his arms around Fox, giving him an affectionate squeeze. Then he handed a pillow to Jim, who slipped it under Mulder's butt.Jim studied the effect, then held out his hand. Blair handed over a second pillow, which joined the first.

Blair started rubbing his hands up and down Fox's torso. He paid particular attention to the nipples, finding a dozen different ways to rub and tweak them.

Jim pushed Fox's legs wide, and knelt between them. Blair said, "Lube is one the table, Big Guy."

"In a minute. Fox, put your feet flat on the bed."

Fox obeyed. The move left him spread open, and he shivered. He'd never expected anyone but possibly a urologist to get such a view of him.

Jim slid his hands under Fox's ass, lifting and spreading at the same time, and bent down. Fox jerked and gurgled as he felt Jim lap at his anus. Blair's arms tightened. "Easy, Fox. This is just the beginning. Feels good, doesn't it?"

Fox's voice was strangled. "You could say that. Oh. Oh, damn." Jim was licking steadily at the puckered opening.

"Maybe I should have warned you. Jim likes the old fashioned kind of lubrication first."

Fox was sweating. "Progress is nice, but there's a lot to be said for doing things the old fashioned way. FUCK!" Fox's anus had relaxed a bit under the persistant licking, and Jim had thrust his tongue inside. Fox was panting. "I never...never thought anyone would..." Jim pushed with his tongue again, and Fox yelped, grabbing at his hair.

Blair caught his hands before they could land. "I know, I know. Makes ya crazy. Just enjoy. He'll move on soon."

The soft, wet probing continued. Fox panted, "Sandburg, I'm not gonna survive this. Just tell Dana and the Lone Gunmen that I died happy."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Fox, but don't worry. You'll survive, even if you feel like you died and went to heaven."

Jim had moved upright now, and was running his fingers up and down Mulder's spit slick crease. Blair said, "Jim. JIM." Ellison looked up, still slowly stroking. "The lube, Jim. Go on, he'll need it."

Silently Jim got up and went to the nightstand, and got the tube of lubricant. He knelt back in his place, uncapped it, and squeezed a thick smear on the fingers of his right hand. Setting down the tube, he said gruffly. "Legs up."

Fox obeyed. Jim moved in closer, and Blair helped Fox arrange his feet up over Ellison's shoulders. Fox had slid down so that his head rested on Blair's right thigh, his back between the Guide's spread legs. His butt rested on the pillows. With his legs lifted, he was totally exposed for Ellison.

Fox felt a cool, wet touch where he'd last felt a hot, wet touch. Then Jim pushed. One finger slid into Fox slowly. He gasped, eyes opening wide. It didn't hurt. It felt odd, but it didn't hurt. It wasn't quite like a prostate exam. He supposed the fact that he and the prober were both naked, and had depostited spunk on each other a few minutes before, might account for that.

"Way to go, Fox," murmured Blair. "I almost jumped out of my skin first time he lubed me."

"That may yet happen." Fox's voice broke as Jim slowly stroked his finger in and out. "Nnnngh. That feels good."

"Then how about some more of a good thing?" Jim worked the secong finger in, moving them apart to spread the way. He sawed them in and out of Fox's tight back passage, being carefull not to jerk, but increasing the depth of penetration, and the force.

Blair was leaning over, watching avidly. "I wish I had a camera, Fox. You should see this. It's so damn sexy."

"I can feel it." Fox's voice was strained. He had a fistful of sheets on both sides, and was twisting them.

"Am I hurting you?" Jim examined his face closely, never stopping the slow plunge of his fingers into Fox's core.

"N-no. I just feel so...full."

"You just THINK that. One more."

"I don't know if I cannnnnnn....Okay, I guess I can." Fox panted.

Jim worked the three tight pressed fingers in and out for several moments. When Fox started to push back at him, he said, "Blair, baby, give me a rubber. It's time."

Blair took a foil pack off the nightstand. "Kneel up, lover. I can reach you." He tore the package open with his teeth, tooke the rubber, and eased it down over Jim's weeping hardon. "There, safely wrapped. Give it to him, blessed protector." Fox was trying to impale himself more deeply on Ellison's probing fingers. "He wants it bad."

"He's not the only one."

Jim pulled his hand free, and Fox growled his objection to the loss of the stimulation. Jim laughed, "You're a demanding bottom, just like Blair. Blair, help him."

Blair grabbed Fox's knees and pulled back, helping hold his legs at a good angle. Jim slathered a generous amount of gel over his latex clad shaft, paying particular attention to the cock head. Then he moved in close, and fitted himself against the small ring of muscle.

He'd prepared Fox well. He slid his glans in with no trouble, lodging in firmly a couple of inches. Fox made a cooing noise, his head dropping far back, his eyes closing. The sound made Jim want to just slam in the rest of the way and fuck like an animal. But he held on. It wasn't easy when Fox blindly scrabbled at his chest, scraping his nipples to attention, and groaning, "More. Please."

He moved his hips slowly, pushing in a little deeper on each stroke. Fox kept making those noises, little whimpers and moans. It was driving him crazy. Ellison just knew that when he really got going, Fox Mulder was going to give it up and sing grand opera.

Finally he went as far as he could. His balls nestled in the crack of Fox's ass. He waited for a moment, letting Fox adjust to it. "You doing alright, Fox?"

Fox's eyes remained shut. "Move, please."

"I guess that's a yes."

"You said you were going to fuck me. Fuck me, Ellison. You promised."

Jim and Blair exchanged looks. Blair shook his head, "Most fucking talented virgin I ever ran into. Go for it, lover. It's what he wants."

Jim didn't need any encouragement. He began to move in Fox with a steady, slow rhythm. Again, Fox made a sound with each movement. He was proving to be a very vocal lover.

After a few moments, Mulder gasped, almost meekly, "Can you go faster?"

"Oh,hell yes. I can give you as much as you can take, Fox. Hard, fast, and deep. Just say the word."

Fox tried to reach Ellison's ass, but had to settle for his shoulders. "Word."

The breathy, eager surrender in that single word tripped the primal switch. With a snarl, Jim was lunging against him for all he was worth, pounding into the furnace of his body. Jim had been right. Fox made an amazing assortment of noises: wails, curses, grunts, pleadings. At the end, when Jim was ramming him so hard that he was pushing him half up Blair's body, he howled.

Blair reached down just as Jim went into overdrive and caught Fox's cock, stroking him hard in time with his partner's thrusts. Fox came a second or two before Jim did. No doubt the clenching of his asshole set Jim off. Blair was glad that the next door neighbor was hard of hearing. This was even louder than one of his and Jim's really good sessions.

Fox felt the warm pulse deep in his core, where Jim was buried. The condom caught and held Jim's bursts of cream, but Fox could still feel the scalding heat. He wondered what it would be like to be with someone you knew well enough, you trusted enough... What would it feel like? But there were so few people like that in the world. Only one, really, and he'd never...He might as well forget that.

In any case, things were winding down. He felt Ellison shrinking a little inside him. Jim withdrew, holding the condom around the base of his penis, so it wouldn't slip off. Then he removed it carefull, tieing a knot in it, and flipped it expertly into the wastebasket.

Blair handed him a towel, but he paused a moment to gently massage Fox's ass, then wipe it. "No blood, Fox."

Blair hugged the limp FBI agent. "No blood, but you still ain't cherry anymore, Fox."

"Bout fucking time." Fox muttered. He opened shell shocked eyes. "That was...was...Shit, all those English classes and I can't say WHAT that was. Indescribeable, I guess."

Jim was toweling himself clean again. "Thanks."

Blair shook his head. "Now he'll be even vainer. Really, Fox, how do you feel?"

Fox stretched, winced. But he said, "Goooood. I'm gonna have an ass ache in the morning, but I can deal with that. And sleepy."

"I don't doubt that."

Jim retreived the pillows. He stripped them and quickly slipped on fresh cases. They had been waiting in the nightstand drawer. Fox began to suspect the full scope of their planning. This hadn't been a spontaneous little event. This had been a well planned campaign. He chuckled. Fine by him.

A pillow was slipped under his head, and warm bodies crawled in on both sides. He heard Ellison say, "Make Blair lay facing you. Otherwise you'll wake up with a mouthful of hair, trust me on this."

Fox found himself nuzzling agains Blair's lightly furred chest. He felt a strong arm over his waist, and warm breath on the back of his neck. For once, his insomnia did not intrude, and he slipped off to a deep, peaceful sleep.

***********

Fox awoke with someone tickling his ass. He rolled over to see a freshly scrubbed Blair Sandburg, hair damp and towel wrapped, smiling at him. "C'mon, buddy. Your turn in the shower. Jim's fixing breakfast."

Fox sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and groaned. "Back or ass?" Blair asked sympatheticaly.

"Little of both."

"A hot shower will work wonders, trust me. Now scoot."

Fox shuffled rather than scooted. In the shower, he let the steaming water pound most of the aches out of him. After a few minutes, he felt more awake, and alive. He switched to a cool spray and scrubbed vigorously, finding himself humming.

Once done, he dried off, and looked for his clothes. And looked. Holding a towel strateigically, he called over the loft railing "Uh, guys? You got any idea what happened to my clothes?"

Jim's voice drifted up from below. "They are currently residing at a cleaners. Put on some of mine, they should fit."

Fox chose a sweat suit that was only a little baggy. In the living room, he located his shoes and socks. Apparantly he'd gotten comfortable sometime during the screwdrivers last night. Fully dressed, he went into the kitchen.

Blair greeted him with a cup of coffee, and Fox sat at the table. Blair put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him saying, "Hope you like scrambled. They'd have ended up scrambled, no matter what, 'cause an unbroken yolk is not part of Jim's repretoir."

"Shut up, brat. You like 'em well enough." Jim pulled a pan of cinnamon rolls out of the oven and started icing them. "These are the canned variety. Baking is not my specialty, either."

"Wow, this is quite a spread." Fox started to tuck in with a good appetite.

Blair dropped into a chair beside him, and stole a peice of his bacon. "Yeah, well, we figured that after last night either you wouldn't be able to eat a thing, or you'd be starved."

"You're a food theif, you know it? You stole Ellison's tomato yesterday."

"But you'll both put up with it becasue I'm so damn cute."

"Boy, and you said Ellison was vain."

"You tell 'im, Fox. I'm a model of propriety." Jim set a large glass of orange juice in front of Fox, and ruffled his hair. "Drink up."

Fox eyed the juice. "Exactly what are our plans today?"

"We're improvising." Blair took the glass and tipped it up to Fox's lips. He swallowed obediently. "Gooood boy."

Jim laid a plate in front of Blair, and slide the the pan of warm cinnamon buns onto the table. Then he sat down with a glass of milk and peeled off a roll while Blair started eating. "So, okay Fox. That was your first real experience last night, but you can't tell me there haven't been...um..." he thoughtfully licked a smear of icing off his thumb. "...leanings in that direction."

"Well..." Mulder munched thoughtfully. "Not a lot. This one guy, Alex. He was my partner for awhile."

"Straight?"

Fox sighed. "No, seriously bent in all kinds of ways. I never could have done anything with him. I'd have spent the time wondering if he was going to castrate me on general principles."

"Just him? No one else? No passing fancies or secret crushes?" Fox was silent, but a red flush was creeping up his cheeks. "Aha, gotcha. Spill it."

Fox heaved another sigh. "Alright. One guy, but he's even more of a lost prospect than Alex, but not for the same reason. For the opposite reason, actually. He's too..." Fox scrunched up his face. "Honorable? By the book?"

"That precludes having some fun in the sack?"

"It would for him. He's my superior. And he's as straight as a fucking plumb line. Been married."

"I notice the past tense."

"Yeah, well, I never asked. I think she couldn't handle the job stress. He's got a lot on his shoulders." Mulder's eyes got dreamy. "Shoulders..."

"You ought to go for it." Blair advised. "You never know."

"And get my butt kicked? Or worse yet, have him feel guilty about not reporting me? 'Cause he wouldn't, I know Skinner."

Jim put down his coffee cup. "Fox, do me a favor, will you?" He handed over a dollar bill. "Run down to the corner store and get us a couple of papers. We can check and see if there's anything interesting going on. Movies, exhibitions, whatever."

"Sure." Fox gulped the last of his juice, grabbed a cinnamon roll, and left. While Blair stared at his lover speculatively.

Jim went into the living room, extracted his wallet, and started thumbing through the contents. Blair followed him. "What's up, Ellison?"

"What what, Blair?"

"You know damn good and well that the morning paper, which is delivered EVERY morning, was on top of the refrigerator. Why'd you want Fox out of the way?"

Jim had located a business card. He scanned it. "Blair, you remember that profiling methods seminar we attended about, oh, five months ago?"

Jim was dialing. "You remember that gentleman we spent the evening with after?"

Blair's forehead puckered in concentration, then his face lit up. "Do I? You guys wore me out. I didn't think I was going to be able to walk out of that hotel room."

Jim held the receiver to his ear. "Hello, Walter. This is Jim Ellison. Do you remember me? That's right. He's fine." Jim held out the receiver. "Say hello, Blair."

"Hey." Blair said obligingly. "How they hanging?" He heard a rich, baritone laugh before Jim put the receiver back to his own ear. Oh, yeah, he remembered that laught.

"Yeah, I know. I've been meaning to call, but you know work...Yeah. So, Walter, you remember that talk we had, about the agent you had the hots for? The one you didn't feel you could come on to, because he might feel pressured, and you weren't sure which way he leaned? Yeah, Sweet Ass. His real name wouldn't happen to be Fox Mulder would it?" There was a pause. "Walter? You there? Yeah. Uh huh. No, I was just calling you to tell you that you might want to try jumping his bones when he gets back from his vacation tomorrow. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised..."

The End