Title: A Comedy of Errors

Author/pseudonym: Ursula

Fandom: X-Files with North By 60 crossover guest character

Paring: Skinner/Krycek, Krycek/O, Mulder/Lloyd Hillard, Mulder/Krycek

Rating: NC-17

Status: New

Archive: Anywhere, as a complete story. If you have a constructive critique
and wish to use a portion, contact me directly.

E-mail address for feedback: Fan4Richie@aol.com or Ursula4X@aol.com

Series/Sequel: Mention of "A Warm Place Out of the Rain"

Other websites:

Disclaimers: X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Fox TV and et al.
Mention of Rodney Lange, property of Panzer, Character of Lloyd Hillard,
property of North By 60 studio and developers.

Notes: There will be a test. Take some.

Summary: Walter Skinner acts as an unlikely cupid for Mulder and Krycek.

Warnings: Slash, a little bondage and rough sex, S/K don't kill me for the
end. I was writing this and then did the challenge. It struck me that this
might be the first step that leads to the situation in the February 00
challenge.

A Comedy of Errors

Walter Skinner neatly hung jeans and sweatshirt in the wardrobe and posed
for a moment in front of the mirror, not bad for a man his age, not bad at
all. He was proud of his body; hell, he worked hard to maintain it against
the overwhelming pressure to let bureaucracy strangle away his life. He ran a
questing hand over the expanse of his broad chest; catching his fingers in
the crisp, clean hair. He slowly circled his large nipples, imaging a scene
with both of his fantasy partners suckling them.

Exercised, bathed, and massaged in the general part of the club, he was now
ready for dessert. More often than not, he ordered honey skinned, large nosed
sweethearts with pendulous lower lips and dark brown hair delivered. It
added to his enjoyment that the "artists" were not allowed to speak a word
unless he commanded and he seldom gave them leeway to do so. Lovely as Fox
Mulder, but silent and submissive; now that was a charming fantasy! Tonight
however, he wanted a musk of danger without the substance. He had asked for a
certain artist who much resembled Alex Krycek. He usually ordered the young
man in costume of a cheap suit, but hadn't tonight. Tonight, he had said,
"Black leather and jeans." It was odd that the man had not been waiting, but
the desk had said, "Go in, relax, and he'll surprise you."

Walter heard the door open and he swept back the covers to admit his
plaything. "Nice view," commented a caustic voice.

Walter looked up into the smiling face of the real thing. Where the hell
had he left his gun? He didn't have a chance. Krycek was pointing a large
Glock directly at him. Krycek really looked good in leather, sleek, deadly,
and very sexy. Somehow the danger sent some unwanted message to his groin and
his waning erection stood straight up. He reached to cover it with the
bedding, but Krycek said, "Mmm, no, I like the view. Has Mulder seen it? I
mean up very close, at nose's length so to speak?"

Walter understood immediately and part of him wanted to lie and watch
jealousy twist and sour that elegantly featured face. He shook his head as
self-preservation won over bullshit. He wasn't Mulder and he didn't have the
impetuous agent's nine lives to bail him out. Walter bluffed, kicked the
blanket entirely off and crossed his arms behind his back in classic macho
pose. "You like what you see? Get an eye full, Krycek," he challenged.

Krycek looked amused and strolled over as if strutting to an invisible
sound track, something with a drumbeat, something wild, unpredictable and
sexy. Krycek sat on the bed and said, "Keep your hands just like that."

Skinner's erection deflated immediately as he saw the palm pilot. "No," he
said, trying to sound commanding instead of pleading. "Just kill me. Just do
it. Stop playing with me."

Krycek said, "I wish I could say this wasn't going to hurt, but it will."
He leaned over, close enough to kiss, one arm on each side of Walter's goose
pimpled chest. He said, "You've been a good boy, Walter, a very good boy.
Couldn't have done much better myself, taking care of Mulder so I'm going
give you something."

Walter was oddly distracted. The left arm had brushed his side and it felt
wrong, stiff, rigid, and unnatural. He was tempted to grab it and see what
was going on with Krycek now. For every misery that Alex Krycek had
inflicted, it seemed as if fate slapped him right back. Krycek followed his
gaze and asked, "You think I'm sexy, Walter? I used to see the way you looked
at me when I was your adorable little agent. You ever think that if you had
made the first move, it would have been you and I not Mulder and me?"

Krycek actually closed his eyes, lids colored with nature's palette, dusky,
mysterious lids and those lashes, Walter had dreamed of them when he was not
dreaming of Fox Mulder's lush, ripe lower lip. Hell, the best dreams involved
both of the young men. Even now, even terrified and infuriated, he couldn't
help being fascinated with Alex Krycek. Those eyes opened and the man licked
his lips as if he as well had been dreaming of Mulder's honey colored skin
and the taste of his mouth.

Krycek smiled slightly and said, "Anyway, I intercepted your boy and I did
notice a certain resemblance to me, thank you. I came here to set you free"
Krycek added, "and I mean that in a good way. Yeah, I am going to deactivate
those nanobytes. It's going to hurt and you won't feel very good, but I'm
going to take good care of you, just you see."

It was like an itching, burning pressure all over him. It was almost like
the time when he had died of these very same things. Terrified and in pain,
Walter listened to that indescribable voice, that husky, rough-edged rumble,
with the bedroom whisper undertones. Krycek said, "It's going to be better.
Damn, I know this is bad, but I've had worse, Skinner, believe me. You feel
any better? You need some water? The bathroom again? Come on; let me help
you. Almost done now, Skinner, don't you worry."

During one of the stumbling trips to throw up or to sit racked on the
toilet as his guts tried to expel themselves, Skinner saw what was wrong with
the arm. Krycek had taken one glove off with the jacket that now lay over the
top of the comfortable chair by the window. The other had stayed until Krycek
tried to help him take a sponge bath. With a blush, and Skinner was surprised
that the man had a blush left; he had drawn off the other glove. Skinner had
grimaced as he saw his vision of a perfect, naked, submissive Krycek in his
arms was never going to be granted in this life.

Skinner awoke and he noted that the linen had been changed and he had been
sponged clean. Krycek was sleeping next to him; his clothes and the
prosthetic arm lay across the room. Skinner could see the edge of the Glock
peeking out from the pillow. Krycek's cheek was rumpled from sleep, folds of
the pillowslip imprinted on the rosy skin. Krycek pursed his lips wistfully
then rubbed his nubbin of a nose over the white linen case. Stealthily,
Skinner reached for the gun. Like lightening, the sweet sleeping boy was
banished by an alert tense face.

Krycek questioned, "What's it going to take, Skinner, to make you believe I
just came to make things even? Don't you remember one moment of last night?"

Skinner said, "We're not even yet; I think I have said that before. I do
remember, Krycek, and I am just fool enough to believe you are telling the
truth. You didn't just sit there and let me squirm this time."

Krycek asked, "So what's the deal? I'm not asking that you canonize me or
anything. I just want to leave off the danse macabre the next time we meet."

Skinner said, "It seems to me that I was about to have a nice evening with
a friend before you decided that this room was your own private St.
Elsewhere."

A corner of the cat mouth twitched with amusement. He said, "Hell, Skinner,
I just thought you wanted to play doctor with me. I thought when you hauled
my ass in to beat me when I was chained on your balcony that the belt was
your idea of foreplay, but I was wrong."

Skinner reached out to draw back the sheet, watching Krycek's expression.
He said, "I'm not a rapist, Krycek, but things haven't changed. I know I was
never your first choice, but I thought I was somewhere on the list."

"Yeah, I liked older guys a little back then." Krycek answered, "Did you
notice that there's something missing besides my pudgy baby cheeks?"

Skinner said, "I can see that without my glasses. Do you really think
anything could change my desire for you ... When the stars threw down their
spears, And watered heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?"

Krycek smiled at that and said, "Mulder never bothered with much poetry,
but then he never need to do anything other than to reach for me. So you
think I'm a tiger, huh? What does that mean? A fancy way of saying I remind
you of a wild beast or do you, maybe, like tigers?"

Skinner stroked the velvety flesh of the belly and sad, "I'm reminded of
the adage, the one about riding the tiger, but yet, who wouldn't be tempted.
Make it even for me, Kry..Alex. Just one time, just one time, give me what I
desire."

Krycek sat up and carefully moved the gun across the room. He said, "Okay,
just because, just because I can't show this to him. Hell, if you still want
this messed up body, you can have it. Just wait a bit, I'll grab a quick
shower."

Skinner brushed his teeth and shaved. He felt clean although he swore he
must have been in some other world when he slept through the pretty fantasy
of Alex's hands moving over him, anointing his sweating body with soap and
water, perhaps, pausing to admire the sweep of his chest, the might of his
shoulders... if he didn't cool his thoughts, he would come from his thoughts
and never get the offered treat. Leaving the bathroom to Alex, he laid back
the cover and made sure the lubrication and condoms were in reach.

Alex came out of the bathroom naked, his skin glowed in the sensual lighting
provided by this place. His damaged beauty just made it more real. The smooth
slide of his body, the silken movement as he glided to the bed was a dance
that Skinner could appreciate. He stood over the bed smiling slightly.
Skinner reached for him, jerking him hard down on the bed, rolling on top of
Alex with the momentum of the motion. Skinner watched the first response,
that sneer of defiance that sought to hide the man's fear. He felt Alex's
body slackening under his as the mocking expression faded and the face put on
yet another mask, this one wearing a concupiscent expression.

"Yeah, do it to me, Walter, make me feel good." Alex purred.

"I am. I will" Said Skinner, nuzzling that beautiful neck. He framed Alex
with his arms, feeling very powerful and enchanted to finally have at least
one of his dreams in reach. Alex drew him down into a moaning kiss. Skinner
felt Alex's hand caressing his back, stopping to explore the powerful muscles
along the way.

"Damn, you don't feel like Mulder!" Alex remarked. He slyly pinched
Skinner's firm ass cheek and said, "You feel good though."

Skinner said nothing. He was kissing his way down Alex's stomach, hands
gently exploring every curve and hollow. He paused at the minute depression
below Alex's collarbone, nibbling gently until Alex squirmed for him and
pushed his head lower. Alex whispered in a pleased voice, "You gonna do that
for me? I wouldn't have thought you were the type."

Skinner grinned and said, "Then let me surprise you."

Hell, Skinner knew he couldn't compete with true love, but he could at least
show Alex that he missed something with his choice. He had no problem with
anything Krycek could imagine. He knew who the hell he was and was confident
that he was in control no matter what they did.

Alex was so sensitive and responsive. No wonder Mulder couldn't find anyone
that he liked as much. Alex smelled like a cat, a clean cat, but definitely
not neutered. Skinner began to tease Alex's cock with whispering strokes of
his tongue. The smooth thick head struck him as interesting in texture, he
moved around it, darting his tongue enticingly until he had to hold Alex down
to keep him from thrusting hard up at him.

With amusement, Skinner asked, "What's the matter, Alex? Don't you think I
know what I'm doing?"

Alex answered only with a moan. He arched off the bed, that delightful all
out surrender to pleasure that Skinner adored in his lovers. Skinner moved
down the shaft, exploring the nerve-rich under surface of the plump cock. He
stretched his tongue out to hit places where he hoped even this wanton had
seldom been touched. Alex whimpered and his head rolled on the pillow. His
eyes were like green fire and his mouth opened in a delicious moan. Skinner
held Alex's legs apart, open to him. His thumbs massaged circles as he began
the rapid movements that would end this. With a wild cry, Krycek shot. His
semen tasted as sweet as he seemed in this moment. Skinner swallowed,
savoring him. His tongue swirled a few more times until Alex sighed and gave
that small pull away that said, enough.

Skinner could wait. He moved back up on the bed, not much surprised when
Alex moved into his arms. A snuggler, somehow it didn't surprise Skinner. He
had noticed how Alex had always liked to be physically close to Mulder when
they were partners and lovers. His first clue about having lost the race to
court beautiful young Krycek was watching Mulder in the hallway, laying a
possessive hand on Alex's arm as they spoke. It could have passed, as a mere
friendly gesture except Mulder was not the kind of person who ever touched
people casually.

Skinner stroked the side of Alex's face softly, admiring the soft skin.
"Mmm, I feel good." Alex said.

Skinner caressed and said, "Yes, you do."

Alex angled down, spending a great deal time suckling Skinner's nipples.
Bottle-fed baby, Skinner thought, but the joke passed as the tugs and swirls
of Alex's tongue sent messages down his spine. Alex traveled lower, a teasing
trail of kisses ending with a sudden nip. Skinner reproved, "No biting, no
teeth."

Alex laughed, a soft, delightful, breathy chuckle that sounded enticing as
the rustle of a velvet gown, the soft babble of water through mossy rocks.
"It's a jungle down here. Hmm, can't find it." Alex reported.

Skinner said, "You must be blind then. I don't think anyone has ever said
that I lacked in substance."

Alex said, "Nope, I have to admit that you're impressive."

Any further words were drowned in the sudden rapid assault on Skinner's
cock. He knew that after all his anticipation that he wouldn't last long, but
Alex was blitzing him with one sensation after the other. That was a hell of
a talented mouth! It took will power to move, but damn it, after waiting so
long, he wanted to see that lustrous head of hair bobbing between his legs.
Skinner saw Alex's eyes come up to meet his, dancing in enjoyment of his
power. The eyes fluttered as Alex took him deeply, letting Skinner's cock
merge to the limit. Alex was nearly bent over him, working at this with an
eagerness that suggested he was turned on by what was happening. Skinner
prided himself on his control letting Alex make this his command performance.
With a shudder and a hoarse yell, Skinner felt the world blot out
delightfully. Panting, he lay on the bed, feeling as if he snapped every
muscle in his body when he came, leaving him so loose-limbed that he could
not have moved if the holy grail danced through the room.

Alex insinuated himself into Skinner's arms after a casual clean up. He
said, "I'm tired. Call them and tell them you need the room for another eight
hours."

Skinner snorted and said, "You want to use take a nap in this expensive
whorehouse, using my credit card?"

Alex blinked sleepily and said, "Make it worth your while in the morning,
Walter."

Skinner said, "That's a deal. Call me sir, though. I like that."

"Sir Walter? Okay, gonna rescue me from my plight? Throw your cloak down so
the dirt doesn't cling to my dainty feet?" Alex asked.

Skinner said, "Shut up, Alex, and your feet are hardly dainty."

Alex moved to lie closer, an arm full of affectionate assassin, but he
hardly looked the part like this, dusky lashes brushing his cheeks, a
peaceful expression painted on his boyish face. One last sleepy blink and he
was out, lips parted for soft deep breaths, either a real show of trust or
the man was that tired. Skinner moved carefully, trying not to disturb his
sleeping lover. He thought he could surprise the man. He would genuinely do
something knightly and noble. Skinner chided himself, something idiotic, but
much as he would like his pretty fantasy, he knew that neither Alex nor
Mulder would ever be totally content with him. They wanted and needed each
other and he had an idea that would make that happen.

Alex smirked as he called up his choice. This one looked enough like Mulder
to be a younger brother or a clone. Missed his mark there. Should have put in
an order for a Mulder clone before all the old men and lab geeks went to
their fiery graves. Still even a sweet, pliant Mulder clone wasn't going to
be the real thing. No, hell, Alex had slept with handsomer men. It was
Mulder's mind that he adored although he wouldn't scorn the wrapping paper to
get to it. Maybe that was why he enjoyed screwing with Mulder's reality so
much. Maybe he just had a great unrequited desire to fuck his mind. And,
right, that explained why his black little heart beat faster every time
Mulder even looked at him, stupidly excited although too often the look
seemed to be calling up a diagram from the butcher to decide where to carve
the first steak out of him.

Alex watched the tall, lean and lovely man peel off the expensive suit in a
graceful strip tease. He really should have directed the man to knock off the
flourishes, but he seemed to enjoy his little theatrical display for one.
Alex had to admit his Fox was foxy, but he didn't have those moves. Mulder
couldn't dance if you had a gun aimed at his feet, but he knew where to put
his parts when it counted.

It had surprised Alex when Skinner turned down the chance for a return
match. Although Skinner was not his type physically, Alex had liked the night
they had spent together. Skinner had been tender and he really was
surprisingly talented. Yeah, that cock was a bit on the large size for
comfort, but Skinner had kissed the owie before and after. He even was
willing to return the favor and the guy genuinely liked to be fucked, which
was a real surprise.

However, when Alex had admitted that he was not adverse to another tryst,
Skinner had showed him the profile of the Mulder like artist and bought him
two nights of that. This third performance was on Alex's own credit...well,
not exactly. Actually, Spender hardly ever checked to make sure all his
established alternatives with lines of credits were not leading amusing lives
of their own.

As the Mulder substitute sauntered to his bed, Alex sighed. No matter how
good this man was; it was never going to be quite right. Mulder, Mulder was
the one he craved as his heroin and no methadone would suffice for long.

Mulder looked out into the night. It was snowing and that made him think
about Russia and Alex. He touched his cheek where that kiss seemed to burn
and he mourned. He rose and went to the coat rack, spinning the billiard ball
finale as he retrieved his coat. He felt a sting of shamed conscience as he
considered his destination. What was he to do? Wait around like a princess in
a tower until Alex chose to rescue him? He wished he could go to Seattle.
Rodney's letters to him were increasing upbeat. The man who owned him had
been found murdered and no new evil pimp had come forward to claim his body
or his soul. Rodney would sleep with him for sympathy if for no other reason.
However, Skinner had him stuck to the local area, lecturing new agents about
serial killers and the supernatural.

Mulder had taken to trailing Skinner for a while and noticing him visiting
a private club. A little investigation had identified the place as a sex club
and Mulder had been intrigued. This place was discreet. You showed your pass
and were let into a private, soundproof booth to select your partner of the
hour or the night. Mulder hadn't bothered Skinner about his habit. He simply
joined after confirming that they catered to a broad array of tastes.

Mulder caught a cab, getting out a block away to avoid a trace. He trudged
through the frozen slush in the road. It had warmed briefly just long enough
to pack the snow and turn it into a volcanic landscape of peaks, depressions,
and mounds. The trash uncovered was unbelievable even in this relatively posh
area of town. Mulder noted the snow was covering the mess, which was a
blessing. He waited in a doorway, looking back as the snow filled in his
tracks. He didn't want someone to stalk him as he had stalked Skinner. He
wasn't even sure why he had done that; had it been boredom, anxiety, or a
desire to gain some petty advantage over the assistant director?

Sighing, Mulder took the main elevator to the lobby where he inserted a key
card to gain entry. As always, there was a delay to make sure that no patron
passed another. A receptionist directed him to a private booth immediately.
The booth was appointed like a broker's cubby. Mulder sat in the leather
armchair and poured himself a drink from the decanter that sat ready on the
small table. The loose-leaf notebook sat at ready, but Mulder preferred the
video presentations instead. He picked up the remote and turned on the small,
flat screen monitor. He entered his usual preference, dark hair, green or
hazel eyes, medium complexion, male, between twenty-one and thirty-five, five
feet eleven to six feet three inches tall, weight one fifty to two hundred
pounds. He rapidly selected, Bottom, mild bondage, mild BDSM, and waited. A
series of thumb nails flickered and Mulder leaned forward to study them.

Somebody new was in the stable. Mmm, now he looked like Alex, just a little
younger and plumper. He clicked the image to get the thumbnail to enlarge and
speak. The boyish young man fluttered long beautiful eyelashes and spoke,
"Hi, I'm Lloyd. Hey, ya' wanna play? Gotta warn you; I play rough sometimes.
See ya, babe." The brunette beauty let his terry cloth robe open just a bit.
Mulder could have drooled on the screen. God, perfect, where did they find
that one? He could almost believe it was Alex.

Quickly, Mulder keyed in the identification for Lloyd and smiled as he
received the confirmation that he was available. He used the credit card he
kept in the name of Marty Walters and paid for his treat. An expressionless
attendant led him into a small elevator that was lined with mirrors and
ornately trimmed with brass etchings. Mulder tipped the tuxedoed staff member
and entered the room. He hadn't specified a setting and blinked with surprise
to see what the courtesan had chosen.

This was jailhouse motif. The room was divided in half. The entry contained
the usual well-appointed bed, television and VCR, wardrobe for costumes and
toys, and mini-bar for snacks and drinks. The smaller area was a realistic
cell, bars, hard little bunk, combined sink and urinal, and drab
institutional paint. A man sat on the bunk, dressed in a prisoner's coverall,
his knees spayed wide, and his feet clad in the slippers issued to high-risk
prisoners. The man cast a surly gaze in Mulder's direction and slumped back
on the bunk as if he was alone. He raised a leg, leaning it against the wall,
and slowly unzipped his garment. He revealed a white V-neck tee shirt and as
the zipper lowered to the end, a neat, smooth landing of black glossy pubic
hair.

Mulder walked over and gripped the bars of the mock cell. He had lost
control of this scene, but it was delightful chaos that ran along his nerves.
Lloyd growled in a voice that shared some of Alex's delightful tones, "You a
cop?"

Mulder startled and almost nodded or worse explained that he was an FBI
agent. He realized that this was a part of the game that they would play and
he said, "Yeah, get your ass out here, kid. I heard you were carrying. Come
on, strip for me and spread them."

Lloyd stood up and toed off the slippers. His face was a blank, but his eyes
challenged Mulder. He slid the overall down, showing that he had chosen to
wear no underwear at all. He let the hideous garment sink to his feet and
stepped out. He posed there, rolling a corner of his tee shirt up teasingly.
Mulder liked the picture that made. Mulder hoarsely ordered, "Take it off."

Lloyd took his time, letting that cheap white undershirt slide over the
hard lines of his body. He looked a little different from both Rodney and
Alex as if they had all started as the same man, until life molded them in
different directions. His body was molded, proportioned with an almost
inhuman evenness. The shirt went over his head and he threw the shirt at the
bars. Mulder walked over to the bed and moved back one of the panels to
remove the lubricant. He noticed a snarl of contempt on the man's face. "You
don't need that." He snapped.

Mulder shook his head and said, "Grab those ankles."

His ass was as toned as the rest of him. He must have spent hours in the
gym. Mulder saw a few regular scars contrasting with the smooth flesh. They
looked relatively recent although not fresh enough to be other than pinkish
lines. Mulder used the lubricant to mock the process of search, the only
thing he really wanted to find was...an arch and a cry told him he succeeded.
Mulder stroked the same spot again then shoved the man forward, making him
crab walk to the bed. He didn't for some reason feel the urge to be gentle
that had overwhelmed him with Rodney. This man genuinely seemed to want his
abuse.

Mulder shoved the man over the edge of the bed and ordered, "Keep it
there." His hands shook as he drew on the condom. He felt angry, with
himself, with Alex, and with this man because he was not who he wanted. He
entered roughly, listening to the man's breath expel. The voice, velvet
sheathed switchblade, groaned. "Yeah, that's it. Make me. Hurt me.
Harder-harder!"

Mulder muttered, "Shut up." He pushed in faster, his strokes pistoning. He
watched Lloyd's fists pound the bed as he uttered grunts of pain that still
seemed in part, arousal. Mulder finished, tying off the condom with practiced
ease and casting it in the convenient garbage can. He felt and found that
Lloyd had not come. Frowning, he ordered, "Turn over"

Lloyd sneered at him when he faced Mulder and said, "Is that the best you
can do? Do you think that was rough?"

The slap felt good to Mulder and he did it again, watching the face turn
red. A hard clout caught Lloyd's nose and the trickle of blood suddenly
reminded him of his confrontation with Alex in Hong Kong. Lloyd reached his
fingers up to touch the blood and he smiled. "That's more like it."

Mulder was shocked; both at his own actions and that he was becoming
aroused again. He jerked Lloyd down flat on the bed and spread his legs
roughly. He didn't taste like Alex. He tasted bitter and salty. Alex always
seemed sweet to him like the decadent dessert that he was.

Mulder slid his lips down the length of hard cock. Lloyd protested, "Hey,
that's not what I do. Fuck me, that's what you paid for."

Mulder said, "I paid to do anything that lets you walk out of here able to
work tomorrow. I want to do this."

The way Lloyd reacted; he hadn't had many blowjobs. He moaned, tossing his
head, the short, military, dumb ass haircut rubbed against the pillows.
"Uhhh," he groaned, "no, I don't want to..." He arched and shoved deeper into
Mulder's mouth. Mulder held him down, keeping those legs spread open,
enjoying the vulnerable sprawl of them. He took the man deeper, listening to
the voice, for the moment pretending that this was Alex.

When Lloyd came, Mulder quickly moved on top. He didn't want to penetrate
him again, not the way Lloyd reacted, as that was a solicited act of rape.
Instead, he whispered, "Hold your legs together." The slide of their flesh
was enough, thrusts made slick by sweat. Mulder closed his mouth over
Lloyd's, imitating his movements with the rub and probe of his tongue. He
felt the man's mouth try to close and pull away. He jerked Lloyd's face back,
wondering at this game and why it pleased him.

Lloyd ducked his face aside and down, biting Mulder hard on the shoulder
and whispered, "Not like that, you have to do it hard. You have to punish me.
Come on, do it for me. You know you want it. You know."

The strangely erotic demand finished him. Mulder sagged exhausted on top of
Lloyd until the whore shoved him aside and said, "Get off of me, you pervert."

Mulder said, "You are trying so hard to make me hurt you. I should just
oblige. But I'm a contrary man; all my friends say so. So, you know, I'm
going to frustrate you. I'm not going to hit you, Lloyd. I think I am going
to make love to you instead."

Mulder knew that he shouldn't go back, but he reserved Lloyd the next
night, ordering one of the ordinary rooms. Lloyd entered sullenly, allowing
Mulder to undress him with limbs woodenly cooperative. His green eyes were
resentful and every touch was stiff. Even so he was beautiful, Mulder
remembered when Alex had looked this young. But even if Lloyd was youthful,
he lacked something. Yes, the stubborn refusal to cringe from pain was
familiar, but Alex had never looked for violence from him. Every time, he hit
Alex, Alex had shown in his eyes the question, his anger that Mulder betrayed
what they had been with his actions. Lloyd wanted the pain. Mulder had the
feeling that he craved punishment.

Perhaps it was cruel to coax him to pleasure instead. When he forced him to
orgasm, Lloyd wept as he subsided. Mulder reached to comfort him and was
surprised when the young man allowed him to hold him. "Why don't you tell me
what's wrong?" Mulder said.

Lloyd shook his head. Mulder remembered Rodney and asked, "Is someone
forcing you to do this? Do you need money? Protection? Let me help you."

Lloyd pulled away, sitting hunched over on the side of the bed. He said,
"You want to help someone or what ever? Go find what guy you are trying to
make me be, because I'm not him. If you knew, if you understood what I really
was, you'd hate me as much as I hate myself."

Lloyd stood up, grabbing his clothes and he said, "You can tell the
management that you want your money back. I'm not staying and you can't make
me. Don't ask for me again."

When Mulder went back the next night, Lloyd's thumbnail was gone. He called
the management and they said, "His resume was not as he represented so his
services were no longer desired."

Mulder snapped, "Well, I desire them. How do I reach him?"

The purring voice replied, "Lloyd has left the area rather suddenly. He
didn't leave a forwarding address."

Mulder walked out of the place, but he had no intention of letting it lie
there. If he couldn't have Alex, he would have Lloyd. Actually he was rather
pleased by the news. He could possibly offer the young man enough money to
make him agree to a long-term arrangement, a little apartment somewhere and
pin money to entertain him self between visits. Mulder's cock rose at the
prospect. He visited the Lone Gunmen and found Byers alone again. John
shrugged and said, "As if I didn't understand obsession..."

It took several visits to hack into the Destiny Club files, but John
succeeded and called Mulder to allow him to reap his harvest. Lloyd was 2nd
Lt. Lloyd Hillard, formerly the US Air force finest, drummed out a year back.
Mulder did some more hacking and found the sordid precursor to this event.
Rape! He had been involved in a drunken episode of rape and of an underage
girl at that! Mulder reeled back, understanding why Lloyd forced him to enact
that play with him. All he had been was an instrument of punishment. When
Lloyd found that he was enjoying his abuse, he had fled. God! Mulder
shuddered, wondering what the man would do when humiliation and role-playing
wasn't enough?

A week later, Mulder entered his usual preferences and was surprised to see
a black screen with a glowing and pulsating question mark instead of
thumbnails.
A message scrolled lazily across the screen, "Push enter to choose the
mystery lover. You have thirty seconds to decide."

Mulder wanted to laugh or ask the desk about this new game, but shrugging,
he pushed enter. As always, the attendant came promptly to guide him. Mulder
stepped into the suite and was pleased; this was more like it. The room held
a four-poster bed, made up with numerous brocaded pillows and plush spread,
all matching the draperies. There was even a fireplace, with a warm, real
fire, the crepitating sounds adding an illusion of intimacy to the room. The
sideboard was laid with a miniature feast of finger foods. Mulder was amused,
titillated. He hoped the man, he hoped his surprise was male, was as charming
as this room embodied.

To his surprise, the door to the outside opened. At first, he thought it
was Lloyd and had to admit that he was disappointed. Truthfully, the violence
of his encounters with the man didn't meet his need. Mulder frowned, as the
Alex look alike seemed more surprised then he was.

While in yet another room, a man with hair like dark rich Russian Amber met
another who boasted of eyes as mixed in hue as the oceanic depths. They
stared at each other and then each said, "Haven't I seen you around as in
working here?"

"Yeah," said the green eyed pretty. "The weirdest thing happened. I was on
my way to one of my regulars and management tells me that I should go to this
room instead and do what ever the other guy wants to do."

"And the same thing happened to me. In fact, my regular looks a bit like
you except he's missing an arm." The tawny tall charmer replied.

"So here we are, two incredibly sexy guys, being paid a hundred dollars an
hour for our services and in this great room." Mr. Dark-haired and
Lush-Lashes remarked.

The tawny lovely lad looked at his coworker through his lovely long lashes
and asked, "So what do you want to do? Make love?"

The dark haired man sighed and said, "Nah, too much like work. Let's break
out the chips and beer, kick back and watch football."

"I like your ideas, man," his companion agreed. And thus two most
entertaining men had their first ever paid vacation and found it very
relaxing.

Alex fumed silently. Double-booked in deed, what kind of service was that?
He, or rather Spender's false identity was paying a pretty price for this
membership and service. Then, they told him he was getting a free night with
a mystery artist. Great, somehow, he imagined some tattooed Dom waiting for
him. He was hardly in the mood for that. He almost turned around. He knew
where Skinner lived. Hell, he knew where Mulder lived too... Shaking his
head, Alex told himself that he was not in the mood for Skinner and he was a
bit unsure of his welcome anyway. Skinner's rejection had shaken his
self-confidence a bit. As for Mulder, the best Alex could hope for was a
beating from him.

Alex entered and stood stunned. Wow, this one was Mulder in exacting detail!
That sulky lip, those incredible hazel eyes, gold and brown, and that silly
expression of shock were all those of his lover. Alex took a deep breath and
said, "God, now I'd pay double! Where did they find you, Foxy?"

The man stared back and then said, "Alex? Alex is that really you?"

Alex started to back away, to turn and run. What kind of joke was this to
send him to the real Fox Mulder? Mulder uttered a cry of pain and Alex had to
look to make sure he was all right. Mulder used the moment to catch up with
him and trapped him against the door, pushing him back into it. That
touch...Alex felt his limbs go limp. He was torpid with lust, stupid with
love and Mulder was probably going to kill him.

"Alex, Alex, Alex, I can't believe I found you." Mulder murmured, his hands
pushing Alex's jacket aside, dropping it with a heavy clank of various
knives, brass knuckles, and other essentials. Alex moaned, allowing Mulder to
start on his shirt before he remembered what the thick sweater concealed.

"No!" Mulder screamed and Alex turned away; he couldn't bear to see the
repulsion in his former lover's face. Mulder pulled the sweater away, lifting
it off and letting it join the jacket. "I didn't mean for this to happen to
you."

Alex reached for a sneer. He wasn't going to do what he had done in the
past, submitting, trying to win Mulder back with his body; no more chances
now that he wasn't beautiful anymore. He said, "Bet this was your idea,
getting me sent here. Well, I don't always have to pay for it, you know. Even
like this, there are guys who want me. Your boss for instance!"

Mulder's face lost its look of horror. He wore that enraged expression that
now seemed more familiar then the enraptured one Alex used to see. He pushed
Alex back, one hand reaching for Alex's zipper. "He had better keep his hands
off you or I'll kill him. I swear that I will. You're mine, Alex, mine." The
damn zipper wouldn't release and Mulder yanked, breaking it. Alex wondered
briefly how he was going get out of here with his clothes like this and then
it hardly mattered.

And that last 'mine' was buried in a kiss. They fought each other,
struggling against that door to rip off each other's clothing, to tear the
years and the differences away. Alex leaned back, his hips forward as
Mulder's mouth devoured him. Mulder's lips were sweet consumption. His hands
were greedy heated things as they moved relentlessly conquering Alex without
a battle. Mulder pulled away his boots, his socks, freed his legs of his
jeans. Mulder knelt there as if in worship for a moment. He said, "You are
more beautiful than I even remembered." Mulder stood and he held out his
hand. "Come to bed with me. Come back to me. I don't care what you've done. I
want you back in my life. I want you to stay."

It must have been levitation. Alex didn't remember walking. There was no
finesse to what they did. They were too frantic to remember anything but
need. One moment they were kissing, trying to touch each other all over, to
reclaim this territory of the flesh and soul from which they both had been
such lonely exiles. The next, they were momentarily satiated, lying together,
old love words back on their lips, the past reeled back to that first time
when it seemed to Alex that he could do anything if Mulder loved him.

Mulder rolled on him and said, "You're not leaving me, anymore, and no one
touches you! Not Marita, not Skinner, no one, but me! Do you understand?"

Alex nodded, wondering how Mulder knew about Marita. He asked, "What about
you? Diana? Rodney?"

Mulder said, "No one, but you."

Alex said, "Good." He flipped Mulder over, wanting to show him that he
might have lost a limb, but he was far from helpless. Alex grinned down and
said, "We have the whole night to figure out how this works." He lowered his
lips to meet Mulder's. This was heaven. This was home and he thanked whatever
providence brought it about.

Walter sighed and turned off the video feed. He had done his good deed for
the century and he wished it didn't feel so hollow. He could have watched
them make love. It would have been his just reward for all the money and the
mechanisms that it took to set the comedy of errors up, but he chose not to
be tormented by a vision that he could not share. Maybe he would tell them
one of these days or maybe the bright boys would figure it out. Meanwhile, he
had a trip out of town to meet his old friend Commissioner Scalli.
Supposedly, the man had a bright ambitious boy that needed a sponsor to the
FBI academy. Walter smirked, Ricky Caruso, another Italian kid. Scalli did
like those old country names. Skinner smiled and decided if the boy were any
good, he'd give him a trial here after the academy, something to take his
mind off Fox Mulder and Alex Krycek.

Skinner stretched. Hell, maybe he'd meet someone new...he'd paid his dues
and played cupid. Now, it was his turn. Let's see what providence could do
for him.

The end.