From: just_us_mice@yahoo.com
Date: 16 Jan 2003 06:39:39 -0800
Subject: [atxc-pi] NEW: A Well Kept Man 2: Armani Weekend, Sunday -NC-17- (0/4)
Source: atxc
 
Title: A Well Kept Man 2: Armani Weekend, Sunday 
Author: Mice 
Feedback Email: just_us_mice@yahoo.com 
Author's Website: http://www.squidge.org/~surrealarts/mice.html 
Archive at Gossamer: Yes to Gossamer 
Status: NEW - Complete 
Size: 112k 
Category: Drama, Story, Romance, Relationship, BDSM 
Pairings: Other Pairing , Doggett/Byers 
Rating: NC-17 
Gossamer Category: Story , Romance, Friendship , Slash 

Summary: Doggett takes Byers to NYC to buy a suit and have a weekend on the town. Smut, angst, and 
complications ensue. 
 
Part 1
Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary.

WK2: Armani Weekend
Chapter 3: Sunday

(Disclaimers in Chapter 1)

PARKER MERIDIEN HOTEL
ROOM 1246
SUNDAY MORNING

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Still sore?" Doggett asked.

"Mmm-hmm," Byers replied.

"Where?"

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

"How's your chest?"

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

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

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

Byers nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You ready?" Doggett asked.

"Mmm," Byers mumbled, nodding.

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

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

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

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

"Huh?"

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

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

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

"You about ready for full sentences yet?"

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

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

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

"You look like you feel better."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ringo?" Doggett was confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's been happening with that lately?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You snooze, you lose."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Feels good," Byers whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Smells like books and the great unwashed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, Munch!" Doggett said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mulder still seein' little green men?"

"Grey," Byers grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why would you care?" Byers said. He crossed his arms in front of him.
 
"'Cuz I've been subscribed to your rag for years now." Munch winked.

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

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

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

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

Speechless, Byers took it. He gaped at Munch.

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

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

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

"Johnny?"

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

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

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

"Munch arrested you?"

(Continued in part 2)

Part 2
See part 0 for header information.


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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You doin' better now?"

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

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

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

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

PARKER MERIDIEN HOTEL
ROOM 1246
AFTERNOON

"Talk to me, Johnny." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What happened to you?"

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

"It sounds terrible," Doggett said.

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

"How did all that happen?"

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

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

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

"This Susanne was the woman you--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doggett nodded. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's wrong?" Doggett asked.

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks," Byers said.

"You gonna be okay?" Doggett asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This what you need?" Doggett asked.

Byers nodded. "Yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Byers nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"God, Jack, I need you in me, please." He couldn't control the whine in his
voice, or his desperation. The  way Doggett broke his control every time they
did this left Byers willing to do anything to have more of his  Master's
touch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Continued in part 3)

Part 3
See part 0 for header information.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

STUDIO 54
WEST 54TH STREET
6:30 PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So what do you think?" Doggett asked.

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

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

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

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

Byers laughed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doggett just smiled.

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

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

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

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

Doggett laughed. "Half the audience already is."

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

"How do you know? You ever try?"

"Yes. It was hideously embarrassing."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you apologizing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE PLAYWRIGHT TAVERN & RESTAURANT
10:00 PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How's dinner?" Doggett asked.

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

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

Byers gave a little smile. "Dessert?"

"How does Bailey's cheesecake sound?"

"Mmmmm." Byers grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It was about closets," Byers said quietly.

"Huh?"

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

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

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

Doggett nodded. "True enough."

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

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

(Continued in part 4)

Part 4
See part 0 for header information.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Byers smiled and tucked into his dinner again.

PARKER MERIDIEN HOTEL
ROOM 1246
NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Krycek?"

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

"Killed him and brought him back?"

"It's really complicated."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, Sir," Byers groaned.

"Convince me," Doggett said.

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

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

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

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

"Yellow," he moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sweet," Byers whispered.

Doggett grinned. "It lives."

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

Doggett laughed quietly. "I hope not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What, go to bed?"

"No, get up right now."

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

"Wanna sleep here." Byers pouted his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~end chapter 3 of 4~~



### The End ###