AROUSAL 2:  COMPULSION 


Feedback: Yes please!

Web Page: http://netjeru.ma-at.net/SurrealArts/Annex.html
Category:  Slash, Mulder/Byers 
Rating:   NC/17
Status:   Sequel to "Arousal".   Perhaps you should read that
First!
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc
Archive:   Lone Slasher, Basement, WWOMB, Gossamer, Ephemeral
Summary:  You might have known we hadn't seen the last of that 
stuff.  Did you really expect Mulder to throw it all away?



Sunday, late October



Mulder was bored.

Sunday afternooon.  Never the best time in Mulder's calendar.  
Especially not a wet late October Sunday afternoon in Washington.  
A Scully-less  wet Sunday afternoon, as she had gone to visit 
brother Bill and his family  for the Halloween holiday.  She had 
invited Mulder as well, of course, but  Mulder and Bill Scully
were not a recipe designed for happy family  holidays. 

He was down on his hands and knees in front of the video cabinet, 
scrabbling through the piles of tapes for one in particular.  One 
featuring  a particular Buffy look-alike - except very definitely 
*more* . . .

//Shit, was that the one I lent to Frohike  . . . he'll never give 
it back.  Oh, fuck  . .  maybe if I call him, ask him over  . . 
.him and Byers . . . haven't seen Byers much lately  . . .not 
since . . .//

Frohike didn't sound happy to be interrupted.  He was unexpectedly 
co-operative about the tape, however, leading Mulder to wonder 
just what  the little troll was doing.  

"Look, I'll send Byers  over.  He needs to get outta here . . . I 
need him to get outta here, he's driving me nuts.  Give me a break 
from him.  Maybe  you can talk some sense into him."

"Why, what's he doing?"

"Well, Langly's gone off for a few days with his D&D pals - and 
Byers and him had a fight before he went.  I didn't hear most of 
it but it musta  been a doozy.  They were screaming at each other, 
then Langly goes and  shuts himself in his room and won't come 
out. Then the next morning,  when he's supposed to be leaving, 
he's got up and gone early without saying goodbye or anything.  
Byers has been a pain in the ass ever since."

"What started it?"

"Not sure really, just that Byers didn't want him to go for some 
reason,  said something about these friends of Langly being 
dangerous, they were  dealing hard drugs and he shouldn't have 
anything to do with them, and  Langly was telling him to fuck off, 
get off his back.  And then, I'm not sure, Byers won't tell me, 
but I think Langly took a swing at him."

Mulder whistled sympathetically.  "When was this?"

"Three days ago  . . . and Langly hasn't called.  Johnny's got me 
climbing the walls.  He's moping around the place, not working, 
just staring into space all the time, jumping a foot in the air 
every time the phone rings, not eating, shutting himself in his 
room for hours, biting my head off  every time I try to say 
anything ... "

//I know how I'd like to make him climb the walls// intruded in 
Mulder's train of thought.   "Sure, Frohike, send him over here.  
I'll think of something to take his mind off it."  

 ===000===

He drifted over to the window.  It was still raining a little, 
water streaking down the glass and the sidewalks gleaming wet.   
Mulder's thoughts strayed back to a very different day, a hot 
summer day, and the last time  he and Byers had been alone 
together.  A memory he had tried hard to repress, not just for his 
own peace of mind but the sake of two of his best friends.  Byers 
and Langly.  Best friends for many years, lovers for only a short 
while.  He had been surprised to learn of that development;  
surprised and, he realised, a little envious.  

Envious of their closeness, their passion, their complete trust in 
each other?  And  . . he had to admit it.  Envious of Langly.  
Since his brief, drug induced encounter with Byers that day, when 
they had fallen on each other like crazed animals, he had had to 
face the fact that he found Byers attractive.  More than that;  he 
wanted him.  Wanted him again as he had had him that day, 
surrendering his body with a wantonness that was completely in 
contrast to his usual reserved demeanor.  Shy, quiet Byers, 
revealing a passion and lust that Mulder would never have dreamed 
was in him.  Although it had been triggered without his knowledge, 
by a dangerous cocktail of untested drugs, Mulder well knew that 
it could only have brought to the surface what was there already.

Mulder found himself standing in front of the bathroom cabinet 
without the faintest idea of how he had got there.  On a high 
shelf, out of sight at the back . . . a small white tube of 
lubricant.  His hand seemed to move of  its own accord and he 
turned it over, read the label.

"Arousal."

He held it in his hand, lost in the memory of the last time he had 
touched it.  This was the last  . . . the rest of the stock had 
been destroyed. Just as well, because it was dynamite.  The 
scientist who had developed it, looking for a follow up to Viagra, 
could never have dreamed how effective his formula would be.  Him 
and Byers . . . totally out of control, more or less raping each 
other  . . .

He was roused from his reverie by the knock on the door.  He 
turned to go, automatically shoving the tube into his pants pocket 
as he went.

Byers stood there, a backpack dangling from one hand, wearing his 
dark blue raincoat, unbuttoned and hanging open, the shoulders 
damp with rain.  Raindrops flecked his thick dark hair, slightly 
ruffled by the wind. 

Mulder motioned for him to come in, scrutinising him closely as he 
walked past.  The younger man looked tired, dark shadows under his 
eyes.  He slipped off his raincoat and slung it carelessly over a 
chair.  He had traded his usual suit for a sweater and jeans. 
Clean and carefully ironed jeans, because of course this was 
Byers, but jeans nevertheless, and very nice, snug jeans too . . . 
Mulder swallowed the lump in his throat and gestured to the couch.  
Byers flopped down, pushing the backpack in Mulder's direction.  
"Your videos."

"Huh?"

"Your tapes  . . Frohike said you wanted them back."

"Uh . . . oh yeah, thanks.  Wanna beer?"

Without waiting for an answer he fetched the beers from the 
kitchen and handed one to Byers, sitting down opposite him.  Byers 
did look tense and abstracted, a frown line etched on his 
forehead.  

They talked for a few minutes about this and that, the latest 
football games and the new season SciFi shows, but Byers' thoughts 
were obviously elsewhere.  Mulder decided to come straight to the 
point.

"So, what is it with you and Langly?  Frohike said you'd had a 
fight."

Byers nodded tiredly.  "Yeah  . . he's gone to a D&D meet at
Ocean City.  I asked him not to go, this time, but he refused.
First real fight we've had   . ."

"Why didn't you want him to go?"

"These guys  . . they're not the usual crowd.  He met one of
them in a bar a few weeks ago, got talking about D&D and he
got into a game with them.  They're . . . well, I found out
some of them were drug users, so I did a bit of digging and
found a couple of of them are known dealers. "

Mulder didn't say a word, just went on looking at him.  //The 
oldest trick in the book.  Never fails.//

Byers fell into his trap and rushed to fill the silence.  "I've 
never tried to stop him doing what he wants to do.  I don't mind 
him going off for days at a time, it's part of him, I don't want 
to change him. I just worry about him, that's all, but he said I 
was trying to dictate who his friends should be, what he should 
do, said I was getting way too possessive, I didn't own him, stuff 
like that.  And when he found out I'd been investigating these 
guys, he freaked out."

"Frohike's worried about you.  He  . . . he thinks Langly hit 
you."

"What?  No, he didn't  . . he just pushed me, I kinda stumbled 
back and tripped over a cable.  But he didn't hit me.  He'd never 
do that."

"So . . why didn't you offer to go with him?"

"I did.  But he didn't want me to come, and that really hurt.  You 
see  . ."

Byers leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, staring in front of 
him.  

"You see, Ocean City . . . that was where  . . well, that was 
where we went on our first vacation together, after we'd been 
together a few weeks.  It was always kinda special.  Well  . . *I* 
thought it was special.  I thought he might have remembered that."

"Well, look at it this way, Byers . . . "We'll always have Ocean 
City" doesn't have quite the same ring as "we'll always have 
Paris."

Byers snorted cynically.  The muscles tightened along his jaw.  
"I'm beginning to wonder if anything matters to Ringo  . . . if 
*I* matter to him at all.  He said . . ."

Mulder just went  on looking at him.

"He said he wished he'd never gotten involved with me.  That I 
wanted too much from him. That I was no good in bed.  That he only 
slept with me because he was sorry for me. "  

He fell silent, turning the beer bottle round and round in his 
hands.  Mulder shifted sideways on the couch and looked him over, 
admiring the clear cut beauty of his profile against the white 
wall.  Desire, that little snake, uncurled in his guts, stirred 
again insistently and twitched its tail.  The memory of their last 
encounter, Byers writhing beneath him as he thrust into him . . . 
fucking him on the floor of the HQ that hot summer afternoon . . . 
hot and sweaty and tight inside him . . .

Byers suddenly looked up at him and they locked eyes.  Mulder felt 
a guilty shock as if Byers was looking straight into his brain and 
reading  his thoughts written in neon on the back of his skull, 
but he couldn't tear his eyes away.  Byers broke eye contact after 
a few seconds and returned his stare to the beer bottle, but 
Mulder saw him swallow, and could see a little pulse start beating 
in his neck.  

//In his neck . . . kissing his neck, biting his throat . . .//

Mulder leapt to his feet.  "Another beer?"  

In the kitchen he grabbed another two bottles from the 
refrigerator and held them against his face, welcoming the 
coldness and the clearing of his mind.  He stood there, thinking.  

//What do I want?  Byers  . . . I want him, now  . . . I could 
have him, it would be easy  . . .  Why not?  Langly's kicked him 
in the guts, I can make him feel better.  Why not?  It wouldn't do 
any harm.  Why not?//

He brought the beers back into the living room, and sat down 
beside Byers on the couch.

"What he said . . . you know he only said that because he was mad.  
You know that."  

Byers dropped his head into his hands.  "I don't know.  I haven't  
. . . I haven't had so many partners, Mulder.  Maybe I am no 
good."

Mulder grabbed him by the shoulder, forcing him to look at him.  
"That is not true.  I know it's not true."

They locked eyes, staring at each other for a long time.  Mulder's 
mind was racing.  //Easy . . . don't want to scare him off . . .// 
He let go of Byers and sat back a bit, lessening the tension.

"Maybe you should try to forget about Langly for a while."

"Yeah  . . how many beers you got?"

"I was thinking of something better than beer."

He pulled the tube out of his pocket and laid it on the table in 
front of them.  Looked up at Byers.  Watched the flush of  . . . 
what? Embarrassment?  Arousal?  building in his face.  Heard the 
almost inaudible noise Byers made in the back of his throat.  The 
silence grew and thickened in the room as they stared at each 
other.  Mulder reached out and picked up the tube, unscrewed the 
top and,  meeting Byers' eyes again, squeezed out a small amount 
on his fingers;  less than the last time, now he knew how strong 
the stuff was. He felt the tingling begin in his fingertips as the 
chemicals were absorbed through the skin.

Holding his breath he reached out his hand to Byers, slowly, 
giving him time to draw back.  Byers stayed as still as a statue 
except for his quickened breathing and his tongue darting out to 
moisten his dry lips.  Mulder gently touched his fingertips to 
Byers' cheek and was rewarded with a tiny gasp.  Byers closed his 
eyes and nestled his cheek into Mulder's hand.

Mulder pulled him closer, the remembered warmth spreading through 
his chest and down, giving in to the need to hold the other man 
close and make their blood beat as one.  He nuzzled against Byers' 
neck, breathing in the smell of him and nibbling the hot skin, 
sliding his hand up under Byers' sweater and over the skin of his 
ribs.  Byers flinched and drew back.

"Wait  . . . "

"What is it?"

"Too hot  . . ."  He pulled away from Mulder, got up and stumbled 
towards the bathroom.  Confused and disappointed, Mulder sat for a 
minute before following him.

 ===000===

Byers was leaning over the bathroom sink, splashing water on his 
face. He straightened up as Mulder came in and turned to face him.  
He had taken off his sweater and undone the top couple of buttons 
of his shirt,  baring his throat.

"Sorry  . . just feel a bit dizzy.  Haven't been eating much the 
last few days  . . I'll be okay . . ."  He swayed slightly and 
Mulder stepped forward, slipping an arm round him.  Byers leaned 
against him and Mulder felt the heat from his body through the 
thin shirt.  Byers was as hot as if he had a fever.  He clung to 
Mulder, his breath hot on Mulder's neck and Mulder tightened his 
grip.  They stood there a minute, bodies plastered together and 
the heat beating through both of them.  Mulder felt his erection 
growing, pushing against Byers, and felt Byers' hardness against 
him.  He pulled back to look at Byers' face.  

Byers was flushed, drops of water clinging to his temples and 
forehead where his hair was wet and falling forward.  His pupils 
were widely dilated, his mouth slightly open.  

Faces close together, they looked at each other for another long 
moment, then it was Byers who leaned forward to take Mulder's 
lips.  The shock  went through Mulder like a thunderbolt and he 
opened, greedily, taking Byers' tongue in his mouth and 
responding, feeling the heat and the need and the rasp of Byers' 
beard against his lips.  Like the last time his arousal grew with 
incredible speed and he pulled at Byers, deepening the kiss till 
they were devouring each other's mouths, only stopping when they 
were panting for breath.  

Mulder pushed Byers back against the bathroom wall, pinning him 
there with his hips while he tore at the younger man's shirt, 
while Byers' hands went straight to Mulder's fly, unzipping, 
unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down, taking his cock in 
one hand and squeezing his ass with the other.  They jerked 
briefly against each other till Byers gasped "in me . . . "

"You sure?"

"You started this, let's finish it . . . too late  . . ."

"I'm sorry Byers . . . "

"Just shut up and fuck me!"

Mulder lunged forward and grabbed Byers by the hair, kissing him 
harder and deeper than before, almost brutal in his need.  He 
pulled away,  grabbed Byers roughly and turned him against the 
wall.  Byers had already wriggled out of his own jeans and boxers.

He slid his hands down Byers's sides, over his hips and down, 
cupping his buttocks, caressing the firm mounds of muscle then 
bringing his fingers together, parting the crack and pulling his 
ass cheeks apart.  There was the hole, tight and tempting.  Mulder 
reached for more lube, slicking his fingers, and pressed in with 
his long middle finger.  Byers hissed, a  gasping indrawn breath, 
then Mulder's finger jabbed the sensitive spot inside and he 
shuddered involuntarily, his head jerked back and he moaned . . . 
"fuck, yes!"

Mulder continued to work his finger inside Byers, savouring the 
other man's moans as he stimulated him more and more.  With the 
other hand he caressed his own cock, already stiff and ready.  
Another finger slid in and Byers grunted, rocked back against him 
and spread his legs further.
  
"God, Mulder, please  . . ."

Mulder grasped his own cock and guided himself to the entrance, 
waiting there, rubbing the tip against the sensitive tissues, 
unable to resist the chance to inflame Byers to greater neediness 
as well as enjoying the anticipation.  He wanted to wait till 
Byers was screaming for it, but finally he couldn't wait any 
longer, pushed forward and in, crying out with relief as Byers 
submitted, taking him in, deep deep inside. One twitch of his hips 
and Byers growled deep in his chest, pushing back as if to take 
Mulder even deeper,  bracing himself against the wall with one 
hand.  His other hand slid down to his cock, but Mulder grabbed it 
firmly with his right hand and held it tight, robbing Byers of the 
relief of touching his own cock.  He moaned in frustration and 
bucked back against Mulder again.  

Mulder took a deep breath, readying himself, and began to fuck his 
willing partner, smooth and slow at first but all his intentions 
of making this last, were shattered as Byers began to move with 
him, pushing his hips back to meet every thrust, his cries 
inflaming Mulder to plunge deeper, harder with every stroke.  He 
grabbed Byers' thighs with both hands, pulling himself deeper.  
Soon Mulder was fucking him hard, hard as he could, slamming in 
with all his strength with every stroke, and Byers was gasping and 
bucking back against him greedily. Byers's cries built to a high 
continuous moan, one unintelligible syllable repeated again and 
again as he took everything Mulder could give him. 

All too soon Byers let out one final desperate gasp  . . "Ree!" 
and came, his semen spurting out and spattering against the wall, 
dripping down the tiles.  He collapsed forward against the wall, 
pulling Mulder with him,  and Mulder shoved forward with all his 
strength, thrusting in mercilessly once, twice, three, four times. 
Buried deep inside Byers, he felt the explosion start in his balls 
and shoot deep into the other man, forcing him hard against the 
wall.

He opened his eyes to see Byers' face turned to one side, his eyes 
shut, one cheek against the wall, his breath fogging the tiles as 
he panted rapidly, his mouth open.   Byers' weight began to sag 
against him and he knew he was the only thing holding the younger 
man up.  He was still hard and embedded deep inside him, but 
pulled out in one abrupt movement, causing Byers to moan in 
momentary discomfort and shock.  He slid his arms round Byers' 
chest, supporting him as his legs gave way, and lowered him to the 
floor, following him down till they were both half lying, half 
sitting propped against the wall.  The only sound in the echoing 
bathroom now was their harsh fast breathing.

After a while, his head clearing, he moved a little stiffly and 
looked at Byers sitting next to him, leaning his head back against 
the wall, his eyes still closed, still breathing fast.  He looked 
closer in concern  . . Byers was shaking, his forehead creased in 
an uncomfortable frown, his face pained.  

"Byers, are you okay?"

"Yeah . . . just cold  . . ."

Mulder slipped his arm round Byers shoulders.  Jeez, yes, he was 
cold and shivering.  "God . . . I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, I'm okay, just . . . dizzy again and so cold  . ."

"Hang on buddy. . ."  and Mulder reached over for his bathrobe 
hanging on the back of the door.  He slipped it round Byers's bare 
shoulders and  pulled the other man against him, trying to share 
his warmth. Byers leaned his head exhaustedly on Mulder's shoulder 
and mumbled "Sorry."

"What?  What for?"

"Shouldn't have let you do that  . . . we shouldn't . . . . " He 
shivered again, his teeth chattering.

"Look, never mind that now, we gotta look after you.  C'mon, we've 
gotta get you warm.  You're gonna get in my bed."

"B-bit late now, isn't it, Mulder?"

"Shaddup and do as you're told.  C'mon."

He pulled Byers to his feet, supporting him with an arm round his 
waist, and guided him into the bedroom,  Byers leaning against him 
heavily.  Mulder helped him to lie down on the bed and piled 
blankets over him. He sat down on the bed beside Byers, pulling 
the blankets up over his shoulders.

Byers blinked drowsily at him.  "Ree and me, we always wondered. . 
. what your bedroom was like  . . . if one of us would ever get to 
see inside it  . . . Mulder  . .  sorry  . ."

"Shut up, Byers, get some rest.  You got nothing to be sorry 
about."

"I  . . . I said Ree."

"Huh?"

"Just now  . . when we  . . I said Ree's name.  I'm sorry . . . " 
his voice trailed off as sleep overtook him.

Mulder sat beside the bed, occasionally checking to see that Byers 
was comfortable and warm enough.  So . . . Langly. Still Langly.  

Well, Langly, we'll see.  If you can't take better care of your 
property,  there are those of us who will.  Let's see who'll be 
sorry.


END


 To be continued  . . .