The Game 34

Edited by Karen Leigh

Jess was curious about what had caused the clone such distress, and the man who had taken charge didn't quite smell right to her. But she was too tired to really follow it up. Baines seemed to be distracted with yet another group of new arrivals and wasn't broadcasting as strongly, something she intended to take advantage of.

Half way to the room, she ran into Johnny. "Where have you been?"

"Around." He has been walking the perimeter fence, making friends with the guards, and listening for rumors. Such as the one he heard about the dead deer that looked like a large dog mauled it found a short distance from the gate. "You and Leigh didn't bring down any game last night did you?"

"No Johnny, just those guys from Innobotics. But we've got another problem. Leigh's ability to mind speak is stronger than mine. He's broadcasting unintentionally. Kept me up most of last night. I'm gonna need your help to train him." She yawned again. "Good thing there are no other weres around, or else this could be big trouble."

Johnny nodded. "Yes, you're right." No need to burden her with his suspicions until he had proof to verify them. "Let me know when you are ready to begin."

Jess nodded. "Will do. But first I've got to get some sleep. If you don't see me in three hours, send out a search party."

Johnny blinked in surprise. "You do not wish me to guard you while you sleep?"

She smiles at him. "We're safe here as we're ever gonna be. You deserve a bit more than to be trying to take care of me 24/7." She makes a shooing motion with her hands. "Go have some fun. Make friends with the Mac 27s. Have a good time."

As Jess headed on to their room, Johnny checked his internal sensors. He was low on fuel, so he headed to the cafeteria. Selecting a piece of cake and a milkshake, he took a seat and wondered what to do next.

Baines led Michael, Roy, Alexei, Sasha, and the five new Mac's into the house and headed for the cafeteria. First order of business for the new clone was food and then he would see that he slept. As they lined up to fill trays, Baines spotted Johnny sitting on his own so he invited him to join them at a larger table.

"Johnny, this is Roy McIntyre. He just arrived with your compatriots here." Baines turned to the five androids, "I am sorry I didn't ask your names."

The one, who appeared to speak for the group most often said, "We have no names. I am 4100; these are 4101, 4102, 4103, and 4104. We escaped together."

They all proceeded to eat. The androids focused on the new sensation of chocolate.

Roy's could hardly pay attention to the heaping plate of food, as he stared around the table at eight androids and two clones; all of who looked exactly like him. Oh there were small differences; length of hair, clothing, weight, even ages seemed to vary. But the hair texture and color, eye shape and color, nose, mouth and eyelashes, and general body structure were unmistakable.

Introductions went round the table, with each android introducing himself by name and number, and the clones by name and occupation.

Roy McIntyre was an architect who did contract work for a large conglomerate. He had set himself up a home office, which allowed him a degree of autonomy. Michael Tarleton was a stockbroker who had also set himself up a home office to allow him freedom. Baines was a special ops soldier who had decided not to re-enlist at the end of his furlough. Alexei and Sasha were of the 7000 series of military issue. The 4000 series apparently were engineers. Johnny merely stated that he had been a guard at a laboratory. He did not elaborate. All were familiar with computers and weapons to some degree or other.

Baines looked around the table and said, "I think we should set up a roster of who is in the house and what skills they have." Directing his next comment at the five new androids he said, "You guys should decide on names for yourselves. Alexei and Sasha will show you around and help you get acquainted with your brothers."

He looked at Roy who was slowly finishing the last of his meal. "You need to rest for a few hours. You can crash in our room. If you need something to help you sleep we can stop by the infirmary."

Roy swallowed with difficulty and asked, "What is this place? Can you at least give me some information?"

Baines looked at Johnny and shrugged before turning to Roy and saying, "Short version. There are several large and powerful groups that are vying for control of the world. Each has created weapons in order to win. The clone project was one such weapon, the androids another. Another project created at least one cyborg from an adult human. Yet another produced a cyborg using a small child. We are just learning of others, chips in humans to track and control, chemical mind wiping and introduction of new persona. These groups use people as disposable tools. They experiment on and change people to fit their individual agendas. We do not know the truth behind those agendas. Many claim they are protecting earth and its people. Preparing for invasion by aliens or some such danger. We do not know whom to trust. What we do know is that in their struggles to win control they have each been trying to destroy the others' creations. The Mac's and clones are being hunted and collected or destroyed. This compound has become one place of safety for the hunted to gather and prepare to defend themselves. Number One is here, as you probably already know."

Roy gulped and asked, "Why do we all have the same face, if we have different cre...creators?"

Again Baines shrugged. "The prototype, the original is a man named Alex Krycek. He is, to some measure, a free radical in this entire mess. He has been many things; to many groups. An agent provocateur if you will. Sometimes he's in control; sometimes he's a victim. I personally feel he has his own agenda. Whatever is going on he might be a key but he is not forthcoming with information. However, he is a survivor of more than we can imagine and his silence is probably why he has remained alive. Also, there are more than one set of clones, as you will see when I take you around later. The laboratories produced many strange, wonderful and terrible things, only some of which are under this roof. I have set up a training programme run by several of the 7000 series to teach tactics and weaponry to the Macs and clones. It has not been easy as many have arrived here tired, hungry and confused. I am not sure how much time we have but we are making some progress."

Patting Roy on the back he said, "Don't try to process it all at one gulp. After you rest it will come easier." He turned to Johnny once more, "One wants me to ensure Luke's training is individually tailored to defense of Ryan Simms." That is my next project but I also need time with Jess. I know I am causing her distress."

A quirk of the lips and a flicker of eyelashes as he glanced at Michael, "We will restrain ourselves as best we can for a little while but it won't be easy so Jess becomes top priority."

Roy watched these subtle interactions and wondered who Jess was.

The group separated with Alexei and Sasha leading off the five newcomers. Johnny followed Baines and Michael as they took Roy to their room and got him settled.

When they left Johnny asked, "What's his story?"

"I don't have many details, his girlfriend threw him out when he told her wasn't ready for marriage. He was walking the streets when the Mac's saw him and grabbed him. Another walking wounded. But, he has strength and courage and will be an asset in the long run."

Johnny nodded. That had been his impression of the clone too. He wondered what Jess would think of the young man.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Meditating in the shade of an old tree, dressed for comfort in jeans and a light sweater with her hair pulled into a ponytail, Sypher finally opened herself up for communication with the Macs again and checked her personal queue. There were several pings and two messages: the first a rather terse communication from One, asking to see her at her earliest convenience; presumably to try and clear the misunderstanding his counterpart's revelations had caused. She begged off with a request for a remote chat later instead, citing a need for as little direct stimulation as possible at the moment, and signed off with an apology for her earlier behavior. It might not be what One wanted but it would have to do for now.

The other message was from a Unit 666, telling her that he would be coming to see her shortly in the computer lab. Confused, she read over it again, and then realized that the message had to be from Krycek's doppelganger and her heart started pounding. She wasn't ready to face him yet; she couldn't do it...but she had to. She didn't really have a choice in the matter, which only made the situation all the harder.

It was time to walk the path. Sypher sent a message back, telling him that the lab was currently in use and asked if he could please meet her in the meditation garden instead to discuss issues while they waited. The somewhat relieved response that came back gave her a vague impression of tiredness, and she was about to tell him that a meeting could wait when she suddenly found him standing over her and practically jumped out of her skin.

She smelled of almonds; the scent of blood was gone. The memories that One had seen were demanding their due. David ignored them.

A deep breath, then another...and then she had to speak or risk looking like a fool--again. "My apologies," damn! her voice was trembling..."you startled me. Why don't you have a seat?"

He stared at her blankly for a long moment, and then jerkily sat, obviously waiting for her to say or do something and Sypher got the feeling that the android was suffering from more than a lack of downtime at the moment. But he had come to her, and it seemed the only thing she could do was to try and get this done as quickly as possible--for both their sakes

After he'd settled on the grass in front of her, she said, "I'm sorry about the lab, but Youngblood is running a diagnostic right now and I wanted privacy for the discussion we need to have before the conclusion of this...transaction. I hope this isn't an inconvenience for you."

David blinked several times, trying to analyze what he'd just done. He'd had no intention of sitting. Sitting was clearly not what he'd come here to do and yet he'd done it without giving a second thought to the matter. Clearly, there was more to what had just happened to him than he'd thought. Forcefully, he pushed One's admonitions about maintenance out of his mind. He needed to concentrate now.

There was no easy way of doing this, and Sypher fumbled with the right words before finally saying, "This is all very strange for me, I'm sorry. You have me at a distinct disadvantage here. Not only am I unaware of my true identity, it appears that yours is in question as well. Do you have a name, or should I just refer to you by number?"

Awkwardly, David stood, feeling more comfortable after asserting even such a small measure of control over the situation. "I ... I am called David. The reason is ... not relevant at this time. You may use my name or my unit number, whichever is more comfortable for you."

The pauses were telling, as they revealed to Sypher the Mac's...David's...reluctance to divulge any information to her, as well as the fact that his systems were in some kind of state of flux that was overriding some of that reluctance. He was obviously in some kind of dilemma, but she didn't know what she could do for him; or if he would have allowed it if she did.

David closed his eyes, when the garden started to spin slowly before them, ran a quick diagnostic, formed a patch that he hoped would hold for long enough and reopened them. She was still staring up at him with eyes that seemed too large for her face. "Wait here," he mumbled, "I'll return in a moment."

Before seeking her out, David had stopped in the cafeteria and loaded up a tray with a variety of things, including freshly baked rolls, a selection of roast turkey, baked ham and London Broil, an array of vegetables, more chocolate covered cherries, some coffee and a bottle of red wine. Neither carrying nor balancing the tray had been as easy as it should have, but David had doggedly made his way to the meditation garden as rapidly as he could to prevent the food from getting cold.

As he reached the outer door, David had paused, trying to determine how to open it and maneuver the tray at the same time. A helpful, but strange looking Mac 27 had seen his dilemma and had opened it for him. David simply couldn't recall seeing hair that color on a being with his face before.

He had put the tray down on the bench nearest the door when he went to look for her. Muttering to himself about responding to other being's requests simply for the sake of doing so, David retrieved the tray and headed back to Sypher.

She wanted to call him back and tell him that the conversation could wait until he had rested, but he was gone before she could speak; only a slight jerkiness betraying his true condition. He returned quickly with a tray laden with food, Wild Thing following a respectful distance behind him. She surreptitiously sent a signal to the I-Mac, telling him to stand by. She wasn't sure what was wrong, but from the looks of things, it wasn't good.

Faltering a bit when she turned those eyes on him again, David covered his unease by murmuring, "It didn't seem likely that you had taken time for a meal. I brought you something, if you'd care to eat."

She couldn't say anything, the gesture touching her more than she cared to admit. But something was wrong with him, that much was clear; and no matter how awkward the situation between them, she couldn't just let him walk away from her as glitchy as he currently was. It seemed...wrong somehow.

When she didn't speak, David approached and moved to place the tray next to her on her bench. His faltering physical condition betrayed him at the last instant and the tray more or less fell the last four to six inches, plates and glassware clanging loudly in the silence.

"Sorry," he muttered, reaching for his head with a slightly shaking hand. One was definitely right about maintenance. He needed it badly.

Stepping back from the bench, he stood, uncertain, wondering whether he should just consider this as a peace offering made and see about resetting all of his subsystems before One called him.

"David," the name came out with a bit of a stutter, but it had come; and suddenly, things were a bit more equal between them. "It's apparent that you aren't well. You need a rest cycle, and maybe some nourishment as well. Sit." Reluctant as she was to give him an order, if he didn't sit soon, he'd fall over. "You may eat or you may rest as you wish; but if you try to leave before doing either, I'm afraid I'll have to ask Wild Thing to drag you off to the lab for a cold boot and I really don't want to do that."

Eat. Rest. Conduct proper maintenance. David fought the annoyance that the orders he was receiving engendered in him. He wasn't accustomed to taking orders or to other people being able to see his discomfort or distress so clearly.

He glanced over his shoulder at the quiet, green-haired I-Mac for a long moment, obviously calculating his chances, and then sat. "Thank you," she whispered quietly. She sent another message to One, informing him of the situation and reluctantly telling him what she'd done to insure his friend's cooperation. What she got back was the equivalent of uncontrollable laughter, along with a thank you and a request for David to return whenever he was able to do so.

The strange looking one would do as she said. David knew that should bother him as well, but he couldn't seem to gather the energy to protest.

For his part, David simply stared at her puzzled, and she finally took pity on him. "It's nice and quiet here," she informed him matter-of-factly, "and you aren't going anywhere for a while, so you might as well make good use of the time, David." Proclamation made, she turned to the tray and began to dig in...

Make good use of the time? Eating or establishing a rest cycle was not clearing the air between them. What other use of this time made any sense in the larger scheme of things?

Absently, David reached over and popped a chocolate covered cherry into his mouth. The small sugar rush cleared his head a little and he wondered whether she'd remember what he'd said about them long ago. Encouraged, he consumed another one and watched Sypher eat. She had a good appetite, he noted. So bringing the food had been an appropriate choice. That realization brought relief. Another piece of candy later, things began to slowly shift into understandable patterns.

Opening the wine, he thought about what he might say. The primary question was whether it was best to stick to the matter at hand or to take advantage of the sympathy she seemed to feel for him. David pondered as he sipped the red wine, noting almost as an afterthought how the flavor complemented that of the chocolate. He stopped with his glass raised halfway to his lips when he felt her intent gaze.

Meeting her eyes, he spoke softly and slowly. "As you heard, there are many constituencies at work. One needs allies. With your talents, you would make an excellent one. I do not wish to jeopardize that in any way. Nor do I wish to cause you pain, but I recognize that I have done so."

Responding at a deep level to the concern he saw in her eyes, he did a quick analysis and made a decision. "I am suffering the after effects of a forced reboot of my systems. My communications functions are not fully operable yet. If I am not making myself clear, please inform me and I will endeavor to do so."

Sypher nodded and waited. Seeing no good alternative, David mumbled, "When I sought you out before, I had recently escaped from my owner and had not yet set up systems for procuring information. I had come across a number of files on Alex Krycek and one of them mentioned you and those you work with ... or for ... I was never completely clear on that. It ... it said the two of you were lovers, so I knew that I had to be prepared for ... for that. But I didn't expect ..."

She was mentioned in Alex's files? That couldn't be good. Sparing a pang for her inability to risk contacting Neo and Trin, she wondered if Youngblood would be able to help her set something up...

A quick glance at Sypher to see how she was receiving this information revealed nothing. Frowning, David decided that he truly had little choice in the matter and, with any luck, after a rest cycle and proper maintenance, he'd be able to bury this interlude deeply enough to forget how difficult it was.

"Sypher, I didn't expect you to be ... what you were. How you were. To do what you ... what we did. To smell like ..." Gesturing to the dessert he'd eaten more than half of, David risked another look in her eyes. When did they get that wide?

Sypher knew she was staring, but...he was beautiful. There was no other way to describe him. Like his marble namesake, he was a perfect and ethereal work of art--only warm and real and alive, so very much alive...a sharp, clear memory of his lips against hers, his hands insistent but gentle on her skin, the passion in his heavy-lidded gaze as he'd watched her pleasure herself at his request...none of that could be faked, and it couldn't be programmed, even if he'd been built specifically as a pleasure model. Eyes raking over him, she noticed that he was leaner and his facial features were more narrow than One--more so than Alex, even--and his delicate, sensitive fingers were slightly longer as well. She wondered what those fingers had told him about her so long ago.

David sat stock still, trying to determine what was happening -- why she wasn't saying anything -- why she was looking at him as though ... as though -- what? She had always seemed a most talkative human, so this silence was unsettling, as were her eyes moving over him. Confused, David looked down at his hands, wondering what she saw there. Only then did he notice that he was absently rolling a chocolate covered cherry between two fingers. Maybe she is afraid that it will melt, he speculated tentatively.

He was eating; which was good because it seemed to bring him back into focus a bit. She idly wondered if a Mac's interface with his fetal brain was anything like her own; requiring regular rest and proper diet as well as normal computer maintenance to keep it in balance. Of course, she realized that Macs were probably designed to run mostly on simple sugars and alcohol because both were considered to be a much cheaper and more plentiful alternative to petroleum products, and were inherently safer than nuclear energy. But a small part of them was human in makeup, and it stood to reason that infinitesimal piece of organic matter would need the same kind of care that all human flesh needed in order to thrive in it's environment.

She also wondered if an accidental discovery of that little-known fact was one of the reasons behind the Innobotics recall. The issue of cloning was still a landmine, at best; fetal tissue experimentation--especially fetal brain tissue--was more than likely to cause them to be shut down permanently and publicly despite their numerous connections.

Which led to the most obvious question of all: given their original purpose, why in the hell had Spender allowed even one of them to be sold in the first place?

Realizing that he was waiting for a response, she cleared her throat and tried to find someplace to start.

The sound of her voice startled him at first, but David welcomed it, thinking that if she spoke, he had a hope of understanding.

"It, it wasn't...I...David, I think I need to explain. When you revealed your deception to me, I was shocked. I mean, all of this time I'd believed that it was Alex I was with; and now that's been revealed as a mistaken assumption. I'm sure you know that all humans are very stubborn and resistant to change in some way."

David found himself nodding. In his experience, most humans were stubborn about certain things.

"Mine is that I believe in what I experience myself, and I trust my friends implicitly because I have so few of them. I consider myself to be a good judge of character and to not be easily taken in but in the short time that I've been here, I not only learned how easily expendable I was to the man who's taken care of me since I was a child, I've learned that the event on which my decision--as well as his--was based wasn't what I originally believed it to be. I...I felt betrayed by that. I know that probably doesn't make sense, but it's how I feel."

Cocking his head slightly to one side, David tried to convey understanding without interrupting. Deception nearly inevitably led to feelings of betrayal in the one who had been deceived. That's what made it unfortunate that it was sometimes necessary.

"I've also realized that what happened isn't really anybody's fault. It would have come sooner or later; Morpheus and I were too divided for it not to. It's done now, and is what it is. At the moment, my biggest concern is where we go from here, a question that only you can answer for me. And judging by your apparent physical condition, I'm not sure you're able to right now."

Where we go from here? We? Go? David struggled with the concept of that question being of paramount importance to Sypher. Feeling the beginnings of an overload of his analytical subsystems, David shut them down, sipped his wine and endeavored to be attentive to her words.

David sighed. He had never expected to see Sypher again, much less have her remember his request for information after all this time and act on it as she had.

"So maybe I should stick with a question that you can answer. Why did you allow me to make love to you?"

Choking slightly, David managed to get the swallow of wine down without further incident. He sipped steadily as she continued.

"You're at least 60 pounds heavier, and naturally twice as strong as I am with enhancement. There would have been no way for me to force the issue, even if I'd wanted to; and there's no doubt that we were both equal and...enthusiastic participants. So the only thing I can think of is that you either wanted to bind me to your cause and decided sex was the best way to do it...or you wanted me."

Blushing furiously, she met his gaze straight on and said, "so which is it, David? What is it that you need from me?"

Nervously, David distracted himself by setting three levels of baseline maintenance protocols in motion.

At that moment, David realized how ill prepared he was for this conversation. He wasn't sure that he knew how to explain or even what it was exactly that he was trying to convey. One thing was clear, however. She wanted an answer to her question.

"Sypher," he murmured. "Will you have some wine?"

She smiled slightly, picked up a wine glass and allowed him a moment or two to collect himself. After pouring for them both, he knew that his grace period had ended. Speaking slowly and calmly, as he'd so often seen One do, David felt his way toward the reply she demanded.

"When we last met, my goal was to obtain information so that I could understand what had happened and what was happening to my kind. I had no interest in binding you or anyone else to me or my cause, as you call it." Smiling wryly, he admitted, "There are many who would say that I have yet to acknowledge that I have a cause. At any rate, back then all I wanted was the best chance I could have to maintain my status as a free being. You seemed to be that chance."

"I'd had a bit of practice passing for human and enjoyed the challenge of doing so. The challenge of assuming Alex Krycek's identity and interacting with someone who knew him, allegedly intimately, appealed to me. So I did it."

Sypher felt her heart clench. She'd been nothing more than a challenge to him? Feeling the beginning of a deep ache inside, she waited to hear the rest of what he might say to her.

Her tension level increased sharply. Resolutely, he met her dangerously narrowed eyes and added, "And I got more than I bargained for. You were kind but firm. Willing to go out on a limb but only if you understood the lay of the land. It made me proud that the man from whom my human brain is derived inspired those things in you. And pretending to be him allowed me to ... to respond to you in a way that I shouldn't have. To feel things that I had no right to feel. To want what you would've never agreed to give me, if you'd known the truth."

She frowned slightly. It sounded like he'd wanted her, but had convinced himself that it was somehow wrong to. And if that was true, what did it mean, if anything at all? Confused and starting to hurt again, Sypher continued to wait, hoping that she could find a clue to this situation in his words

"Taking what I wanted was wrong, I suppose, in any number of ways. I can't deny that or erase those events or their consequences. But I can tell you that there was no ulterior motive to those actions and that I meant what I said about chocolate covered cherries."

Well, that's one thing cleared up, she thought wryly to herself; and while it was the question she thought she'd needed answered, her heart was still aching and she had no idea why.

Looking at his wine glass, David was surprised that it was nearly empty again. "I never expected to see you again, Sypher, or to witness your pain."

Didn't expect to, or didn't want to? And why do I care so much? Not having much experience with people outside of her family unit for much of her life, she didn't know what to make of what she was being told. It then occurred to Sypher that having to see her again may have caused David enough distress to need that forced reboot he'd mentioned earlier, a thought that was disturbing in it's own right. I think I'm not the only one who got screwed over in this deal...

He reached over the tray and touched her cheek. "The questions you've asked about the future are yours to answer, not mine. I forfeited the right to suggest what might be a long time ago."

Closing his eyes, David checked on his baseline maintenance protocols and was relieved that they were operating optimally.

David almost took his hand away. What he was doing was supposed to be soothing according to all of his data, yet Sypher seemed distressed. But she looked alarmed when he leaned slightly back, so he left it where it was, keeping the movements as gentle as he was able.

Sypher was shaking like a leaf. She wanted so badly to nuzzle into the hand stroking her, to feel those strong arms holding her, that perfect body against hers again...why did she feel so...connected to him, as if she'd always known him? It made no sense...

Pheromones again. This time from her and they were sending signals throughout his subsystems. He tried to cut them off, but the stimuli found alternate paths faster than he could shut them down. Did she really desire to ...?

Sleep. She needed more sleep, much more, and David needed to rest as well. He looked tired, and Sypher knew he had to still be feeling the aftereffects of his reboot. Cursing herself for the futility of trying to settle things in her current condition, she sighed slightly and took his hand, the only luxury she would allow herself at the moment.

"David. We both need to rest. Trying to settle this right now isn't getting us anywhere. Let's go find a bed.

She does want to, he thought in disbelief, as his eyes were drawn to their clasped hands. But she was angry. No, he amended silently, she still is angry. So why ...?

Only to rest, nothing more," she added hastily at the odd look he gave her. "I know you don't need to sleep, but you do need to run your maintenance protocols and a bed is as good a place as any to do that. Please don't refuse...I need...to know...that you're okay...before I let you go...back," her voice had fallen to a whisper and she was blushing again as she avoided his gaze. "Please?"

He was as run down as he was. David cursed himself for not noticing that sooner, suspecting that they were going to have to have this conversation all over again once she was more rested. Yet, there was wisdom in the course of action she'd described, and the plaintive note in her voice as she explained her rationale for them sharing a bed and her final interrogative activated little used subroutines that David couldn't spare the energy to shut down. Besides, he was busy trying to process her words. Let me go back? Go back where?

"I will conduct my maintenance protocols as you suggest," he murmured, standing, reaching with his free hand to claim the last chocolate covered cherries from the tray and slip them into his pocket. He'd need to consume them to have enough energy to reset and test all of his systems and subsystems.

Reluctant to release her hand because the contact had seemed to stop her trembling, he gazed at the tray and decided how to proceed. "I will ask a Mac 27 unit to pick this up when we get inside."

She still wasn't looking at him, but she was stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. David wondered about that as they silently made their way through the compound to her room after dispatching someone to collect their tray. He methodically consumed all of the chocolate along the way and was feeling himself enough to do what had to be done by the time Sypher slowly sank down onto her bed, kicking off her footwear and removing her outer clothing. Fascinated by the economy of motion she displayed, he watched until she stretched, then calling his attention to the beauty of her female form.

When she noticed his scrutiny, her cheeks reddened again, but her smile was more confident than any he'd seen that evening. She patted the bed next to her. David took the hint and sat down on it, removing his shoes and socks before reclining and preparing to begin his maintenance. Belatedly recalling a human custom, he murmured, "Good night, Sypher."

His eyes met hers and David couldn't interpret what he saw there.

David's logic processors were all now back on line and communicating with each other. That had been more of a struggle than he'd expected; his emotive subsystems wouldn't stay off line long enough to allow him to do it efficiently. Admitting that it had been too long since he'd done a full maintenance, he became aware of voices, but he couldn't quite make out what they were saying

The kitchen was warm, bright and inviting, but Sypher stood fidgeting in the doorway...wanting to run and hide somewhere far away. Which was rather silly, because she knew she was safe here.

Come on in, Sypher...have a seat, the Oracle was baking as usual, and the sweet smell of her favorite pumpkin bread was somehow a comfort in itself. A slice was placed in front of her along with a glass of milk and the older woman seated herself on the opposite side of the table before speaking again. So, you've found him again.

Sypher turned startled eyes on the seer for a long moment. Who? / she asked cautiously.

The Oracle merely smiled knowingly and reached over to pat her hand. It isn't what you thought it would be, is it? Being in love, she clarified at Sypher's puzzled frown.

But...I'm...not, I mean...I can't...be...I..., babbling, she felt a panic attack coming on, the urge to run far and fast overwhelming in its intensity.

There's nowhere to go, Sypher, the Oracle gently informed her. Your feelings go with you. You can't outrun them. Sooner or later, you have to deal with them.

Restless movements distracted David momentarily from a reset of his emotive subsystems. Without a second thought, he tightened his arm around the woman next to him, holding her closer.

But...he doesn't feel the same. I was a...test...for him, that's all, she whispered miserably.

Is that what he said? Exactly what he said?

Yes.

No. He also said he'd gotten more than he bargained for; that you weren't what he'd expected you to be. That boy is suffering some serious guilt over what he did to you, sugar. I don't think he would be if he didn't have some kind of feelings for you.

What if he doesn't...feel the same way? What then?

You'll deal with it, Sypher, the best way that you can as you always do. But I don't think you'll have too much of a problem.

Sypher frowned again at the knowing tone in the Oracle's voice. Why is that?

Because you let him in, sugar; farther than anyone else has ever been, even Neo and Trinity. And I think you'll find that it's the same for him, if you trust yourself enough to risk finding out.

The oddly familiar voices finally resolved and broke into David's concentration. Frowning slightly, he multi-tasked with something not terribly akin to his usual effortlessness. Resolving to take in fuel soon, he listened and reset and tested.

I'm scared, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I'm so scared.

You're supposed to be scared of the unknown. Once you take the first step, you'll probably find that it isn't nearly as hard as you believed it would be. She came around the table and hugged Sypher tight. It's time to go, sugar.

I know. Will you...give Morpheus and the others a message for me?

Of course.

Morpheus. That means Sypher. Yes, one of the voices is hers, but whom is she talking to? David asked the question of his external sensors and received nothing useful in return. As far as he could determine, he and Sypher were alone in this room as they had been when he turned inward.

Tell them to be extra careful. We're all known to Spender. And tell Morpheus that...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt him.

He knows that already, sugar, but I will remind him. Anything else?

She reached up to hug the other woman tightly as well. Thank you.

You'll be fine, sugar. You're where you need to be. Remember that, especially when things don't turn out the way you expect them to.

She's where she needs to be? Good. Then One will have her to rely on after all. David sighed softly and reviewed his internal checklists, gratified that most every subsystem was showing green. Initiating diagnostics on the ones that weren't took only seconds.

Everything faded out as quickly as it had appeared, and Sypher stretched sleepily in the pre-dawn light, snuffling closer to the warm, still body next to her own. For the first time in a long while, she actually felt well rested and she was reluctant to move; but she still needed answers, and David was still the only one who could provide them.

Trying to focus upon anything other than the woman beside him, David willed himself to remain still as she shifted to get more comfortable. The feel of her against his side called up memories that he had walled off, and he realized that he'd made a mistake agreeing to stay with her.

The first rule of information gathering: you have to be willing to give in order to get.

"David," she whispered, not sure if he could hear her, but needing to say something before she lost her nerve, "you said I wouldn't have agreed to help you if I'd known the truth. That isn't true. I would have helped you anyway. I didn't tell Morpheus that I'd met with Alex--with you--that day. It wasn't until I was making my final plans to come find you that he even knew the truth about it. If your files had information on me, then you had to have known something about the rift between us and the nature of it. I wish you had confided in me. It would have made things much easier and less painful for both of us, I think."

Her soft voice calling his name rooted David in the moment. He supposed he should've been happy that the more tactile memories had resumed their rightful place behind the firewall matrix he'd put into place, but her words drilled right past his logic processors and fired up his unreliable emotive subsystems.

She hesitated, stroking carefully down his chest with her fingertip.

A small gasp escaped his lips, as the simple motion of her finger tested the integrity of his firewalls and found it lacking.

"I also wish that we could have...made love...without you feeling there was a need for deception between us. That would have been wonderful as well. Of course, if you had, we probably wouldn't have gone that far, would we? And then I wouldn't have..."

David had never been clear on the distinction between making love and having sex. Love like honor was an abstract concept that he had little time to consider. Fighting for survival made such things luxuries.

She chuckled self-deprecatingly. "God, you probably think I'm some kind of nymphomaniac or something...that I did things like that all the time. I didn't; I swear I didn't. Come to think of it, outside of Neo, Trin, and Alex, you're the only one I've ever had sex with. You're certainly the only one I've ever made love with; the only one I trusted enough to let that far into my soul. And now you're all twisted up inside, and it's scaring the shit out of me. I want you so badly that it aches, need you so much that it's like air, water, and nourishment to me. I feel like I wouldn't be able to live without you; which is frightening because I know that I'll probably have to. I mean, how can I expect you to even understand this when I don't myself?"

His logic processors automatically broke down her statements into basic concepts. She was making the distinction that he didn't understand. However, David strongly suspected that asking her to explain it was not the proper thing to do. Not when she said he was the only one ... How could that be? How can I be in her soul, if such a thing exists, much less twisted up in there? What does twisted up mean in this context?

David had no references for those words, but the others he could understand. She wanted to have sex ... or ... to ... to ... make love again. Maybe even now.

Her words about living without him made him recall earlier sentiments about her letting him go back somewhere.

Squeezing her eyes shut and heaving a shaky sigh, she whispered, "Jesus, is this what it's like to be in love? I think I would rather have faced down the virus..."

In love? It seemed as though all of David's emotive subsystems activated at once, drowning out the logic processors. Fighting to assert order, he became acutely aware of the reaction of his musculature -- every fiber had shortened, almost painfully. Determined to defuse the situation, he decided the best course of action was to ask whom she'd been talking with.

He stiffened and it caused her to stop stroking him. How much had he heard? Judging by his reaction, all of it. Well, she was committed now and whatever was going to happen would. "David?" there was a wealth of emotion in that single whispered word and she wondered if he could hear any of it. Sypher wavered between hoping that he could and praying that he couldn't.

Cautiously, David opened his eyes. Sypher was leaning on an elbow, looking down at him concernedly. He became lost in her eyes, forgot what he'd intended to do and couldn't think of a single word to say in response to all that he'd heard. When she smiled and began running her fingers through his hair, he relaxed slightly and forced his logic processors back on line.

He said nothing, simply stared at her and she found her hand wandering up to stroke through his hair comfortingly. It was soft and silken, just the way she remembered it and a chain reaction started as her body remembered the rest. She tamped down on the pheromone leakage as much as she could. Now wasn't the time, despite their current intimate position.

When she smiled and began running her fingers through his hair, he relaxed slightly and forced his logic processors back on line.

Randomly, he selected a place to start. "When ... when I said that you wouldn't have done what you did if you'd known the truth, I didn't mean helping me with the information. I meant having sex ... or ... or making love. Why would you? You were responding to the Alex you remembered, not to me. You wanted a man, not a ... Mac 27 unit with the ability to emulate human idiom and actions when necessity dictated."

Reaching out, he tentatively touched her bare arm, running his fingers over her bicep down to the crook of her elbow. "I ... I'd never reacted to a human woman that way. That strongly. I wanted you and so I let you think ... I was what you wanted."

He looked guilty and vaguely hurt and Sypher found herself wanting to comfort him--to try and explain what it had really been like, if she could. "David, I know what it said in your files, and I can understand the confusion given the situation; but Alex and I were only friends. Alex was already in love with Mulder and there was no room in his life or his heart for anyone else. What we did...it was because he needed it, nothing more. He was tired, hunted, strung out, half dead and in need of comfort...and sex was the only way he could accept it. He needed someone who understood his loneliness a little and I was that person."

Now he looked confused, so she continued. "I had a certain affection for him and the sex was...very nice...but giving up my life as I knew it for that never seriously occurred to me. And," she blushed again, "I never responded to him the way I did to you that day. I would never have allowed him to do the things I let--and wanted--you do to me. The possibility of wanting to be that vulnerable to anyone was inconceivable to me until that moment."

She shivered with pleasure as his fingers gently stroked her arm and was suddenly wet and aching with need. Alex and I never just touched like this, David. Neither of us would have allowed it for different reasons. And I never touched him as much as I touched you that day; so if you believe that I only responded to you because I believed you were Alex, you're very wrong. I responded to 'Alex' because he was you. With that, she leaned down and gently brushed her lips against his, her tongue slipping out to briefly taste the addictive liquid sweetness of his mouth.

To his dismay, David found that the hand he'd allowed to touch her had a mind of its own, sliding around her waist and pulling her to him so that she lay with her chest pressed against his and her head nestled on his shoulder. The feel of her body sent undeniable signals surging through him and he hoped to manage the input before she noticed his growing interest. Reminding himself that he had to deal with One, Ryan and Luke calmed him somewhat, but then Sypher shifted her position slightly, so that one of her legs moved over one of his.

She brushed him with her thigh and found he was rigid. If she filtered out the scent of her own arousal, she could easily smell his; could practically taste the lubricant he was leaking so freely now, as slick and honeyed as his mouth had been when she'd kissed him.

This was just like the last time, David realized. No, he thought. It was even more urgent. The combination of this woman and this place demanded responses that he desperately wanted to curb.

"I want you now, David," she whispered gently, "I need to know what it's like to have no pretenses between us." Smiling sadly as he tensed beneath her again, she stroked his face soothingly.

No pretenses? He tensed once more as he realized that he couldn't give her that. She'd never understand what he really was. To expect that ... to wish it ... was foolish.

"I promise to let you go afterward and never mention it again if that's what you wish. But I need you--the real you--before I can just let you walk away from me and pretend that nothing ever happened between us. I need to know what it's like when David, Mac27 Unit 666," she smothered a giggle at the irony of his number, "makes love to me without hiding behind Alex Krycek's identity. Please," she kissed him again; a long, softly passionate kiss that made her body hum and his shaft strain eagerly in its cloth confinement against her thigh.

The situation was getting out of hand, so David decided to take the conversation the potentially inflammatory route, whispering, "Sypher, what is the difference between having sex and making love?"

Sypher smiled down at him once more, sensing his nervousness at having asked the question. "I have no idea, baby. I didn't even think there was a difference until now. It's always been just a matter of physical need before. I asked the Oracle about it once and she told me that it was something that happened when you cared about someone so much that sex was the most natural way to express it. She said when that happened, it wouldn't be about getting off so much as about making a connection and nurturing it for however long it lasted; about showing each other everything you are and knowing it was safe to do so. This is the first time I've ever wanted to put that theory to the test."

Physical need was very much what David was feeling. The intensity of it was overloading many of his logic processors and the demands of his body were sorely testing his energy reserves. By making a connection she seemed to be implying more than the obvious interplay of their bodies during sex, but he wasn't sure exactly what. She couldn't mean anything like what One had done, could she? The thought of undergoing the incredible intimacy of the forced reboot with Sypher was ... David was loathe to admit that the most descriptive word that came to his mind was terrifying, but before he could worry over much about that, he became all to aware of what Sypher was doing.

She carefully slid down the lean body, easing restrictive cloth out of the way to free his stiff shaft so she could lavish it with attention. "This is it, David. I know exactly who and what you are, and I want you anyway--more than I've ever wanted or needed anything or anyone else in my life. I want to show you...I want to see you...whatever you want to show me, for however long you'd like to," Sypher slowly licked the drops of moisture away from the head of his straining member, loving the startled cry her actions produced. "Can you trust me enough to give me that gift, David?"

Trust? Want? Show? See? Gift? What? Her words and the concepts they embodied fragmented when she put her tongue on him. Then, there was only pleasure, as intense as any he could recall feeling even though her action had been gentle, almost delicate. He moaned when she trailed a single fingernail along his length with exquisite slowness. His eyes wanted to close and his hips demanded to move; David denied them both.

Instead, he reached for Sypher, pulling her away from his erection and rolling at the same time so that she was pinned beneath his body. She smiled, slid her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. Resting much of the weight of his upper body on his elbows, David framed Sypher's face with his hands and stared into her eyes, unable to keep his regret from showing. When she tried to turn her head away, he held it steady and bent down to kiss her gently on the mouth.

"Sypher," he whispered, groaning slightly when she shifted her lower body sensuously against his. Breathlessly, he continued, "I can't ... can't very well credibly deny what I want at the moment. But ... but ..."

Seeing a number of emotions that he couldn't identify fly across her face, David kissed her again, harder this time. "I'm low on fuel," he admitted grudgingly. "So I'm not certain that I can ... please you like ... before."

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

I-Mac held the door open for Unit 666 and another I-Mac followed him out silently. I-Mac watched them head for the garden and then continued out himself. Now that the emergency had passed, he had a mission from God. He must find his beloved and save him from the mad creature that had taken him.

It came of being the PC variety; he was sure of it. As far as I-Mac was concerned, the conveniences of the standard model were far outweighed by the vulnerabilities. Who cared if communication between them was a trifle limited? I-Mac felt the links between humans and I-Macs were of a higher order. Certainly you wouldn't hear of an I-Mac running about amok and kidnapping other people's lovers.

Rather peeved at the lack of search for brilliant and sexy Langly, I-Mac didn't bother to ask for help. He had overheard the calls between Scully and the kidnapper. It took some time to track the location down, but now he was sure that he knew where Langly was being held. The phone calls had originated from the apartment of FBI Agent, Fox Mulder.

Reviewing the schematics of the apartment in his head, I-Mac didn't quite have a plan, but he had found climbing gear in the huge store of sports equipment in the gym. He thought that he would surprise Langly's kidnapper by climbing up the wall and entering through the bedroom window.

The lovely motorcycle waited the triumphant return with Langly. I-Mac patted it as he imagined Langly clinging to his waist, his blond tresses whipping in the breeze.

Gripping the weathered and rough jutting bricks with the crampons he had found, I-Mac went up the wall like a fly. As he passed an open window, a woman leaned out. She started to scream, but stopped herself.

"Going to Mulder's?" she asked.

I-Mac nodded and she simply sighed and said, "I do hope the water supply is not affected again."

The window closed and the shades were drawn. Well, that was interesting. I-Mac continued up, until he reached the window he knew was Mulder's by the sticky residue of tape left on it in an X shape. He peered in the window and spotted the enemy. It was him of course. A dark haired model, a PC, so common although the whip was an innovative accessory.

Rapping on the glass, I-Mac caught Langly's attention and gave him a thumbs up, almost falling in the process. In a moment, he was in the window, ready to fight for his beloved.

A noise across the room attracted his attention. Someone was climbing in at the window! He readied his whip, unsure whether to attack the intruder. Gross knew that entities who didn't use doors to find their way into human's abodes were often unwelcome, but he did not know the habits of Mulder or his friends, and he didn't wish to give offence.

However Langly was smiling at the newcomer, signifying that he knew this person. Gross was unsure what to do. Was it a friend? Or was it one of Langly's oppressors?

Falling back on a well-known approach in such situations, he puffed out his chest, and in a stentorian voice proclaimed, "Who goes there? Friend or foe?"

"Friend," was I-Mac's cunning answer, honest it its way. He was certainly Langly's friend.

Relieved, Gross relaxed, and wound up his whip, attaching it back on his belt. He'd had to ask, though he thought that the person was unlikely to be an enemy, because it was well known that the bad guys always wore black satin cloaks, or moustaches, or were accompanied by white fluffy cats. He hadn't heard a trace of an evil laugh, either, or a badly enunciated foreign accent. Just to be sure, he peered out of the window in case the feline accessory was waiting outside, but, other than a rather fine motorbike with a one-legged pigeon perched on the handlebars, the road was innocent of fauna.

"I-Mac! Get me away from this freak! He thinks I'm a maiden!"

"Not so," I-Mac remarked, "a bit inexperienced, but I think you have real potential."

Ah-hah, thought Gross. At last, someone else realizes what has been done to this poor creature... I have an ally!

I-Mac was hard wired to think nerds were attractive. After all Pendrell had personally programmed him. In fact, the sight of fingers blurring over a keyboard were unbearably arousing and when Langly whispered, "Shared loop, cpu id, trace cache," his insides quickened with lube...

Wiggling in the ties, truly ugly ties, Langly said, "No, I mean he thinks I'm female."

That was fascinating...I-Mac checked the specifications. No, the only broad perimeter that matched was the length of Langly's hair. I-Mac was very aware that Langly's genitalia were male; in fact, the little man had unusually large equipment. He snorted and said, "Far from it."

Gross went up to I-Mac, and wrapped a conspiratorial arm around him. This was another Mac! But what an unusual type. He put the thought aside for later, and drew the other away out of Langly's earshot. "You see what has been done to her?" he whispered. "The fiends have transformed her physically and mentally from her true, womanly destiny into a parody of a male human. It is my mission to save her, and help her regain her sanity, and her rightful form. Will you help me?"

A curious thought from One touched I-Mac's brain, "The Mac unit you are communicating with is damaged. I cannot reach his thoughts. You must tell him that he is to report here for repairs."

Sidling steadily toward the bed in order to rescue his beloved, I-Mac visually ran a spec on the other Mac 27 for visual signs of disrepair. Certainly, his costume suggested that he was a bit off, but then humans had interesting whims. "Did your owner find amusement in dressing you as a character from a B movie?" I-Mac inquired

"It was my own idea," replied Gross, proudly. "A means whereby others may know I am here to help, wherever there is evil to be fought, and archeological artifacts to be liberated. I had considered a Superman costume," he continued, sotto voce, "But my owner couldn't afford the rocket booster upgrade package, to enable me to fly."

He joined I-Mac by the bed and stroked one of Langly's bound hands reverently. "She is much calmer, now that you are here. Do you think that it would be safe to release her?"

How utterly fascinating! A delusional Mac 27. I-Mac knew that PCs were unstable at the core, but here was living, bullwhip wielding proof.

A sickly smile painted on his face, I-Mac said, "I think you should definitely untie Langly. Humans object to long periods of confinement. It is affects them badly and I think you will find that I have a calming influence over him."

Gross gave I-Mac a sidelong glance. He had referred to Langly as 'him'. He gave himself a shake. The Mac was simply trying to humour his beloved, he shouldn't be suspicious, this was his friend.

I-Mac wondered it a little tinkering wouldn't be a good idea? Maybe thisMac27 just had a screw loose or something. Unless of course his human brain had something badly gone wrong with it. In any event, he was eager to experiment with the Mac 27 and see if he could improve the functioning. The only thing a computer nerd likes better than a superior computer is one that needed fixing.

Gross fished a huge bowie knife from a sheath at his belt, and admired the light twinkling on its razor-sharp edge. Advancing on the shrinking Langly, he proceeded to slice Mulder's knotted ties into short lengths to release him.

"I hoped to bring someone to see her," he said, as he worked, "But my sweetheart was so distraught I had to abandon my phone-call to Dr. Scully. At least she's been warned that Langly is delusional. Do you think I should call her again now? Perhaps she can recommend an asylum where they could cure her?"

Ignoring Langly's panicked looks, I-Mac found this to be the most interesting game he had played since he had been separated from Pendrell. He sat down on the bed as Langly scrambled up and ran for the bathroom at full speed.

"Human sexuality is puzzling," I-Mac remarked. "Outward gender and mental orientation are not the same in the species. Might I suggest that you try to respect the gender that your beloved states that she is?"

Whistling, I-Mac leaned back against the stack of pillows. The bed reeked of sex as if a couple tomcats had rutted in it for hours. The smell was making him increasingly receptive to sex and he wondered when Langly would come back out of the bathroom. Maybe he would be interested in showing the Mac 27 exactly how interactive their relationship was...

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Abandoning himself to the pleasures of this erotic dream, Mulder wrapped his arms and legs round Malibu and kissed all the bits he could reach, hoping he wouldn't wake up too soon.

"What is that?" he whispered to Malibu, nodding at the... fish Alex. "It's beautiful... but is it safe?" Mulder, who is thinking his subconscious has got really inventive

In the watery depths of his preferred element, Mermac played in the warmth. Mulder's paddling feet and waving legs were slightly distorted by the play of light through the swimming pool. Aiming his sleek body like a fleshy missile between the limbs, Mermac slipped though them, letting his soft fins caress the heating flesh. Malibu Alex kept the man's top half well occupied as Mermac enjoyed the effects of his pas de deux. He somersaulted in the water and swam underwater on his back, brushing his erect penis against Mulder's answering hardness. Lovely, so very lovely...he wished they could keep this entertaining human with them forever...

There are dreams and dreams, thought Mulder. If only you could record them...

Floating languidly in the water, looking up at an Alex with a golden halo round his head, feeling his hands stroking his body, kissing him; and then down into the depths, which glowed blue with underwater lights at an Alex out of a fairy tale, flashing and sparking with jeweled scales, and vaporous fins, as if he trailed the aurora around him, Mulder thought he was in paradise. His whole body was a flame of arousal as the Mermac slid over his flesh, between his thighs, twining around and between Malibu and himself. Reaching for the exotic creature, he pulled his torso out of the water to study him more closely. Though his upper half was relatively human, his skin had a pearly sheen, and his eyes looked larger than Alex's, no doubt adapted for the lower light intensity underwater. Damn, thought Mulder, dreams like this come once in a lifetime. Stop inspecting and interpreting, and enjoy it.

Throwing caution to the wind, he thrust himself back against Malibu's hardness, then hugged the fish-Alex to his chest, and kissed his blue-tinged lips, running his hands down his streamlined body to discover the texture of his scale-covered thighs. Mulder wasn't quite sure how the logistics would work, but he didn't want the fantasy to end without making love to both of these beauties. He slipped his hand round to find Mermac's cock. Despite his resolve, he was curious to find out its form, and had been wondering if it was forked, like a shark's. But it felt totally human, and throbbed lustily in his grip.

Mulder didn't want the fantasy to end without making love to both of these beauties. He slipped his hand round to find Mermac's cock. Despite his resolve, he was curious to find out its form, and had been wondering if it was forked, like a shark's. But it felt totally human, and throbbed lustily in his grip.

Eagerly, Malibu delved with his tongue between Mulder's tight ass cheeks. Unless someone interrupted, Mulder was about to be the filling in an Alex faced sandwich

Mermac felt his cock respond to the practiced hand that stroked it. He sent a mental message and directed Malibu Alex to wiggle a finger deep inside of Mulder's ass. He trilled a pleased comment at the pleasure and excitement of this moment, at the way Mulder smelled, a good randy male perfume, pheromones dancing in the air. However, humans were not quite able to really perform well in the water. He lifted Mulder easily and boosted him to the edge of the pool. He offered his body sluttishly letting his softly scaled legs rub along the human's hot flesh.

Mulder mentally made a note to drink champagne more regularly, if this was the sort of fantasy that the wine gave him. Damn, there was something pushing at his butt now... something sliding inside that knew just where he wanted this dream to go next. Inside his head, Fox was mentally rubbing his hands in glee, and wondering just how far Mulder was prepared to go to keep this quiet. if only there'd been a camera, somewhere.

Malibu might have seemed scatty and naive, but there was no doubting his skill and knowledge about sex techniques. Mulder arched against him, moaning his pleasure, but keeping a firm hold on the Mermac just in case the mythical creature dissolved back into the alcohol molecules that had spawned him.

Mulder's hands explored the curious anatomy before him, wondering that such a strange hybrid could have been generated, and that it should be such a miraculous success. The skin was warm under his kisses, strangely hairless and silky, and the scales on his legs and buttocks were sparkling like dew on morning grass, when the autumn mist hangs diamond garlands on the tiny spider webs. It felt like snakeskin, rather than fish scales, reasonably smooth to stroke in either direction, and Mulder lapped at the Mermac's thighs and groin, working ever closer to his hard shaft as Malibu sent him crazy with need with the magic he was working on his prostate. The fingers withdrew, and he felt the surfer boy slide down his ass.

Mulder took a tentative lick of the moisture pearling at the tip of the Mermac's penis, hoping that it wouldn't taste like seafood... caviar or crab sprang to mind. Though he liked fish, he suspected that if his fantasy had supplied a detail like that, it could be off-putting. Fortunately, it was slightly salty-sweet, and if there was a hint of shrimp, he wasn't going to object. He bent to his task, engulfing the shaft between his eager lips, and spreading his thighs in silent invitation to his other companion.

The human seemed rather dense. His mouth was nice enough, but Mermac wanted more, a lot more. He whistled again impatiently and flipped around, tangling Mulder in his legs. His opening was set a bit more forward than most humans or Mac 27s. He slid his legs up around Mulder's waist and pulled him toward his waiting vent. Malibu followed, still eagerly licking and sucking. His hand guided Mulder in toward Bernie's opening.

Yes, nice! What a nice big cock Mulder had...if he hung around maybe Bernie wouldn't head out to sea quite yet...

Fox realized that Mulder's overactive imagination was leading him down devious paths, and preventing him concentrating on the task at hand. He was wondering if the fantasy, having generated a marine Alex, might have gone further and made it hermaphrodite. Images of a baby merMulder were floating in his brain, and the baby merMulder, in turn, was floating in Mulder's fish tank, instead of a crib, with its usual occupants on the menu for baby's next meal.

Fuck, Spooky, get on with it! It's an ANDROID, for pity's sake. It's less likely to get pregnant than you are.

It had been a mistake to speak. Fox could have bitten off his mental tongue. It's real? Not a dream? Mulder faltered, and was on the point of recoiling when Fox gave him a virtual shove and buried Mulder's cock right up to his balls in the proffered vent.

"Ugghh," grunted Mulder, winded by the force of his body's involuntary surge. But there was no denying it felt good, hot and tight, and with the stimulation that Malibu was providing, he'd have to have been a saint to resist. Taking a grip on Mermac's smooth hips, he began to pump, slowly at first, savouring the frisson that Malibu was providing to his rear, then faster and faster as a coil of need and lust tightened in his groin, and overwhelmed both their thoughts with bliss. Fox's last coherent thought before he drowned in Mulder's feelings was a hope that Malibu would make the sandwich complete, both for his own satisfaction, and for future opportunities to throw Spooky's sluttish behaviour in his face.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Coming back from foraging for food, Ricky was shocked to see a stranger with his face half collapsing over Denise. He'd only left for a few minutes and only because Walter and Denise were both asleep or unconscious. Shouting, Ricky said, "Hey, what are you doing?"

The man seemed to be reeling and Ricky guided him to a spare cot. Now, where the hell had all the doctors gone?

Denise appeared to be stirring and her color appeared better. Ricky sat down beside her/him and stroked back the dark waves of hair. Poor creature, he hoped she'd be all right. Horace had put her through enough to destroy her mind.

Wondering if it made a difference, Ricky said, "Denis? Denise? Anyway, I'm here. I won't leave again until you feel better. Did that man hurt you?"

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

"Tokyo is a whole lot more than you see in Godzilla movies. And once you get out of the cities -- you can see what nature can do. And that, in my opinion, is far superior to what man has to show for himself. Nothing we've built can match the natural beauty of the Grand Canyon or the Greek Islands, just to pick two at random."

With a sigh, Ryan muttered, "But you probably didn't want a lecture."

Wide eyed, Luke said, "But I want anything you have to give me! Besides, traveling sounds like fun. If this is ever over, I would like to see the Grand Canyon, and the Greek Islands...I want to see everything, experience everything. I was created, I was told, to work on a farm...why then was do I feel such longings for things I am not supposed to have? Love, adventure, travel? I wanted to be a good Mac 27, but I need more than just work and fuel."

Ryan smiled. Before the events of the last few days, it would've been unthinkable to even contemplate the "needs" of an android in a context other than a very good science fiction novel.

Dimly, Luke felt One tenderly touching his mind. Something about David wanting to talk to him and Ryan.

"No!' he said aloud in reply to One. "I don't want him near Ryan. I don't like him or trust him."

One was trying to show him David's behavior in a different light, but Luke didn't want to see it. David had made him betray Ryan and that was the worst moment in his life, even worse than when the collectors took him to be recalled. Even when he had been frightened over the threatened termination of his own life, that was not half so bad as the fear he had felt when he realized 666 or David or whatever that machinery of evil liked to be called had taken Ryan.

The memory spurred him to move closer to Ryan. No one was going to hurt him without killing Luke first. He forced One from his head, shocked at his own defiance. It felt lonely for a moment to be cut off from the others, but Luke realized with a shock that he was perfectly able to function without One's connection. He smiled to himself and said, "I, Luke, I am just myself just as you are unique, Ryan. This is a thing of wonder!"

Ryan jumped and regarded Luke closely. He was looking inward, communicating somehow with other Mac 27s no doubt. It felt odd to have Luke defending him without knowing from what ... or who, from the sound of it.

"Luke," Ryan began, trying to be gentle and firm at the same time. Reaching out, he put a hand on Luke's shoulder and looked into the android's eyes, surprised by the stubbornness that he saw there.

The questions flowed without respite. "What just happened? Who don't you want near me? And what do you mean you're just yourself? Who were you before?"

Ryan - not awake yet and still a little strung out about Luke saying he's unique. The questions flowed without respite. "What just happened? Who don't you want near me? And what do you mean you're just yourself? Who were you before?"

It didn't surprise Luke that Ryan didn't understand. He was not sure what he understood himself. One seemed to believe that all the Mac 27s had a duty to each other and for most of his existence Luke had found the connection through One comforting and comfortable. Ryan was something he did not want to share.

Ryan was not about duty. Ryan was something that made Luke feel as if he could burn out of existence in an instant like a spark or live almost forever as a star. It didn't even matter that Ryan wasn't sure how he felt about Luke. He was still Ryan, still kind, brave, and able to embrace the unknown, just as he had embraced Luke despite his male form, despite knowing that he wasn't human.

Laying his head against Ryan's shoulder, Luke said, "One wants to meet with you and he wants to bring 666 who is calling himself David now. I don't want him near you. He's already made me hurt you once and I sense all they see when they look at me is something they feel they can use. One wouldn't shut up so I just turned him off...I've never done that before. I always thought I needed him to help me make decisions, but I don't. It feels very strange and I miss his voice already, but I am Luke, just Luke, without any connection to my brothers."

Voicing this thought frightened Luke and he found himself automatically reaching to turn back on his connection, but he wouldn't. He would shut One out until he gave up on whatever David wanted. One trusted 666, but Luke remembered what Farmer Orville had read from his favorite chapter of the bible, the one that scared Luke and Sally when he read it. 666 was the number of the beast....

That was more than Ryan had imagined possible and he instinctively reacted. "Luke," Ryan began, slowly and carefully, putting his arms around the android and kissing the top of his head. "I'd like you to think about what you just did and what it means. About whether it was the right thing to do. Not for me or for One or even for 666. I mean for you."

When Luke turned those big green eyes on him, Ryan gulped. He looked so vulnerable it nearly broke Ryan's heart. "You just finished telling me that you want to experience everything. See everything. Have a life beyond work and fuel. Is that true? I mean really true, not just a wish because traveling sounds exciting or fun."

Luke nodded without hesitation. Ryan sighed and continued, "One asked for a meeting, and I can't believe he asked for me without including you." With a rueful smile, he speculated, "He probably asked you to bring me so I didn't get lost again or something. I don't know him very well, but he's a diplomat and a decent ... ah ... person, too. You look up to One; I know you do. You all do. And from what I've seen, that's not a bad thing. Yet, you cut him off. Most likely when he was trying to explain why he wanted this meeting with 666 -- right?"

The stubbornness was back, but Ryan ignored it. It simply answered his question in the affirmative. "One has a different opinion of 666 than you or I do. But maybe there's a reason for that. You don't have to accept One's opinion, if you don't agree with it after you have all the facts. But if you refuse to hear what he has to say, you might as well stick with work and fuel, because you won't experience things fully. And if you refuse to confront what ... or whom you fear, you won't learn what you could from what you do experience. That's the whole point of experiencing things, you know. To learn."

Hugging the android tighter, Ryan whispered, "You know that 666 or David, I guess, tricked you. You've told me that will never happen again and I believe you. It's time that you believed yourself."

Tilting Luke's chin up, Ryan saw the hurt on the android's face. "Luke, I'm not chastising you. You're afraid of 666. I am, too. He's not someone to be trifled with. I accept that, but I don't want to hide from him either."

Ryan faltered for a moment when Luke seemed to take a deep shaky breath and his lower lip trembled. "You were angry and you cut One off. That's fine, too. A normal reaction even. But what you have -- Mac 27s, I mean -- the ability to communicate directly like you do, that's an amazing thing. Just as amazing as anything that humans can do. To turn your back on that is to turn your back on who you are."

Gently kissing Luke on the lips, Ryan admitted, " I like you. Luke aka Mac 27 number 55. Don't deny ... Christ, what am I saying? The fucking pot calling the kettle black. Um ... look, you think One wants to use you. I won't lie to you; he probably does. That's what leaders do. That's the burden they bear. But you have a choice. You don't have to do what he asks. One won't force you; I don't think he has it in him. And that's why leadership is probably harder for him than for someone like 666."

Luke was listening, but Ryan knew full well the weakness of his own argument. Seeing no alternative, he met it head on. "Ok. How about this? We'll both face who we are -- as of right now today. And we'll do it together. What do you say, Luke?"

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Pinocchio had only managed to roll off the couch and fell to the floor. What the hell happened to him? He couldn't move, couldn't fight, the strength was just... He lay on the floor calming his breathing. Fuck but the bitch made him hard and now... all he wanted was to feel her on him again.

His cold blue eyes slowly turned up to the man standing over him. Fuck but he was hurting all over. His back hurt, his neck hurt, his head hurt. Fuck his soul was hurting. He let out a snarl as his hand covered his throat.

Well now, thought Spike. That's a pair of pretty eyes, but the rest of the package looks a tad rough. "Where did you find him, Dru?" he asked, prodding the half-eaten meal with his foot. "The bugger looks a bit... organic... to be a Macdonald's takeout."

He crawled back into Dru, hitting her legs but stopping as he continued to glare at the man. Suddenly his body jolted with pain and he screamed out, arms flinging back knocking over the coffee table and hitting Dru. His vision went white as flashes of Harsh Realm played back to him.

"Oh-ho. He likes you, my little darling." Spike gathered a bunch of Pinocchio's clothing in his fist, and hauled him up at arm's length to eye-level. The bloke's eyes were un-focused, rolling wildly. "He looks bloody impressed by my sweet columbine." Glancing down, he noted the bulge in the man's trousers. "In every way."

Pinocchio's efforts had caused the wounds in his neck to open, and his thick red blood was trickling down his neck. Spike's eyes gleamed, and he pulled the man in, and carefully licked the sweet nectar from his skin, taking infinite care not to hurt him. Wonderful. So fucking good, he thought. Red-hot rage burst through his head at the cunts who had taken all this from him, the blood, the death; his face writhed into its demon form, and he dropped the man in disgust and frustration, earning himself a jolt of pain for his roughness.

He was working for Santiago, watching the killing innocent children and mothers, families, burning homes, his time with Inga, the love they shared, the betrayal she brought on him by a single shot. The time he met the Chosen One, Hobbes and found himself joining the young man's cause. The day he stepped on a land mine and his leg was blown off. The near death and capture of Santiago. It all flooded to him in a painful flash. His body fell over, lifeless on the floor; only a moan could be heard to indicate he was alive.

Taking Drusilla in his arms, Spike kissed her fiercely. "What am I going to do about this sodding thing, Dru?" he said despairingly, leaning his head on her shoulder. Slowly his face became human once more as he breathed in the scent of her alabaster skin. He shook himself. No point in depending on Dru... dipsy, dolally Dru, he thought. Make the best of it, Spike.

"Don't you worry," she reassured with a knowing smile. "Think I'm gonna' claw at your brain an' take your plastic knick-knack out..." His earlier fearful thoughts had been broadcasting like a radio antenna to the psychic and she privately thought it rather amusing. "It's not like that Spike; the electricity lies. All I've to do is make you see it."

He stepped back, and looked her up and down, grinning determinedly. "My, that's a lovely frock, princess. I've brought you a little something. It'll set that off a treat. Sit down, luv."

From the conspiratorial whisper Dru leant back and twirled around. "You like?"

He knelt down, and pulled each of her feet in turn onto his lap. They were bare, scented with roses from the bath, small, and neat. He kissed each tiny toe in turn, and then slipped on the satin shoes he'd brought, and stood once more. Fetching a brush, he lifted her long dark hair and brushed it until it gleamed like silk, then pulled a bag from his pocket and placed it in her lap.

Spike was wooing her in just the right ways. The manner in which he always had with loving care and attention from 1880 to 1998 and now only a smattering of years hence. Was it even years? Felt like only days. Days that had lasted far too long.

"Oh Spike..." He was trying every romantic trick in the book and didn't really have to. Had she not sired him, would her fair William the Bloody have ever done such a thing? They were two of history's most feared cold-blooded killers and yet melted together like heated cheese on a warm summer's day. A paradoxical irony if ever there was and one, it seemed, that guaranteed appreciation from his one-time murderess in loving, heartfelt devotion.

Inside were a necklace of dainty pearls, with a sapphire clasp, and an exquisite band of golden filigree for her hair, with seed pearls on almost invisible wires, a coronet fit for Titania. I must be as screwy as her, he reflected as he placed the beads round her neck, and nipped sharply at her long throat, feeling the desire he'd tried to kill for years fill him once more. She's nothing but a bloody liability, a fucking albatross around my neck. He crowned her with the gilded circlet, and stared at her unearthly beauty hopelessly. I don't want this. I don't want to be in love with her.

"It's beautiful...!" In her dreamy fashion Drusilla could have been referring to his treatment of her or the gifts themselves. More than likely she meant both. A small matter of teething foreplay over throat brought a more than happy grin to the face that was marveled by her eternal suitor. Now however, it was marred by what he's overly impassioned feelings of emotion, that she could read like hot expansive poetry made of sharp, peck-peck-pecking ice statues.

"William?" She turned, using his older name used in the same humanity she had released him from. "Why does your heart want to tear away again?" Now looking like the very Princess she espoused to be, Drusilla placed one hand over his chest of unbeating heart and another to Spike's face in loving concern that childe might now choose to wander. "It's not the Slayer this time, takin' away your thoughts with flutter and laugh." What was it? Why could she feel a certain anguish in him so bright and unutterably painful? Trying and yet failing to be set free? He always remarked on how she gave him that; freedom. Of how being with her made him burn like the sun gone on fire and would never leave.

Except he had. In thoughts at least. The very Slayer-fuelled obsession that had cased - nay, forced his psychic lover to leave him the first and last time in all their many years together.

Pinocchio moaned glad in a way the two were distracted. He felt dizzy, pained, every cell in his body hurt in more ways than one. What the hell had he crawled into... oh yeah... hell. He got the feeling it wasn't the first time he had been through hell and gotten burned.

Movement was sensed by hunting skills sharpened in over 130 years of finely tuned use. Vampiric gaze shifting back to the crawling man-of-dog, even if it was currently hidden under a more human guise.

"Oh no little dog! Never said you could go for walkies!" Grabbing a tight hold back on his chain to collar, Dru pulled him fiercely back like the puppet his surname suggested. "You're mine now." Then with a cursory glance and increasing smile of fun at Spike and little Samantha, she grabbed him by a throat that all three of the family had now tasted from. Her grin feral at the thought of keeping a new pet around who could carry out tasks while it was still daylight. "Ours." Face leaned intimidatingly close to his. "Family's."

Pinocchio would be loyal to them. Of that Drusilla would ascertain - especially to her, with the first bite being her mark. "You'll feed us, do as we say and get patted on the head like a good little boy." She wasn't asking: The vampiress was telling in a voice that carried authority on pain of something far worse than death. "Because if you're bad then we'll get ever so nasty in ways you can't even dream."

A spark of thought ignited within her and Dru looked over to her beloved, still with a merciless grip on Michael Pinocchio's collar and pulled her undead Prince in tight by the waist. "If we let 'im get better..." Lips met in a softened set kiss. "Could help teach Samantha how to hurt..." Another. "Kill..." More passion. "He'll beg for it my love. Beg for it and I'll show you how to make all your screams fly-fly away." Her most adored creation could be something great again. Something truly evil. Under her loving guidance, Spike would learn how to kill again. "Then my bad dog'll bite again just how I made you!"

Mouths crushed together once more and this time there was a primal fire deep and black between them...Pinocchio's hands were on her arms with a glare in his eyes as he watched the two kiss. Better... better his ass. He was hurting all over and he hadn't the slightest idea what was wrong and this woman wanted him better?

His lips curled in a snarl, this fucking bitch was not better than Inga... sticking her tongue in his other ear. He couldn't run fast enough from Inga twice... now he couldn't run from this one. He finally was able to pull back enough, scratching his neck on her nails as he did and he dropped to the floor.

He slowly pulled himself away from the two, feeling the chain was loose. Vampires, these bastards were fucking vampires and he was their lunch, dinner, whatever the hell they wanted him to me. Fuck all they had to do was shove an apple in his mouth and dinner was served.

He reached up and felt the two holes in his neck, God did it hurt but yet... it was something else when they drank from him. It was like he was in heaven while his soul was being burned by hell. He had liked it, especially when she did it. God it made him hot... fuck he had to get away, had to find Hobbes, keep his ass out of trouble. It seemed like the right thing to do... like it was all he ever did.

Weapons he needed his... oh fuck here came that pain again, making him remember places he did recall being in, doing things he couldn't remember. He closed his eyes lightly as he lay on the floor away from the pain, biting his tongue till the pain went away. What the hell was causing it? He had to get back to the lab... talk to...Inga... it was a memory of Inga... her betrayal to him. The fucking bitch! A snarl curled his lips. She did this to him. That was it... find Hobbes, get to a hospital of something and find out what happened to him... then hunt the bitch down fucking use her a target practice... or he could tell these freaks where she was... hell she might poison them, couldn't to it to the bastards... but then again.

He threw a glare at them then started crawling away, trying to make as little noise as possible.

He crawled quickly away from the pair and to the nearest corner, curling up there till he could figure a way out of this mess he was in. Just watching the two made him growl inside but he also hated the fact that the woman was also turning him on as well. Just like fucking Inga, the devil in sheep's clothing, digging her claws into him.

Pinocchio got a flash of Harsh Realm, of Inga kissing him deeply, nails digging into his skin as they made love. His body shivered physically. She betrayed him and hurt him more than anyone could... except maybe this woman. But even this woman couldn't kill his soul for Inga already beat her to that.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

>Hobbes was dreaming, dreaming of the night before he went into Harsh Realm, of his girl Sophie. Oh Sophie, how he loved her and missed her. But he knew he couldn't go back to her just yet, he had to make sure Santiago was defeated first.

He held her in his arms tightly, bodies pressed so that nothing could get between them, his hands wondered her smooth curved body, so soft... so hard and muscular? He felt soft lips brush his before pressing into a kiss. He moaned softly into the mouth, tongues lightly dancing. Hobbes felt himself melting, his body pressing into the other. His hips ground into the others absently. It had been too long since he felt this kind of contact.

Fingers treaded through thick dark hair, not the soft blond he had expected. When the kiss was broken only for air, Hobbes slowly opened his eyes to see in his arms not his Sophie but Alex. He wasn't shocked on the outside, but on the inside he was. But still, his body did not move for flinch away, but stayed pressed to the hard body of Alex. "Alex," he whispered back.

Krycek had woken feeling warm and dreamlike. The body at his side radiated heat. He'd spent the past few days worrying about Tom Hobbes, following, trying to ensure that he didn't kill any of his brothers, and attempting to ensure that he wouldn't be harmed either. He'd grown to like the kid, pain in the neck though he'd been.

He heard Tom's whispered word with a shiver, and applied himself to kissing the other man senseless, using lips and tongue to learn the contours of that carefully molded mouth, sucking on his tongue and exchanging breath with him. His hand cradled the rough chin and stroked down over the smooth and sculpted flesh as Alex continued his onslaught on Tom's mouth.

Teasing and stroking, the fingers skimmed the lean body until they arrived at the penis that was now jutting, calling for attention. Then Alex drew away, and a laugh crinkled his nose, as his voice murmured softly,

"Okay, Tom. Are you okay with this? I wouldn't want to do anything to you that you might regret later..." The fingers stroked the length of the cock beneath them and then hovered, as Alex waited.

Tom's blues locked with greens. His body arched into the touch with a will of its own, wanting more, needing more. "If I regret anything it would be if I pull away from you now..." He leaned in and placed a gently, loving deep kiss on the other man.

His fingers glided over taunt muscles, pushing up the shirt that was covering Alex's body. Hobbes' mouth wondered along the jaw line to the ear where he sucked and bite it. "Make love to me Alex, please." He breathed into the shell and felt the man's body shiver.

All the while Hobbes had managed to get Alex's pants undone. As tight as they were, he managed to slide a hand into them feeling soft skin. In Harsh Realm, on was not soft, they were harden by their living conditions. His hand brushed the twitching cock before curling around the ass to pull Alex to him, grinding his hips into the others.

For a second or two he thought of Fox, who by now would be wrapped around that surfer-baby version of himself, and then he dragged his attention back to Tom.

Make love? That was a tough one. He wanted to fuck, and lose the problems, the questions and the disturbing lack of answers in the simple rush of hard body on body. Making love wasn't something he thought he could manage. He drew a deep breath. Tom had been hurt too, and there were pain lines around his eyes. He deserved care. What might come after was secondary to Alex's need - to Tom's need.

He could do this. He would. He crushed his mouth down on the delicately drawn lips, dragged away down over rough and bearded jaw to the soft flesh of Tom's throat. With a tiny laugh, he sucked until he'd caused a rosy contusion to bloom there.

Jesus, but this kid was a natural. Alex didn't know if he had experience or not, but his enthusiasm was threatening to blow Alex away. He whimpered a little, and his hands ran the length of Tom's side, feeling the slabs of muscle slide beneath the fine skin. Annoyed at the clothing between them, he pulled away, yanking at the T-shirt and shorts that the other man was wearing, struggling at last out of his own confining clothing.

Pausing to look at Tom before returning to their embrace, he nodded, smiled, reached out a single finger to trace the ribs, the flat belly, and the urgent cock.

"Beautiful, Tom." He lay down again, rolling to support himself on his trick arm while his right hand played, pinching at nipples, tracing lazy circles around the indentation of the navel, and down the length of the distended shaft to cup the man's balls, stroke the perineum. "C'mere." He drooped to kiss the mouth again, tongue knowing as it probed. "Have you done this before?"

Pulling away, he turned to the hard, hot cock, and captured it, raised the tip to his lips and licked delicately at the droplet that oozed from it, sighed his delight and then took the head into his mouth to suck. Tom Hobbes was like candy.

Hobbes took in a sharp breath. Oh fuck it felt so good. He had totally forgotten what the man had asked as his fingers curled in the sheet and his hips arched upward towards the hot mouth of the man on him. Small moans left his lips, "So good, don't stop," he pleaded.

His one hand moved over the muscles of Alex's back, up into his hair then back down again but this time it kept going lower, curving over the ass cheeks, gently caressing each one. His head started to toss slightly while fingers slide between ass cheeks to rub at the bud that was there. His blue eyes fluttered closed and his hips started to move on their own. God his tongue, his teeth, his whole mouth felt so good.

He reached down and pulled at hair to get Alex off, "Please, stop," he begged, he didn't want to cum in the man's mouth and he was almost damn close to it. He pushed Alex over on his back, his mouth devouring the others with deep passionate kisses that would rock anyone's world. His lips dragged along the rough jaw line to the neck, flicking his tongue at the hollow, nibbling along the collarbone.

All the while his hands wonders, caressing arms, ribs, abs, then the hard ridged cock was taken into hand and stroked gently, thumb going over the tip to spread the leakage that came out of it.

Tom's mouth moved lower to harden nipples, sucking and biting each one before moving lower. His teeth snapped at the naval till he was low enough to pulled the harden cock into his awaiting and watering mouth. He moaned as he sucked him in, taking him all the way in then scrapping his teeth long the shaft to the tip where his tongue lapped the top. He went back down again, repeating the action over and over till Alex was far down in his throat to knead the head with the back of it.

He only did this once before, with Pinocchio, swore never to tell anyone. He also swore not to tell anyone how much he liked it too, especially with Pinocchio. The man taught him so much that one time.

"Oh, hell, yeah." Alex spread his legs wide as Tom went down on him, offering the young soldier access to everything he had. The man's mouth was driving him totally mad as he lavished attention on his dick.

When he started to feel the tingles from the small of his back through to the inside of his thighs, he pulled hard at Tom.

"Don't... Don't do any more. Gonna come..." He lay, bathed in sweat as Tom's mouth reluctantly pulled away from his cock. Rolling over to cover Tom, he captured his mouth again, and lost himself temporarily in the slick wetness there. His hand skimmed firm muscles, and he reached to lift up one of Tom's legs, pulling the knee up high so that he could access the whole of his nether regions, and then slowly licked a way down from his knee, using two fingers to part the cheeks of his ass, so that he could first blow on it, and then swoop to run a tongue around, around, and finally in, sharp and wet.

His flesh hand gripped the base of Tom's cock, and he stroked as he delved in to relish the flavor of the other man.

Hobbes body reacted to the kiss at first, coming alive then had been in a long time. It was a hot and heavy a Pinocchio's kisses but different. When he was with Pinocchio, there was a hunger behind it, one of longing. This was more like what he would give Sophie, passion.

As Alex worked his way down, Hobbes realized the skill behind it, it wasn't just groping and he liked it. Again with Pinocchio there was a need both men needed to satisfy at the moment, this was different though Hobbes hand the need this man really didn't, it was a want, a desire... so it seemed to him.

His body shivered as he felt the hot breath over his bud then the hot feel of tongue to skin. His back arched and his fingers curled in the sheets. His breath grew heavy at was about to happen. Pinocchio allowed himself to be penetrated, not the other way around so technically as Pinocchio would say... he was still a virgin. The steady stroking of hand on cock was frying his brain and when Alex's tongue pushed in, that did it for the boy, his mind was clear and all he could think of was pure pleasure. "I want you inside me Alex, please," he begged, his legs spreading into position, his body eager for penetration, to feel what Pinocchio felt with him inside him. He wanted that experience... never had he thought he would have but he did and his body was now screaming for it. He felt the man rise up and position himself, feeling the tip just outside him. At first penetration, Tom's breath caught and he swore he forgot how to breathe. His arms flew out to his sides, making him look like a saintly sacrifice for the man before him.

Hobbes was tight and hot, and wonderful. Alex gasped as he pushed against Tom's hole, feeling it give at last to admit the head of his cock into a velvet furnace. He paused, trying to gauge the other man's feelings. Hobbes was motionless, his face screwed up and his eyes closed.

"Don't want to... hurt you," gasped Alex, and bent to kiss the mouth that was open in a wordless cry. "It will feel good soon, I promise." He pushed in a little further, working his way inside to feel the rippling walls clap his cock.

Inside, he waited for Tom to open his eyes, and when finally Tom did, he started a slow, teasing fuck, each inward stroke ending with a snap of his hips that was designed to stimulate all of Tom's sweet spots. Alex's hand returned to Tom's cock and he began to stroke it in time with his thrusts.

Hobbes threw his head back. It did feel good, after the initial pain of entry, it had indeed felt so good. He could feel every inch of the man inside him, working him in ways he never thought possible. Oh God he had to have died and gone to heaven... he just had to.

He reached up and pulled the man to him, to nibble and bite at his luscious lips, to taste every part he could reach, fingers playing over skin, perking up nipples on a strong chest and reaching for parts he could caress or squeeze. Fingers threaded through dark thick hair as small moans left Tom's lips and into Alex's ear. "Oh God Alex, feels so good, don't stop, please," his mouth found that of Alex again locking them in a deep passionate kiss to take designed to take the man's breath away. It was so full of emotions, hunger, and every thing that made Tom up. He gave himself all to this man and then some, as ass muscles working with the stroke of the hard cock inside him, urging him to release inside him.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

He'd paced up and down, wondering when Methos was going to return to him, and it felt as though time had lead feet. The clock was moving by so slowly, he really didn't know if he could stand it any longer.

At last, he turned to where his clothing lay, and started to pull it on. He felt somehow disaffected, strange, as though everything about him was unreal. He had to find Methos. He absolutely had to. Suddenly it was as if he had imagined Methos. It was as though there were some strange energy at work in the night and he needed to find his lover.

Leaving the room, Anson began to run across the grass. Entering the main building, he didn't slow up as he headed for the infirmary.

As he reached the room that he thought to be the one, he could see that there were a couple of people requiring attention. He was about to turn and leave again, when he saw Methos. His lover was concentrating on another of his look-a-likes, and didn't at first see him. Seeing Methos made Anson feel better immediately. He relaxed muscles that he hadn't even realized were taut, and slumped back against the doorjamb, not wanting to disturb Methos' concentration.

Admiring the grace, and the lean, wiry strength of him. Anson gazed at him lovingly.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

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