WK2: Armani Weekend
Chapter 3: Sunday

(Disclaimers in Chapter 1)

PARKER MERIDIEN HOTEL
ROOM 1246
SUNDAY MORNING

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Still sore?" Doggett asked.

"Mmm-hmm," Byers replied.

"Where?"

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

"How's your chest?"

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

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

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

Byers nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You ready?" Doggett asked.

"Mmm," Byers mumbled, nodding.

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

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

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

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

"Huh?"

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

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

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

"You about ready for full sentences yet?"

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

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

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

"You look like you feel better."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ringo?" Doggett was confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's been happening with that lately?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You snooze, you lose."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Feels good," Byers whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Smells like books and the great unwashed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, Munch!" Doggett said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mulder still seein' little green men?"

"Grey," Byers grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why would you care?" Byers said. He crossed his arms in front
of him.

"'Cuz I've been subscribed to your rag for years now." Munch
winked.

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

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

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

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

Speechless, Byers took it. He gaped at Munch.

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

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

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

"Johnny?"

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

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

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

"Munch arrested you?"

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You doin' better now?"

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

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

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

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

PARKER MERIDIEN HOTEL
ROOM 1246
AFTERNOON

"Talk to me, Johnny." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What happened to you?"

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

"It sounds terrible," Doggett said.

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

"How did all that happen?"

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

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

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

"This Susanne was the woman you--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doggett nodded. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's wrong?" Doggett asked.

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks," Byers said.

"You gonna be okay?" Doggett asked.

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

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

Some time later, Byers asked, "Jack, why are you being so good
to me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This what you need?" Doggett asked.

Byers nodded. "Yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Byers nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

STUDIO 54
WEST 54TH STREET
6:30 PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So what do you think?" Doggett asked.

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

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

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

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

Byers laughed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doggett just smiled.

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

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

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

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

Doggett laughed. "Half the audience already is."

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

"How do you know? You ever try?"

"Yes. It was hideously embarrassing."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

"Why are you apologizing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE PLAYWRIGHT TAVERN & RESTAURANT
10:00 PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How's dinner?" Doggett asked.

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

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

Byers gave a little smile. "Dessert?"

"How does Bailey's cheesecake sound?"

"Mmmmm." Byers grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It was about closets," Byers said quietly.

"Huh?"

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

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

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

Doggett nodded. "True enough."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Byers smiled and tucked into his dinner again.

PARKER MERIDIEN HOTEL
ROOM 1246
NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Krycek?"

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

"Killed him and brought him back?"

"It's really complicated."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, Sir," Byers groaned.

"Convince me," Doggett said.

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

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

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

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

"Yellow," he moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sweet," Byers whispered.

Doggett grinned. "It lives."

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

Doggett laughed quietly. "I hope not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What, go to bed?"

"No, get up right now."

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

"Wanna sleep here." Byers pouted his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~end chapter 3 of 4~~