From: Sue Ashworth <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Subject: Bad Seed 1: Treble chance
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,
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
"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 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
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
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
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,
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
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
"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
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
"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
"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
,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
"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
"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
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
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
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.
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
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
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
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
"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
"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
"Yeah, some, why?" Alex grinned maliciously and tousled
"Because Fox here can't boil water without burning it, and
Sue aka Dr. Ruthless
<email@example.com> ICQ#14783367 <Alyosha303 on IM>
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