From: Sue Ashworth <sashworth@home.com>
Subject: Bad Seed 1: Treble chance
M/K/O

Rated Nc-17, most definitely. If you aren't into homoeroticism and orgies, don't even think about it.

Disclaimer: Fox and Alex belong to the Surfer Dude, and Anson Green is somebody's...no idea whose, but they weren't taking proper care of him. No wonder he was bad.

Spoilers...One armed Alex...otherwise, nothing.

Plot: Anson Green escaped from the cops after Moloney and rushed off clear across country. A case of mistaken identity then ensued. Okay, I know...that's not a plot! Well since when did I write plots? I write smut, baby, and that's what this is...smut!

Thank you to Orithain, and Shadowfox, and Frankie, my dialogue coach, for all the wonderful beta-ing. There are only my own mistakes left now. Thank you to Spike for suggesting a way to put it right, and to Paula for being there.

Feedback? Oh, please feedback..lots of feedback...grovel, whine.

Archive? Okay, but tell me where so I can go there and gloat.

Bad Seed 1: Treble chance By Dr. Ruthless
*********************************************************

The green-eyed man was be-bopping down the sidewalk on a hot and heavy New York day. Hips slid and cat feet danced as he prowled along. He was dressed in lumberjack chic, check shirt loose over white T-shirt, topping washed out denims that fit wherever they touched. He was smiling a little _I know something you don't know, kind of smile.

He'd just got off the bus and he was carrying all his worldly goods in a bag slung over his shoulder. He was here, and he was free, and he'd got 10,000 big ones in his bag.

It would have been more of course, but he was cheated again; gypped out of his share and he had to hit the road fast, real fast. He didn't mean to come here but here was where the bus was heading, and it would do.

He eyed up the girls on the sidewalk with their tanned legs and their slit skirts and thought it would do very nicely indeed. Shuffling through his pockets in search of change, he sat down at a table on the sidewalk and ordered himself a coffee. He was going to have to think about this.


He didn't know New York. It was far enough from LA that they wouldn't be looking for him. He'd gotten time, surely he'd gotten time, and yet...

He was a killer sure enough, but he didn't mean it. Like everything else in his life, it just seemed to happen to him and he was *sorry*, dammit! Life wasn't kind to him, really not kind at all.

They had told him he was bad seed, and he guessed he had to go along with that. Everyone had called him bad, right since he was 9 years old; and if he had the name, he might just as well have the game.

Sometimes, he wondered if things could have been different if he'd been allowed to see his little girl. If the bitch he had married hadn't taken up with someone more steady - for steady, read well off - If he'd been able to find work nearby, if he hadn't shot that cop. If. If. If.

But here he was, and he had money now; so maybe he'd be able to get back to where he ought to be, and then maybe he'd just go get his daughter right away and to hell with them all.

He fumbled open a pack of Camels and lit one up; sucking in the smoke and feeling tired but mellow. The sun was hot; and after a while he took off his shirt, sitting in his T-shirt to feel the heat on his brawny arms. This was good.

The whoop-whoop-whoop of a police car had him looking uneasily around. The sooner he found somewhere to crash the better. He was in plain sight here; and that made him nervous, very nervous.

Another cop car went screaming by and his initial elation at getting off the bus at last began to fade. Drinking his coffee down fast enough to burn his mouth, he tossed a few coins on the table and began to re-trace his footsteps.

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

He had begun to feel like a turtle, or a snail or something. He was like one of those animals that carried their house on their back. He stumbled off the bus again and into the warm, sticky, rapidly approaching Washington evening. He needed a room. He needed a bath, and he needed a drink.

He found himself a liquor store and a small hotel close to the bus station.
Once in the safety of his room, he gratefully divested himself of his travel stained clothing, poured himself a half a tumbler full of whisky, and took a swallow before stepping gratefully under the shower. By the time he had washed away the grime of 8 days on the road, he was singing. He jumped out of the shower, toweling himself briskly and sipping his scotch from time to time.


Shaving was next, and he did it carefully, his chin jutting as he scraped away the dark bristle. Opening his bag, he found himself a clean set of clothes and donned them quickly, nodding as he toasted himself in the mirror.

//If the Prez can do it, so can I. First, let's get laid. Then we'll look for something a little more rewarding to get involved with. //

He peeled a few bills off one of the rolls in his bag, covered the rest with his dirty laundry and let himself out of the room carefully locking the door behind him.

He had decided against renting a car. He had no credit card anyway and it would have been pretty close to impossible for him to get one. He could always 'borrow' one later if he needed it, but for tonight he would stay on foot, close to the motel.

He found a bar that advertised non-stop girls, and went inside. The dark room boasted cages suspended from the ceiling in which girls were dancing. The three he could see were practically nude, their bodies coated with paint in imitation of animals. Here was a leopard, there a tiger, over at the back a zebra. All wore collars, linked to their cages by golden chains that were attached. Each wore a shaven pubis and through the labia of each was a gold ring, attached to yet another gold chain. They danced, and appeared bored; each in her own private world. He didn't care. He nodded. This would do.

He ordered a beer and parked himself on a tall stool by the bar. He barely registered when the bartender, a tall, very striking black girl, passed him his change and called him Alex.

Kicking back and watching the dancers shake their soft-porn stuff, he allowed his feelings to wash over him. He was no longer on the road, at last. He was gonna sleep in a bed tonight. Nobody there knew his name, and he was maybe gonna get laid tonight. He studied the leopard woman in the cage to his left. She had claws all right, long metal sheaths on her fingers. He imagined the scratch of them on his chest, on his back, on his dick.

Fuck! That would be good. That would feel dangerous and exciting. Maybe she would stick one up inside his ass. He wanted *that* really badly. He idly raised the bottle to his lips and swigged the beer, throwing his head back and examining his own arousal with relish. He felt as if he had been let out of school for the summer.

The leopard had small breasts _ with spots of course. Her nipples were gilded, and that turned him on. It turned him on big time as he examined the mental feel of them on his tongue, how his teeth would explore the rubbery flesh, and how she would like it. She was thin, and he could count her ribs. Ordinarily this would be a turn off. He liked his women zaftig, well upholstered, but this thin brunette was mesmerizing. She moved like a snake, boneless. He wanted to climb in with her and show her a few moves of his own.

She arched over backwards, dropping over onto her hands in a sinuous, controlled movement that displayed her pussy to him. She was hairless, and one of her labia was pierced. The gold ring that passed through it also connected to a chain that anchored her to the bars of the cage. He studied her cunt, wishing he could use his tongue to learn the glistening folds of it. His mouth itched to slide over the clearly visible clit that protruded from her cleft.


He was hot and hard. He needed another beer and he felt lucky. Taking his eyes away from his leopard-prey, he signaled with his empty bottle for another beer. As he did so, he became aware of the man in the grey silk suit who had come to rest on the stool next to him.

Ordinarily he would not have bothered even checking him out, but the man's eyes were on him in a manner that weirded him out. He suddenly stopped feeling like a mighty white hunter.

He began to feel like prey.

His beer arrived and the girl eyed him oddly, looking from him to the man beside him with a curious expression.

"Hey, Fox, your usual?" The man beside him nodded and tossed her a 20, indicating that he would pay for Anson's beer too. Anson, confused and uneasy, turned to the rangy man in the expensive suit and opened his mouth to question his generosity. He suddenly found himself swept into a liplock that dazed him.

Spluttering, the heady warmth of this pervert's kiss causing tremors of illicit excitement to prickle through him from lights to loins, he tried to decide whether he was dreaming; and if so whether he wanted to wake up.

Anson was not a novice. Sometimes you do what you gotta do to turn a buck, right? And men seemed to like his sleazy green eyes. He was always getting hit on; and frankly, what did it matter *who* sucked his dick as long as he got off?

This was some kind of a first for him, though. He was being kissed in a public place by a man who obviously could afford designer fashion, next to a delectable leopard-chick whose pussy looked so good he was just about wriggling in his seat with the need to take out his cock and slide it home in her.

The combination was so erotic he could feel himself losing it. Moaning, he opened his mouth to the kiss and let the whole thing wash him away to a place where there was only heat and touch and friction.

Thinking his way into this, he made his decision. This man obviously had money, as deranged as he was, and the chick was probably on heroin.

He forgot the chick and melted into Armani-boy's arms, sliding his own around him and giving back moisture for moisture, tongue for tongue in a breath-catching, heart-thumping excitement that caught him on fire.

When Suit-boy released him at last, he was able to get a good look at him. Tall, dark, and carefully tousled, the man had eyes the color of summer; half-lidded, sleepy and shrewd. A generously fleshy nose //wonder if it's really related to the size of his dick?//--miraculously well-shaped, sinful lips, and a strand of hair falling over a high forehead made him look wanton, as if he were begging for it. The after effects of the kiss they had just shared gave him just the kind of expression Anson liked to see, need and lust frightening away sanity. This was going to be good.

"Alex, come home with me tonight, please." The voice held all of desire in it, and nothing of sanity.

"Call me Anson, not Alex." His husky voice was low, suggestive, carrying somehow through the frenetic barrage of sounds in the bar. "I'll come home with you, but you gotta lose the tie."


The offending article was slowly removed from the other man's neck. It was black, and covered all over with yellow smiley faces. Anson shuddered as he saw it disappear into the other man's pocket.

"Arntzen? Why Arntzen? Come on Alex. Don't play games. I've missed you so much."

Anson shrugged. The guy was clearly certifiable; but hot, very hot. Anson stood up and moved in for a killer clinch, lips and tongue providing counterpoint to the rhythm of grinding hips and deepening breath. When he pulled away, the other man was breathless, flushed, and gasping, eyes glazed over.

"God! Come on! Let's get out of here." The voice was strained and the man was clearly in need. His loose silk pants did little to hide a burgeoning erection. Suitboy grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the bar.

On the street with the night coming down like molasses, the hot, sticky day deliquescing into something infinitely tenderer, a big moon silvered the sidewalk and turned Suitboy's lust-stupefied expression into idol-like inscrutability. Anson's heart thumped once in his chest, a sudden reminder that he should breathe.

Anson smiled, and the smile felt to him as though it had sharp edges, and he swayed a little towards that exquisitely cruel face that was cataloguing him. The spell was broken then and another spun in its place as Suitboy seized him roughly and plastered mouth to mouth, chest to chest and pelvis to pelvis in a harsh, sweet grind of the hips.

He was not going to fuck in an alley for anyone. Not even for this sultry beauty that was offering him anything he wanted to take. He wasn't used to the expression he could see on Suitboy's face. He was used to justifying himself, but it seemed as if Suitboy was doing all the justifying. He was also stroking, petting, touching, running his hands all over him and moaning as he did so.

Anson allowed the touches, offering back subtleties of his own. He might not be the world's best bank robber, but he was definitely a world class fuck, and Suitboy here better believe it. His hand strolled along the curve of the ass he was feeling, and brief pressure here and there elicited groans as sensation bred sensation.

"I'm not gonna drop my pants for you in some back alley, Armani-boy. Let's go back to your place. It will be more relaxed." Suitboy gulped and nodded, eyes crinkling and pretty lips spreading in a dazzling smile.

"Where's your car?" The voice was flat, and Anson had to flick his gaze down fast to verify the lust he had seen at the start. There was a subtext here he didn't understand.

"No car, I walked. We can go in yours. What do you want me to call you tonight?_ Anson's hand was still on Suitboy's ass, way down, stroking as deep and as firm as he could with the pants in the way. Suitboy appreciated it, Anson could tell; because he moaned and pressed back into the hand that clung to his butt.

"You called me Fox before." Longing was in the voice as Suitboy took his hand and led him off along the sidewalk.

"Do you want me to call you Fox again?" snuggling in as Suitboy..no..Fox's arm snaked around him, turning in to bury his face in the fragrant neck, sucking up cologne and reaction in powerful, mind-dizzying gulps.

"No. Yes. Yes, I guess_ I like when you say it, Alex." Anson nodded, moving out again, and they resumed their walk.

"Anything you want, Fox. Tonight is your night._ As they arrived at the car, Anson smiled. This was gonna be a slice. Suitboy-Fox was totally dazed by his desire, and it was gonna be a blast.

Stopping by a nondescript beige sedan, the man called Fox fumbled in his pocket for the keys, spilling loose change, breath mints, and his horrible tie in his urgency. Anson put out a hand, restraining the other man with his touch.

"Slow down, Fox. It's no big deal. I'm not going anywhere else tonight." He wondered what it could be that was making the other man so nervous. He was sure he didn't get that way over any old piece of ass, however pretty. It might be worth probing a little.

He moved in close, gently taking the keys from the other man's hand and unlocking the car door. Then he removed the key and pressed Armani-boy back against it, feeling up and down his body. He froze for a minute when he realized that Suitboy was packing a weapon.

He was half tempted to relieve him of it, but in the end he just left it, saying nothing, and pressed himself in against the other's mouth, avid and greedy as their tongues collided, eliciting groans and tingles of arousal.

When finally he pulled away, he spoke with his lips still against Fox's. "Get in the car, I don't feel like giving a public display right now."

Fox's hands were sliding up under Anson's T-shirt, tracing muscle patterns.
He grunted and turned to climb in behind the wheel. Flipping the lock on the passenger's door he gunned the engine as Anson stalked gracefully around the car to slide in beside the strange man who he hoped was about to become his lover.

As they pulled away from the parking lot, a man in black emerged from the bar. He saw the car pulling away, and as it passed them he saw the face of the passenger illuminated by the flare of a match.

He stood gazing after them for a very long time, a look of utter incredulity on his face. Finally he shook his head and made for his own vehicle.

***************************
The man called Fox was trembling again. They were in the elevator, and Anson could see his shaky hands. An elderly woman had entered with them and had greeted him as Mr. Mulder. Anson had watched him smile sweetly at her as they exchanged idle small talk.


They left the elevator at the fourth floor and headed for number 42. Neither had spoken since they had stepped into Mulder's car, and Anson was busy thinking things through, trying to make sense of them. He knew why he was here. He was looking to get laid. He was hoping for a good fuck with no strings attached, and had thought that was what Suitboy wanted too. Now he was beginning to think that there was maybe something more to it than he had first perceived. He had not thought his ass was that exciting!

Fox dropped his key again, and Anson laughed shortly, placing his hand on Fox's arm to hold him back. Then he stooped and retrieved the keychain. He opened the door for Fox, still grinning in a faintly malicious way, and stood back to let him go in. As he followed him through the door, he was grabbed and shoved back against it. The man called Fox dove into his mouth, lips pliant and moist as he mapped out the interior, learning his tongue, learning the join of tooth and gum and the whole slippery motion of him as he gave him back slick for slick in heady delight.

Fox cupped Anson's face, fingers splayed around the back of his head, thumbs gently stroking the corners of his mouth as he kissed him. His eyes were closed, and his heart was pounding loud enough for Anson to hear it. When finally he drew back and opened his eyes, grey blue met green in a connection that made static fly. Anson's hands moved to unbutton Fox's shirt as Fox buried his face in Anson's neck, moaning.

"God, Alex, I missed you. Six months is too long to wait." Anson pulled Fox's head up for a single pregnant moment, and the look he gave was honest, if Fox would have seen it and if his mind could have processed it for him.

"I'm not Alex. I'm Anson." and his voice was sincere. He was trying, oh god, for once in his sorry life to do the noble thing. Fox didn't hear, or maybe didn't listen because he kept on fumbling with Anson's belt buckle, unfastening it, and dropping the zipper to lay Anson bare. He dropped to his knees and enveloped Anson in hot, sweet moisture as he sucked him down to the root. Anson gazed down at him, bemused, watching the chestnut hair rising and falling, feeling the velvet heat of suction all through his body as the mouth working on him turned his spine into a conduit of molten silver through which spikes of sharp sensation flickered and flashed. He could only place his hands on that wonderfully sucking head and hang on; leaning on the door to spasm, and spasm, and spasm.

Looking down he saw eyes, misted with crazy joy, fixed on his as if he were wonderful. Anson felt himself leaving his safe place. He felt himself connecting to this beautiful man who so obviously loved him. He wished it were really for him, this love.

He wished he could be this Alex. He wished he could be Alex just for one day and know what it felt like to be really loved, and the tightness in his balls was telling him 'enough thinking, enough wishing, just *be*, for fuck's sake.' He couldn't hold still, and he couldn't hold back, and he couldn't stop babbling stupid words as his spine finally flowed down, his balls tightened up and his entire cock spat fire and joy and jism. His knees buckled and he banged his head back on the door. The man on his knees was holding him around his hips and his miraculous tongue was still working on him.

Anson needed very badly, desperately in fact, to lie down. He felt shaky and tired and wonderful, but wondered _what now?, Suitboy had worked him over but good and he was now a total wreck; but the other man hadn't come yet, and probably wanted Anson to fuck him.


Anson was so utterly tired he didn't believe he could even raise a smile. Fox stood up and pulled him in for another clinch; and once again the two of them shared breath and explored each others mouths as they kissed, long and luscious, sharing the taste of Anson's come.

"Fox, I really need to lie down. That was nice, it really was, but I need to lie down. Help me out here." Fox, clothes in disarray, smiled at his lover and led him through to a bedroom where a waterbed was the most welcome sight Anson had beheld that day.

Standing behind Fox, Anson nuzzled the silky hair at the back of his neck; slipping jacket and shirt both off his shoulders and letting them fall where they landed, Armani or no. For a short while he held the other man, fingers wandering over his chest to tweak a nipple, tug at the sprinkling of hair on his upper body, and stroke lean muscles while he nibbled into the man's neck. The man arched his head back to lean into Anson's shoulder; hands reaching back to pull his hips in against his buttocks, his silk clad behind rubbing against Anson's exposed, depleted penis. Anson reached around to unfasten Fox's pants, then slid his hands down inside them down his belly, and sent them slipping down to join the rest of his clothes on the floor.

He stroked along the man's cock, marveling at the apparent size of it. He was huge, and Anson wondered how it would feel.. Well he guessed he would soon find out. As the thought passed through his mind, his own cock began to sit up and take note of its surroundings once again. He laughed softly and sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his own clothing. Finally naked, strong body exposed, Anson leaned back on his elbows, waiting for Fox to lie down with him. Fox stood awkwardly in front of him, penis throbbing forgotten as he gaped.

"Alex, your arm... How?" His jaw sagged, and he remained, frozen in place, bewildered until Anson snagged his hand and pulled him down to sit beside him on the edge of the bed, laying the palms of his hands on either side of the puzzled face.

"Listen, Fox, for the last time, I'm not your Alex. I wish I were, but I'm not." Anson gazed into the hazy eyes, trying to read the other man's expression and wanting, hoping against hope that it would not matter that he was not Alex.

Fox shook his head slightly, mumbled his lack of comprehension and leaned forward to claim Anson's mouth in a kiss that was gentle at first, and then desperate as they both got down to business, tongues twining, hands clutching and breath quickening.

Anson laid Fox back gently, hand sliding up and down from belly to knee; occasionally skimming the penis that bobbed there, but usually avoiding it by fractions of an inch. He was losing himself in the other man's kisses, thrills coursing through him as he nibbled and sucked on lips and tongue; reveling in the fact that he was wanted, needed.

He was prepared to be fucked. He was looking forward to it as he played with the slim, supple body that was stretched out so invitingly for him. He was not prepared, even though his cock was stiff and drooling again, for the man he was kissing to spread his legs wide and beg to be fucked himself.


Fox appeared to be nearly out of his mind with desire. He was whimpering with need now; and Anson wanted him, he really did.

"Lube, Foxbaby; need some lube, or it will hurt you." He watched his words sink in through the desire to a plane where conscious thought still existed.

"Bathroom, in the cabinet." The words grated out as Fox tried to get himself together. Anson kissed him again, stroked the stiffness at Fox's groin once, twice, and then hopped off the bed and went to search out the lube. Returning to the bed he stood for a minute, and gazed down at the body that lay waiting for him.

"God, Fox, you're beautiful." He was opening the tube of KY, and filling his hand as he spoke. He climbed onto the bed and positioned himself between the other man's knees. Stroking his hand around he located the cleft between the other man's buttocks. Anson began to circle the small, tight opening there with his slicked up fingers, dipping his head to tongue the length of Fox's sturdy cock as he did so. Sounds of ecstasy came from Fox when his probing tongue reached the slit, and then swirled round and around the head as his probing finger slipped inside his ass; sliding in and out. As he stroked and teased, Fox screwed his hands into the comforter and cried out.

Anson added more and more gel to the writhing man's anus, pressing his finger ever deeper before slipping in a second digit to stretch the passageway and delving to find the hard little gland that would escalate Fox's pleasure. His mouth descended onto Fox's cock and he sucked sharply.
Fox cried out at that, burying his hands in Anson's hair as he thrashed his head wildly from side to side.

As his movements grew wilder and more spasmodic, Anson pulled away; using the gel to coat his own cock, which was by now sending out its own messages of need. He gently placed the head of it against Fox's loosened passage and leaned in, feeling the tip slide home past the tight circle of muscle. Gradually, as he rocked back and forth, the shaft followed until the whole tingling length of him was buried as deep and as tight in the other man's sweetness as it was possible for him to go. He pushed in, rocked back and pushed in once more; watching the man he was fucking bite down on his lower lip and throw his head back, exposing his throat. Anson leaned down to suck on that inviting throat and elicited a choked response from Fox, who appeared now to be at the point of explosion.

"Come on Foxbaby, come for me. Come for me. Feel it going in deep. Oh, Christ you feel so good." Anson was babbling again; his hand, slippery with gel, circling Fox's dick; pumping it again and again as he thrust in and out of his ass. Fox was looking up at him with glazed eyes, whispering incoherently as he approached his climax.

When Fox came, Anson felt the whole of his body stiffen; clamping down tight on the cock that was embedded deep inside him. Sticky white ropes of semen sprang from his cock to splatter them both; and the sight of Fox in extremis, coupled with the rippling, pulsing channel that gripped him tight sent Anson driving in hard as his own orgasm hit him. He felt himself flowing out; sparkles and prickles of exquisite feeling funneling through from the base of his spine to spurt wildly into the spasming Fox.

Fox reached to pull him down, pressing their mouths together while he held him tightly. As they relaxed into each other's embrace, Anson was probably as happy as he'd ever been in his life.

Fox finally dragged himself up from the bed and stumbled off to the bathroom, returning with a warm, damp cloth and a towel with which he began to clean away the sticky after effects of their lovemaking. Anson lay sprawled and sated as Fox tended to him, unable to do much more than pant as his lover gently toweled him dry.

,I really wish I were your Alex, Fox. You're quite the guy. He's lucky." Fox had dumped the washcloth and towel down beside the bed; and now he pulled back the covers, climbing inside. He gestured for Anson to do the same.

After a minute or two wrestling with his conscience, he scrambled into the bed next to
Fox; who immediately took him in his arms, briefly pressing his lips to Anson's ear before snuggling up against him.

"I don't know about that," Fox said wryly. "I do know that I'm damn lucky."He studied the man lying in his bed. "So," he smiled, "who the hell are you?"

Anson flinched at the question, choosing to ignore the smile. He'd seen too many just like it not to know that it didn't mean a damn thing. He hurriedly got out of the bed, figuring it was just matter of moments before he was told to get his clothes on and hit the streets.

"Where're you going?" Fox asked, surprised.

"You don't want me here." He avoided Fox's eyes as he cast about for his clothing.


Fox sat up. "I never said that. I only want to know who you are."

"Just a guy." Anson decided that was all Fox needed to know. No one had evercared who the hell he was, anyway.

"A guy who goes home with strangers who think he's someone else? You do that often?" There was a laugh in Fox's voice, though Anson elected not to hear it.

"Look," Anson said, defensively. "I tried to tell you from the beginning who I was. If you didn't hear me, that's your problem." His hands were clenched into fists and he bit back the urge to hurt this guy for his rejection. Here was another in a long line of fuckers who'd used him and tossed him aside. He had been used, abused and cheated so many times that he had accepted it as the norm now.

"I don't need you to love me."

Fox frowned at the last statement and for the first time was aware of the tense, self-protective posture the other man possessed. As he looked into wide, angry green eyes, he saw something else there. It was almost as if Anson was in another place; reliving some past experience, fighting to maintain control.

"Anson," Fox tentatively reached out to touch the other man's arm, but was quickly rebuffed. "I don't know you. Tell me who you are. What happened to you?"

"I...I'm nobody...I'm not Alex...just some guy for you to fuck." His voice started to shake and Fox could see tears clinging to his thick, dark lashes. "No one's ever wanted me...I don't need anyone to hurt me...I never meant to..." The tears fell and Fox quickly moved to put his arms around the trembling man. Awkwardly stroking his hair and muttering words of comfort, Fox felt Anson relax slightly in his embrace. He had no idea what had
happened to this stranger; but he felt the need to protect him, to save him from himself.

He rocked the man gently from side to side as he listened to him. The man was in obvious distress. Fox slowly moved him around to the bed; and with many soothings and promptings, managed to get him back under the covers. There, he rolled over to take him in his arms; murmuring gentle words that Anson could not quite make out, didn't want to listen too closely to. He slowly relaxed against the other man's slim body, feeling his tension draining away in spite of himself.

"Tell me about your Alex. He must be a terrific guy to make you love him like that." He was feeling sleepy and relaxed, and wasn't sure if he would be able to stay awake to listen; but he wanted to be able to keep a connection between them for just a minute or two longer, knowing that come morning he would be out of there. Knowing that he would likely never see this angst-ridden beauty again, however tightly he was being held right now.

"He looks just like you. He sounds just like you, but he's lost his left arm. He used to be my partner until_ " The unmistakable sound of a door being opened and then closed again made Fox curse and dive for his gun. Anson lay astonished as Fox knelt, gun in both hands to steady it, and waited.

A man dressed all in black appeared in the doorway and surveyed the scene before him with a sardonic smile on his face. Anson, who was now fully awake, eyed up the newcomer.


"Well, I guess you must be Alex." He was smiling too. Just his shitty luck. He had really hoped to stay warm and cuddled up with Fox tonight. Now it looked as if it was all over and he'd better head back to his cold bed in the motel. Wasn't it always the way? Even love got fucked up when he became involved. Bad seed, now and forever!

The man in black stepped forward, his gun dangling negligently off his index finger. Fox, kneeling, still naked, tracked him with his gun as he moved.

"Yeah, I'm Alex," the man in black was speaking now, in Anson's own voice.
It weirded him out to look at himself, to hear himself speaking. "Who the hell are you?"

Anson started to laugh. The whole thing was inexpressibly funny. Maybe he should have stayed with that leopard woman he had abandoned in the club. Alex tossed his gun down onto the bed and raised his right, leather clad hand, fingers spread in a placatory fashion. The left remained in his pocket. Fox gestured to him with his gun and he sank down onto the edge of the bed turning to Fox who still had his gun trained on him.

"Fox, who the hell is he?" Mulder's hands began to shake a little, and finally he lowered his gun, subsiding into a sitting position once again and turning to Alex.

"His name is Anson. He kept trying to tell me he wasn't you but I didn't believe him. Can you blame me?" The two of them surveyed the still laughing duplicate who lay in the bed, his nakedness concealed only by the comforter. Alex turned to Fox.

"I thought you told me to leave. You told me that you didn't want me in your life. Now I find you fucking me by proxy. What the hell is wrong with you, Mulder? Make up your goddamned mind." He whispered his words, but they were so intense that Anson sat up, preparing to get out of the bed and find his clothes.

"Listen you--Alex. I didn't know he was taken. You're a lucky man. He's a knockout. In another world I'd stay and fight you for him, but it's you he loves. He couldn't stop talking about you. I'll go now." He threw back the comforter and swung his legs over to the side in preparation for getting out of the bed. Fox rolled over to him and caught hold of his arm.

"Anson, please don,t go," his hand seized Anson's, bringing it back to his lips, and Alex looked from one to the other, his face inscrutable.

"Fox?" It was all he said, but it was enough. Mulder let go the hand he was holding, and sat, indecisive, between the two identical men.

"I don't know how to choose. I don't know what to do," he whispered helplessly. At that point it seemed that Alex came to a decision. He stood up, unfastening his coat. He let it fall carelessly while Fox gaped, and Anson gaped, and the two of them sat wide eyed, watching; for all the world like two bunnies on a log.

Alex was unfastening his jeans now. Anson, staring, could see the man had mannerisms that set him apart and made him separate, doubles though they might be, physically. Alex had an arrogance that Anson could see shine through every move he made. He could discern it in the tilt of his chin, the way he held his head, every move he made. Alex, naked now, was unfastening his prosthetic arm; and every action he made was a dare.


He moved like a jungle cat, deliberate and graceful. Each move he made was as "In your face" as it could possibly be. Anson flicked eyes sideways to check Fox's reaction, and could see that the man was in total thrall as Alex walked around the bed.

Anson couldn't decide what was likely to happen. He was afraid that there would be a murder here tonight.

He was terrified there wouldn,t be.

As Alex climbed into the bed, neatly sandwiching Fox between the two of them, Anson found his voice at last.

"I should be going. I need_ " Alex raised a wicked eyebrow.

"Stay. Fox wants you to stay. I want you to stay. Let's help Fox find true awareness shall we?" The smile Alex had on his face was pure evil; and as Anson watched, he threaded his right hand through Fox's hair, pulling the still wide eyed man in and devouring his mouth; bending his head back as he kissed the full lips. Anson watched, fascinated. He could see how the man named Alex would be at a disadvantage for lovemaking, one armed as he was. He deliberated for a minute, then reached out to circle and pluck at the nipple closest to him as he watched Alex lay Fox back amongst the pillows, continuing his assault on his mouth.

The kiss continued, and now Alex's hand groped and found Anson's; prompting it to slide down Fox's belly, inviting him to play too; urging contact with the cock that was now stirring; rising up with little, jerking pulses as the two of them touched and stroked him.

Alex's hand coaxed Fox's legs apart, but it was Anson who ducked down to begin licking and suckling there. He licked the testicles that were slowly changing from loose, hanging sacs to ridged and fuzzy nuts. He took one into his mouth gently, flicking his tongue over it and then switched; alternating between the two, and feeling Fox's excitement mount.

Alex had taken one of Fox's legs and pulled it back over his hip, and Anson could see the little pucker of his ass still gleaming with the lubrication they had used earlier, leaking droplets of semen. Alex now lay behind Fox; long body pressed against him as he suckled on his mouth while his hand wandered over Fox's chest and his stiff, glistening prick pressed up against the cleft between the cheeks of Fox's ass.

Anson drew back from his position between Fox's thighs, reaching for the tube of slick and stroking it liberally onto Alex's hard-on. When he was satisfied that he had covered it completely, he took hold of it; guiding it to the opening there, pressing until Alex began to sink inside. Fascinated, he watched Alex's cock disappear inside Fox's body; then he stooped again and took Fox's now rock hard erection into his mouth. First, he licked the head; and then as Alex reached the deepest penetration possible, he sucked the whole of the cock into his mouth, groaning as it filled his throat.

Alex was moving now; fucking Fox, first gently, but getting harder with each thrust. Anson was holding Fox's hips steady, denying him movement while he sucked steadily at him. His tongue fluttered against him. He could feel the little spasms running up and down the shaft that suggested imminent orgasm, and pulled off; laying a hand on Alex's hip.

"Stop!"

Alex gave a snort of laughter and ceased his rocking movements; stroking Fox's cheek and neck over and over, still maintaining the kiss which he hadn't broken once yet. Fox was moaning, clutching at Alex's thigh with one hand buried in Anson's hair. And as they paused, waiting for his excitement to subside, he began to whimper.

Alex finally broke away from the kiss; nibbling around Fox's mouth as he did so, and then transferring his attention to the shaded hollow between neck and collarbone.. His tongue began to flick over the tender spot and Fox, head thrown way back, began to whimper again.

Please, please, please_ " He was begging now, gasping out his need as the two of them watched him; four green eyes enjoying his agony. Alex gave Anson a grin and a wink, and then mumbled into Fox's ear.

"You want us, baby? What do you want us to do to you?" Fox was finding it really hard to get his thoughts together, but eventually succeeded in finding his voice.

"God, Alex, please, I want_.. I need.. oh_ fuck me, please."Alex bit sharply into his lover's neck as he sank back inside him. Anson took his cue from the one armed man, licked the length of Fox's cock, then nibbled delicately at the crown; tonguing the slit, licking around the ridge there, and driving down onto it to swallow it whole.


Fox was making little mewling sounds, and Alex's eyes had glazed over as he moved faster and faster inside him. Anson reached down between their legs and began to probe Alex's ass, all the while sucking on the sturdy length of the cock in his mouth.

Fox broke first; pumping into Anson's mouth as he came and gasping out who knew what words. Anson's finger was now inside Alex; stroking that little gland repeatedly as he watched his double ram into Fox again and again. It was the work of only a few more seconds before Alex cried out. Anson watched his balls contract, felt the clamping of tight muscle around his finger, and heard Alex yell something in a foreign language as he convulsed. Anson rested his head on Fox's belly, idly stroking Alex's back and behind as the three of them finally collapsed into satiation.

After another minute, Alex tugged on his double's arm.

"Come on up here, I can't reach you." Anson slid up to lie alongside Fox, who was looking flushed and completely depraved. Alex reached over to stroke Anson's cheek.

"I guess tomorrow we have to talk, but for now I gotta say that was a truly amazing experience." Alex leaned over Fox, who appeared to be completely comatose, and kissed his double gently before the three of them crashed and sleep claimed them.

The dream came, as it always did, and he woke in a sweat; tears on his face, crying out as the image of the gun in his mouth and he just a little kid scared him for the thousandth time. He knew the dream so well, but this time there was comfort.

He felt the warmth of arms slipping around him, and hands soothing on his skin.

"Hush now, it's okay. We're here. You're safe now," and it was the man named Alex who moved until Anson lay between the two of them. When he drifted back into sleep again it was for the most part, dreamless.

He woke in the morning to the feel of lazy hands wandering over his body, and recalled awakening in the night. The man called Fox was snuggled up against his side, drowsily caressing him while Alex lay to his right, idly tracing his features with a forefinger; bending from time to time to brush him with his lips or taste him with a flick of his tongue.

He opened his eyes to see his own face hovering over him; his own face, sleep-softened and wondering, dipping down to kiss, or nip, or lick. He felt as though he were still dreaming; though if that were the case, please God may he never wake up.

Warm and languid, Anson felt the two men he was with exploring his body and sighed. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this good. He tried to turn himself a little, and Alex's husky voice floated through layers of velvet to him.

"Don't move. Let us do it. I promise it will be worth it." He suddenly felt a thousand times more awake, glass daggerpoints of visceral excitement suddenly pricking him as he thought back to how he and Alex had played with Fox. He wondered what they were going to do to him. His cock was tingling and he felt Fox and Alex join their hands together as they slipped down to find his erection and then, their fingers entwined, to clasp it carefully, pumping slow and warm on him.


The slow stroking spun sensation through the length of him as they moved deliberately up and down. Anson moaned, eyes fluttering closed with pleasure. He moaned again as mouths fastened on his nipples, sucking them in between sharp teeth and then lashing them with supple tongues. His hips were beginning to move back and forth as the things they were doing to him took hold. He was in heaven.

Anson lifted his head again to study Alex's face, so like his, and then Alex swooped in to kiss him; tongue slipping in neatly to explore, the taste of him sweet and urgent as Anson began to learn the crevices and secret places of him. Anson gave himself up to the mouth that was intent on mapping his contours, stroking against the tongue that was exploring his mouth. He felt Fox slip down to his groin with a small chuckle, and then a shiver went through him as Fox blew on the head of his cock.

"Payback is a bitch, baby. It's your turn now," and wet velvet engulfed his cock, making him convulse, bucking his hips helplessly as the heated, slippery mouth drew him in.

The spiral of time stretched out; and Anson lost himself in the wild sensation of slithering, quicksilver hands on his sensitive skin. He gave himself up to searching mouths and fingers and lay back. When Alex raised him and scooted in close to press his cock home inside of him, he permitted it with delight; feeling the sting and burn of the stretch as the other man slid home. When Alex heaved him up to lie on him, spread-eagled like a sacrifice on an altar of flesh, Anson went gladly; legs parted to allow the man beneath him as deep an access to his ass as he could take.

When Fox climbed astride him and sank down on his distended prick, Anson tried to take Fox in his hands, but was so uncoordinated by then that Fox merely chuckled. He swatted his hand to one side as he began to pump his own cock, throwing his head back as he rose and fell on Anson.

All he had to do was lie there and respond. All he was capable of doing was feeling the rapid build up of pleasure as the two men made love to him. It suddenly came home to him just how tired he was, and just how much he wished he could find love like this for himself.

A vision of his mother, standing behind his hated stepfather while he ranted and raved at him, floated up and he sobbed; knowing he was bad seed.
Knowing that he didn't deserve love. Knowing he should expect only punishment and hatred. He sobbed; and Alex, who had released his mouth only so he could suck on his neck and funnel a knowing tongue into Anson's ear, tightened the arm he had draped around him.

"Come on, baby; you're so close now. Fox wants you to come. I want you to come. Let it go for us. Let it all go." The sound of his voice, sensual as fur on Anson's desperate ears, made the tingling in his skin more intense; and he sobbed a third time as he came. Fire ran down through his nerves to build in his balls until his cock exploded in a white flash. Alex was tight within him, filling him, and Fox, astride him, surrounded him; both contributing to the sensations within him that were a pleasure so intense it was almost pain.


In slow motion, he watched Fox milking his own cock as his come spurted over the two of them, and then Alex, who had been cramming himself ever tighter into Anson, finally groaned and came; arm tight around Anson as he pumped his semen deep inside him.

He lay limp and sated as Fox slumped down to one side of him. Alex was not moving although Anson could feel the pounding of his heart as he recovered from his exertions.

"Jesus; you guys make me wish I could stay here forever." Anson spoke wistfully, mind roaming back to the hotel room and the loneliness he would be returning to once the night was over.

"Why don't you?" The question came from Alex, and at first Anson thought he had misheard.

"Why don't I what? Go fuck myself? You guys were meant to be together, I can see that. I don't want to be in the way. I'll go." Alex summoned enough energy from somewhere to roll Anson off him, and he and Fox turned in towards him; cuddling up to him as he lay in the middle.

"I don't want you to go. Fox wants you to stay too. You're outvoted, baby." The voice was surprisingly tender.

"I'm bad. I've always been bad. If you knew the things I'd done_ " he left the sentence half finished as Alex started to laugh and Fox put a hand over his mouth, spluttering with laughter himself.

"Jeez, you can't imagine. You're talking to Alex Krycek here. There's nobody in the universe badder than Alex." Fox's smile was the kind that would light up a Christmas tree all on its own.

"So you'll stay with us?" Alex had stopped laughing and his voice was in deadly earnest now.

"Oh, God, yeah, I want to. I don't see how it's gonna work but I'm willing to give it a try." Anson's eyes were damp, and he blinked repeatedly in his effort to stay apparently unconcerned. Fox, however, his own eyes bright, gave a lost little moan and flung himself onto Anson. The three of them clung together, happy, each lost in his own thoughts. Alex suddenly got a grin on his face that appeared to go round his head twice.

"Hey, Anson, can you cook?" Anson considered the question before replying.

"Yeah, some, why?" Alex grinned maliciously and tousled Fox's hair.

"Because Fox here can't boil water without burning it, and I'm starving."








Sue aka Dr. Ruthless

<sashworth@home.com> ICQ#14783367 <Alyosha303 on IM> <Xtrovert1@aol.com>
With every passing hour our solar system comes forty-three thousand miles closer to globular cluster M13 in the constellation Hercules, and still there are some misfits who continue to insist that there is no such thing as progress. -- Ransom K. Ferm (Stolen from Douglas Berry)


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