From: KiMeriKal@aol.com
Date: Sat, 6 May 2000 03:29:23 EDT
Subject: Wind River
Source: revision

He felt Tristan's hand settle on his shoulder. It just rested 
there a moment, just the palm curved over the round of his 
shoulder. "I'm sorry too, Mulder," he said quietly. "I know you 
want to help me. I do know that. I believe you." He felt 
Tristan's other hand come up to rest on his other shoulder. Then 
the final gap between them closed as he felt Tristan's body press 
softly into his back.

Mulder drew a ragged breath as his eyes closed. God, what was 
happening to him here? His body was surging at the touch. He felt 
Tristan's hands leave his shoulders and slide slowly down to slip 
around his waist. He should stop this right now. He really 
should, but there was something exhilarating about the large male 
hands that were now steadily exerting pressure against his belly, 
pulling him back gently against the hardness of the body behind 
him.

Tristan was curled around him, his chin resting on Mulder's 
shoulder, his arms wrapped around his waist, just holding on. 
"Why don't we let it all go for a while, Mulder," he said. "Both 
of us."

Behind closed eyes, Mulder felt Tristan's hands moving again, 
sliding up under his shirt, and stroking across his abdomen 
slowly. The touch on his bare skin was electric. He could feel 
the rhythm of Tristan's breath against his neck and the steady 
rise and fall of his chest pressing into his back, his voice soft 
in his ear.

"Let me make you feel better. Just for a while."

And then Mulder felt it; the hot, soft, lingering kiss on his 
skin that was his final undoing. Right in the spot where his neck 
met his shoulder. Warm and wet and just the tip of Tristan's 
tongue caressed his skin with a tenderness that made Mulder draw 
in a sharp breath of longing.

Oh Jesus God. Please. No. Yes.

Mulder placed his hands over Tristan's, stopping their movement. 
For just a moment, they both went deadly still as Mulder made his 
decision. Opening his eyes, Mulder released his grip on Tristan's 
hands and turned around, meeting his gaze. This time when he 
raised his hand, he completed the gesture and fingertips grazed 
Tristan's cheekbone and over his parted lips.

"Let me make you feel better," Tristan asked again as he reached 
to kiss him, but Mulder turned his face just slightly. Not 
backing away, but not completely acquiescing just yet. But he 
didn't resist as Tristan began to press his mouth just below his 
jaw line instead, working his way back under Mulder's ear. 
Tristan slid his arms around Mulder's body, pulling him close 
against him, just holding him and feeling his body within the 
circle of his arms. And Mulder could hardly comprehend the 
feelings the embrace evoked, it had been so long.

If Mulder couldn't believe this was happening, Tristan wasn't far 
behind. This man that he'd wanted so bad he could taste it, was 
not only letting him touch him, he was actually responding as his 
arms came up to hold Tristan as he began to rock gently on his 
feet.

Later, Mulder would have no recollection of getting across the 
room to the bedroom. But suddenly he was standing next to the bed 
as Tristan began to unbutton his shirt, kissing each bit of skin 
he exposed. Unbutton, kiss. Unbutton, kiss. All the way down his 
chest and belly. Jesus Christ, this was so fucking weird and yet 
he was already so hard that he wasn't thinking about anything 
except feeling the touch of Tristan's hands and mouth on his 
skin.

Tristan finished with the shirt and pushed it off Mulder's 
shoulders. He snagged his fingers into the waistband of Mulder's 
jeans and pulled him against him so that he could feel his 
erection pressed into him. His hands slipped around to cup 
Mulder's ass and slid up the smoothness of the skin of his back. 
He kissed Mulder's neck as he unbuttoned his jeans with practiced 
hands. He then knelt to pull off his shoes and socks and then 
pushed the jeans down over his hips. As he did so, he looked up 
to see Mulder's eyes on him. Their shade had gone dark and 
wonderful with arousal as he put his hand on Tristan's shoulder 
to steady himself as he stepped out of pants and then the 
underwear. Finally naked, Mulder allowed Tristan to press him 
back on to the bed where he leaned back up against the large 
pillows propped against the slatted headboard.

Tristan sat on the bed as he started to pull his own clothes off, 
feeling Mulder's eyes on him the whole time. What was he 
thinking? He felt like he should say something to him, but he was 
wordless, his mind just filled with sight of Mulder watching him.

Tristan actually felt a little nervous. He'd wanted this so much 
and the fact that it was actually unfolding before him made him 
feel absurdly aware of everything that was happening. After a 
moment, Mulder reached out to help him slide the shirt from his 
shoulders. God, Mulder was helping him undress. His clothes soon 
all joined Mulder's in a heap on the floor.

He looked up the length of Mulder's fine, slender body, liking 
everything he saw from the goodly-sized hard cock to the strong 
curve of his jaw line to the arch of his feet. He put his hands 
on Mulder's thighs and slid them upwards. God, he loved long 
legs, sleek and firm and Mulder had them in abundance. They felt 
so good under his hands. His palms moved over the smooth skin 
until he found a fairly large, roundish scar. At the same time, 
his fingertips encountered a similar scar on the back of Mulder's 
thigh and he wondered what the story was behind it. His thoughts 
were interrupted by Mulder's voice.

"I've...I've never done this."

Tristan looked up to meet Mulder's solemn eyes. The older man 
seemed embarrassed by his confession and that was somehow 
endearing.

"Never?" he questioned with a smile, deliberately 
misunderstanding. "Good Lord, Mulder, how old are you?"

But Mulder was not to be teased and now he just looked 
disconcerted. "No. I meant I've never done this with--"

"I know what you meant!" Tristan laughed a little. Still stroking 
his thighs, he leaned down, coming very close to Mulder's face. 
But he didn't try to kiss him again, instead he lowered his face 
to Mulder's chest, nuzzling his face against the texture of his 
chest hair. "Mulder, if it's any comfort to you, you're my first 
virgin. So we're even."

Mulder looked down at the man who was hovering over him, rubbing 
against him like a cat. God, the sensation was about to make him 
start purring himself. His humor returned, as it usually did, to 
help him cope with a strange situation. "I don't think that 
counts in the same way, Tristan."

Tristan looked up at him because there was something about the 
way he said his name this time that was different. There was 
affection in the tone. The man liked him. Tristan felt a little 
silly that the thought of that pleased him so and he smiled back. 
"Either way, it's nothing to think about, Mulder. Actually it's 
kind of nice not to think." He lowered his head and took one of 
Mulder's nipples into his mouth as his hand skittered down to cup 
his balls, rolling and massaging, avoiding his hard cock that lay 
against his belly.

Oh yes, indeed, it was very nice not to think, just feel. Mulder 
closed his eyes as he squirmed just slightly as he felt the wet, 
sucking pressure on his nipple and the firm rhythmic pressure on 
his balls. His hips shifted as he tried to bring Tristan's touch 
in contact with his cock. But Tristan released his nipple and was 
now kissing and tonguing his way down his chest and over the 
defined sinew of his flat belly. Mulder felt his muscles quiver 
involuntarily and his eyes opened. Tristan's mouth was close to 
where he needed it. So close to his aching cock that needed 
touch, needed stimulation. Needed something, anything. Please. Oh 
God, please. It had been so long since any hands other than his 
own had touched him. Please.

But instead, Tristan removed his hand from his balls, letting 
them drop down gently, heavy and swollen and Mulder couldn't stop 
the noise of disappointment. He watched as Tristan brought his 
hand back to his own lips, slowly sliding his middle finger into 
his mouth. Stroking it in and out slowly, lubricating it in 
imitation of the motion Mulder was desperate to feel on his cock. 
Tristan pressed lightly against the inside of his thighs and in 
response Mulder opened his legs a bit further.

Tristan's hand slipped back between his legs, sliding under his 
balls this time. He felt the wet finger pressing against his anus 
and Mulder tensed. Tristan felt it and merely rubbed Mulder's ass 
in a tight circular motion, going no farther, just relaxing the 
area. Just touching.

He bent and kissed Mulder's cock. No more than that, just a 
simple pressing of lips to the hardened flesh and he heard 
Mulder's sharp intake of breath as he pressed up, seeking more. 
Tristan smiled a little bit and looked up. "You'll like this," he 
promised. "You're really, really going to like this."

Tristan leaned down to a bottom shelf on the nightstand and 
retrieved a tube of something. Mulder saw it and closed his eyes. 
But then he felt Tristan's lips on his cock again, now stroking 
with his tongue and he felt the pressure mount within as he 
pressed against him, seeking more. Tristan wetly lapped the soft 
skin stretched tightly over the hard shaft. Oh, God, that felt so 
good. Soothing and stimulating at the same time. Mulder began to 
breathe through slightly parted lips.

Tristan's fingers were back at his anus again, now slippery and 
sliding smoothly over the opening, applying smooth circular 
motions that sent strange new feelings through Mulder's gut. They 
moved up to gently massage his perineum area, sending little 
waves of bliss before moving back to his ass.

Then he felt Tristan give a final lick along the length of his 
cock and then his mouth engulfed the head just as his finger 
slipped up inside his ass. Mulder's head fell back with a sudden 
groan of pleasure as Tristan worked the sensitive head of his 
penis. "Oh, Fuck me!" he said as he squeezed his eyes tightly 
shut against the internal and external pressure as he was probed 
and sucked.

Tristan's mouth left his cock for just a moment. "I'm working on 
it, Mulder," he said with some bemusement. Mulder felt Tristan's 
finger work inside even deeper, stroking now, sliding easily 
through the tightly clenched muscle that Mulder couldn't seem to 
relax although he knew he should. It didn't really hurt, but the 
feel of a warm, wet mouth on his cock was distracting him from 
what was going on up his ass.

Mulder's body responded and he lifted his hips up to give him 
more access, even as his mind wondered what the hell he was doing 
lying here with a guy's fingers up his ass and his cock in his 
mouth. But then the finger probing deep up his rectum now touched 
something inside that gained his immediate attention, a little 
shock of pleasure. God, more of that, please.

Tristan gave his prostate a gentle rub, then another. He stroked 
in and out then another circular rub that brought a sharp hiss 
from between Mulder's clenched teeth as his head tossed against 
the pillow. He tried to push up against the mouth on his cock and 
yet down against the fingers stroking up into his ass. He had two 
fingers in him now, although Mulder didn't remember when that 
happened. Everything inside his body had turned to rising 
pleasure. After long moments of this bliss, he felt Tristan 
withdraw his mouth slowly from his cock and a brush of cold air 
replaced the warmth.

"Mulder, open your eyes."

It took a moment for Mulder to obey, but with effort, he met the 
gaze of the beautiful, dark-eyed young man poised over his cock.

One look and Tristan knew Mulder was at the place where he would 
do anything to come, anything to seek absolution from the 
pleasure hell he was in. He was exactly where Tristan wanted him 
to be.

"Watch me. I'm going to make you come." Mulder nodded his 
acquiescence once and Tristan lowered his head back to Mulder's 
cock, drew him deep into his mouth and began stroking him again. 
Tristan felt the muscles of Mulder's ass clench and relax in a 
steady rhythm driving his cock deeper into his mouth.

He felt one of Mulder's hands grope forward, resting on the back 
of his head, tangling in his long hair. He looked up at Mulder 
who stared resolutely back at him, sucking in his lower lip as 
his breath got shallow at the coming pleasure. He was hanging on 
but not pushing, although from the tenseness in his fingers and 
the look in his eyes, he could tell Mulder was struggling not to. 
He would have told him that at this point he didn't really mind 
if he pushed, but his mouth happened to be full of cock at the 
moment.

Mulder was now thrusting his hips upwards, now actively seeking 
the fulfillment that was still just out of touch. Tristan wanted 
desperately to stroke his own hard shaft; his own ache only 
increasing as he saw how turned on Mulder was getting. But he 
didn't want to take his hands off Mulder's body and he was afraid 
that in one touch, he'd be gone. But mostly, the only touch he 
wanted on his cock was Mulder's and he would have that soon.

Mulder was desperate for the imminent release, for a brief scary 
moment he wondered why he couldn't come, why he was hovering, 
hovering, and couldn't quite get there. God, why couldn't he 
come? "Now, please...now," he ground out, only he was pleading 
with his own body, not Tristan.

Suddenly, the sliding movement in and out of his ass stopped, but 
Tristan's fingers remained buried deeply up inside him, filling 
him, stretching him as just the tip of one finger smoothed 
against the gland. Tristan pressed him back down into the bed and 
he felt the contractions start as he now stroked hard against the 
his prostate and deep-throated his jerking cock down to the base.

Oh Jesus God, that did it, this was it. Mulder braced one hand 
against the headboard and held on as his body decided to give up 
the torture and release him into orgasm. His lips parted as he 
groaned out sharply and shuddered. His head dropped back against 
the pillow again. His eyes closed in spite of his promise not to 
and he came hard as Tristan's mouth and fingers brought forth 
every drop of semen in his body.

"Oh fuck. Fuck me. More. Jesus, God." Tristan sucked deeply with 
each pleasure contraction; Mulder's cock buried so deep in his 
throat that he didn't even taste the semen as it went down. The 
tight ring of muscles controlling Mulder's ass clenched 
rhythmically against his fingers as he stroked him again to 
prolong his pleasure. Mulder moaned with each pulse of 
gratification as he held Tristan's head in place with an iron 
grip and his other hand clenched the headboard rung with white 
knuckles.

And then it was over. Mulder's body slowly lost the rigidity that 
had gripped him from head to toe as his muscles relaxed back into 
the mattress and pillows. He melted into that insensible after 
orgasm stage, and Tristan slowly removed his fingers from 
Mulder's ass and released his softening cock from his mouth, 
letting it lie gently back against Mulder's belly.

Jesus, Tristan thought, all this from a blowjob, what was he 
going to be like when he actually fucked him.

He looked up to Mulder's face, to see his eyes close and his 
expression go slack as he recovered. Tristan was pleased because 
he knew that look, it was the result of a job well done. But, oh 
no, you're not going to sleep, Mulder. No, no, no. Not yet. 
You've got work to do.

Tristan moved to kneel between Mulder's sprawled legs. Grasping 
his thighs he pushed them up and open even farther. He bent 
forward to lightly kiss and caress Mulder's softening cock and 
now emptied balls, as he carefully avoided any real pressure 
because of the hypersensitivity at this stage of the game. Just 
enough to keep Mulder from slipping away from him. His own cock 
was aching so badly for release that he was nearly in pain from 
it. He was just going to fucking die if he didn't come soon and 
he hadn't even touched himself.

He finally felt Mulder stir and he opened his eyes to look at 
him. Mulder's lips parted as though he was going to say 
something, but no words emerged. There was a myriad of emotions 
floating in the hazel eyes. He most certainly had that lovely, 
freshly fucked glow but there also most definitely the fear of 
the unknown lurking there too.

Mulder's gaze left his eyes and dropped apprehensively to his 
hardened cock, staring at it as though he'd never seen an 
erection before. Tristan smiled a little. Actually, it was 
entirely probable that Mulder hadn't had another man's hard penis 
staring him in the face, so to speak, at such an uncomfortably 
close range. That amused him greatly, but he decided not to make 
Mulder uncomfortable by mentioning it. Mulder looked back 
steadily, entirely willing, but still apprehensive.

Tristan was so close to coming right this moment that he knew he 
wouldn't even last past the process of spreading lube on his 
cock, let alone getting it into Mulder. It would only take a few 
touches and he'd be gone. And when he fucked Mulder, he wanted to 
do it long and hard and deep. They had time for it all, he 
decided.

He bent and lightly brushed his lips along the length of Mulder's 
soft penis. "Scoot up," he requested softly. A slight look of 
confusion crossed Mulder's eyes, but he scooted back up further 
against the big pillows until he was sitting upright. Tristan 
turned around and lay back against Mulder's chest, cradled 
between his long legs.

Mulder felt the rounded softness of Tristan's ass pressing 
against his cock. Oh, that felt nice. He felt Tristan's weight 
settle in back against him, and he brought his legs closer in to 
hold the man against him. The feel of another body pressed along 
the length of his was just fucking amazing and Mulder's lethargy 
began to fade away. He lowered his head to the curve of Tristan's 
neck and sniffed, breathing deep the scent of the man laying back 
in his arms like he was a chaise lounge.

Tristan's head settled back against his shoulder, then he reached 
out and took Mulder's right hand. "Touch me, Mulder. Do me like 
you would do yourself." He guided Mulder's hand to his chest.

Mulder's hesitated, then wrapped his arms around the other man's 
body, stroking his hands over his chest and then slowly sliding 
his right hand down until he until he encountered Tristan's 
penis. Mulder opened his hand and grasped another man's cock in 
his hand for the first time.

He held the hard shaft for just a moment and then drew his hand 
up slowly, from the base to the tip and then down. Another slow 
stroke back up, where with his thumb he circled the smooth 
rounded head, sliding over the tiny slit and then around again as 
Tristan made a small soft exclamation.

Hearing the sexual sound caused by his touch excited Mulder and 
he stroked again, falling into a natural rhythm and hand 
movement, harder and more quickly. He felt Tristan shift back 
against him, pressing into his own penis with his ass as he 
murmured, "Yes, like that."

It was a strange and heady feeling, creating the motion, feeling 
the familiarity of a hard cock in his hand, but not feeling the 
results of that touch inside his own body. But it was his 
response to Tristan's reaction that surprised him. He'd expected 
this to be a simple return for services rendered, but he was 
feeling a deep pull at this giving of pleasure. He was apparently 
doing something right, as Tristan wiggled back against him, 
cursing softly under his breath. Mulder grasped him very hard, 
the hot friction increasing when suddenly Tristan made a deep 
sound that Mulder couldn't identify. "That OK?" he asked.

A quick nod against his shoulder. "Oh yeah, God, please, Mulder. 
Do that some more."

Mulder recognized the phase Tristan was in immediately. He 
released his cock and brought his hand up to Tristan's mouth, who 
understood what he asked for. His tongue slipped out and licked 
Mulder's palm wetly and Mulder immediately applied the moisture 
down to Tristan's penis and began to work it again.

Tristan's head fell back against his shoulder and Mulder felt the 
man's body completely relax into his. Mulder opened his legs even 
further to cradle him as he began a faster stroke, getting the 
feel for what he was doing.

This was really weird. He had a penis in his hand that wasn't his 
own. It felt much the same as his own; hard, warm, smooth in some 
places, ridged in others. Tristan squirmed back against him, 
punctuating the movement with a quiet moan.

Mulder was finding a renewed pleasure he hadn't expected. With 
each stroke he bumped Tristan's body back against his own cock 
which was pressed into the soft cheeks of Tristan's ass. And he 
suddenly began to feel the familiar pressure building within 
himself, a slight hardening. A light sheen had appeared on 
Tristan's chest and Mulder smoothed his left hand over the skin, 
circling and lightly pinching the nipples under his fingers.

He felt Tristan arch back against him as his climax approached. 
"God, make me come, Mulder," he ground out in a whisper plea 
between clenched teeth. "Now. NOW!"

Mulder delivered a just few more strokes when Tristan's orgasm 
hit him hard. He felt the creamy semen spurt forth in the 
rhythmic contractions, spilling both down over his hand and up on 
to Tristan's belly and chest, covering Mulder's other hand.

Tristan's hands, which had been gripping Mulder's thighs like 
they were the arms of chair, dug into his flesh painfully as 
Mulder held him against him, still working his body. "Oh Jesus, 
Jesus."

Tristan made almost the same soft noise that Mulder knew he made 
when seized by orgasm. As he bucked hard back against him with 
the strain of climax, Mulder suddenly found himself coming again 
too. A weaker orgasm than the previous one, but still sharp 
enough to make his head spin. He felt his sticky seed spread out 
between his body and Tristan's. His hands fell away from 
Tristan's cock as a soft cry escaped him. "Oh fuck!"

For long moments, they lay sandwiched together, unable to move. 
Mulder's head fell forward as he took deep breaths, feeling 
Tristan's spent and sweaty body weight fully collapsed back 
against his. Mulder closed his eyes as he wound down from the 
high and sensible thought returned. He reached that stage where 
his brain started doing the thinking again instead of his cock.

What the hell had he just done?

Tristan slowly leaned forward, raising himself from Mulder's 
body. "God Mulder, that was--" He broke off when he felt Mulder 
move in the bed behind him, moving his legs from around him. 
Tristan looked over his shoulder and saw that he'd moved to the 
edge of the bed, swinging his legs over the side. He sat there a 
moment, looking at some distant point in the room. "Mulder?" he 
questioned. Mulder turned his eyes to meet his, but he couldn't 
for the life of him read what was going on in his mind. He was 
looking at him as though he was some strange thing he'd never 
seen before.

As Mulder looked into Tristan's dark eyes, he noted the slight 
sheen of sweat on the fair skin of his face and the still lightly 
labored breathing through the barely parted lips. He glanced back 
down at his own body and saw his own semen splattered across his 
chest and slowly slipping down his belly now that he was sitting 
up. The all-consuming pleasure that had radiated from the heat 
center of his cock and balls had passed and he felt drained as 
his penis relaxed and softened.

Dear God, what the hell was he doing here?

Suddenly Mulder stood and walked to the bathroom, feeling 
Tristan's eyes upon him, feeling as naked emotionally as he was 
physically. He shut the door behind him and unconsciously turned 
the lock, though he wasn't quite sure just what it was that he 
was locking out. He sat down on the closed toilet, resting his 
elbows on his knees and then put his hands up to his face. As he 
did so, he saw Tristan's semen still clinging to his skin. He 
lowered his hands and stared at the back of them for a long, long 
time, his mind blank. A small drop of come dripped slowly down, 
rolled to the edge of his hand, and plopped on the top of his 
foot.

That sight jolted him into thinking again. Oh God, he'd just had 
sex with another man. With a witness or a suspect, depending on 
your outlook. Oh. fuck.

How was he ever going to explain this to Scully?

How was he going to explain that he wasn't the least sorry?

God, he couldn't just keep sitting here. Mulder stood up and 
moved to the sink. He turned on the hot water and let it run in 
the sink until the steam began to rise as he rinsed his hands. He 
found a hand towel on a rack and held it under the water, then 
squeezed the excess, not caring that it was now hot enough to 
burn his hands. He ran the rough towel all over his face and then 
held it there, the heat seeping into his skin, warm and soothing 
against his closed eyes as he breathed in the steam.

As it began to cool, he slowly lowered the towel, looking at 
himself in the large mirror for the first time. The same man who 
was always in the mirror looked steadily back at him. Unblinking. 
Seemingly no different on the surface.

Except the guy he was looking at just got through having sex with 
another man. He'd been touched, aroused, and brought to orgasm by 
a member of his own sex. And he'd liked it. He'd done the same 
for Tristan. And he'd liked that too. He'd been thoroughly 
seduced.

Mulder's analytical mind went to work. Had he been seduced? The 
word implied a certain amount of unwillingness on the part of one 
of the parties.

But he hadn't been unwilling. This man got to him. And now here 
he was hiding out in the bathroom like a virgin on Prom night. 
Not because of the sex, but because he was afraid of his response 
to it.

Because he wanted more.

Oh. Fuck.

He finished cleaning himself off, picked up another towel, and 
repeated the procedure of wetting half of it. After a moment, he 
opened the door and stepped out.

Tristan was still in the bed. But he was now lying on his side, 
his back to Mulder. At the sound of opening door, he glanced back 
over his shoulder at Mulder briefly before looking back out 
towards the bedroom window.

Mulder wanted desperately to know what he was thinking and was 
just as desperately afraid to ask. Deeply aware of his nakedness, 
Mulder crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed behind 
Tristan. He looked down the long smooth line of his back, the 
defined shoulder blades and the gentle curve of his spine and the 
rounded curve of his butt. Everything about this man was young 
and beautiful.

He touched his shoulder and Tristan looked back over at him 
again. Mulder gently wiped the skin of Tristan's back where a 
small spot of his own semen still clung. He then silently offered 
him the towel and the slightest smile tugged at Tristan's mouth 
as he took it. He watched in fascination as Tristan gently wiped 
the sticky semen from his own abdomen, then moved it down to 
stroke down his now softened penis. He dried the dampened skin 
with the other end of the towel and then dropped it on the floor 
by the bed. He rolled more fully on to his back as he looked up 
at him and after a moment, he asked the question Mulder didn't 
expect.

"Are you angry with me?"

Mulder leaned over Tristan and braced one arm against the 
mattress on either side of his body as he looked down at him. He 
shook his head slightly. "No, no. Not even close. It's just..." 
Mulder paused. He wasn't good at this sharing of feelings stuff. 
In fact, he sucked at it, especially when he didn't know what the 
hell it was that he was feeling. He finally settled on a simple 
response that was still honest. "New."

Tristan considered that a moment then nodded as he sat up, the 
answer apparently having satisfied him. He rested his hand along 
Mulder's thigh, moving only his thumb, gently stroking, watching 
his hand. He seemed to be struggling with some emotion and 
somehow that made Mulder feel better. It was always better to be 
a little fucked up with company.

Tristan finally looked at him. "I wanted you so bad. I thought I 
was going to die if I didn't get to touch you."

Mulder suddenly remembered a line from a very old episode of Star 
Trek. "I think it was Mr. Spock who said that sometimes having is 
not so pleasing a thing as wanting."

Tristan leaned in close to Mulder as he smiled just slightly. "I 
watch reruns too," he said, his face just inches away. "And in 
this case Spock doesn't know shit."

Mulder ducked his head as he felt a combination of embarrassment 
and pleasure at the compliment. He raised his eyes back up to the 
incredibly handsome dark-haired man still somehow amazed that 
somebody this young, this bright, and this beautiful had actually 
wanted him. Nobody had wanted him for so long that he was feeling 
positively adolescent about all this. Jesus, any moment he was 
going to break into a rousing chorus of "I feel pretty."

"Yeah?" he asked quietly, aware that he was blatantly begging for 
reassurance, but not caring.

"Yeah."

"So thirty-seven year old virgins are kind of your thing?"

Tristan tilted his head slightly. "Well actually, Mulder, 
technically, you're still a virgin here. We've rounded third 
base, but we haven't quite slid into home just yet."

Mulder threw back his head and laughed with genuine amusement, 
and then he smiled.

Tristan again saw that goofy-assed smile and he fell in love 
right there. It happened just like that, just that quickly. God, 
who would have ever guessed this would happen to him now? How 
could he ever give this up?

Mulder saw the look in Tristan's eyes and it affected him deeply. 
He reached out and placed his hand against the side of Tristan's 
neck, his fingers gently curving around. His thumb stroked along 
the length of his jaw. Slowly he drew him forward, as he brushed 
the other man's lips with his own, drew away and then parted his 
lips softly to take another kiss from him.

And Mulder kissed him the way that Tristan had somehow known he 
was capable of. No hesitancy, no uncertainty, no doubt. He held 
Tristan's face in his hand as his tongue slid into his mouth. He 
nuzzled his lips against Tristan's, brushing, pressing, and 
delving. Mulder acted like a man starved for this kind of tender 
touch and even as Tristan responded he wondered how long it had 
been since anyone had actually kissed this man. It was a terrible 
thing if it had been too long because Mulder obviously knew the 
value of a kiss. You could jerk off eighty different ways. 
Orgasms could be easily had all by yourself.

But a kiss--a real kiss--needs another human being. There was 
simply no substitute.

However long it had been, Mulder knew what he was doing. Or maybe 
he was just doing what he liked to have done, what he needed. 
Tristan parted his lips even farther and allowed Mulder total 
entry, feeling him control and master this moment. And God, it 
felt so good, so close. Mulder's arms went around him and he 
pressed him back into the pillows as he moved over his body.

Tristan held on and returned the kiss for all he was worth 
because he needed this as much as Mulder did. It had been 
Tristan's experience that kissing was an art that was completely 
lost on most of the men he'd been with. In truth, until now, the 
best kisser Tristan had ever experienced had been the one girl 
he'd had sex with back when he was sixteen years old. But more 
often than not, the men he'd been with just seemed to view it as 
a bothersome preliminary before moving on to the good stuff. One 
of his lovers had even viewed it as feminine. He was happy to 
take Tristan's dick deep up his ass, but somehow excessive 
kissing was girly.

Men were just fucking weird sometimes.

Mulder's hands came back to hold Tristan's face and he pressed 
the softness of his lips to his nose, his eyes, and along his jaw 
before moving back to his mouth. Tristan took Mulder's lower lip 
into his mouth, sucking and nibbling. God, it was the perfect 
size for that and Tristan then softly ran just the tip of his 
tongue along the ridge just behind Mulder's front teeth and felt 
the small jolt that shot through Mulder.

Mulder jerked his mouth away for just a moment, "Ah, jeez, that 
tickles."

"I know--that's why I did it."

Mulder bent to kiss him again, his arms sliding under Tristan's 
body as he moved against him. The force of his kiss was no longer 
gentle as he pressed Tristan into the softness of the mattress. 
Mulder sprawled over the young man, their legs intertwined, their 
arms intertwined, their mutual growing erections pressed into the 
other's belly as they moved and rubbed against each other. 
Stroking with tongues and stroking their bodies against the 
other.

Slowly, Mulder loosened his grip on Tristan only slightly as his 
lips began their journey downward. Tristan instantly missed the 
warmth and taste of him but at the same time the other things his 
hands and lips were doing soon made up for the loss. Mulder 
buried his face in the crevice where Tristan's' shoulder and neck 
met, licking at the salty sweat that had accumulated there. He 
placed both his hands against Tristan's chest, feeling the 
hardness of the nipple in the center of each palm. For the first 
time, Mulder felt a strangeness. He was used to, and liked, the 
soft weight and gentle curve of a woman's breast fitting into his 
hand. Oddly enough, he found that he missed that slightly.

But this wasn't half-bad. In fact, it was nice. He bent his head 
down to taste Tristan's nipple, licking it and feeling the hard 
nub against his tongue. He then settled in and began to suck in 
earnest, feeling the slight quiver that rolled through the other 
man's body as he did so. Yeah, this was damned nice. And since 
Tristan seemed to like what he was doing, Mulder settled into a 
mindless phase of giving the other man some pleasure.

Scully's breasts were just the right size, he thought idly as he 
suckled. Not that he'd ever had any personal hands-on experience 
with them, per se. When he'd been wrapping her naked body up in 
his clothes in the Antarctic, it hardly seemed the right moment 
to feel her up. And of course, the clothes she wore usually did a 
wonderful job of hiding the fact that a feminine body lurked 
underneath. Once in a rare while, she'd wear something more form 
fitting and he'd be reminded that his partner had breasts. Very 
nice ones, actually.

Mulder suddenly realized the complete weirdness of thinking about 
Scully's breasts while he had Tristan's nipple in his mouth and 
was enjoying it quite thoroughly, thank you very much. He smiled 
in self-amusement and laughed silently, knowing the man 
underneath his hands and lips probably wouldn't understand. Every 
once in a while, he even managed to amaze himself with how his 
mind could make these leaps in logic.

Oh well, he'd always been good at multi-tasking.

Mulder slowly moved his head over to kiss Tristan's other nipple, 
teasing with his tongue, flicking back and forth. He felt 
Tristan's hand on the back of his head, holding him against him. 
Mulder parted his lips and sucked the nipple deeply into his 
mouth, as his arms encircled Tristan's body again. God, there was 
something so deeply satisfying about doing this, he thought 
absently. It went beyond sexual to that more primal bonding of 
warmth and comfort and security.

"Oh God, that feels good," he heard Tristan murmur, as he felt 
his fingers grasp onto his hair. "Oh yeah, just like that. Oh 
fuck, that's good. Jesus, you're good at this."

OK, it was sexual too, Mulder thought, feeling absurdly happy 
that he'd made Tristan feel good. It had been a long, long time 
since he'd made anyone besides himself feel good sexually. It 
made him feel whole. It made him feel worthy. He seemed to be 
doing OK for once.

"Really?" Mulder asked, lifting his lips a moment. "Good, cause I 
was worried."

"Worried?"

"Yeah, it's been about five years since I've done this." Mulder 
reached up and kissed him warmly.

Tristan was a little confused and he pulled gently from the kiss. 
"I thought you said you'd never been with a guy?"

"I haven't been." He reached for another kiss.

Tristan put his hands on Mulder's chest and pushed him back just 
slightly, looking into his eyes. "Wait - you mean there hasn't 
been anybody in five years? Nobody at all?"

"Not unless you count my right hand."

Tristan just stared at him a moment, incredulous. "Jesus Christ, 
what a fucking waste," he finally said.

Mulder smiled at the compliment. "Thank you, I think."

As he looked at Tristan, Mulder's heart was getting tugged. He'd 
known he could trust this man not to make fun of him or make him 
feel stupid and he'd been right. He laid his cheek against the 
hollow of Tristan's heart, listening, and feeling the heartbeat. 
Mulder's hand slid down Tristan's abdomen, tracing his fingertips 
lightly over the skin until he reached the other man's penis.

He took it in his hand. It already felt more familiar, it didn't 
feel like his own cock anymore, it felt like Tristan's. He turned 
his head, looking at what he held in his hand. Then within two 
moments, his mouth closed over the head of the hard shaft.

Tristan lay back and let Mulder have charge of his body, knowing 
he was the recipient of Mulder's first blowjob. He hadn't even 
had to ask him; he'd just gone ahead and done it as though he'd 
wanted to. God, Mulder had wanted to. That thought right there 
nearly made him come.

Mulder's mouth, though inexpertly applied, was still pushing all 
the right buttons. He tried, but couldn't quite get his cock all 
the way down his throat. Tristan knew it took a while to learn to 
do that and right this moment, he didn't feel the need to 
instruct. And besides, he knew from personal experience that 
giving your first blow job was enough work without someone 
babbling instructions at you. His own first had been a nightmare 
with the guy he was with telling him everything that he was doing 
wrong.

And besides, he didn't really need any help because it was 
feeling pretty fucking damn good as it was. Mulder's mouth now 
concentrated on the head of his shaft as his hand encircled the 
root and stoked upward and then down with the same rhythm as his 
mouth. Tristan watched Mulder put his best effort into making him 
feel good. And God, it felt good, just plain damn good.

The bottom line was that there were few bad blowjobs, mostly only 
great, stunning and mind blowing and this one was rapidly working 
its way up through the levels of stunning. Ah jeez, he was going 
to come, he was right there. Right there.

"Mulder!"

Mulder stopped what he was doing and looked up at him. He 
released Tristan's cock from his mouth and hand. He had a 
confused expression as though he thought he'd done something 
wrong. God, this guy was a fucking mess of insecurity. He smiled 
to alleviate the other man's anxiety as he tried to back his body 
back from the edge. "Mulder, it's time to slide into home plate."

Mulder stared at him as though he didn't know what he meant. But 
he knew what he meant.

All of sudden, Mulder felt awkward again. Not that he didn't know 
what to do. Fucking was fucking. But the prep work was a little 
different, and he wasn't sure on the rules on the whole top and 
bottom thing. Actually, he didn't know for sure if there even 
were any rules. Actually, he didn't even know what the fuck it 
was that he didn't know.

He did know that he wanted the feel of his cock buried in a warm, 
tight sheath. That was familiar; that was what he knew. But he 
also wondered what it felt like to be that sheath.

While he'd certainly been fucked over many times in his life, 
he'd never literally been fucked. He'd never been...what was that 
hackneyed phrase? He'd never been taken. It was something he'd 
only ever considered vaguely and with a slight dismay at that. 
But the thought of being taken by Tristan aroused and excited 
him. It also scared him to death.

Shit, this was all just too damn complicated and Mulder suddenly 
remembered just why he'd avoided all of this for years.

"Mulder?" Tristan's voice interrupted his train of thought. 
"Mulder, where have you gone?" He looked over and Tristan had 
this slightly bemused look on his face.

Mulder felt embarrassed that he'd spaced out. "I - I don't know 
what happens next... I mean, I know what to do, but I don't know 
who... I mean, I mean...fuck!"

Mercifully, Tristan reached down and pulled him up to stop his 
babbling with a deep kiss. When he drew back, he smiled at him, 
laughing gently, but not unkindly. "I'm afraid I don't have a 
copy of the homosexual FAQ with me, Mulder. So just trust me on 
this, OK?"

He rolled him over on his back, covering Mulder's body with his 
own. He slid his arms around the slender man, pinning Mulder's 
arms to his sides as their legs tangled together and their 
erections pressed together between their bellies. He held Mulder 
still as he kissed him deeply and rocked against him slowly, the 
fucking motion, providing the delicious contact he needed.

Even as Mulder accepted the kiss and the warm pleasure it 
brought, he felt immobilized by the strength around him and the 
weight on top of him. It was different and he wasn't sure that he 
liked that. Tristan was as tall as he was, but was a little 
heavier and probably stronger. Mulder was feeling a little 
overwhelmed physically. He felt almost claustrophobic though he'd 
never felt that way in his life before and certainly never during 
sex. The rocking motion of Tristan's hips against his and the 
thrusting of his cock against his belly sent mixed signals to 
Mulder's overstressed mind.

Just as his brain started to send a signal to his body to begin a 
struggle, Tristan slowly released his grip on Mulder, looking 
into his eyes, allowing a bit more freedom of movement, backing 
off. "Mulder, it's not about top and bottom," he said quietly. 
"It's about feeling good."

Mulder nodded, understanding it was his choice. Tristan took his 
face in his hands and kissed him again and then smiled with that 
sweet humor that Mulder was coming to know and expect from him. 
"And Mulder, what would make me feel really good is to have your 
cock really deep up my ass." He kissed his neck as Mulder's arms 
slid around his body to hold him against him. "Please fuck me, 
Mulder," he whispered in his ear. "I really, really need you to 
fuck me." He drew back to meet Mulder's eyes.

Mulder stared up at him a moment. Please fuck me Mulder. Those 
were just words he'd never in his life expected to hear from 
another man. The thought of it coursed through his veins in an 
hot rush. God, it was something he wanted to do so much that he 
ached with the need.

"Good," he answered Tristan's kiss, sliding his hands into the 
shaggy dark hair of the other man and holding on. "Because I 
really, really need to fuck you."

They both laughed and Tristan kissed him again. "Then here we 
go."

Tristan rolled off from on top of Mulder and stretched out next 
to him on his stomach. He laid his head down on his crossed arms 
and looked over at Mulder, serious now. "Mulder, I'm clean. I 
want you to know that."

Mulder ran his hand down the length of Tristan's back, caressing 
his gently rounded ass, kneading slightly, enjoying the firmness. 
He looked up into his brown eyes and nodded solemnly, 
acknowledging Tristan's statement. Mulder's fingers found the 
tightly puckered opening and lightly applied some pressure, just 
testing the resistance.

Tristan drew a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, Mulder. Do that 
again."

Mulder leaned in close to Tristan's ear. "Tell me what you want."

Truth was all he wanted was to feel Mulder touch him in almost 
any manner whatsoever. He didn't need a whole hell of a lot of 
prep but he wanted to feel Mulder doing it. He wanted Mulder to 
experience doing it. "Get the lube."

Mulder reached over and grabbed the tube, squeezing a generous 
amount on his fingers.

"Now you need to get it inside me."

Turning back to Tristan, he smoothed one hand down his spine as 
he pressed his finger into Tristan's ass, sinking deeply, 
stroking, and pushing the lube inside. He felt the sphincter 
muscles contract tightly around his finger. God, what was that 
going to feel like on his cock?

Mulder began to press his lips all along the small of Tristan's 
back as he worked Tristan's ass. He remembered something that 
Tristan had done earlier. He curled his fingers down slightly as 
he stoked in and out, searching firmly for his prostrate, not 
knowing what the hell it felt like, but knowing he'd found it 
when Tristan suddenly uttered a cry deep in his throat.

"Oh, damn, damn. That's good. Wait, not too hard, you'll make me 
come, I'm so close. I don't want it to be over yet."

"Sorry," Mulder said, backing off slightly, then leaning in and 
nipping gently at the flesh of Tristan's ass.

Tristan laughed, "No, stroking is good, stroking is our friend. 
Just with less enthusiasm. You can use two fingers."

As he kissed and stroked the warm soft skin, Mulder added a 
second finger to the mix, fucking Tristan with his fingers, 
lightly bumping the prostate.

"Oh that's good. Perfect. Now spread your fingers just a little." 
Mulder did as he was asked, opening the tightly clenched muscle, 
feeling the resistance as Tristan squirmed under him. "Yes. 
That's right. You can go with three in a bit if you want."

Mulder felt his own cock harden even more, throbbing with want, 
as he watched his fingers sink in and out of the other man's 
body.

"Jesus Mulder, are you sure you haven't done this before?" 
Tristan asked.

Mulder laughed a little and withdrew his fingers very slowly to 
add some more lube. He leaned down to kiss the side of Tristan's 
face, as he managed to push three inside this time. The younger 
man turned to catch his lips with his own as Mulder's fingers 
slipped from his body.

Tristan turned over onto his back. "I want to be able to look at 
you." He slid one of the pillows under his hips, raising himself 
up to the man who knelt between his legs, watching his every move 
with arousal filled eyes. Tristan knew at this point, Mulder was 
ready to fuck a block of Swiss cheese if necessary. But he needed 
to be told one last thing. "I really want to really feel you, 
Mulder. But it's up to you, I mean, it's OK if you don't want to. 
There are condoms in the drawer."

Mulder just shook his head. Tristan brought his legs up and 
Mulder moved forward, taking his cock in his hand and guiding it 
to the tiny opening. He pressed forward with a relentless 
pressure. Suddenly the rectum's resistance gave way and he 
managed to push the head forward past the tight constriction.

With a grunt and closing his eyes with the effort, Mulder bore 
down, feeling the muscle ring slide the length of his cock as he 
moved forward until his balls came to rest against Tristan's ass. 
Mulder was in.

Oh my God.

For a moment, he couldn't move, the sensation was too extreme. 
Jesus, he'd never felt anything so tight, and for just a moment, 
he didn't see how in the hell he couldn't be hurting Tristan. He 
felt Tristan grip his arms. He opened his eyes and looked down at 
the man, completely open to him, taking his body inside his own. 
And he was sure it was hurting him.

"God, Tristan--"

"It's OK. It's good. Come on."

Mulder pulled back slightly and pressed forward again, grinding 
his hips in before going still again as he felt his body's 
reactions begin to surge. He froze and squeezed his eyes tightly 
shut, concentrating. After a few seconds, he heard Tristan's 
voice.

"It works better if you move, Mulder."

"No," he whispered.

"NO?"

"Fuck, you're so tight, one move and I'll come. Wait. Shit. I 
can't fucking believe this." His voice was rough, almost angry.

As Tristan looked up, he could see that Mulder was shaking with 
the effort of holding back his impending orgasm. He was actually 
worried about him. "Jesus, Mulder, come if you want to. It's OK, 
I'll survive."

"NO!"

After a moment, Mulder withdrew agonizingly slowly from Tristan's 
body, until just the head of his cock remained inside. He reached 
down and applied an old masturbation trick, pressing in on that 
spot on his cock that would back him away from the edge. Almost 
immediately, Mulder felt some control return, the orgasm pushed 
back just slightly. All those years of self-abuse were finally 
good for something.

Gulping in a deep breath of air, he turned his attention back to 
Tristan and began to fuck him. Slowly and gently, letting the 
pleasure build back up within. Tristan managed to hitch his legs 
up even higher, giving him deep access with his stokes. Mulder 
braced his weight evenly on his hands and put his back into the 
fucking motion, moving with an intensity of years of not getting 
to do this rhythm within another person. He was breathing hard 
though his mouth, as what little hot blood that wasn't in his 
hard shaft rushed up to his head.

Mulder's chest and belly rubbed along the sensitive head of 
Tristan's cock as he moved over him. Tristan reached between 
their bodies and grasped his own penis, stroking along the length 
of his shaft, feeling the pleasure there. The stimulation of 
Mulder's thrusts against his prostate were intensifying and his 
long movements in and out of his ass and the feeling of being 
entirely filled within pushed him to the edge and suddenly over, 
taking him by surprise.

Tristan came on a particularly hard inward stroke. He continued 
to come as the contractions pulsed through his body and his semen 
splattered upward. His head felt swimmy and the pulsing shots 
almost painful. He reached up seeking Mulder's kiss, which he 
received, as he fell down, down, down into the warm satisfaction. 
A few moments later he lay back, recovering, and breathing deep.

Mulder, who had been so worried about coming too soon, continued 
his long, deep movements, taking his time and his pleasure from 
the body impaled by his own. He leveraged back now, taking 
Tristan's legs in his hands, relieving him of some of the 
pressure as he intensified his thrust.

God, Tristan thought, Oh, God this was good. The initial burning 
he always felt at anal sex had long left and now there was just 
the motion and the sensation of being filled and feeling so close 
to another. Tristan felt each filling stoke, each withdraw and 
return. Even in his post-orgasm stage, his feelings all 
concentrated down to his stretched out ass and the cock pushing 
into him, sliding back and forth through the tight ring of the 
rectum.

And watching Mulder was almost the best part.

Mulder grunted out something incomprehensible with his last few 
thrusts and began to come. His body jerked and he held himself 
deep inside, emptying up his balls inside Tristan. The pleasure 
shook him, he actually fucking felt it down in his toes.

He collapsed down onto Tristan, still buried deep inside, 
breathing hard. Tristan crossed his legs gently over Mulder's 
back and rested them there. He liked the feel of Mulder 
encompassing him. He knew it would be over soon and didn't want 
it to end. He was in no hurry to have the other man leave his 
body.

Everything had turned to sensation for Mulder. The smell and the 
sweat and the feel of being inside another person again. He felt 
the hands on his back, smoothing and stroking as the lethargy 
overtook him. He felt heavy as though gravity had doubled. He had 
no strength in his arms to raise his body. He could hardly raise 
his head from where is was buried in the crook of Tristan's neck. 
He didn't want to. He could just die right here. That would be 
fine.

But he was mindful of Tristan's comfort and he roused himself. He 
leveraged back and withdrew smoothly and gently from the man 
below him. Tristan lowered his legs and Mulder eased down on to 
his side next to him. They lay side by side for a long time, each 
coming back down from their intense exertion. Mulder's eyes were 
closed when he heard Tristan's voice.

"Will you stay the night?"

Mulder wasn't sure he ever wanted to leave. But he didn't say 
that to Tristan. Instead he turned towards him, reached out, and 
tugged the other man back into his arms. Mulder had so many 
things he wanted to say, he wanted to tell Tristan how he felt 
right at this moment, but he'd gone completely inarticulate. 
Tristan rolled against him and settled into his arms. After a 
moment, he heard his quiet voice against his chest.

"Oh, Mulder, you make me feel good. Thank you."

Soft emotion flooded Mulder at the words, something like tears, 
but not quite. God, feeling alive and whole and wanted. He could 
get used this. Of course, he was going to stay.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

In the night, Mulder's sleep was broken apart by a sound he 
didn't place immediately. As he became more fully aware, he 
realized that the sound was coming from the man lying next to 
him. He rolled over, looking towards Tristan in the moonlight. He 
was sleeping on his stomach and Mulder again heard the low 
keening noise. It was like someone trying to scream but unable to 
get the sound fully out. Caught in that terrible dream where you 
are trying to cry out, but you can't. It was the sound of fear. 
He saw the muscles in Tristan's back twitch involuntarily as he 
struggled against something in his dream. He touched Tristan's 
shoulder gently then shook him a little harder when he didn't 
respond.

"Tristan, wake up. Hey, come on."

After a moment the noise stopped and Tristan raised his head 
sharply from the pillow. He took a gasping deep breath, and his 
expression was disoriented when he looked over at him. Mulder 
could see that for just a instant, Tristan didn't know who he 
was. But then he blinked, and recognition came into his eyes as 
they focused on him.

"Were you dreaming?" Mulder asked.

Tristan nodded once and swallowed. His eyes darted around the 
room as though looking for something. A light sweat covered his 
forehead and although it was hot, Mulder knew that it wasn't from 
the weather.

"Hold on, let me get you something to drink." Mulder got up and 
entered the bathroom. When he returned with a glass of water, 
Tristan was now sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He took the 
water Mulder brought him and drained the glass empty.

Mulder sat on the bed facing him, reached out, and touched 
Tristan's arm. "You OK?"

Tristan nodded and rubbed his eyes some more. "God, I don't even 
remember falling asleep." He smiled wanly. "It's been so long 
since I've done it."

"Did you see anything?"

"I never got a clear view of anything in my head. It was just..." 
He stopped and squinted a moment as though trying to see 
something still in his mind. "It's like I was driving down a dark 
road. But something was wrong. It was like there was something 
following me or after me. I felt menaced.''

"The road where were we today?"

"I don't know. It could be any road. I was trying to see what it 
was. I think I woke up before I could really comprehend what was 
happening."

Mulder stood up and took the glass from Tristan, taking back it 
to the bathroom. As he came back, he glanced out the window to 
the moon above. He lowered his gaze to the back yard surrounded 
by the trees of the hills behind the house.

There was evil out there somewhere. It had come into this house, 
into Tristan's mind somehow. He stood by the window looking out 
at the darkness where the evil was. Shit. Maybe he shouldn't have 
woken Tristan up. But he couldn't let him lie there and suffer in 
fear from night terrors. God, he didn't know what to do. How was 
he going to stop this thing?

Breaking through his reverie, Tristan's soft voice issued a 
request that drew his attention and demanded that he obey.

"Mulder, come back to bed."

And so he did.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Waking up with another body curled into yours was a most 
undeniably nice experience, Mulder decided. This was something 
else that he could get used to.

He'd been awake for some time now, just looking at the Tristan, 
who seemed peaceful finally. When Mulder had returned to bed last 
night, Tristan had nestled up against the side of his body and 
had settled in for the duration. After his nightmare, the tension 
radiated from his body and it had taken him a long time to relax 
again. All Mulder could do was watch over him until Tristan's 
eyes finally closed and he slipped into a light dreamless sleep. 
He was at rest finally.

And Mulder hated to wake him now, but he'd looked at his watch 
and he had to get going. But he didn't want to slip out and just 
leave him with a note. That just didn't seem right and he didn't 
want Tristan to think he was sneaking out. It was true that this 
thing had layered many new complications onto his already 
complicated life and there were possible consequences. But it's 
not like there wasn't precedent for tossing aside convention in 
his life. But he had no regrets.

Mulder reached out and shook his shoulder gently. "Hey...I have 
to get going." After a moment Tristan lifted his head and peered 
up at him through his sleep-tousled hair causing Mulder to smile 
at the sight.

"You look like a mop," he said as he pushed the hair off 
Tristan's face so he could see him.   He has such beautiful 
eyes, Mulder thought yet again, warm and full of light. And this 
morning, some of the sadness was gone. But the bruise on 
Tristan's cheek had darkened in the night and Mulder sadly ran 
his fingers gently over it.

Suddenly, Tristan was over all him, kissing him deeply and he 
felt the roughness of his unshaven cheek against his. Mulder 
melted into the kiss, and the feel of Tristan's hands on his 
body. None of this was helping to diminish his morning hard on 
and he was surprised at the strength of his craving. He pulled 
back just a bit; he really needed to stop this.

"Tristan, I have to go."

Tristan nodded his head. "This will just take a moment."

Mulder's completely token protest went unanswered as Tristan then 
proceeded to kiss his way down his chest. He pushed the sheet 
down as he worked, uncovering Mulder's body slowly as he moved 
his way towards his belly, dipping his tongue deep into his navel 
and feeling the muscles twitch under his hands.

With little preliminary, he grasped Mulder's cock and took it in 
his mouth. He worked his way softly around the head and then slid 
down and back up, quick and hard. Mulder couldn't believe how 
aroused he became so fast. God, this was wonderful and he forgot 
that he needed to go because all he needed now was to come.

Seconds slipped into minutes as he felt Tristan's tongue slide 
over the slit and then down to tease along the ridge of his cock 
head before deep-throating him all way down as his movements 
became quicker and harder. The intense stimulation brought Mulder 
to the quickest orgasm of his life as he cried out at its sudden 
arrival. As the gentle pleasure waves wafted through his body, 
Mulder suddenly felt boneless as he gasped for air.

Tristan looked up at him. "OK, you can go now," he said with a 
wicked smile.

"Go?...I can't even move...Bastard," Mulder groused.

Tristan laughed and crawled back up Mulder's body to kiss him 
again. As he did so, Mulder felt Tristan's erection bump into his 
hip and he slipped his hand down under the sheet to grasp on to 
it.

Tristan made a low sound in his throat as he drew away from the 
kiss. "Mulder, it's OK, I know you have to go."

"Oh, trust me, I have time for this." Mulder's head disappeared 
under the sheet.

He felt Mulder's mouth on his penis, kissing it softly and then 
licking down the hard length. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the 
sensations; the cool sheet over his body and the warm, wet mouth 
tonguing his balls. Mulder drew them into his mouth and caressed 
them with his tongue before releasing him and moving back up to 
take his cock back in his mouth. The fact that he couldn't see 
Mulder under the sheet was kind of exciting and heightened the 
feeling in his body.

"Oh, Mulder, you're definitely getting good at this."

"Thank you," the sound of Mulder's voice from under the sheet 
reached him before the intense sucking sensation resumed. 
Mulder's tongue swirled around the head, tracing the ridge and 
then swallowing him down, deeper than ever before, fucking 
Tristan with his mouth.

Oh God, he needed to tell him, Tristan thought. He really needed 
to tell him before it happened just in case he cared. 
"Mulder...Mulder I'm going to come." The only response from the 
man who had his cock in his mouth was to increase the motion. 
With a deep groan, Tristan came into Mulder's mouth.

Mulder tasted another man's come for the first time, swallowing 
it down as Tristan's body jerked beneath his hands. It tasted 
slightly different than his own, a little funky. Not something 
he'd want as salad dressing, but not something he felt the need 
to spit out either. He'd heard women say that different men 
tasted differently and now he knew that it was true. He slowly 
withdrew his mouth from the softening penis. He rested his head 
against Tristan's hip a moment, as he felt a hand stroke through 
his hair affectionately.

Tristan lifted the sheet to peek down at him. "You can't stay 
under there forever, Mulder, as much as I'd like you to."

Mulder smiled as he looked up, amazed at how good it had felt to 
return the pleasure back to Tristan. Pushing the sheet back, he 
moved up to kiss him when suddenly, his cell phone began to ring, 
bringing with it a sharp, hard, unwanted reality.

There was only one person who'd be calling him. After a moment, 
Mulder leaned over Tristan and dug his phone out of the heap of 
clothes on the floor.

"Mulder."

"Hey, it's me. Are you awake?"

Tristan felt Mulder's body tense up as it lay over his. "Yeah, 
I'm up."

"Want to grab some breakfast before we head over to the Sheriff's 
office?"

Mulder glanced at his watch again. "Ah...yeah, sure. How about I 
meet you at the diner in about a half-hour? I need to take a 
shower and make a phone call to Dr. Hawley."

"Sure. I need to send a couple of emails. I'll see you there." 
Scully disconnected.

Mulder tossed the phone on the bed. He sat up, swung his legs 
over the side of bed, and hurriedly reached down to find his 
underwear. He didn't say anything to Tristan or look at him. He 
snagged a hold of his jeans and began to pull them on.

"You OK?"

Mulder nodded, but still didn't look at him as he stood to pull 
his jeans on the rest of the way on and started to button the 
fly. He bent down to retrieve his shirt and slipped his arms into 
it. He slid his hands down the front of his shirt, and began to 
button it from the bottom, slowly covering up bits of his chest. 
Tristan watched this reverse strip tease with fascination. Like 
the other day, Mulder's movements were totally unconscious and 
completely sexy. The man truly didn't have a clue.

But while watching Mulder dress was an incredibly appealing 
sight, his mood change raised a question in Tristan's mind.

"Have you slept with your partner?"

Mulder stopped what he was doing and now looked at him directly a 
moment. "No," he said finally as he flipped back the tucked-in 
collar on his shirt. "No. What I told you last night was the 
truth."

"Then why are you acting like you just got caught cheating on 
someone?"

Mulder sat on the edge of the bed and began to pull his socks on 
and then his boots. He was clearly thinking about the question, 
trying to make something work out in his mind.

"Because somehow, I feel like I have," he finally answered. He 
shook his head as he examined the feeling. "There's no good 
reason for it and I shouldn't be feeling that way. But I do." 
Mulder finished tying his shoes.

"Are you in love with her?"

Mulder stood and looked down as he rolled up his sleeves, seeming 
to be concentrating on that. Unexpectedly, an ironic sounding 
snicker escaped from him as he looked back up at Tristan. He was 
actually gently laughing with that same self-mocking tone that 
Tristan had heard in the Sheriff's station yesterday.

"Of course I'm in love with her. But I keep thinking I'll get 
over it."

Tristan shook his head, admiring his honesty. "Mulder," he said 
with a smile and no rancor, "You just might be even more screwed 
up than me."

Mulder leaned over the bed and took Tristan's face in his hands, 
kissing his mouth hard. "Easily," he answered with a grin. He 
then touched his lips so gently to the bruise on his cheekbone 
and drew away slowly, looking him in the eyes. That kiss, even 
more than the other, made Tristan's stomach tremble.

"I'll call you when Dr. Hawley gets in."

Mulder picked up his cell phone and was out the door, leaving 
Tristan to watch him go. After a moment, he got up and headed to 
the bathroom.

Mulder made it back to the motel in record time. He parked in the 
back lot, ran in, and took a shower even as he regretted washing 
the smell of Tristan from his body. As he dressed, he called Dr. 
Hawley. He would be here about noon. He made it across the street 
to the diner and wasn't even terribly late. Scully was already 
there sitting in a booth by the window and reading the local 
paper over a cup of coffee.

He slid into the booth across from her. "I'm sorry I'm late. Have 
you been here long?"

She shook her head as she folded the paper closed and smiled at 
him. "No, I just got here. I was just reading about farmer 
Brown's two-headed calf birth."

"Gee Scully, maybe we can find full time X-file work here."

She laughed a little and he looked at the sun gleaming off of her 
rich red hair. He stared at his partner as she looked over the 
menu and tried to pull his thoughts into order and they rambled 
unfettered through his overstressed head.

Hey Scully I know we've only been here three days but you see 
I've met this guy and while I don't know if it's love it's 
certainly something and we've been fucking our brains out and he 
makes me feel whole and wanted and maybe I do love him, I don't 
know what the fuck is going on at all, what I do know is that I 
think about him constantly and I'm scared that I won't be able to 
help him and God, Scully, you look pretty this morning, why do 
you have to look so pretty this morning, it's going to make it so 
hard to tell you what I need to tell you and I know I have to 
tell you about this because you know everything there is to know 
about me so I need to tell you this too. I think I love him, 
Scully. Oh fuck, I think I love him...

"Mulder?"

He snapped out of his internal monologue and his attention was 
drawn back to his partner. "What?"

"What time is Dr. Hawley coming in?"

"He should be here by noon. He's going to meet us at the 
Sheriff's station. I'll call Tristan Hunt--"

"You'll call Tristan Hunt what?"

Mulder's head snapped up at the voice he heard. Tristan was 
standing next to the table, grinning at his own small joke. Oh 
Jesus. He had showered and was standing there all clean and 
bright and beautiful. His dark hair just brushed his shoulder and 
gleamed in the morning sun. He was wearing a T-shirt that showed 
off his lean, young body and jeans that were worn in all the 
right places and his bare feet were shoved into beaten up 
moccasins. He looked splendid and Mulder felt light-headed at the 
surge of feeling just looking at him brought about.

And there wasn't a doubt in Mulder's mind that Tristan was here 
checking out his competition. Fuck. He didn't know whether to be 
pleased or dismayed.

Scully looked up at him too. But if she was a little nonplused 
that a man she wasn't entirely sure wasn't a murderer was 
standing there, she hid it well. "Mr. Hunt, we're just having 
breakfast, would you like to join us?"

"Yeah, thanks. I usually eat alone." He slid into the booth next 
to Scully, smiling at her. "I don't cook, so I pretty much live 
here."

Tristan and Scully made small talk about the fact that the food 
was actually good here until the waitress came to take their 
order. Mulder noticed that she had a coldness when she spoke to 
Tristan and she was clearly curious about who he and Scully were. 
After the waitress brought their meals, Scully noticed the bruise 
on Tristan's face. "Do you mind me asking what happened?"

"There was a little fight at the bar last night. Some people got 
out of line. It happens."

"You all right?"

Tristan nodded and he moved his eyes from hers to Mulder's. "Oh, 
yeah," he said slowly, looking at him. "I'm all better now."

Mulder felt a slight blush come over his cheeks as he looked over 
at his partner and his lover sitting side by side. He looked down 
and dug into his scrambled eggs.

It was then that he felt it. It was a foot and it was very 
deliberately sliding slowly up along the length of his leg and 
back down. Aside from the fact that her little legs were probably 
too short to reach across under the table, he certainly knew it 
wasn't Scully.

He moved his leg away slightly and looked up. Both Scully and 
Tristan seemed to be concentrating on their meals. A moment later 
the foot was back, running up the inside of leg that time. 
Tristan, who continued eating and nodding at whatever Scully was 
babbling about, now looked over at him from under his lashes. 
Mulder gave him his best, "knock it off" look in return, and the 
foot slid slowly away.

But two minutes later, it was back. This time it was between his 
legs, the bare toes just barely flexing over his crotch. Mulder 
sat up straighter in the booth, seeking escape. Fucking little 
bastard, he could feel himself getting a little hard. Shit. This 
was just too damn surreal. He was getting felt up in public in 
front of his partner.

He noticed that for a trained investigator, Scully didn't appear 
to notice any of these going-ons. Thank God. He drew in a quiet 
sharp breath and that apparently satisfied Tristan. He stopped 
the sensuous toe massage and mercifully left Mulder alone. The 
rest of the meal went well.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Unfortunately, the session that afternoon with Dr. Hawley didn't 
go nearly as well. Tristan was cooperative and Dr. Hawley was 
skilled, but in the end, he brought forth no more information 
than he had before.

Mulder had watched the proceedings, feeling Tristan's sense of 
failure. Though he said nothing to Mulder directly, occasionally 
their eyes would meet and he could see his struggle as he tried 
to make sense of what he was seeing. He watched Tristan try so 
hard to find the truth and yet fail. He knew that disappointment 
all too well.

Tristan could clearly see where bodies ended up. He could see the 
pain inflicted, but he couldn't see the where and the who. Dr. 
Hawley tried several different techniques to no avail. By that 
afternoon, everyone agreed that they'd gone as far as they could 
for that day and both Tristan and the doctor left.

Mulder had not had the opportunity for any private conversation 
with Tristan before he left and that left him both frustrated and 
agitated.

Not surprisingly, he and Scully were at odds over the direction 
to take the investigation. They were halfway through their 
standard argument on the validity of his hypothesis when Deputy 
Simmons tracked them down to tell them that another body had been 
found off the highway.

Mulder and Scully arrived on the cordoned off scene in the late 
afternoon. Sheriff Carmichael was already there as were some 
other deputies, medics, and the coroner's van. On first glance it 
seemed to be much the same as the others; a bloody and bruised 
body, a shot gun blast to the face probably delivered post 
mortem. Just from a quick examination, Scully could tell that the 
actual death had occurred not too long ago, perhaps within the 
last 24 hours. Photographs and measurements were taken, the area 
carefully scrutinized for any evidence and anything that looked 
even a little out of place was bagged and tagged. There were some 
footprints around the body that they made casts of. A wallet was 
found on the body, full of money and ID. Another person dead for 
no apparent reason.

It was nine p.m. before the dead man was loaded and taken back to 
the coroner's office. Scully was going to follow on to Casper and 
perform the autopsy tonight. Deputy Simmons took her back to the 
station so she could gather her files. Mulder, who'd been 
questioning the two kids who had found the body while out running 
their dog, arrived shortly thereafter. He found Scully alone in 
the briefing room. She was just hanging up the phone.

"Are you off to Casper?"

"Yes, the Sheriff is letting me borrow the station car. I want to 
get at it tonight since this guy seems to be escalating his 
attacks and it doesn't look like your witness is going to be of 
any use to us."

Mulder recognized the tone in her voice immediately. She was 
frustrated and had decided he'd been wasting their time. "I think 
it's a little early to call it quits, Scully."

She turned to him. "Well, he sure as hell didn't seem to have his 
magic powers at work on this one."

Of course, this wasn't true. Tristan had started to form a dream 
vision last night. But he'd unthinkingly woken him up and had 
disturbed the natural process. But he couldn't tell Scully this 
just yet. So instead, he hedged his answer. "We haven't given it 
enough time, Scully. You've been through hypnosis. You know that 
all of the memories aren't recovered in just a few sessions."

"Oh, Mulder--why won't you admit this isn't working?" She looked 
up at him a moment and he could see she was pondering something. 
"I suspect that Tristan Hunt's visions may be an elaborate scheme 
of a delusional mind. You know how well people can cover their 
tracks. He may not actually be doing the murders, but he may very 
well be an accomplice. He may be helping facilitate the entire 
process and telling us about it feeds into his feelings of 
power."

"You have no evidence to support that."

"Actually, I do Mulder. I just got off the phone with the tavern 
where he works. You remember that bruise on his face this 
morning? I thought that seemed a little strange. Well, it turns 
out that he didn't break up a fight last night--he was the focus 
of it. And after it happened, Tristan Hunt left work early."

"So?"

"So, we don't know where he was when this murder occurred last 
night."

Suddenly Mulder knew where Scully was going with this. Shit. Oh 
shit.

Scully was rattling on as she flipped open a folder and began to 
look at some notes she'd written. "Yeah, apparently what actually 
happened is that he was jumped on by a couple of the locals in 
what the manager said was a gay-bashing. He lied to us this 
morning."

"I think he just didn't want to tell you that he was a victim. I 
don't really think that's a lie."

Scully frowned at him. "But that's all the more reason to check 
into this, Mulder. If Tristan Hunt has been hiding what he is for 
all these years, he's been living two lives. His anger at that 
may be causing him to strike back..."

"Jesus Christ, Scully, what are you saying? Gay people who aren't 
out are serial killers? What the fuck kind of investigation is 
that?"

Scully looked surprised at his outburst. "Of course not, Mulder, 
but people who feel persecuted or alienated, especially over a 
long period of time, often act out on that feeling of anger. You 
know that as well as I do. This could be our first real break."

"He didn't do it, Scully, he couldn't have."

"Mulder, you don't know that!" Scully responded impatiently.

"Yeah, Scully, I do. I do know that."

She looked irritated, as she usually did when she thought he was 
being obstinate. "He left by himself. No one knows where he went 
from there until you and I saw him in the diner this morning."

"He was at home."

Drop it, Scully, he prayed. Please. Just drop it.

"How do you know that?"

Shit.

There was a long silence as she waited. "Mulder, how do you know 
that?" she asked again.

The words came out slowly. "I went to the bar last night to talk 
to him after I left you last night. Apparently, two thugs had 
tried to beat the crap out of him before the manager pulled them 
off. He sent him home, and I stopped by to see if he was OK. He 
was there."

"Just because he was there when you stopped in doesn't mean he 
couldn't have gone out later."

"He didn't leave. He went nowhere all night."

Scully please, he appealed silently even as he knew the futility 
of it. Just once in your life, let something go. Just take my 
word on something once. Please. This wasn't the time, the place, 
or the manner in which he had eventually intended tell her about 
this.

"How can you know that, Mulder? Were you surveilling him all 
night?"

The temptation to lie was great, and she'd just inadvertently 
handed him the almost perfect cover. But lies, once started, only 
begot more lies. And he didn't even really know how to lie to 
Scully; he couldn't even get the lie to form in his mind.

"No. I wasn't surveilling him."

"Well then how can you know he didn't leave?"

"Because I was with him, Scully," he answered. "From the time he 
left work last night until this morning."

She looked confused. "Mulder, what the hell were you doing at 
Tristan Hunt's house all last night?"

But even as she asked the question, she knew that something was 
wrong here. Mulder just stared at her; his usually expressive 
face had turned to stone. But his eyes spoke volumes, they 
managed to look both evasive and resigned and some little notion 
nipped at her heels again. The same one she'd dismissed two days 
ago when she'd watched Mulder and Tristan interact for the first 
time. The same one that had come back into her mind when she'd 
seen them at breakfast and then later at the hypnosis session. 
She'd dismissed it because it was not at all unusual for Mulder 
to bond with the people involved in a case. But there'd been 
something different about it this time; there'd been a intimacy 
in the air that had tweaked her. It was a feeling that she could 
only chalk up to feminine intuition and so, of course, she'd 
dismissed it. But it now reappeared and began to hang on. To 
solidify. Shit. Oh, Shit.

She said her next words carefully. "Mulder, what are trying to 
tell me?"

He couldn't look away from her. Fuck. Here we go. Down the rabbit 
hole. He took a long breath and responded quietly.

"I slept with Tristan Hunt last night."

Now the look on Scully's face was frozen, then she blinked once 
as her eyes narrowed. He could see that she was intently trying 
to process that information. Trying to make it somehow sound 
different; to make his words have some meaning other than what 
she heard. In the ensuing silence, he watched as comprehension 
slowly spread across her expression. Her next words were spoken 
with deliberate preciseness.

"You mean, you had sex with him?" But it wasn't really a 
question.

Mulder just nodded once, never breaking her gaze. He watched as 
Scully's eyes first widened at his affirmation and then went 
dark.

"You had sexual relations with a suspect?" Her voice was low and 
tight, trying to make it clinical somehow, trying to hang on to 
her investigator mode, but Mulder could see she was about to lose 
that battle completely.

"He's not a suspect, Scully. He had nothing to do with the 
murders. He's a witness at best."

That apparently broke the emotion dam she'd been holding back. 
Scully slammed the folder she was holding down on the table. "Oh 
fine, so it's OK to fuck a witness?"

Now that she recovered from her shock, fury set in. Anger that 
was firing off on so many different professional and personal 
levels that she almost didn't even know where to start. A heat 
wave rolled over her as though she'd walked in front of a blast 
furnace. The intense emotions she was feeling were as shocking as 
Mulder's words had been a moment ago. "What the hell were you 
thinking Mulder? Have you lost your mind?"

"Scully--"

But Scully wasn't going to be interrupted. "Goddamn it, Mulder! 
How could you do this?"

"Let me explain..."

"You got involved with a material witness to this case. Male or 
female--how could you have done such a thing? We've only been 
here three days for God's sake."

Aware that her voice had risen sharply, she suddenly turned away 
from him. She couldn't look at him anymore. She was just 
astounded. How long has this been going on? All this time she'd 
thought he'd been living the same sexless, solitary life she'd 
been.

Had he been out on case after case, picking up men? Bastard. 
Fucking bastard. How could he? How could he seek out something 
that she denied herself? She'd given up so much for this job, she 
just assumed he'd done the same. How could she had been so wrong? 
And how stupid was she? Just how fucking stupid was she?

Scully suddenly realized that her anger was as focused on herself 
as Mulder.

"Scully, will you please listen to me? Please."

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and it startled her. She'd 
been so consumed that she hadn't heard him approach. She flinched 
away sharply from his touch, pushing his hand away as she turned 
back to look at him.

He looked hurt.

Good.

"I know you're angry, but please hear me out," he entreated again 
as he backed off a foot or two, giving her space.

"Have you been doing this all along? On our other cases too?"

"Scully, no..." he responded quietly with a shake of his head, 
looking miserable.

Good.

"I thought I knew you, Mulder. Jesus Christ, I don't know you at 
all."

"Yeah, you do, Scully. You know me. That's why you need to 
listen. I know you're upset. I understand that. But just give me 
a minute, that's all I'm asking for."

Scully actually felt herself softening at his tone. Damn him. No 
way.

"No. NO! Not this time, Mulder. You can't blame this on your 
missing sister or any other tale from your oh-so-sad past. You're 
not going to manipulate me into feeling sorry for you on this one 
like you usually do."

Mulder felt a shock wave run through his body. He'd expected her 
to be upset. But he hadn't expected this kind of personal attack 
and it angered him. "That's not fair, Scully."

The heat flush of anger consumed Scully. Fair? She literally felt 
like screaming. She wanted to break something. "It's perfectly 
fair. Time and time again, I've excused your behavior, Mulder. 
Well, I'm not doing it any more. I've been living like a Goddamn 
nun because of this job, but I guess you've been out having 
yourself a good old time. I thought you had the same commitment 
to this job I did, but obviously I was wrong."

"You're questioning MY commitment to this job? Have you lost your 
mind?"

"No, but I think you finally have. You've compromised this 
investigation. You've committed a lot of screw-ups in your time, 
Mulder, but I've never seen anything so completely unethical, 
irresponsible, and unprofessional..."

Mulder had finally had it. "Excuse me, Saint Scully, but it's a 
little hard to be lectured on propriety by someone who spent her 
time at the FBI academy screwing her instructor. Easy lay, easy 
A, right? I don't need shit from you on my personal life."

Scully felt her face go flushed with rage. "How dare you, you 
bastard. That was different. Jack and--"

A bitter laugh from Mulder cut her off. "Well, of course it was 
different Scully--it was you," he said with the sarcasm heavy in 
his voice. "And it's not my fault that you decided to retrofit 
your virginity. I never asked you to do that. That was your 
choice, I never asked--."

Mulder suddenly stopped because he knew they were on the verge of 
saying about six years worth of pent-up resentments to each 
other. And if they went down that path, they would never be able 
to get back. God, he had to get out of here. Now. He abruptly 
turned away from her and walked to the door. Just as he opened 
it, he heard the sound of her voice again.

"Go fuck yourself, Mulder!"

Mulder turned back, his cold green eyes meeting her ice blue 
ones. "Well as it happens, Scully, I don't have to anymore." And 
with that, he was out the door.

Mulder was shaking so badly by the time he got outside to the car 
that he dropped the keys twice while trying to get in so he could 
slide behind the wheel and fall apart in private. A few moments 
later, he saw Scully also exit the station. She threw a box of 
files in the back seat of the car, and drove off.

He usually felt sick when he fought with Scully, the remorse and 
regret usually hitting him in a wave within moments. But not this 
time. Right now he didn't care if she just kept on driving all 
the way back to Washington DC and asked for a transfer.

He'd expected her to be upset for dozens of reasons. But the one 
he hadn't counted on was that she blamed him for the fact that 
she had no life either. Not one time had he ever asked her to 
give up family and home and sex and relationships and any of the 
other things that went with a real life. And yet clearly, she 
thought that he had. He'd always thought it had been a commitment 
to the work, it had never occurred to him that she viewed it as a 
commitment to him of some sort. That was just nuts.

Dear God, what the fuck was wrong with the two of them? It was 
insane.

He started the car and backed it out of the lot. He couldn't 
stand this right now. He needed some sanity tonight. He needed 
some sanctuary. He needed a refuge from the blood and the gore 
and partners who held him responsible for everything wrong in 
their lives.

He needed Tristan.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

When Tristan met Mulder's eyes as he walked in the tavern that 
night, he knew something was seriously wrong with him. Mulder 
looked so tightly wound that it was frightening.

Mulder came up to the bar, whispering urgently. "I need to talk 
to you," his eyes darted about the room. "Privately....now."

Tristan didn't argue, something in Mulder's tone told him not to 
question, just obey. "Go around outside to the back. I'll let you 
in the back door to the storeroom." Mulder nodded and left the 
bar.

Tristan called June over. "Sweetie, can you watch things a 
moment? I need to get something out of the back."

June had seen Mulder come in and leave. "Tris, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just need a few minutes, OK?" She nodded and took 
over the bar.

Tristan dug the storeroom key out of his pocket as he walked to 
the back of the bar. He unlocked the door, and turned on the 
almost non-existent light as he closed and locked the door behind 
him. He crossed the room and opened the back door. Mulder stood 
in the parking lot, waiting for him. Tristan motioned him inside 
and the door swung shut behind him.

"Mulder, what is it?"

"There was another death last night. We just found the body."

Tristan closed his eyes and slumped back against the wall, 
feeling drained. "Shit. Oh, Mulder, that dream I started to 
have...I might have seen it. Shit. I'm sorry."

"What the hell are you sorry for?" Mulder asked, his voice was 
irritated. "You would have seen it if I hadn't woken you up. This 
isn't your fault."

Mulder was pacing now and as Tristan looked at him in the low 
light, he could see that his expression was very disturbed, his 
manner was completely on edge and uneasy. Something more than the 
murder was bothering him.

"Mulder, what else?"

Mulder stopped pacing and turned to face him. "Scully knows about 
us."

Tristan closed his eyes a moment. He wasn't stupid. He knew the 
ramifications of this for Mulder.

"How? How does she know?"

"I told her. I had to tell her. She was suspicious because you'd 
left work early the same night a murder occurred. I had to tell 
her. I'd planned on telling her, but not this way."

Tristan was devastated. Mulder had crossed many professional, 
emotional, and social boundaries to be with him. And now he might 
get punished for it. The remorse that he'd drug Mulder along on 
his own personal fall from grace was deep.

"Oh Mulder, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Mulder's voice was sharp. "Why the fuck do you keep apologizing 
all the time?"

Tristan was taken aback by Mulder's sudden flash of anger towards 
him. "I...I just meant that I know how difficult this is for you. 
I know that none of this is what you expected when you came here. 
I know you must regret all what's happened."

Mulder's angry expression faded away. He walked over to him. "No, 
I didn't expect you at all. I didn't expect to ever feel what I 
do or to want you like I do." He took Tristan's face in his hands 
and kissed him roughly, backing him up against the wall, pressing 
hard into his mouth and grinding his hips into Tristan's. "But I 
don't regret a fucking thing," he rasped out between kisses. "Not 
one goddamned thing."

Tristan brought his hot mouth back to his as Mulder slipped his 
hand down to cup and massage Tristan's cock, feeling the mass 
harden under the rough fabric of his jeans. He increased the 
stroking and rubbing as Tristan pressed into his hand even as he 
delved into Mulder's mouth with his tongue.

Mulder loved the response of the young man to his touch. It was 
heady and powerful and he was almost drunk with the feeling. 
After a long minute, Mulder drew away, breathing hard, wanting 
him right here, right now, but still just slightly in control. 
"When the hell can you get out of here?" he asked.

Tristan could hardly hear over his pounding heart. He dug into 
his pocket for his key, shoving it in Mulder's hand as he took 
another kiss. "In about an hour. I can talk Robbie into closing 
up. Meet me at my house."

"I'll be there."

Tristan stepped back and found it was necessary to untuck his 
shirt to hide his arousal before he went back out into the bar. 
He looked up to see just a glimmer of amusement come into 
Mulder's eyes. "Oh sure, laugh, you bastard, you did this to me."

Mulder nodded. "That's just a start." And with that threat he 
pushed open the back door and was gone, leaving Tristan to stare 
after him.

The next sixty minutes flowed by with the speed of the glacier. 
Robbie had no problem when Tristan asked him to close up so he 
could leave early. He apparently attributed it to his being 
stressed from last night still. Tristan didn't bother to correct 
him and he felt a little guilty about taking advantage of his 
friend's kindness.

A little guilty, but not much.

Mulder was waiting for him when he walked in the door to his 
house. He took Tristan into his arms and held on to him; just 
held on for the longest time, as Tristan felt his hot breath 
against his neck as he nuzzled his face there. Mulder needed care 
and attention tonight and there was nothing that Tristan wanted 
to give to him more.

Tristan pulled Mulder into the bedroom and took a long delicious 
time undressing him. He lowered Mulder on to the bed and then 
removed his own clothes, undressing for his lover who watched 
with craving and longing. Joining him on the bed, he rolled 
Mulder on to his stomach. Mulder folded his arms under his head 
and turned his face to one side to look at the man sitting next 
to him.

"We're going to relax here, Mulder, both of us. There's just us 
here."

He started with Mulder's feet, taking each in his hand and 
massaging them, using his thumbs to stroke along the soles, 
manipulating the tiny bones. He moved up the legs, rolling 
Mulder's firm calf muscles under his hands, taking each one in 
turn, never moving ahead too fast. Tristan glanced up at Mulder's 
face. His eyes were closed as he rested his head on his arms, 
seeming to be almost asleep.

Tristan bent down and applied the tip of his tongue to the inside 
of Mulder knee, right in that little hollow. Mulder's whole body 
twitched as though he'd received a small electric jolt and 
actually, he had. His eyes opened and he looked down at Tristan. 
"God, do that again, please."

Ah, he'd found one of Mulder's spots. That had been the intent of 
this little excursion and he intended to have them all mapped 
before he was done. He applied the flat of his tongue to the back 
of Mulder's knees, licking wetly, tickling, and then stroking. 
Over and over until his jaw was actually tired. Mulder made soft 
little moans, nothing big, nothing dramatic. Just sweet, small 
sounds of happiness.

Tristan left Mulder's knees behind and worked his way up the back 
of his thighs with his hands. They felt solid and his hands 
wrapped around them running in firm strokes from his knees to 
where the curve of Mulder's ass met the top of his thigh. He 
leaned in again and ran his tongue along the long curve where 
butt met leg and Mulder again made a blissful sound and moved 
slightly back against him, encouraging the contact again.

Mulder was enjoying the hands to be sure, but he was most 
definitely an oral pleasure guy. He liked the wet and rough feel. 
Tristan seemed to understand this and alternated his hand touches 
with his mouth, so that every inch of his skin was being stroked 
first by hand and then by tongue.

Tristan's hands slipped firmly up his back delivering a 
traditional back massage that was making Mulder go gooey inside. 
He felt the hands on his shoulders and neck, kneading, rolling 
the tensed muscle, pushing the tension away. Tristan was leaning 
over him now; he could feel his breath on his neck. He felt his 
lips near his own, seeking a kiss which Mulder gladly turned his 
head and gave him, his eyes closed and feeling Tristan drink his 
kiss up before returning to what he was doing with his hands.

Tristan discovered a small downy patch of fur at the base of 
Mulder's spine. He rubbed his cheek against it, feeling it 
feather against his own skin; he relaxed there a moment, resting 
up from his exertions in full body and tongue massage. Mulder 
seemed quite content to let him lay there against him and they 
were quiet together for a bit.

Tristan ran a finger along the cleavage of Mulder's ass, just 
stroking down and back, his touch sending a gentle stimulation 
through Mulder's body as he heard him make another low tone of 
bliss.

God, he was going to have this ass tonight. Mulder was not only 
going to let him fuck him, he wanted him to. He could feel it.

He lifted his head and looked along the length of the fine body 
lying beside him. As he smoothed his hand along planes and 
valleys of Mulder's back, he remembered that he'd been the only 
one to touch it in five years. Mulder hadn't elaborated as to why 
and Tristan hadn't asked because if Mulder wanted him to know, 
he'd tell him. He was only just getting to know this man. But if 
there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that Mulder was most 
definitely a still water that ran very deep.

But he still had to wonder--why him? Why had Mulder chosen him to 
share his body with after all this time? It made him feel both 
special and humble. Jesus, it really was like a gift, he thought, 
both surprised and embarrassed at his sentimental inclination.

Tristan took the curves of Mulder's ass in his hands. He bent to 
kiss and nip the skin and muscles, nuzzling along the cleavage. 
Tristan's tongue slipped out and Mulder felt him lick him there, 
oh, God... right there. And his nerve endings shot and shivered 
with the sensation under Tristan's relentless tongue. He was 
probed and kissed and licked, followed by cool breath and the 
scratchy feel of Tristan's slightly rough jaw line.

Mulder couldn't believe the sensations, it was like nothing he'd 
ever felt; so completely intimate and somehow forbidden. The 
arousal shot through him in response. The rough tongue lapping 
went on, now concentrating on the tiny opening and Mulder was 
feeling like he'd gone to heaven without actually having to die 
first.

Tristan withdrew a bit and reaching back to the nightstand, he 
placed a small amount of lube on the tips of his index and middle 
fingers. He returned to rub them gently over the tightly puckered 
hole. Not really applying any pressure, just small circular 
movements, almost like a massage. After a few moments of this, he 
felt Mulder press back slightly seeking more.

After the rimming he'd just received, Mulder was hypersensitive. 
Tristan's teasing touch on his asshole was just that - teasing. 
He needed more. More touch, more pressure. Just more of 
everything. He felt Tristan's fingers withdraw a moment and then 
they were back. He could tell from the slick feel, he'd applied 
more lube and Tristan had moved to kneel between his wide spread 
legs.

He felt the fingers slide from his anus to down over his 
perineum, running lightly over the back of his balls and pressing 
upwards, massaging the area between his ass and his balls. Oh 
God, the slight pressure on his prostate from the outside was 
helping to satisfy his need for more sensation.

After a few moments, he felt the fingers slip back to his anus, 
where the tickling rub began again, this time from just Tristan's 
middle finger. He felt a slight pressure at the entrance and 
Mulder relaxed back against it, bearing himself open as Tristan's 
finger slipped up inside his body. It didn't hurt at all, as he 
felt the finger slide out and then back in. Tristan removed it 
completely and then was back, pressing outward all around the 
sphincter, stretching it slightly with his fingertip before 
moving back inside. All of this was countered by the feel of 
Tristan's mouth on the cheeks of his ass, kissing and licking the 
curve and flesh.

Tristan's finger moved more deeply up inside now by several 
inches and Mulder squirmed back on the touch, remembering from 
the other night what pleasure he would feel in a moment. Almost, 
almost, alm...yes. Right there. There. "Yes," he whispered 
letting Tristan know that he'd found the right spot inside 
Mulder's body.

"Right there, Mulder?" he asked stroking in exactly the perfect 
place. "Or there?" he moved his finger over and away from the 
spot, where the touch still felt good, but wasn't nearly so 
shattering.

Mulder grunted a bit, aware he was being teased. "The first 
'there'," he said wiggling his ass to get the touch back where he 
needed it.

"Oh, there?" Another few long deep rubs in the right place that 
brought a deep sigh from Mulder. "You sure it wasn't over here?" 
He moved his finger away again.

"Tristan!" Mulder was on the verge of a blood-curdling scream of 
frustration and he gripped the pillow under his head as he turned 
to look back at the man kneeling behind him.

"OK. OK, I get it. Right here." Tristan gave up the sweet torture 
and judiciously applied himself to what Mulder needed. He heard 
Mulder call him a 'bastard' under his breath as he settled back 
onto his pillow. After a few moments, Tristan slipped a second 
finger into the tight channel, pushing a goodly amount of lube up 
inside Mulder, gently stretching the rectum open further.

Mulder was feeling good. The experience was making him feel 
things he never had before; all sorts of new sensations. He liked 
the feeling of Tristan's fingers driving up into him. But when 
Tristan added a third finger to his rhythmic thrusting, Mulder 
felt a quick biting pain for the first time and he drew in a 
quick breath, tensing up under Tristan's hands.

Tristan stopped all movement, just letting Mulder get used to the 
feeling as he felt him relax again. He placed kisses along the 
small of Mulder's back. "You OK? You want me to stop?"

Mulder shook his head and looked back at the man. The moment had 
passed and all that remained was the sensation of being touched 
and filled. He wanted to feel more of that.

He met Tristan's eyes. "No, I don't want you to stop. I want you 
to fuck me."

Tristan slowly removed his fingers and moved to a kneeling 
position behind him. He took Mulder's hips and raised him up to 
his knees. He took his cock in his hand, then slid his finger 
into Mulder's ass one more time, again stretching the opening 
gently. He removed his finger just as he pushed his cock head 
against him, bearing forward steadily and Mulder's body opened to 
him, allowing him in with little resistance. Tristan thrust 
forward and his cock was engulfed inside Mulder, hot and tight. 
Slick and smooth.

Oh God.

Mulder made a noise he couldn't quite identify. "You OK?" Tristan 
asked, concerned that he had pushed in with more force than 
perhaps Mulder could take.

"I just need a minute."

He took Mulder's hips back in his hands, gently guiding him 
backwards. Tristan sat back on his own heels bringing Mulder down 
to sit astride him, so he could take control of how much or how 
little of Tristan's cock to take inside. He laid his head against 
Mulder's back between his shoulder blades as he reached around to 
find and stroke Mulder's cock, feeling it stiffen to rock 
hardness under his hands. After a moment, he felt Mulder shift on 
his lap. He raised and lowered his body slowly down on his penis, 
getting used to the feel of having someone inside.

Sensations coursed through Mulder's body as he rested his weight 
back fully back against Tristan, feeling his cock slide all the 
way inside. The feeling of being stretched and filled was 
incredible, like nothing he'd known. There was no pain, other 
than a slight burning sensation that was not entirely unpleasant.

He could feel Tristan's hot breath on his back and the more 
familiar feeling of his arms around him, his hands reaching down 
to stroke and fondle his cock and his balls and coming up to rub 
and caress his chest and nipples. He was held and caressed and 
supported, surrounded and invaded and overtaken. Every nerve in 
his body was alive and singing.

And he just wanted more again.

He lifted his weight slowly from the other man, feeling Tristan 
follow with him as he moved back to the more conventional 
position, supporting his own weight on his hands. He felt 
Tristan's hand slid smoothly down his back and settle on his hips 
as he began to fuck him; long and slow, filling him completely as 
he felt Tristan's balls slap up against him. The sliding motion 
back and forth through his tightly stretched anus was different 
than anything he'd ever felt. The friction built, as did the 
different-feeling pleasure.

He felt Tristan press down on his hips slightly, lowering him 
down just a bit. The slightly changed angle brought Tristan's 
thrusting directly in contact with his prostate and his sudden 
low cry was completely involuntary. It was a moment before he 
could form words as pleasure surged through his blood, up into 
his head and down into his cock.

"Oh God...God. Tristan." Mulder's hands clenched the loose bed 
sheet into tight balls in his fists as yet another sensation was 
layered on top of everything else. "Oh God, fuck me," he pleaded 
quite unnecessarily. "Oh God, Tristan, it feels so good."

"Of course it feels good, Mulder." Tristan smiled through his own 
mounting pleasure. Mulder was close to insensible and that 
pleased him to no end. Tristan reached around to take Mulder's 
cock back into his hand, stroking Mulder off as he thrust hard 
down into Mulder's tight ass. He wasn't good for much longer, he 
usually didn't come this fast but he was beyond holding back to 
prolong the pleasure. "It's going to feel even better."

Mulder had closed his eyes and his head was too heavy to hold up. 
In the darkness all feeling intensified. "Harder," he whispered 
in the dark. "More." He felt more firm strokes on his cock as the 
hard fucking went on in his ass, his pleasure was rising and 
climbing within. But not there yet, not there yet, not there....

Mulder's body seized and he felt the orgasm roll, taking over his 
skin, and he groaned with the pleasure of it. The hard 
contractions of his ejaculation shooting his sperm hard over 
Tristan's hand and to the sheets below. Tristan continued to pump 
his cock as Mulder twitched and cried out under him.

It was all Mulder could do to keep from collapsing entirely flat 
but he struggled to stay where he was so that Tristan could 
finish. He didn't have long to wait, Tristan released his grip on 
Mulder's cock, grabbed on to his hips and pulled Mulder back to 
meet his forward thrusts as he fucked him, mindless of anything 
except watching his cock slide in and out of the man below him. 
The shuddering end came within moments and Tristan left his come 
deep up inside Mulder as he gripped his hips.

Mulder collapsed forward down onto the bed and the wet spot. He 
didn't care. He could die at this moment. Tristan draped over him 
like a blanket, his own orgasm still sending shivers though his 
body. He rested his head between Mulder's shoulder blades as he 
gasped for breath, like a fish out of water.

Mulder took Tristan's weight gladly, he wanted him there, it 
never even occurred to ask him to move. Tristan's cock, still 
deep within, began to soften slightly. He felt Tristan move to 
withdraw it gently, exiting slowly from his body which gave up a 
slight painful twinge as the trespasser left. But Tristan 
remained on top of him as though he didn't want to lose the full 
body contact. Mulder felt surrounded and enveloped and safe. God, 
how could he ever give this up?

"Mulder, you make me feel good," Tristan whispered to him.

Mulder barely nodded against the sheets as the weak muscled 
languor washed through him. "You too," he managed to whisper back 
before sleep came softly to him and Tristan followed a few 
minutes later.

It was Tristan who awoke first. He looked at the night stand 
clock in the low light and saw that about an hour had passed. 
Mulder was a wonderful mattress, but he needed to move. He lifted 
his head and realized he'd been so out that he'd started to drool 
on Mulder's back. He smiled and wiped the sleeping man's back 
with his hand, then placed a kiss on his shoulder blade for no 
good reason other than he wanted to. It was only then that he 
realized that he'd slept hard with no dreams.

He needed to fuck himself to sleep more often.

He carefully leveraged himself off of Mulder and then off the 
bed, trying not to disturb him as he slept on. He made his way 
into the bathroom, squinting in the sudden brightness when he 
turned on the light. The August heat and his passion for Mulder 
had left him sweaty so he took a quick cooling shower. He toweled 
off lightly, and as he brushed his teeth he looked at himself in 
the mirror. He smiled a little, he'd never been so content in his 
life. But even so, he wondered just what the hell he was going to 
do about all this, because he doubted that this could stay as it 
was, as much as he wanted it to. He shut the light off.

Tristan came out of the bathroom to see that while he'd been in 
there, Mulder had rolled over onto his back. He padded out to the 
kitchen in the dark and got a bottle of water, sex always made 
him thirsty, and then returned to the bedroom. He stood in the 
doorway, sipping the water and watching Mulder sleep.

Sleep was too mild a word. Actually, he'd turned into a human 
rock, still and heavy and oblivious to Tristan's movements. 
Mulder was now sprawled on his back in the center of the bed, 
having apparently decided to take his half out of the middle. His 
one hand rested gently over his flat belly and the other was 
extended out on the bed, as though seeking something, his fingers 
gently curved. He smiled at the soft snurguling noise that Mulder 
made on occasion as he slept on.

Tristan approached the bed and set the water bottle on the night 
table. He stretched out next to Mulder in the little room left to 
him. Propping himself up on his elbow, he leaned his head against 
his hand. He looked over Mulder's skin, exquisitely sweat-
burnished in the gentle light. He was so beautiful. Tristan had 
never had anything this beautiful, in a strange way it was 
frightening for him, just as his feelings were.

All his previous sexual encounters had been just that--
encounters. Moments in time of intense gratification. 
Relationships that mostly lasted for just hours. Here and there, 
some had extended to a few weeks or in one case even a few 
months. But even so, when they were over, they were over. He'd 
never felt any lingering sense of loss or of missing someone.

But this was something more and certainly not something he'd 
expected to be dealing with at this moment in his life and again, 
he wondered just what the hell he'd gotten himself into. And if 
he was feeling that way, he could only imagine what Mulder was 
feeling. He knew today had been just awful for him.

And yet he was still here. He'd come to him tonight. Instead of 
turning away, he'd stepped forward.

Tristan trailed his fingers lightly over the back of the hand 
that rested on Mulder's stomach. Running it gently up his arm, he 
encountered a long narrow scar that ran across it. It was faint 
and well healed, but still noticeable. His earlier explorations 
of Mulder's body had turned up a couple of scars and now he 
wondered just how many there were. Scars told stories about a 
person.

He looked up to Mulder's face to study it carefully. On his right 
cheekbone close to his hairline was another small scar. Further 
up, closer to his temple was another and on the left side of his 
forehead close to his hairline was another. Tristan leaned in 
close to look at it and since he was so close, he couldn't resist 
taking a kiss from his sleeping lover.

He brushed his lips gently, teasing. He touched them again and 
then again. He opened his mouth and took the caress deeper. He 
felt Mulder's lips part, taking him in, responding. After a 
moment he drew away and opened his eyes to see Mulder looking at 
him sleepily.

He smiled just a bit, as he blinked slowly. "I guess I fell 
asleep." He scooted over just a bit to make more room on the bed.

"Well, you probably needed it. Are you feeling OK? I mean you 
don't hurt or anything?"

Mulder shook his head. "A little burning, nothing more than that. 
Mostly, I feel really, really tranquil."

"Good. And by the way, you're officially not a virgin anymore."

Mulder laughed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, it was my pleasure."

"So, do I get a certificate for my wall?"

Tristan laughed as he began to kiss his way down Mulder's neck, 
over his chest, not really intending to stimulate, just to soothe 
and maintain contact as neither man had recuperated from their 
previous exertions just yet. Mulder's hand came up to caress the 
side of his face. As he turned to place a kiss into Mulder's 
right palm, he noticed some tiny jagged scars that graced the 
tips of his fingers. "What happened here?" he asked absently, 
applying his lips to the fingertips.

"I cut them on the metallic exoskeleton of a mechanical cockroach 
sent here from another planet."

Tristan's lips stopped moving and he looked up to meet Mulder's 
gaze. The man was dead-ass serious. To his credit, Tristan 
neither laughed, nor looked particularly incredulous. Mulder had 
told him that he investigated weird phenomena, so he was willing 
to buy this one. "OK," he answered and turned his attention back 
to Mulder's body. He touched the scar on Mulder's right forearm. 
"And this?"

"A murder suspect attacked me with a kitchen knife."

That answer disturbed Tristan more than a little. It was really 
the first time that he'd considered what all else that Mulder's 
job entailed. He'd kind of just assumed that he investigated but 
didn't actually get in the line of fire. This was a little scary. 
He trailed his finger over the scar again. "What happened?" he 
asked and then thought better of it. "I'm sorry. Do you mind me 
asking?"

Mulder shook his head slightly; his expression grew more serious. 
"It really wasn't her fault. Her mind was being affected by 
control toxins being tested by the government to create paranoia. 
She perceived that inanimate objects were telling her to kill in 
self-defense."

Tristan ran his hand along Mulder's thigh, where he encountered 
the large ragged scar. "This looks like it hurt."

"I got that when I was shot by a serial killer we were tracking. 
Some of the scar is from the surgical incisions. The bullet had 
ripped open the femoral artery and I almost bled to death."

Tristan's hand caressed the large scar. It wasn't ugly to him. It 
was part of Mulder. But the meaning behind the scar disturbed 
him. God, why had he ever thought this guy sat just behind a 
desk? Tristan next found a small straight scar on Mulder's 
cheekbone, just below his right eye near his temple. He stroked 
it gently with the tip of his finger.

"That's from a razor blade. Someone was killing young men by 
mutilating their faces with a razor blade and they bled to death. 
It turned out to be another profiler, a FBI agent who'd been my 
superior. He'd turned into the demons he'd chased. The evil took 
a hold of him and in the end, I had to shoot him to stop him."

Tristan took a deep breath. Again this was something he hadn't 
really considered. Mulder may have had to kill people. He knew it 
was stupid to be surprised, the man was an FBI agent, he carried 
a gun, of course that was part of his job. But somehow he'd 
thought that Mulder was an investigator; a desk guy who used his 
mind and let someone else do the actual apprehending. These 
stories he was hearing made a very different picture in his mind 
than what he'd thought. He didn't ask if the man Mulder had shot 
had died. As he caressed Mulder's skin, he found the set of 
aligned scars low on Mulder's left ribs. These were wider, not 
like the fine knife cuts, more like gouges.

"Those are from what is known as The Jersey Devil. She was a sort 
of pre-historic wild human who lived in the deep in the woods. I 
wanted to help her, but the local police killed her. She didn't 
need to die, there was no reason for it other than ignorance." 
Mulder's voice sounded angry at the memory.

Tristan found another faint scar that ran across his chest, just 
above his left nipple. "Is this from the same thing?"

Mulder shook his head. "No. We were never sure what it was. We 
were in the Florida Everglades and it was stalking people. I 
believed that it was defending its territory against encroaching 
civilization."

He next slid his fingers up to the large round scar on Mulder's 
shoulder.

"Another bullet wound. My partner shot me," Mulder told him.

"This partner? The one you have now?"

Mulder nodded.

"Why?"

"She did it to stop me. I was about to execute an unarmed suspect 
while under the influence of drugs. She did it to save my ass. It 
wasn't as serious as the other bullet wound."

Tristan was having trouble getting his mind to wrap around the 
concept of a not-so-bad gunshot wound. As he looked at Mulder's 
face, he now saw a fine, fine scar that ran horizontally across 
the entire front of Mulder's throat. It was so faint that he 
hadn't even noticed it before. He was getting distressed now. 
"God, Mulder, what's this from?"

"I was garroted by an assassin who was trying to kill someone I 
wanted to protect."

Jesus fucking Christ. How many times had this man almost died? 
Why the hell did he keep on doing this job? He'd served his time. 
He leaned in to kiss Mulder's neck. At the base of it there were 
several very small, almost perfectly round scars. He'd noticed 
those before. "These seem newer than the others," he said running 
his fingertips over them.

Mulder nodded. "Just a few months ago. We were trapped in a 
Florida hurricane while we were investigating a water-borne 
parasite that slowly suffocated its victims to death. It latched 
on to me when I was all alone."

Mulder's expression changed a little. It told Tristan that this 
memory was still raw, a little closer to the surface than the 
others. "I couldn't breathe, I really thought I was going to die, 
I kept struggling but I just couldn't get enough air. It was like 
drowning on land. I tried to get to my partner but she--" He 
broke off suddenly and looked away for the first time.

Tristan caressed his face. "But what, Mulder?" he asked gently.

Mulder just shook his head slowly as he went very still and 
seemed to be focusing on some unseen spot on the floor next to 
the bed.

Tristan didn't press him. He sighed; feeling very bad that he'd 
even started this. He'd just wanted to know a little more about 
Mulder. And he'd been right, these scars told stories. But they 
were all ugly and strange and unnatural. And for the first time, 
Tristan realized just how little he really knew about the man he 
was lying next to. He didn't really have a clue about what made 
him tick or why he continued in a job so blatantly dangerous. His
instinct was to somehow protect Mulder from harm, but he didn't 
have a clue how to do so when Mulder seemed determined to rush
towards it, like steel to a magnet.