Title: Sex, Lies and Deception

Author: Diandra Hollman

E-Mail: diandrahollman@gmail.com

Website: http://diandrahollman.neocities.org/

Date Finished: 12/7/06

Rating: NC-17

Keywords/warnings: AU, Crossover (Alias/X-Files), Slash, het,   
    femslash, prostitution, lots of sex and debauchery, 
    descriptions of rape, questionable consensuality on a 
    couple occasions, Mulder/Vaughn, a little Jack/Vaughn, 
    Sark/Vaughn, some Sloane/Vaughn (yes, it disturbs me too), 
    varying combinations of Vaughn/Sydney/Lauren/Nadia (Sydney  
    and Nadia are NOT sisters in this universe), pregnancy, a 
    (brief) discussion on abortion, a little kink here and 
    there, some general Vaughn Abuse and did I mention lots 
    and lots of sex?

Spoilers: General plot. Nothing major and it's all AU so it 
    doesn't really matter anyway.

Disclaimer: Mulder belongs to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen. 
    Everybody else belongs to JJ Abrams and Bad Robot. 
    Clearly, none of these people would let me get anywhere 
    near their characters. 

Archive: E-mail me and we'll talk about it.

Summary: "Part of me wanted for it to be real - wanted to let  
   go and enjoy the treatment. But deep down I knew it was a 
   lie. It was only a matter of time before his illusion was 
   shattered - before he realized that he couldn't save me 
   from this life and that I could never allow myself to fall 
   for him."

Dedication: To the creators of two of the best shows on 
    television. The shows and these characters will be missed.

Author's Notes: Yes, Lauren is in this story. No, she will not 
    be an evil witch. If that bothers you, go find something 
    else to read. This story is partly inspired by a couple 
    VigOrli stories I read, particularly Jen Lynn's 
    outstanding "Lost and Found". 


Sex, Lies and Deception
By Diandra Hollman

The laundry room of the apartment building was deserted, the 
afternoon sunlight shining painfully bright through the open 
window. I leaned against the ledge and watched the children 
from the houses across the street play baseball on the 
grassless lawn with a heavy stick and some rocks. Not one of 
them had the same skin color or accent, but they didn't seem 
to even notice. I wished I could remember a time when life had 
been so simple - so innocent.

I took another drag from my cigarette, flicked the ashes out 
the window and smothered the tiny voice inside me that begged 
for the chance to start over, to fix all the stupid mistakes I 
had made and set things right. There was no use wishing for 
the impossible and dreaming about what could have been. No use 
dwelling on the past. 'Besides,' I thought. 'If I hadn't gone 
down this road I may never have met Will Kuipers.'

I smiled inwardly at the thought of him. Much as I tried to 
deny it, the man had managed to shine a small ray of hope on 
my bleak existence. I found myself watching eagerly for his 
car every night, my heart beating just a little faster every 
time I saw a dark green Ford in the distance, wondering if it 
might be him.

The buzzer shook me from my daydreams. I took one last drag 
and crushed the remainder of my cigarette in the ashtray on my 
way to the dryer. I had just finished tossing everything into 
my laundry basket to fold later when a steely voice announced 
the arrival of a second person into the room.

"It seems we need to have a talk, Michael."

I swallowed against the revulsion I always felt when Arvin 
Sloane talked to me in that tone of voice - like honey coated 
venom. "About what," I asked innocently.

The laundry basket fell out of my hands as he moved across the 
room with more speed than a man his age had any right to 
possess, shoving me against the nearest wall with one hand 
wrapped around my throat.

"You've been holding out on me," he said calmly, only the 
faintest trace of menace on his weathered face. "We're losing 
business."

"Please, Mr. Sloane," I gasped as I tried to pry his hand from 
my neck. He merely tightened his grip.

"It's because of Mr. Kuipers, isn't it? You're wasting time 
and money on a schoolboy crush."

I shook my head. "I'm not," I mouthed, his impossibly strong 
grip robbing me of my voice. He let go suddenly and I slumped, 
coughing and rubbing gingerly at my abused throat. The blow to 
the face took me completely off guard. The next thing I knew, 
I was sprawled on the floor, one hand cradling my throbbing 
right eye.

"Get up," he growled. 

I didn't move - too stunned to process his command. The world 
tilted dizzyingly as he dragged me upright with a fist 
clenched in the front of my T-shirt. I was face-down on top of 
one of the washers before I even had a chance to defend 
myself, my left arm twisted painfully behind my back, being 
held immobile by his body weight.

"You're forgetting your place," he hissed in my ear. "You 
would be dead in the street if I hadn't taken you in. You 
*belong* to me." He twisted my arm a little higher to drive 
home his point, wrenching a whimper from my abused throat as 
fire tore through my shoulder. 

I relaxed my body in spite of the pain. I had learned long ago 
that fighting Arvin Sloane only made things worse. It was best 
to just ride it out - let him do whatever he was determined to 
do. At least if he took out his frustrations on me I knew 
Sydney and Lauren would be safe. If I was lucky, I would live 
long enough to see them again. 

*******
(Two weeks earlier)

The smell of fresh brewed coffee drew me out of a dead sleep. 
I groaned and stretched as much as I could on the worn leather 
couch and sat up, wincing at the aching muscles that screamed 
in protest.

"What time is it," I asked blearily.

"Almost one," Sydney replied, pressing the mug she had been 
waving under my nose into my hands. "I figured I'd let you 
sleep. It looked like you had a rough night."

"Tell me about it," I mumbled as I sipped tentatively at the 
hot liquid. It was the same horrible coffee as always but it 
was the best we could afford. I had long ago learned to live 
with the bitter taste. In fact, I found it oddly appropriate. 
"Where's Lauren?"

"It's her turn to get groceries. She should be back any 
minute."

Lauren, Sydney and I all had our own apartments in the 
building, but they had both practically moved into mine long 
ago. They said it was for my own good - that I was hopeless 
when it came to cleaning and cooking a decent meal for myself. 
But I knew they just wanted to keep an eye on me, make sure I 
didn't go off the deep end and hang myself from the nearest 
sturdy tree branch.

Sydney slid gracefully onto the couch beside me, her hand 
gently rubbing the back of my neck. "You want to talk about 
it," she asked softly.

"No," I said quickly. "I'm fine. Just a little sore."

"You shouldn't let them be so rough on you. If you just tell 
them..."

"I can handle it," I interrupted. This was a conversation we 
had had many times over and I didn't feel like getting into it 
again.

She opened her mouth to argue but was cut off by the sound of 
a key in the lock. Lauren entered the apartment seconds later, 
an overflowing grocery bag balanced in each arm. Sydney rushed 
to catch one before it spilled. 

"Oh, good, you're awake," Lauren chirped in her bright 
English-by-way-of-Australia lilt. "They were out of the beer 
you like. I hope you don't mind Miller."

"It's fine," I replied. As long as it was alcoholic I didn't 
care what brand it was.

Lauren immediately sensed my mood and dumped her remaining 
grocery bag on the kitchen counter, leaving the unpacking in 
Sydney's capable hands, making a beeline for the couch and 
perching herself on my lap. "Are you feeling all right, love?"

I kissed her perfect little nose. "Yes, I'm fine. Although 
you'd think I was made of glass the way you two fuss over me."

"That's because we love you, Michael." 

I winced. "Please, don't call me that." That's what *they* 
called me.

She sighed. "Vaughn. Would you like me to draw you a bath?"

I shook my head. The girls were big on soaking their sore 
muscles in a tub of hot water. I couldn't stand just sitting 
in a bath for an hour - it bored me. And when I was bored my 
mind turned to thoughts and memories I'd rather not entertain.

"Nah, I'll just take a shower."

"Would you like me to join you," she asked with an impish 
smile. 

"Lauren," Sydney scolded. She had obviously finished putting 
away groceries and now stood in the kitchen doorway, her arms 
folded, a mockingly stern expression on her face.

"Oh, fine," Lauren mock-pouted, sliding from my lap and 
holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender.

I smiled in spite of myself, wondering once again what I would 
have done without them.

******
(That night)

"I swear if one more man makes a joke about invading England I 
will rip his damned head off," Lauren snarled as the black 
Saturn drove off.

"Oh, honey," Sydney sighed, rubbing Lauren's arm 
affectionately. "How bad?"

"Well, he's clearly going through a mid-life crisis. And he's 
a cheapskate."

As Sydney clucked her tongue sympathetically, a dark SUV 
pulled up to the curb beside the sidewalk bench I was leaning 
against. The driver - a man with longish, greasy looking blond 
hair who looked to be just entering his forties - leered at 
me. I rolled my eyes in the girls' direction and handed my 
unfinished cigarette to Lauren, who immediately popped it 
between her lips. 

"How much," the man asked as I leaned in his passenger window, 
his southern drawl made even thicker than it perhaps would 
have been had he not clearly been drinking earlier that night. 

"Fifty to a hundred depending on what you want," I answered 
smoothly. 

"Get in."

I climbed in the passenger seat and pointed to the ally a 
couple blocks up the road. "Turn right up there."

"You sure got a pretty mouth," he slurred as he pulled away 
from the curb. 

'Gee, how original,' I thought, rolling my eyes.

He followed my directions, parking the truck in the deserted 
ally. 

"So, how's sixty sound," he asked as he pulled out his wallet 
and began counting out bills.

"It's seventy-five for a blowjob."

"Better be worth it," he grumbled as he handed me seventy-five 
dollars and a condom. Clearly he had done this before. Then he 
tossed the wallet on the dashboard and unzipped his pants 
unceremoniously. 

I jammed the money into my back pocket and took a deep breath 
before leaning across the console and over his lap.

*****

"Same time next week, gorgeous," the southerner said with a 
smirk as he dropped me off on the other side of the street. 

"I certainly hope not," I muttered under my breath as he drove 
away. 

I spit into the gutter before crossing the street to join 
Sydney and Lauren. Sydney wordlessly handed me a breath mint. 
I thanked her and popped it in my mouth, immediately breaking 
it between my teeth and savoring the burst of peppermint that 
erased the last traces of latex and southern hick.

"Thank god for condoms," was all I said as I reached in my 
pocket for another cigarette. I had barely gotten it lit 
before another car pulled up to the curb.

"Guess it's my turn," Sydney said with a wink. She sauntered 
toward the car, her hips swaying sexily. She had a walk that 
was hers alone and she looked incredible doing it. She leaned 
into the passenger window to talk to the driver, showing off 
her ample cleavage and, I knew, speaking in a deep husk worthy 
of Mae West. 

"It's scary how natural she's become at this," Lauren 
lamented. 

I tore my eyes from Sydney and turned back to her. "She seems 
like the kind of person who could adapt to any situation."

Sydney straightened suddenly and turned on her heel, heading 
back toward us, her swagger forgotten. The car didn't move. 

"He asked for you," she said simply, plucking the cigarette 
out of my hand with a shrug. 

I sighed. Great. All the gay guys in Los Angeles were 
coming out of the woodwork on the same night. Wonderful.

I shuffled reluctantly over to the car and leaned in the 
window Sydney had abandoned. The driver was maybe slightly 
younger than the last john but it was too close to call. This 
guy, however, was clean cut and looked like he had just gotten 
off work at the nearest insurance company or advertising firm. 

"Get in," he said softly.

"Aren't you going to ask how much I charge first," I asked 
suspiciously. 

"It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, I'll pay it."

Alarm bells went off in my head. This guy had some sort of 
ulterior motive here, but I had no idea what it might be. "Are 
you a cop?"

He shook his head in a manner that I wasn't entirely convinced 
meant 'no' and reached out to put his hand on my arm. I jerked 
it away, but made no further move to run. "I want you," he 
said gently. "I don't care how much I have to pay."

I smiled inwardly. He was practically begging me to rip him 
off. I climbed in the car and started to direct him to the 
deserted alley. 

"Actually, I was thinking something more along the lines of a 
hotel. The back seat in this thing is kinda cramped."

"Well, that answers my next question," I muttered. I leaned my 
head out the window and thrust my hand away from me, palm down 
- a gesture Sydney, Lauren and I used to say, basically, 
"don't wait up".

"What's your name," the man asked.

"Whatever you want it to be, big boy," I replied.

He chuckled. "No, seriously."

"What does it matter?"

"I need to call you *something*."

I hesitated, then sighed. Clearly he was one of those guys who 
wanted to treat this like a date. "Michael."

"Michael," he repeated, testing the way the word rolled from 
his lips. "I'm William Kuipers. You can call me Will."

The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of his 
fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel.

"If you don't mind my asking, how did you get into this 
business?"

"Actually, I do mind," I snapped defensively.

He persisted. "It's just that you seem smart..."

"And you've determined this in, what, the two minutes we've 
been talking?"

"I'm a quick judge of character," he smirked.

I sighed. "Fine. A few months into my first year of college I 
was arrested for possession. Five years. When I got out, 
nobody would hire me. I lived on the streets for a while until 
my current employer took me in and gave me a place to stay."

Will frowned. "He pays your rent and you whore yourself out in 
return."

"First of all, that's not how I would put it and second, he 
doesn't pay my rent, he owns the building."

"So the women who were with you..."

"Live in the same building. Why are you asking all these 
questions?"

"I like to get to know the people I sleep with," he said 
simply.

I laughed. "You've never done this before, have you?"

He winced. "Is it that obvious?"

I smirked. "Painfully, yes. Turn left up here."

Will followed my directions and pulled into the parking lot of 
the Horizon motel. It was a roach infested dump, but the 
owners charged by the hour and didn't ask questions, making it 
the preferred hotel for the residents of the Dauphine 
building.

"You go get a room. I'll wait by the car," I said, reaching 
for the door handle. 

"You could just wait *in* the car, you know."

I squinted at him. What rock had this guy crawled out from 
under anyway? "You want me to stay in your car alone? What 
makes you think I wouldn't go through your glove compartment 
or try to hot wire the car?"

"Would you," he asked. 

I stared at him for a long moment. This felt like some sort of 
trick, but I couldn't figure out what goal he could possibly 
be trying to achieve. "Fine," I said, leaning back in the 
seat. "Hurry up."

He nodded silently and disappeared into the building, punching 
the lock button on his keyless remote as he left. I snorted as 
the alarm beeped in response. 

'He asked for it,' I thought as I popped open the glove 
compartment. Two booklets lay neatly inside. One was the 
instruction manual from the dealership, the other a brochure 
for a car rental company. "Great," I muttered as I slammed the 
compartment shut again. Nothing in this car would tell me 
anything about him. Any information I could get would have to 
come from him. I wondered if I could find a way to sneak a 
glance at his wallet.

I jumped as the doors unlocked again with a tiny beep. Will 
opened the door and offered me his hand. I ignored it and 
climbed out, waiting while he re-locked the doors before 
following him to the room.

I pulled my uncomfortably tight shirt over my head almost the 
second he was finished turning the lock on the door. "So, how 
do you wanna do this?"

He was beside me in a heartbeat, his grip firm on my wrists as 
he gently pulled my hands away before I could unzip my black 
leather pants. "Slow down," he said quietly.

I sighed. He really was determined to treat me like his date 
and it was starting to frustrate me. I was used to quick fucks 
in the back of an SUV where I didn't even have to look at the 
guy behind me.

Will leaned in to kiss me suddenly and I jerked my head back. 
"Not on the lips," I blurted. A kiss on the lips was too 
intimate for me. It wasn't something I let any john do. He 
looked slightly disappointed, but didn't push the issue. My 
brain froze as he pressed a long, lingering kiss to my cheek. 

Then he pulled back and drew his wallet out of his pants 
pocket. "So how much do you charge?"

Shit. I had forgotten to ask for the money first. I could 
probably blame it on nervousness due to his odd behavior. "200 
flat rate," I lied. "Any kinky stuff will cost you an extra 
fifty per prop."

He whistled lowly. "I'm definitely in the wrong line of 
business."

I scoffed. I hated it when people made comments like that. 
"You think we get to keep all of it?" Hell, we were lucky to 
get half of what we made. And even those of us who weren't on 
drugs risked assault, rape, STDs and murder on any given 
night. Prostitution wasn't a career choice. It was a last 
resort. Not that Will would be interested in any of this. 
Nobody ever cared that much.

Will pressed a wad of twenties in my hand and stood watching 
while I counted it. When I had finished, I looked up at him 
with wide eyes.

"This is four hundred dollars," I said dumbly.

"Yep. Consider it a tip. Your...employer doesn't need to 
know."

"I can't, I..." I stammered.

"So how much do you really charge?"

My illusion of power deflated as I saw the knowing gleam in 
his eyes. "One hundred," I admitted quietly.

He made a small triumphant sound and leaned in until his face 
was inches from mine. "I may not be familiar with all the 
proper procedures, Michael, but I'm not an idiot."

I wordlessly handed back the extra three hundred.

"Keep it," he said kindly. 

"But..." I protested half-heartedly. It was four hundred 
dollars, after all.

"I want you to have it. Buy yourself a decent meal now and 
then." His eyes roved pointedly up and down my body as he said 
this. 

I shoved the money into my wallet without any further 
argument, withdrawing a condom from the worn fake leather 
before shoving it into my pants pocket. 

"You do it," Will said softly when I held out the condom for 
him. 

I smiled inwardly. Whether intended or not, he had just given 
control of the situation back to me. I stepped closer to him, 
not quite touching, but close enough for him to feel my breath 
teasing his ear as I pulled his shirt free of his slacks and 
unbuttoned it. I smoothed my hands over his chest, humming 
appreciatively at the muscles that were just toned enough to 
tell me that he worked out, but not bulging enough to appear 
unnatural. I undid the button on his slacks and sank to my 
knees in front of him, carefully undoing the zipper with my 
teeth. Will groaned, but kept his hands firmly clenched at his 
sides, neither encouraging nor discouraging my actions.

I dragged his boxers down, letting them join his slacks in a 
pool around his ankles and wrapped my hand around his cock, 
feeling the size and weight of it and giving it an 
experimental tug. "Mmm, you're so big," I purred 
appreciatively. Okay, so I said that to all my customers, but 
in this case it wasn't a complete lie. Most of the guys who 
fucked me were trying to boost their ego by proving that they 
could be an incredible lover even though they had dicks the 
size of pencils and all the finesse of a gorilla. Will, on the 
other hand, was hung like a porn star.

I tore open the foil wrapper and placed the condom between my 
teeth before taking him in my mouth, watching his face from 
beneath my eyelashes as I rolled it down his cock with 
practiced ease. I took him into my throat easily, in spite of 
his size, and swallowed deliberately. He groaned again and 
this time his hands reached for my head, his fingers tangling 
in my hair. I was somewhat surprised when he pushed me away, 
his cock slipping from my mouth with a wet plop. 

"Stop," he gasped. "I wanna be inside you."

I gave him my best seductive smile as I stood up and started 
to unbutton my pants. I barely held back a sigh of frustration 
when he stopped me again. "Let me," he said, his voice gentle. 

"Fine. It's your money," I grumbled under my breath. I kicked 
my shoes off instead and waited impatiently while he removed 
the rest of his clothing. I gasped as he pushed me suddenly, 
sending me sprawling on my back across the mattress. He 
straddled me, pressing me deeper into the uncomfortable 
springs and sucking insistently on my neck. I gave him an 
exaggerated moan and brought his hand to my zipper, hoping he 
would take the hint and get on with it. 

He froze. "Is this not good," he asked, his hand cupping my 
mostly flaccid cock through the material of my pants. 

I pitched my voice to a low rasp. "It will be once you slide 
that big cock of yours in my ass."

Something close to disgust flashed in his eyes and I marveled 
again at his naiveté. What did he expect, a blushing virgin? 

I gasped again as he roughly undid the front of my pants and 
yanked them down and off in one fluid motion. I moaned and 
spread my legs invitingly. "That's it," I goaded. "Now give me 
your..."

Will cut me off abruptly with a hand clamped over my mouth. 
"Don't. Talking like that makes you sound cheap." 

His hand muffled my snort. Yeah? And?

"I want you to be honest with me. Don't just tell me what you 
think I want to hear."

"Whatever floats your boat, pal," I muttered as he removed his 
hand from my mouth. 

"I assume you have lubricant," he asked hesitantly.

"Don't need any."

"I don't want to hurt you," he protested.

I sighed. 'Yeah, well, that would make you the only one,' I 
thought. "This isn't my first time, Will. I'm ready."

Understanding dawned on his face as I guided his hand to my 
loosened opening, sliding his fingers through the surrounding 
layer of lubricant. I had made the mistake of forgetting my 
lubricant once long ago. I was lucky the John was nice enough 
to use a pretty generous amount of spit, but it had still hurt 
like hell. Since then, I made sure that I was well stretched 
and lubricated before I even left the apartment. 

I moaned as Will pushed slowly inside me. Mostly out of habit, 
but also because he was stretching me further than I had 
anticipated. Damn, he really was big.

"Yes," I hissed as he sank to the hilt. "That feels so good."

"Michael," he said, a warning tone in his voice.

"I'm serious," I gasped, only partially lying. It hurt a 
little, despite my preparation, but then it always did. I had 
long ago learned to accept - even welcome - the pain. 

"Is it okay if I move," Will asked hesitantly.

"God, yes," I moaned, pulling my knees up and wrapping my 
hands around my shins. "Fuck me."

He moved frustratingly slow, his thrusts long and deep, as if 
he had all the time in the world. A phrase my uncle had liked 
to tease my mother with came to mind. "Tu fais l'amour ŕ la 
papa." It was probably because of him that I knew the French 
word for "bastard" by the time I was eight. 

I bore down on Will, squeezing his cock rhythmically, hoping 
to make him come and get it over with. 

Will groaned, his movements faltering. "Fuck, that feels 
good."

"You like that," I asked huskily, squeezing him again 
pointedly. 

"Stop," he hissed.

I did so with a frustrated sigh, glaring at the ceiling, 
taking inventory of the signs of neglect - the cracks, the 
peeling, yellowed plaster and a stain that looked suspiciously 
like dried blood - and debating the pros and cons of killing 
Will and making off with his wallet. Then he wrapped his hand 
around my cock, stroking me in time with his trusts until he 
brought me to full hardness.

"Don't," I snapped, clenching my teeth as warmth began to pool 
between my legs. It was bad enough he was determined to draw 
this out without him leaving me hard. I hardly ever came for a 
John and when I did it was usually for the rare guys who got 
off on giving me a blowjob. I certainly didn't come with a 
guy's dick in my ass. It was one thing to let a guy fuck you. 
It was another thing entirely if you actually enjoyed it.

Will obediently released my now fully erect cock and reached 
for one of the pillows instead, wordlessly stuffing it under 
my lower back. I yelped as the new angle made his cock rub 
against my prostate, my hands releasing my legs as I tried to 
grab for the pillow. Will stopped me, grabbing me by the 
wrists and pressing my arms to the mattress, immobilizing 
them, his thrusts finally gaining momentum. 

I panicked. "Don't," I repeated, twisting my arms against his 
grip. But he was strong, and my struggling was just increasing 
the friction and bringing me closer to orgasm faster.

"It's okay," he murmured, oblivious to my distress. "Let go."

I writhed helplessly, my mind screaming in protest of the 
pleasure building in me. "Please," I whispered, my dignity 
forgotten in my blind anxiety. But it was too late. I 
whimpered as the spasms took over my body, my hips jerking 
against his, feeling a wet splash on my chest and hearing him 
groan as his thrusts slowed and finally stopped. 

I don't know how long I lay beneath him, trembling and 
panting. The next thing I was aware of was the feel of Will 
pressing a lingering kiss to my cheek, just brushing the 
corner of my lips. I snapped and shoved him off of me, wincing 
as his softened cock slipped out of me and darting into the 
bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I slumped against the 
nearest wall, my shaking legs barely holding me upright, and 
pounded the side of my fist repeatedly against the cracked 
tile. 

I felt something dribble down the inside of my thigh and 
reached down to yank the used condom from where it had lodged 
itself inside me when it had been hastily removed, flinging it 
angrily in the direction of the waste basket. I dove for the 
sink, frantically scrubbing my hands to remove the last traces 
of semen, covering my mouth with one wet hand to muffle a sob. 
It wasn't enough. I could still smell the sour trace of his 
come on my hand. I gagged, bile rising in my throat as I 
reached for the soap and began furiously scrubbing my hands 
again.

I flinched as the sound of a knock on the door thundered 
through the small bathroom. "Michael," Will called, his voice 
sounding worried. "Are you okay?"

I held my breath, trying vainly to hold in the cries that 
clawed at my throat, threatening to break free. I stared at my 
reflection in the broken mirror, my vision so blurred with 
angry tears that I couldn't see more than a random splash of 
color. I heard Will calling me, louder, his voice becoming 
increasingly anxious. 

"I'm coming in."

"No," I shouted, but it was too late. The door opened and I 
lashed out instinctively, hitting and scratching blindly at 
his arms and face.

"Michael," he yelled, struggling to get a hold of my thrashing 
arms. "Stop!" He tried to pull me into his arms in his effort 
to control my movements and keep me from hurting him or 
myself. I fought him like a wild animal, wrestling against his 
hold. 

Somehow in the struggle I ended up with my back pressed 
against the wall and my head hit the solid surface violently. 
Stars exploded in my vision and all the fight went out of me 
at once. I sagged in Will's arms and he bore my weight as I 
slid to the floor, cushioning my fall and cradling me against 
his chest as I cried. 

He held me tightly, his hands trembling slightly as they ran 
through my hair and over my back. "Michael...what happened? 
Did I hurt you? What's wrong? Please, talk to me..."

I burrowed closer to him, wanting his comfort without 
understanding why or remembering that he was the one who had 
caused my breakdown. He held me in his arms as I wore myself 
out, my tears slowing, my voice becoming hoarse from my 
emotional outburst. Finally he cupped my chin in his hand, 
lifting my face so my eyes met his. 

"What is it," he asked, his voice full of concern, wiping away 
my tears with gentle fingers. 

"Please...don't..." I babbled. I didn't know what was 
happening anymore, too scared and confused to even know what I 
wanted.

"Michael? Come on, Michael, breathe. Calm down. I'm not going 
to hurt you. It's okay. Whatever memory you're reliving - it 
isn't real. You're safe now."

I felt his lips against my temple...my cheek...as I came back 
to my senses, drifting closer to my lips, parted with my too-
quick breaths. Then his mouth was covering mine, his hand 
gently cradling the back of my head, tongue tentatively 
brushing my own, coaxing me to respond. And I did, briefly, 
before reality suddenly came crashing down on me again and I 
pulled away, dragging myself away from Will and struggling to 
stand on my still-wobbly legs. Will stood silently and helped 
me, his hand beneath my arm as I found my balance. 

My fist connected with his jaw before I even knew what I was 
doing. Will staggered back, dazed, and shot me a wounded look. 

"Don't touch me," I hissed.

He held out his hands, palms out, making himself look as non-
threatening as possible. "Okay, Michael. I'm sorry. Just calm 
down," he soothed.

"Take me back," I demanded.

"Okay...okay, just...let me get you your clothes," he replied 
easily, his voice soft and calming. "Would you like to wash up 
a little first?"

I blinked, trying to clear my vision so I could read his 
intentions. His eyes were as soft as his voice - clear and 
hazel - pleading for me to trust him. I nodded hesitantly. 

"Okay..." He kept eye contact with me as he pulled a pukish 
green washcloth from the counter, dampening it in the sink and 
handing it to me, being sure to keep his movements slow and 
deliberate. I snatched the cloth and waited until he 
disappeared into the bedroom to retrieve my clothes before I 
began washing the last traces of sex from my body.

******

The ride back was silent. I could feel his eyes on me, the 
worry practically coming off him in waves.

He stopped the car at the corner. I could see Lauren standing 
at her usual post, wisps of smoke curling from the end of her 
cigarette. 

"Are you gonna be okay," he asked worriedly. 

"Fine," I mumbled, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze as I 
let myself out of the car and crossed the street. Lauren's 
eyes widened as I approached, taking in my disheveled 
appearance, my red-rimmed eyes and the dark smudges of the 
small amount of eyeliner I often wore when I was working, and 
she quickly stamped out her cigarette. 

"Vaughn, love, what happened," she asked, her hand 
automatically going to my arm.

I bit my lip, shaking my head as tears threatened to spill 
again, hating myself for this weakness. "Is he gone?"

Her eyes flicked to the street. "He's leaving now." She guided 
me to the steps of the nearest building, sitting me down and 
gripping my hands tightly. "What happened? Did he hurt you?"

I shook my head. "It wasn't him...he..." I chewed on my lip 
some more. "He held me down and he made me come...he didn't 
know..."

Understanding dawned on her face. "Oh, sweetheart," she 
breathed as she pulled me into her arms. "I'm so sorry," she 
whispered in my ear. I shook my head and curled into her 
protective embrace, my head resting in her lap, closing my 
eyes as she stroked my hair and murmured soothing nonsense to 
me. 

I'm not sure how long we sat there before I heard a car pull 
up and heels click on the sidewalk. A third hand rested on my 
head and a voice called my name. I opened my eyes to find 
Sydney hovering over me, her face worried.

"Did that guy hurt you," she demanded, anger flashing in her 
eyes. She always acted like a mother bear protecting her cubs 
when it came to Lauren and me. 

"He had an episode," Lauren explained when I didn't say 
anything.

Sydney's expression softened. "Oh, honey..."

"I'm fine," I said quickly. I sat up, wiping at my remaining 
tears. "I'll be fine. Just give me a minute."

"No, Vaughn," Sydney protested. "You're not fine. Just take it 
easy. Stay here. Lauren and I will be done in a couple hours. 
One of us will stay with you the whole time and then we'll go 
home." I opened my mouth but she cut me off with a stern shake 
of the head. "Don't argue with me, Michael Vaughn. No more 
tricks tonight. Okay?"

I nodded reluctantly.

*****

I slept on the bed that night, curled between Sydney and 
Lauren, their hands soothing away the stresses of the day. I 
drifted to sleep with Lauren molded to my back, my head 
pillowed on Sydney's breast and a smile on my face as my mind 
replayed the look on both of their faces when I told them I 
had made four hundred dollars off of Will alone.

I didn't get a moment to myself the entire next day. And while 
the hand job Lauren gave me when she followed me into the 
shower was great, I was beginning to feel like I was on 
suicide watch. 

By the time we hit the streets, I had all but forgotten about 
Will and my meltdown. 

"How much time do you think they'd give me for killing one of 
these pigs," Sydney asked rhetorically as the car she had just 
stepped from peeled off down the street, horn honking, the 
driver pumping his fist through the open window and whooping 
drunkenly. 

"Don't worry, I'm sure that guy'll beat you to it," I sneered. 

Sydney chuckled. Then she glanced into the distance and her 
body went stiff, her jaw clenching. I followed her gaze, my 
spirits sinking as I saw the green Ford headed toward us, 
pulling up to the curb several meters away. 

Sydney held out her cigarette to me. "Hold this," she ordered, 
eyes flashing. "I'm gonna go have a talk with this guy."

"No, I'm sure he wants to talk to me," I said. I didn't really 
want to see him again after what had happened, but part of me 
was curious about why he had come back.

"You don't have to do this," Sydney protested.

"It's okay," I said, smiling reassuringly, trying not to show 
how nervous I was. I walked over to the car, took a deep 
breath and leaned in the passenger window. 

"What do you want," I asked as casually as possible.

"A second chance," he said simply.

I laughed. "Are you crazy or just masochistic?"

"Somebody hurt you, didn't they," he asked softly. The 
laughter died in my throat. "And whatever I did last night 
triggered a memory of something they did to you. Am I right?"

I swallowed and gave a small nod. 

He nodded too, something like a pained look in his eyes at 
having his suspicion confirmed. "I want another chance. I want 
to do things right."

I hesitated for several heartbeats, then slowly turned to give 
Sydney and Lauren the signal before climbing into the car.

"You remember how to get to the hotel," I asked, directing the 
question more toward my window than him.

"Actually, I thought we could use the hotel room I already 
have. No sense letting it go to waste."

I shifted awkwardly and nodded. "Fine."

The silence hung in the car for what felt like an eternity.

"Can I ask what I did, exactly, to set you off," he finally 
asked.

"You held me down and made me come," I replied flatly, keeping 
my eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside my window.

"You were raped," he concluded softly. I nodded. His hand came 
to rest gently on mine, silently supportive. "I'm sorry."

I didn't reply, but I couldn't bring myself to pull my hand 
away.

*****

The hotel was not ritzy by a long shot, but it was far nicer 
than the Horizon. At least this one looked clean. 

"What is this for," I asked as he shoved the room service menu 
in my hand shortly after we entered the room. 

"What does it look like? I'm hungry. Pick something you would 
like and I'll order for both of us."

I stared at him in surprise. Was this guy for real? "You 
realize I'm going to have to charge you by the hour."

"Yes, and I don't care." He squeezed my upper arm 
experimentally. "I want you to eat. You could stand to gain 
some weight."

I rolled my eyes and shoved the menu back in his hands. "I 
don't care. I'll eat whatever you get."

"You sure? You're not a vegetarian or anything?"

I snorted. "No."

"Allergies?"

"No."

"Okay," he shrugged and picked up the phone. I kicked off my 
shoes and sprawled out on the bed, enjoying the almost 
forgotten feel of a soft, comfortable mattress. I closed my 
eyes, listening to him order a couple hamburgers and more hors 
d'ouvres than two people could reasonably eat. 'This guy 
certainly has money to throw around,' I thought, no longer 
feeling guilty about over-charging him the night before. 

He hung up and remained silent for several long minutes. I 
cracked my eyes open, wondering if he'd disappeared on me, and 
was startled to find him standing beside the bed, looking down 
at me.

"No, don't move," he protested as I started to sit up. "I was 
just admiring the view."

I smirked and let my hand wander down to play with the edge of 
my T-shirt, subtly hiking it up to expose a little skin. "See 
something you like," I asked huskily.

I nearly screamed in frustration when he responded by sitting 
on the edge of the bed and taking hold of my hand, halting its 
movement. Then he brought the hand to his lips and kissed the 
first knuckle softly. "Thank you for giving me another 
chance," he murmured.

I just watched him silently, unsure of how I was supposed to 
respond. I had learned in this line of business how to deal 
with all sorts of people, but this man was forcing me to throw 
out everything I though I knew about the rest of my gender and 
it was confusing the hell out of me.

"And to answer your question, yes, I do," he said, although I 
had already forgotten the question. "You are a very beautiful 
man. But I'm sure you hear that from a lot of guys."

I nodded dumbly, although most of the compliments I got were 
about my "pretty mouth" or "tight ass". 

He brushed his thumb along my cheek, a thoughtful look on his 
face. "That's part of the reason I'm so attracted to you."

"What's the other part," I asked quietly.

He smiled. "I'm still figuring that out." His thumb wandered 
to my lips. "Is it okay if I kiss you?"

I thought about it for only a moment before nodding. Hell, if 
he was going to start breaking rules, I might as well join 
him. My eyes closed as his lips pressed against mine, his 
touch gentle and fleeting, as if I was made of glass and he 
was afraid I might shatter. I opened my mouth, allowing him 
inside and held back a moan as he tentatively explored every 
inch of my mouth with his tongue. I couldn't remember the last 
time a man had kissed me like that. As if I was his lover 
instead of just a whore. I whimpered softly as his hand cupped 
the back of my head, drawing me closer to him, his kisses 
growing deeper and more passionate. 

The noise made him pull back for a moment. "You okay," he 
murmured against my lips. 

"Yeah," I gasped. 

His lips twitched in a furtive smile before they covered mine 
again, his tongue brushing alongside my own, coaxing a 
response from me. I followed his lead, reaching my hands out 
to blindly fumble with his tie. He caught my hands in his and 
broke the kiss, waiting for my eyes to meet his. "So," he 
asked awkwardly. "You can't come at all?"

"I never said that. I said you can't *force* me to come. It's 
different if I want it."

"Do you," he asked, his fingers tracing soft patterns on the 
skin I had exposed minutes before. 

I gave him my best sexy smile and murmured "Yeah." Hell, as 
long as he kept paying me generously and giving me free food 
I'd do just about anything he asked me to. I'd gladly wear 
fishnet stockings and call myself "Michaela".  

I lost myself in the kiss again, letting him take the lead 
this time. His hands slipped under my T-shirt, smoothing over 
my chest and dragging the material up, bunching it under my 
arms. He broke the kiss and smiled down at me, his thumbs 
brushing lightly against my nipples. I hissed as the attention 
combined with the cool air in the room hardened them in no 
time. Then I gasped as he bent his head to take one stiff peak 
in his mouth. Lauren liked to play with my nipples sometimes, 
but her touch was always teasing and delicate. Never like 
this. Never with teeth biting and tongue dancing around the 
swollen flesh, coaxing it to tighten even more. I groaned as 
Will's hands began tugging at my pants, undoing the zipper and 
pushing them down my hips but not removing them entirely. 

"Yes," I hissed as his hand wrapped around my cock, sliding up 
and down in an agonizingly slow rhythm. After a few strokes, I 
reached down to still his movements. "I'm ready."

He responded by sitting me up and sliding behind me on the bed 
so that I rested between his legs, reclining with my back 
pressed to his still-clothed chest. "I don't want to fuck 
you," he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. "This is just for 
you...this is about giving you pleasure." 

"You're paying to fuck me and you're just gonna give me a hand 
job," I asked incredulously.

"I'm paying by the hour," he reminded me. "There's time for 
more later. Right now, I just wanna watch you come." 

"Can I at least get undressed," I asked, resisting the urge to 
roll my eyes. This guy was optimistic to the point of being 
cocky.

He responded by grabbing the hem of my shirt and tugging 
upward. I lifted my arms to allow him to pull it the rest of 
the way off and managed to remove my pants without leaving the 
bed. 

I shivered as I laid back against him, enjoying the feel of 
his clothes brushing my naked skin. His hands went to my 
nipples, now tender from his earlier ministrations. I moaned 
and let my head drop back onto his shoulder, tilting it to the 
side as he took the opportunity to kiss the exposed skin of my 
throat. "Please," I moaned. I wanted to tell him to get the 
fuck on with it already, but he was really the one controlling 
everything that happened between us. I was just a whore. I had 
to let him do whatever he wanted.

"Please what," he asked in a heated whisper. 

I opened my mouth to tell him to stop fooling around and jerk 
me off already, but his words from the night before rang in my 
head. 'Talking like that makes you sound cheap'. Fine. If he 
wanted a classy hustler, then he'd get one. "Touch me."

I felt him smile against my skin as his hand smoothed over my 
stomach, sliding down to wrap around my fully hardened cock. I 
hissed and bucked into his hand.

"Easy," he murmured. 

'What am I, a horse?' I rolled my eyes, but stilled my hips 
anyway.

"I want you to be honest with me," he said softly. "Don't fake 
pleasure just to bolster my ego. Let go. When you're with me I 
want you to be yourself - not Michael the prostitute from 
fourth street. Just Michael. I want to see *you*."

The fingers on the hand not wrapped around my cock drifted 
lower, slipping gently inside my prepared opening. I spread my 
legs, draping them on either side of his and letting myself go 
boneless in his arms, resigned to simply riding out this 
experience. I grunted as he opened my legs even further with 
his knees hooked under mine, spreading me obscenely wide. I 
couldn't move my hips very far from my new position, so I 
could only give a tiny jerk as his fingers found my prostate. 
I moaned loudly, my hands scrabbling to find purchase on the 
white linen sheets as I started to lose my grip on reality. It 
was rare that I let myself lose control with a John, but then 
nothing about this John had been by the book so far.

"That's it...let go," he encouraged, his fingers rubbing 
harder, his hand stroking with just the right amount of 
pressure, doing an expert twist at the top of each stroke to 
spread the pre-ejac leaking from me, coating me to ease the 
friction so that he was free to use a tighter grip and rougher 
strokes.

I yelped when I came, clinging to Will, the sheets, my own 
thigh - anything I could get hold of. I felt his lips brushing 
my temple and cheek as I came back down, panting from the 
force of my unexpectedly quick orgasm. 

"You're even more beautiful when you come," he murmured 
quietly, almost to himself.

I jumped when a loud knock sounded through the room. "Room 
service," a muffled voice called from just outside the door.

"That was quick," Will observed, sounding vaguely 
disappointed. He slid out from behind me, lowering my mostly 
lax body to a pile of soft pillows and tugging a blanket over 
me. He kissed me again, briefly, before going to open the 
door. I forced my sluggish body into a sitting position as a 
man wheeled the service cart into the room and Will handed him 
a tip. He bowed his head in gratitude and exited the room, 
seemingly not even noticing my presence. I was used to people 
looking through me - the ones who didn't look at me with 
blatant disgust at least - but I found it amusing that 
homosexuality had become such a way of life in this city that 
even in the richer parts of town nobody would bat an eye at 
the sight of a naked man in another man's bed. 

"You gonna get over here or do I have to bring it to you," 
Will asked teasingly as he set the food out on the small 
table. 

I stepped out of bed gingerly, testing my slightly wobbling 
knees, and reached for my pants. 

"There's a bathrobe behind that door," he said, waving in the 
direction of what I presumed was the bathroom. "You can just 
wear that."

I hesitated. This entire situation had become completely 
surreal. He was treating me more like a lover than a paid 
companion. Part of me wanted for it to be real - wanted to let 
go and enjoy the treatment. But deep down I knew it was a lie. 
It was only a matter of time before his illusion was shattered 
- before he realized that he couldn't save me from this life 
and that I could never allow myself to fall for him. He would 
grow bored and he would leave. Either way I would go back to 
quick fucks from greasy men in the back of random SUVs. If I 
let him get to me, it would only make the adjustment that much 
more difficult. 

I retrieved the robe obediently and sat at the table, staring 
at the hamburger on the plate in front of me, wondering if I 
should tell him I wasn't hungry after all. It would be a lie, 
yes, but it might be better than justifying his behavior.

"Something wrong," he asked, shaking me from my internal 
debate. He was already part-way through his own hamburger and 
rapidly demolishing his plate of fries. 

"I'm not Julia Roberts," I muttered.

He paused, mid-chew. "What?"

"I'm not Julia Roberts," I repeated, louder. "And I hate to 
break it to you, but you're no Richard Gere."

He swallowed a mouthful of hamburger and smiled. "I know that, 
Michael. I don't have any expectations. I just know that I 
feel drawn to you. I want to make you happy, even if it's only 
for a little while. Now eat. You must be starving."

My resistance weakened a little bit more. I could do this. I 
could handle playing house with him for a while and still go 
back to my life. Maybe the knowledge that somewhere out there 
nice guys still exist would give me hope and Sydney and Lauren 
could stop worrying about me so damn much. "Vaughn," I said 
quietly. "Call me Vaughn." If I was going to do this there was 
no way in hell I was going to risk thinking of him every time 
another John said my name.

I picked up my hamburger and began eating, realizing quickly 
that I was more hungry than I had thought. I was halfway 
through my plate when I caught him smiling at me. 

"What," I asked around a mouthful of fries. 

He shook his head, still smiling, and plucked a chicken wing 
from the appetizer plate. "Nothing."

******

When we'd both had our fill, I glanced at the clock. "Looks 
like we're starting on your second hour already." I stood up 
and circled the table, straddling his lap as gracefully as I 
could manage.

"I'm not in a hurry," he lied, even though I could clearly see 
the tent in his slacks. "We can take our time. Unless you have 
somewhere else to be..."

I sighed. "If you're not going to fuck me then what the hell 
else were you planing on doing?" 

He stroked his thumb gently along the line of my jaw, looking 
unnervingly deep into my eyes. "We could just talk. I want to 
get to know you."

"Great," I groaned, slipping off his lap to land in the chair 
next to his, reaching for the still partially full platter on 
the table. 

"If it makes you uncomfortable..."

"No," I grumbled as I slumped in the chair, nibbling idly on a 
piece of shrimp. "Ask away."

"You said you were arrested for possession," he began 
hesitantly. "Of what?"

"Crack cocaine. It wasn't mine, but that didn't matter. I was 
stupid enough to agree to hang on to it for my friend."

"So you weren't actually doing drugs..."

"Not cocaine, no, but I had done drugs a few times. I'm clean 
now, if that's what you're asking." 

"I wasn't, but that's good to know anyway," he said. "What 
about your parents? Couldn't you have gone to them for help 
when you were released?"

I snorted. "My father died when I was eight. He was a 
government agent...killed in the line of duty. I couldn't deal 
with it. I became one of those 'problem kids' that nobody 
wants to work with. My mother couldn't take the stress. She 
went back to France once I turned eighteen and went off to 
college. We don't talk much."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

'Fuck you,' I thought. I hated when people tried to sympathize 
with me. They never really knew what it was like.

"So this guy...your employer...he offered you a job?"

"He offered me food and a place to stay. The job came later." 

Will looked horrified. "He offered you food and shelter and 
then made it conditional on your employment in his harem?"

"Something like that," I admitted reluctantly. Actually, it 
had started out as odd jobs around the building - repair, 
cleaning - and graduated to prostitution.

"Vaughn, that's illegal. He took advantage of you!"

"I knew what I was getting into," I snapped defensively. "I 
could have turned him down. I wouldn't have been the first one 
to walk away."

"What other options did you have," Will argued. "You were a 
former prison inmate with no money. He was probably counting 
on that to work in his favor."

"Stop," I hissed. "I'm here because I made a stupid mistake. 
The rate I was going I was bound to end up in jail one way or 
another. I'm not angry with Sloane for what he did. He has 
treated me well and he gave me a job when nobody else would."

Will went silent.

"He may be creepy and controlling, but it was either stay with 
him or starve to death in a cardboard box under a bridge," I 
continued. "Even if I wanted to turn him in, I can't go back 
to that. And what would happen to the girls? Most of them are 
in the same boat I am. I couldn't do that to them."

A long, uncomfortable silence followed my speech. I tossed the 
half-eaten shrimp back onto the tray, no longer hungry. 

"How many girls are there," he finally asked tentatively.

"A dozen maybe. Some of them only stay a month or so - I don't 
really keep track."

"Those girls you are with every night...You seem really close 
to them."

"They're the only family I have now. Which is pretty fucked up 
considering the stuff we do together, but they're more than 
just friends."

He squinted his eyes in confusion. "You guys are lovers?"

I laughed. "Love is not a word we use in this profession. But 
yeah, something like that. Sydney still talks to her father 
sometimes, but her mother died when she was young. Lauren 
stopped talking to her parents years ago. All we've got is 
each other."

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Almost thirteen years." Twelve years, seven months and 
twenty-three days to be precise. 

He blew out a heavy breath. "Most prostitutes don't survive 
that long in the business."

I frowned. "How would you know? Have you been studying up on 
us?"

He looked momentarily startled. "Uh...I read a figure 
somewhere."

"Yeah, well...most of the prostitutes they take into account 
in research are drug users who don't use protection. I'm 
always careful and I've been clean since prison."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Do you ever wish you could start 
over?"

I looked him in the eye and gave him the same answer I had 
once given Sydney and Lauren. "Every day. But I can't. It 
happened. I made a mistake and I have to live with it."

He stood suddenly and leaned over me, cupping my chin in one 
hand and tilting my face toward his. "Don't ever give up 
hope," he said quietly. Then he kissed me, gently, his lips 
coaxing a response from mine. "Bed," he murmured, his voice 
muffled by my mouth. 

'Finally,' I thought with relief. I stood and let him guide me 
to the now rumpled bed. He undid the belt on my robe and let 
it fall open, his eyes roving up and down my body 
appreciatively as it was revealed. His hands stroked over my 
chest, sliding around to my back to pull me closer to him. I 
hummed at the feel of his clothed body pressed to mine, the 
soft, textured fabric warmed by the heat of his skin. His 
hands massaged my back while his lips traced a warm, wet path 
from my collarbone to my ear. 

"I want to make this good for you," he rasped, his voice low 
and seductive. "But you have to be honest with me. Don't fake 
it."

"I'll try," I replied honestly. After so many years, I wasn't 
even sure I remembered how to have sex with a guy without 
having to pretend to enjoy it. I gasped as Will's hands cupped 
my ass, pulling my body flush with his, letting his hard cock 
press against mine through the thin layers of fabric.

"Right pocket," he whispered. I slipped my hand into the right 
pocket of his slacks and he shook his head. "Your right 
pocket."

I hesitated before reaching into the right pocket of my robe. 
My fingers closed around a familiar object, drawing it out and 
holding it up so I could take a closer look. It was a condom 
packet, but it was one of the fancier varieties. The brightly 
colored wrapper declared that it was ribbed *and* pre-
lubricated for added pleasure. I groaned. "You had this all 
planned out, didn't you?"

He smiled. "Yep." He pushed me gently and I fell back onto the 
mattress. I let my thighs fall apart, offering him an 
unobstructed view. He knelt over me, resting on his left elbow 
while his right hand stroked up the inside of my thigh until 
he found my artificially slickened opening. 

He muffled my groan with a kiss as he slipped two fingers 
inside me, stretching my already loosened muscles. "You don't 
have to do that," I reminded him when he finally let me up for 
air.

"I want to," he murmured. His hand stilled, his fingers still 
firmly entrenched. "Vaughn, look at me." 

I groaned impatiently, but met his gaze unquestioningly. 

"I don't want you to feel anything but pleasure here," he 
said, his voice taking on a serious, almost grave quality. 
"You are in control. If I do something you don't like or 
something that hurts you I want you to tell me and I'll stop, 
no questions asked."

I nodded, his seemingly genuine concern leaving me speechless. 
He smiled softly and I felt a third finger slide into me, 
stretching me even further. I gasped, my hips bucking against 
him as he rotated his fingers suddenly and rubbed deliberately 
against my prostate. His smile widened and he repeated the 
move, dragging a low groan out of me. By the time he added a 
fourth finger he had my hips rocking steadily against his 
hand. 

"Now," I begged. "Please..."

I bit back a whimper when his hand pulled away and blinked 
away the growing haze to watch as he stood up and stripped his 
clothes off unceremoniously. I ripped open the condom packet 
while he positioned himself on his hands and knees over me. He 
kept his eyes locked on mine as I gave him a couple firm 
strokes and unrolled the condom over his generous cock. I 
smiled at him and nodded, giving him permission, and spread my 
legs wide, tilting my hips toward him invitingly. 

I gasped as he sank into me without any further warning. 

"Did I hurt you," he asked, alarmed.

"No," I replied quickly. Actually, it was the first time 
possibly ever that I had been breached with so little initial 
pain. I wasn't sure it could even be considered pain. There 
was only stretching and a dull, throbbing pressure. 

"Are you sure," he asked hesitantly, his body still frozen 
over me.

I slid my hands over his shoulders, massaging his tense 
muscles lightly. "Yeah. It's just that you're so big."

"Vaughn," he said warningly. 

"No, I mean it," I interrupted honestly. "Most guys hire 
prostitutes because they're impotent or just lousy lovers. 
Either way they tend to have tiny dicks."

He chuckled and rocked his hips in a subtle thrusting motion. 
"Ah. So I'm just bigger than the average impotent man with a 
small cock."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "We can measure it later. Now 
move, please!" I dropped my hands to cup his ass and pulled 
him in tighter, bringing my knees up over his shoulders with 
his help. I closed my eyes with a deep, mostly-involuntary 
moan as he began to move in long, deep thrusts. 

After so many years in the prostitution business, sex had 
become boring and routine. Will was only the fourth person to 
get me to come with a dick up my ass. The first guy had been 
my college roommate. We were both higher than a kite and horny 
as hell. I remember thinking it felt good, but it was 
basically just a blur. The only proof I had of the encounter 
the next morning was my sore muscles, an ache in my ass and 
the used condoms strewn around the bed where Tippin had 
carelessly dropped them. The second man had been my lover and 
the dissolution of our relationship made even thinking about 
him painful. The third time had been anything but pleasurable. 
After my physical injuries had healed I had gone right back to 
work out of necessity, but it had been weeks before I was able 
to let a John fuck me without throwing up afterward. And now 
Will... well, he had a bruise forming on his chin to show for 
his status as guy number four. 

I ran my fingers carefully along the purpling skin. "I'm 
sorry," I whispered.

"It's okay," he said gently, his thrusts slowing only 
slightly. "It was my fault."

I gasped suddenly as his cock hit me at just the right angle, 
sending a bolt of pleasure up my spine. 

Will caught my hand as it slipped from his cheek. He pressed a 
kiss to my palm and guided my hand down between our bodies, 
wrapping it around my bobbing length. I understood. He was 
giving me control - making sure that what happened before 
wouldn't happen again. My lips formed a silent thanks as my 
voice caught in my throat. 

"Look at me," he said softly. "Keep your eyes open."

I nodded, unsure whether he was more concerned with seeing me 
or making sure that I saw him and not my rapist, and kept my 
eyes locked on his as our rhythm grew faster and sloppier. 

It only took a few more thrusts from him and strokes of my own 
hand for me to come. I managed to keep my eyes open, seeing 
his eyes darken as he witnessed my orgasm. I whimpered as his 
thrusts grew wild in his own race toward the finish line, 
stimulating my sensitive nerves. He came with a grunt, pulsing 
hotly inside me, and collapsed to his elbows, his forehead 
dropping to rest on my shoulder, careful to keep his upper 
body from crushing me. 

I groaned when he recovered and pulled out of me gently, 
disposing of the condom and staggering to the bathroom briefly 
to retrieve a wet washcloth so he could clean the semen from 
me.

"I was raped a year ago," I began quietly. "It wasn't the 
first time, but it was definitely the worst." He paused in his 
ministrations, but continued, encouraging me to keep going 
with his soothing touch. "There were three of them. One of 
them - the John - drove me to an alley. Further away than 
usual. I didn't question him. When we got there, the other two 
pulled me out of the car and beat me. Once I realized there 
was nothing I could do to defend myself they began tearing at 
my clothes." I swallowed painfully. "They took turns. Two 
holding me down while the other fucked me. One of them put a 
gun to my head. He told me he would kill me if I screamed." I 
sobbed quietly as Will finished cleaning me and silently drew 
me into his arms, tugging the robe I had never bothered to 
remove tighter around my body. "It hurt so much...I was sure 
they would kill me no matter what I did, but I was so scared I 
couldn't do anything but lay there." I took a deep breath. 
"The John was last. By that point I was beyond pain and my 
body started to respond. I got hard...they laughed...called me 
a fucking cock whore and refocused their attention on making 
me come. I couldn't stop crying, which only made them taunt me 
even more. But I did it...I came. I hated myself for it. They 
said it proved that I enjoyed it. That I liked being fucked 
until I bled..." 

I paused, taking another deep breath as I felt Will's arms 
tighten around me, his hand coming up to stroke my hair. "They 
left me in that alley. Half naked...bleeding...in pain. I was 
too scared to yell for help. So I struggled to put my clothes 
back on, even though it hurt so much I wanted to scream... I 
managed to crawl to the nearest pay phone and used what little 
money they had left me to call Sydney and Lauren." I blinked 
as my vision blurred with tears. I dimly felt Will slip his 
hand into mine, squeezing supportively. "I passed out. The 
next thing I remember is Sydney shouting in my ear - demanding 
to know where I was hurt and pulling me out of the phone 
booth. I could hear Lauren crying. Sloane was with them. He 
carried me to his car. The girls held me the whole way back, 
trying to keep me comfortable. I screamed every time Sloane 
hit a bump in the road.

"I had never seen Sloane act like he cared so much about me. 
He got a doctor to come to the apartment and patch me up. He 
paid for the visits, the medications...everything. The girls 
took care of me day and night. Forcing medication down my 
throat... holding me when the pain and the nightmares got 
really bad. Sloane let them take alternating shifts - every 
other night - so one of them would always be with me. They got 
me through the worst time of my life." 

"Did they catch the guys who did it," Will asked gently.

"No," I spit. "I couldn't exactly go to the cops. Besides, I'm 
a hustler. If I was a teenage girl, people would be motivated 
to catch those guys, but when a prostitute is raped - 
especially a male prostitute - nobody cares. They think we 
bring it on ourselves or maybe that we deserve it." 

"Hey," Will said harshly, griping my hand almost painfully 
tight. "*Nobody* deserves to have somebody do that to them. I 
don't care what they do for a living. No human being should be 
treated like that." 

I sighed. "I know...but not everybody understands what our 
lives are like. They refuse to think about the circumstances 
that might lead a person to sell their body for a living." I 
lay in silence for several moments, listening to Will's 
heartbeat. Then I detangled myself from him awkwardly. "I 
should probably go."

He caught my arm before I even reached the edge of the bed. 
"Not yet."

I sighed again, but I wasn't going to argue about it this 
time. And honestly, the thought of going back out on the 
street so a few more guys could pull my hair while I sucked 
them off was less than appealing. I straddled his hips, 
shivering as the cool air brushed my still damp skin. 

"Can we at least talk about something else?" 

He slid his hands beneath the robe and massaged the backs of 
my thighs. "Like what," he asked softly.

"We've been talking about me for the last hour. It's your 
turn."

He froze and seemed to wage an internal debate for several 
long moments. "I don't want to bore you," he finally said.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not asking for your life story. Just... 
tell me what you do for a living at least." 

He bit his lip and looked off to the side for a moment as if 
he would find the answer on the wall of the room. "I'm a 
behavioral psychologist."

I stared at him for a good ten seconds while that sunk in 
before I burst out laughing. 

"What," he asked, wide eyed.

"Nothing," I said between chuckles. "I'm just enjoying the 
irony that I can spill my guts to you and *you* have to pay 
*me* by the hour for it."

He smiled. "Nice to know that I amuse you."

"Mmmhmm...so, I take it from the lack of a ring on your finger 
that you're not married."

He snorted. "No, although I was. Briefly. She left me after 
she came home early one night to find me...experimenting with 
a male co-worker."

I burst into laughter at the thought of Will's poor ex-wife 
literally catching him with his pants down. When I recovered I 
noticed that Will had grown silent, staring at me with 
something akin to awe. 

He brushed his thumb over my cheek, his focus drawn to the 
dimples I knew had to be showing. "I think that's the first 
time I've seen you truly smile," he murmured. "It's 
beautiful."

My smile faltered. This guy was determined to make this 
difficult for me. I wasn't sure I could handle playing 
boyfriend to him if he was going to take it so seriously. "I 
should really go," I said again. This time I didn't get 
further than a fraction of an inch before his hands stopped 
me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

I stared at a random spot on the sheets, avoiding his gaze. 
"No, I just...I don't want the girls to worry." It was mostly 
true. 

Will cupped my face in his hands and forced my eyes to meet 
his. "Vaughn...I promise I don't want to hurt you. Don't run 
away from me, please."

I pried his hands from my face gently. "I'm not running away. 
I just..." I bit my lip. What was I doing? "I think I've had 
enough for one night. I should be getting back."

He accepted this with obvious reluctance and skepticism, 
letting me leave the bed to get dressed with one last kiss and 
a gentle squeeze of my thigh.

******

Sydney was waiting impatiently when Will returned me to our 
corner. The second I was within range, she threw her arms 
around my neck and hugged me like a mother being reunited with 
her lost child. "Are you okay," she asked. 

"Better than okay, actually," I said, leaning back in her arms 
and pulling out the wad of cash Will had given me, holding it 
up for her to see. Her eyes widened with shock and disbelief 
and she looked to me, silently demanding further explanation. 
"It's a long story."

*******
(2 hours later, Vaughn's apartment)

"Why do you have all the luck," Lauren groaned. "I'm off 
getting shagged by drunken frat mates and - I'm pretty sure - 
a wifebeater while you're having a three course meal and 
getting the top of your head blown off by Don Juan." She took 
a sip of cheap wine and waved her glass at me. "He's probably 
an axe murderer, you know."

I finished my own glass of wine and sighed. "He's not an axe 
murderer."

"No, Lauren has a point," Sydney argued, sipping daintily at 
her glass. "No guy is that perfect. He's hiding something. He 
could be a sociopath for all we know."

I laughed, leaning back on the beaten couch as I started to 
feel light headed from the alcohol. "He's not perfect. He's 
just...naďve. Inexperienced maybe. He thinks of me as his 
date."

Lauren made a noise that was somewhere between amusement and 
disbelief. "Well when he pulls out a set of hunting knives and 
tries to sacrifice you to the Lord of Darkness just remember: 
I told you so." 

I squinted at her. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

She leapt at the opening I gave her, setting her empty glass 
on the table and giving me her best innocent look. "I'm sorry, 
daddy. I've been a bad girl. Are you going to spank me?"

"You have a sick sense of humor, Reed," I responded dryly.

She smiled brightly and climbed into my lap. "And you love me 
for it," she purred, punctuating her words with a kiss.

Sydney sighed and set her wine glass down on the table. "I'm 
going to take a bath," she announced, standing up. "My back is 
killing me. Anyone want to join me before I use up the hot 
water?"

"God, yes," Lauren groaned, sliding from my lap and following 
Sydney to the bathroom like an eager puppy. I smiled as I 
watched them go. Will was right - most prostitutes didn't 
survive as long as I had in this business. But most 
prostitutes didn't have people like Lauren and Sydney to keep 
them sane.

I leaned back into the couch, feeling suddenly drowsy thanks 
to the combined effects of the long day and the cheap alcohol, 
and thought about the points the girls had brought up. Sydney 
was right - no guy is that perfect. Maybe he did have a 
secret, but I doubted he would want to hurt me. At least not 
physically. He just didn't seem capable of that kind of 
cruelty. I sighed as I thought about the gentle, almost 
reverent way he had touched me, the warmth in his eyes when he 
looked at me. Fuck. Two nights and I was already starting to 
get stars in my eyes over this guy. 'I must be losing it,' I 
thought. 

My train of thought was interrupted by a splash and a groan 
coming from the bathroom. I got up, put the glasses and wine 
bottle in the kitchen and went to check on the girls. I found 
Sydney lounging between Lauren's spread legs, her head resting 
on the blonde's shoulder, sighing in pleasurable relief as 
Lauren's hands kneaded the tense muscles of her lower back. I 
knelt beside the tub and brushed a stray lock of hair behind 
Sydney's ear. "I'm getting really tired. I think I'm just 
going to go to bed."

"Hmmm," Sydney nodded, not even bothering to open her eyes. 
"Okay. I'll be right there," she said absently. 

I smirked. I knew from experience just how good Lauren's 
massages could be. And from the looks of it, this one was 
practically orgasmic.

Lauren smirked and reached one hand around to cup Sydney's 
breast, stroking suggestively. "You sure you don't want to 
join us? I think we could make room," she teased.

Sydney cracked one eye open and twisted her head around to 
glare at Lauren. "Hey, finish what you started!"

Lauren giggled and returned to her massage. I shook my head 
and kissed both girls before leaving them to their bath. I 
shuffled into the bedroom, depositing my clothes haphazardly 
all over the floor - too tired to put them away - and crawled 
into bed naked. I drifted to sleep wondering if and when I 
would see Will again.

******

I awoke when the mattress dipped suddenly and a pair of 
slender arms wrapped around me, a soft, warm body pressing 
against my back. I smiled and ran my fingers along one still-
damp arm. I didn't have to look to know who it was - I could 
tell the girls apart with my eyes closed.

"Where's Lauren," I asked, trying to shake the sleepiness from 
my voice.

"Kitchen," Sydney answered. "I think she's dehydrated."

I turned my head to look at her. She wore only a towel and her 
partially dried hair was creating tiny rivulets along her bare 
shoulders. "I'm guessing you're partly to blame for that."

She smiled impishly. "Maybe." She kissed me, her tongue 
prodding mine insistently. 

I slipped my hand between her legs to confirm what I could 
have guessed already, my fingers sliding along wet, swollen 
flesh. Lauren had clearly given her more than a back massage. 

Sex between the three of us was usually more about comfort and 
affection than pleasure, although it was nice at times to 
remind ourselves that sex could be pleasurable and not just 
about business. Unfortunately, Sydney tended to be hornier 
after orgasm than before and if Lauren was already worn out 
that meant it was my turn.

"Must've been a really good massage," I said dryly.

"Mmmhmm, you should try it sometime," she murmured. "Lauren's 
a *great* masseuse."

"I'll keep that in mind." I rolled over and slipped two 
fingers deep into her, immediately finding the patch of 
textured skin on her front wall and rubbing my thumb in gentle 
circles over her clit.

She groaned. "You're getting good at that."

"I learned from the master."

She reached down suddenly and drew my hand away. "Lay back," 
she ordered, her own hand wrapping around my flaccid length, 
coaxing it to life.

I grunted in surprise. "Are you sure?" Usually we just 
pleasured each other with our hands and, occasionally, our 
mouths. She nodded and produced a condom seemingly out of thin 
air.

She slithered down my body and nudged my legs open, rubbing 
insistently at the spot between my balls and anus with two 
fingers, massaging my prostate from the outside in an effort 
to bring me to full erection. I closed my eyes, trying to 
focus on the sensations she was creating.

"Are you thinking of him," she asked softly.

Will's face leapt instantly to my mind. "I am now," I 
grumbled.

"Good," she purred, punctuating her statement by plunging one 
finger inside me and rubbing more directly against my 
prostate. I groaned as my cock leapt instantly to attention. I 
had to hand it to her - she always knew how to get exactly 
what she wanted.

She ripped off her towel unceremoniously and threw it on the 
floor along with my clothes. She got the condom on me in no 
time and within seconds I was inside her soft, wet heat. She 
groaned and began rocking slowly. I raised my knees behind her 
and gently plucked at her swollen clit with my fingers.

Lauren came in the room, towel wrapped around her, a glass of 
water in one hand and sighed loudly. "Would it kill you to put 
your clothes away, Vaughn?" She began snatching items of 
clothing from the floor, laying them over the back of a chair.

"Kind of...busy right now," I gasped.

"I see that. I'm just saying that for future reference it is 
in your best interest to remember that I'm not your maid. And 
that goes for you too," she said as she folded Sydney's towel 
and placed it on the seat. Then she removed her own towel, 
folded it, and placed it on top of Sydney's. She came over to 
stand by the bed. "Your turn to tame the beast, eh," she asked 
as if just noticing what was going on.

"Yeah," I shot back. "Why am I always...getting your sloppy 
seconds?" I yelped as Sydney reached back and caught my 
testicles in a vice grip. 

"What was that, Vaughn? I didn't hear you," she panted.

"Nothing dear," I said through clenched teeth. 

She nodded and let go. "I thought so."

Lauren set her glass down on the side table and climbed onto 
the bed, pulling my legs down a bit and molding herself to 
Sydney's back. She moved with Sydney, controlling the speed 
and depth of her thrusts, her hands cupping Sydney's breasts, 
stroking her thighs, massaging her clit. Sydney moaned and dug 
her fingers into Lauren's thighs. They kissed sloppily as they 
moved and I contented myself with watching them, brushing my 
own fingers restlessly up and down Sydney's quivering thighs. 

I heard them whisper indistinctly to each other and suddenly 
Sydney was lifting herself up and away from me. She turned and 
Lauren helped her lay back down on top of me, spreading her 
legs so they fell on either side of mine and tilting her hips 
downward. I followed their lead, rolling my hips back and 
letting Lauren guide me back inside Sydney. In this position, 
I was the one in control. I thrust up into her powerfully, 
knowing that at this angle I had to be brushing against her G-
spot. "Now," she moaned.

I wasn't sure who she was talking to until I felt Lauren 
plunge two fingers inside me. I hissed and bucked against 
Sydney, thrusting erratically. Sydney also began moving 
restlessly and I realized that Lauren's other hand was busy 
working her clit. The room became blurry and I realized that I 
was getting close to finishing without her. I managed to cup 
her right breast in my hand, working my thumb over the nipple 
and settled my left hand over her abdomen, pressing down 
firmly and, hopefully, bringing my cock more firmly into 
contact with her G-spot. She flailed, her right hand grabbing 
a fistful of my hair and pulling me in for a kiss, wailing her 
pleasure into my mouth. I gave a muffled groan in return as I 
came right behind her, clenching around Lauren's still-
thrusting fingers, my own thrusts slowing to a stop.

Sydney recovered first, slipping off of me with less than her 
usual grace. Pulling the condom from me and stumbling off to 
the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth. 

I turned my head to Lauren, feeling my body sink further into 
the bed with exhaustion. "What about y..." I couldn't stop the 
yawn from slipping out, cutting me off.

She chuckled. "I think I've had enough for one night." She 
stroked my hair soothingly and kissed my forehead. 

"Love you," I murmured sleepily.

Her lips brushed mine, but I was too tired to respond to her 
kiss. "We love you too, Vaughn," she whispered as I drifted 
into unconsciousness.

******
(Two nights later)

"Fuck that feels good," the John hissed for the second time.

I groaned and continued to rock in his lap, taking care not to 
hit my head on the roof of the car or otherwise injure myself 
in the cramped space of the vehicle. He had pushed his seat 
back once he had pulled around the corner and put the car in 
park, but he was a big guy and I was still wedged between him 
and the steering wheel. 

"Yes," I moaned theatrically. I steeled myself as he licked 
sloppily at my neck, sucking at my skin like a nervous, horny 
teenager. "You're so big, baby," I lied. I squeezed my muscles 
around him, hoping to speed the process a little. He grunted 
and came within a few strokes. I groaned and squirmed 
convincingly, slipping off his lap the second he was finished 
and struggling to put my pants back on in the cramped 
quarters. I checked to make sure the hundred dollars he had 
given me was still in my pocket and waited for him to compose 
himself.

"Shit, that was amazing," he said as he disposed of the condom 
and tucked himself back into his pants. I just stared out the 
window silently while he drove me back to our corner. 

I slipped my hand up the inside of his thigh and squeezed 
lightly. "See you around, baby," I husked before I stepped out 
of the car, holding back my shiver of revulsion until after he 
had driven off. I froze as I saw a familiar black sedan 
waiting at the curb. Both Sydney and Lauren appeared to be 
gone for the moment so I approached the sedan cautiously, 
leaning in the already open passenger window.

"Waiting for Sydney," I asked casually.

"No," he said, his tone cool and businesslike. "Get in."

I climbed into the car and he drove to my usual alley without 
another word. He cut the ignition and we sat in silence for 
several moments.

"You can't keep avoiding her, Mr. Bristow," I finally said 
softly.

He immediately leapt on the defensive. "I've told you not to 
call me that. And I'm not avoiding her. She's made it very 
clear that she doesn't want to see me."

"That doesn't mean you should give up. She can't stay mad at 
you forever," I argued.

"My relationship with my daughter is my concern, not yours," 
he said, icily calm. He paused and his voice suddenly took on 
a more concerned tone. "How is she?"

I sighed. "She's fine, Jack. Same as always."

Jack nodded, his lips pursed tightly. I knew the rift in his 
relationship with Sydney stemmed at least partly from the fact 
that it pained him to see his daughter whore herself out for 
cash. He had offered many times to lend her money, but she was 
too proud to accept. They had argued over it many times, often 
at full volume, until Jack finally found an alternative 
solution. He knew the three of us lived together and pooled 
our resources regularly. Giving money to either Lauren or me 
was his way of helping out Sydney. She knew he did it, but she 
had to accept it since the money had been legitimately earned. 
Lauren and I had agreed we wouldn't let him give it to us for 
nothing. Sydney wasn't the only one defending her pride after 
all. Jack understood this and accepted it.

He stared unflinchingly ahead as I reached over to undo his 
slacks. I unrolled one of my own condoms on him, more out of 
habit than anything else since I knew he was clean, and took 
him in my mouth without a word. Sucking off Jack Bristow was 
never an easy job, and it wasn't just because he was Sydney's 
father. He was difficult to arouse and it always seemed to 
take a ridiculously long time for him to come. Then again, he 
didn't come to us because he wanted to get off. He came to us 
because he wanted to do something for Sydney and because 
talking to us brought him closer to her in a way. He probably 
secretly hoped that one day we would give up and just take the 
money, no stings attached. 

He came with a soft grunt, his hips tightly controlled and his 
hands fisted at his sides as usual. He quickly and efficiently 
disposed of the condom and restored his clothing to its 
original state. Then he handed me several bills and I shoved 
them into my pocket without even looking. It didn't matter. He 
always overpaid, but protesting wouldn't do any good because 
he always refused to take back the excess. 

He drove me back to the corner in silence.

I sighed. "She loves you, Jack. She just has a hard time 
saying it. I guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree." I 
reached for the door handle but he stopped me with a strong 
grip on my arm.

"Thank you," he said, managing to pack more meaning into those 
two words than most people could in an entire sentence. I 
leaned over to kiss his cheek. He gave my arm a gentle squeeze 
before releasing me. "Take care of yourself," he said kindly. 
'And my daughter,' his eyes pleaded. 

I nodded and stepped out of the car, crossing the street to 
join the girls, who had returned sometime during my absence. 
Sydney stared at the ground, her posture rigid, refusing to 
acknowledge her father's presence as he drove away. 

Lauren ducked neatly around the subject. "Your boyfriend was 
here," she said with a wink. I stared at her blankly. "Green 
Ford, dark hair, charming smile?"

My heart beat a little faster in spite of myself. "When?"

"Not long ago. He said he'd come back in a bit."

She handed me her cigarette and I took it gratefully, trying 
to force myself to appear unconcerned even though my stomach 
was twisting with nervous anxiety. 

"He said we shouldn't wait up for you," she continued. "He 
wants you for the whole night."

My breath stopped momentarily and my eyes widened. "The whole 
night," I repeated dumbly. 

She smirked and took her cigarette back. "Yep," she said 
between puffs. "So how much of a head start do you want us to 
give you before we call the police?"

I groaned. "He's not going to kill me Lauren." 

"Well, maybe not *intentionally* but from the sound of it he 
could easily fuck you to death." She looked thoughtful for a 
moment. "Maybe we should let him. After all you would 
certainly enjoy it. At least you'd die happy."

Lauren yelped as Sydney recovered from her pout and poked her 
in the ribs. "Stop that," she scolded. 

A strangely giddy feeling spread through me as I spotted 
Will's car approaching the curb. 

Sydney grabbed my hand, her voice turning serious. "Be 
careful."

"I will," I promised, kissing her cheek and squeezing her hand 
before taking off in the direction of the green Ford. 

"Did they tell you..." Will began as I hopped in the passenger 
seat. 

"Yeah," I interrupted with a nervous but hopeful smile. "Let's 
do it."

******

I moaned loudly, my back arching from the bed, clenching the 
plump hotel pillows in my fists as Will gave me the best 
blowjob any man had ever given me. He was ridiculously good at 
it - his limber tongue doing things to me that I didn't think 
most men even knew how to do - some of which *I* hadn't even 
know about. I cried out as I came, thrusting into his mouth 
wildly.

I barely registered his hands removing the used condom from 
me, disposing of it quickly. He didn't give me a chance to 
recover before flipping me over and plunging his cock into my 
prepared opening. I groaned and braced myself on my hands and 
knees as he began pumping in and out with long, deep strokes.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you last night," he gasped, 
his warm breath tickling my ear. "Couldn't stop picturing how 
beautiful you looked...all splayed out on the bed, nervous... 
how gorgeous you looked when you came." He groaned, his hips 
stuttering against mine. "How goddamn amazing you feel."

I shivered and rolled my hips to meet his powerful thrusts,
hissing as he reached one hand back to wrap around my cock. 
"Yes," I moaned.

"Yes what," he asked huskily.

I whimpered, feeling my muscles tighten one by one. "More."

He pulled me into his arms abruptly, sitting back on his heels 
and taking me with him so that I straddled his hips, his cock 
still deep inside me, my back arching almost painfully. He had 
to let go of my cock to support me with both hands and I 
quickly picked up where he had left off, pulling almost 
desperately at my throbbing length. "Oh fuck," I wailed as he 
fucked me from below, his hips snapping in a brutal staccato 
rhythm, hitting me at just the right angle.

My eyes rolled back in my head and I yelped as a second orgasm 
rolled through me. Only a tiny amount of fluid dribbled from 
my cock, but I shook violently, barely aware of my 
surroundings as Will lowered me to the bed and thrust a few 
more times in my spasming channel before coming himself. I 
shivered and whimpered helplessly as he pulled out of me, 
allowing the cool air to assault my overheated and sensitive 
skin. I heard him remove the condom before gentle hands rolled 
me onto my back and his warm body pressed against me, one arm 
curling beneath my head and the other hand stroking my limp 
arm.

"Are you okay," he asked softly.

"Great," I gasped, my breathing slowly returning to normal.

He smiled and kissed me. I responded clumsily, my body growing 
heavy, my mind sluggish. 

The next thing I was aware of was the feel of a warm washcloth 
moving in gentle circles on my abdomen. I opened my eyes to 
find Will hovering over me, a smug look on his face.

"Are you back with me now?"

I blinked at him in confusion.

"You passed out."

I frowned. "I did?" I had never passed out after sex before. 
Fallen asleep, yes. But I had never just lost consciousness - 
especially not with a John. 

He chuckled. "Hey, I didn't say it was a bad thing." He 
finished cleaning me and tossed the washcloth through the open 
bathroom door where it landed on the tile floor with a wet 
slap. He laid beside me, propped up on one elbow and pulled 
the sheet over my chest, draping his arm across my stomach. 
"Is this warm enough?"

I nodded. "So what happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

I tried not to look as nervous and awkward as I felt. 
"Nobody's ever asked me to stay the night before," I said 
quietly. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do."

He smiled. "We can do whatever you want." I hesitated and he 
quickly added, "How about we just talk for now? I'd like to 
know more about you."

I snorted lightly. "What else is there to know?"

"Well, for starters, do you ever have any female customers?"

I actually had to think about that for a moment. "Five. In 
twelve years I've had five. One of them was a virgin. She 
didn't want her boyfriend to think she was inexperienced, so 
she used me for practice." 

He smirked. "How did that go?"

"She changed her mind about four times and cried after the 
first time I got her to come." I sighed. "She finally got into 
it, but it turned out her boyfriend wasn't as interested in 
her - or any woman - as she thought and he came to me a few 
months later begging me to 'pop his cherry'."

Will laughed. "Did you?"

"Of course I did. It's not like I can afford to turn down 
money."

He winced and grew silent for several long moments. "This pimp 
of yours...how did he find you?"

I faltered, my good mood deflating swiftly. "He didn't. One of 
his former hustlers did...his name was Danny." I swallowed 
hard. I didn't like talking about Danny - it brought up 
painful memories. "I was laying on a bench...in his area. He 
told me to get lost. I tried to leave, but it had been so long 
since I'd last eaten and I was so weak that I fainted when I 
tried to stand up. He took me to the Dauphine building after 
he finished working. Sloane wasn't happy at first, but Danny 
convinced him that I would make a good hustler. He taught me 
everything I know." I swallowed, trying to blink back my tears 
before Will noticed. 

"You were close to him," he said softly.

I nodded. "We were lovers."

"What happened," he asked gently.

"He died. Some John killed him. At least that's what everyone 
assumed. He was drugged and his throat was slit. They never 
caught the guy who did it, but the newspapers called him a 
modern-day Jack the Ripper."

Will squeezed my arm. "I'm sorry."

I could have stopped there, but I couldn't seem to stop the 
words from pouring out of me. "I identified his body. Sloane 
was with me...he had to drag me away." I wiped at the tears 
that leaked from the corners of my eyes. "Sloane spent a lot 
of time with me after that. He blamed himself for what 
happened. For not doing more to keep Danny safe...for getting 
me into this life...I don't know. For everything."

Will's posture stiffened at the mention of Sloane. "Has this 
Sloane guy..." he hesitated. "Has he ever hurt you?"

"You keep talking about him like he's a monster. He's not," I 
said defensively. 

"You didn't answer the question."

I blew out a frustrated breath and rolled onto my side, away 
from him. "Stop analyzing me."

"Vaughn..." He sighed. "I just want to help you."

"You can't," I said softly, my voice sounding dead even to my 
own ears. I cringed as he spooned up to my back. 

"Please," he whispered. "I'm just trying to understand you."

I sighed and closed my eyes in defeat. "He's never hurt me."

"But he has touched you," Will pressed. "Made you 
uncomfortable..."

"I'm an adult, Will."

"Rape is still rape, no matter how old you are."

"He never raped me. I've always consented." Will grew quiet, 
simply holding me as I continued. "Danny used to let Sloane 
fuck him so I or the girls wouldn't have to. Now I do it so 
the girls don't have to. Call it taking one for the team. It's 
not always pleasant, but I've had worse. I'm a hustler - it's 
what I do."

"It's still rape as long as one party has power over the 
other," Will argued. "If you didn't want sex, but felt you had 
no choice..."

I turned in his arms. "By that definition you could call every 
trick I ever turned a rape. I don't let strangers fuck me 
because I enjoy it. The John has all the power. He can do 
whatever he wants with me and all I can do is charge him extra 
for it. The difference is that when I'm with Sloane I know I'm 
safe. In twelve years, he has never done anything to hurt me." 
I couldn't stand the sad, pained look of sympathy on Will's 
face anymore. I needed to change the subject. "Enough about 
me, I want to know more about you."

He sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"How about we start with your ex-wife."

He chuckled softly. "There's really not much to say. Her 
name's Dana. She's a forensic pathologist, which is basically 
a fancy way of saying 'coroner'. I loved her, but I always 
felt like I asked her to marry me because I thought it was 
something I was just supposed to do, not because it was 
something I wanted to do. I mean, I loved being with her, but 
it felt like we were more roommates than we were husband and 
wife."

"Couldn't get it up for her?"

He flinched subtly. "No, that wasn't the problem. The problem 
was there was almost no passion in our relationship and I 
found myself fantasizing about Alex when I was with her."

"That the guy she caught you with," I asked with a smirk.

"No, unfortunately Alex turned out to be very much straight 
and totally uninterested. However, another guy I had been 
attracted to - John - *was* interested, which surprised me 
since he seemed a little too...manly...butch...whatever. You 
know - the kind of guy who drives a pick up and owns a bunch 
of big, mean dogs. He was even a former marine. Anyway, long 
story short, Dana came home early from a conference in DC to 
find me spread eagle on the couch with John's dick in my ass."

I laughed. "That couldn't have been pretty."

"Actually she took it really well, considering. I think she 
had suspected I was gay for a while, if not all along. Anyway, 
that was four years ago. She's remarried now and has a son but 
we still keep in touch." He rolled away suddenly and retrieved 
his pants from the floor, pulling out his wallet and showing 
me a picture of a pretty redhead helping a small child blow 
out the candles on his birthday cake. There were three 
candles, carefully placed around the words "Happy Birthday 
William" written in bright blue icing. It was such a perfectly 
domestic and serene moment that I found myself envying the 
child - so innocent and unaware of the cruelties of the world 
around him. I couldn't ever remember being like that, although 
I must have been...before my father was murdered.

I smiled. "He's adorable." Then I glanced at the driver's 
license opposite the picture. It identified him as Will 
Kuipers...from Virginia. Reality reasserted itself and I was 
reminded that, while I could enjoy the illusion of romance 
with Will, I had to keep in mind that it wouldn't last. He 
would eventually go back to Virginia and I would go back to 
giving blowjobs to guys who were too fat, ugly, crazy or 
egotistical to find themselves real boyfriends.

He seemed to notice my sudden mood shift and quickly snapped 
the wallet shut, stuffing it back in his pants and returning 
them to the floor. "Why don't you get some rest," he 
suggested. "We can talk more later."

I let him pull me into his arms and fell into a light sleep 
shortly afterward, lulled by the sound of his steady 
heartbeat.

******
(The next day)

Despite the disorientation I had felt waking up to a pair of 
strong, masculine arms around me, the sleepy kisses Will gave 
me made it the best morning after I had had in years. And the 
sex that followed was good too. Both round one in the bed and 
round two in the shower. I was practically floating by the 
time Will dropped me off in front of the Dauphine building 
late in the morning, pulling me across the console for one 
last, lingering kiss.

"I may not see you for a couple days," he said apologetically. 
"There's some things I have to do..."

I pressed my fingers to his lips, silencing him. "You don't 
need to explain yourself." I smiled at him and slipped out of 
the car, ducking into the small but imposing building.

I had barely made it to the stairs that would take me to my 
apartment when he appeared.

"Mr. Vaughn, can I see you in my office?"

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. His voice had that 
dangerous edge to it that always made me nervous. 

"Sure," I replied, my voice artificially bright, and 
reluctantly followed Sloane into the landlord office that 
somehow seemed newer and cleaner than the rest of the 
building. I flinched inwardly as he closed the door behind me. 
Sometimes I wondered if he enjoyed playing mind games with me 
because he knew I was one of his few employees who was smart 
enough to understand what he was doing.

"Where have you been," he asked coolly. 

"Turning tricks," I answered innocently. "I had a John who 
wanted me for the night."

I kept my eyes level with his as he came close enough for me 
to smell the herbal tea that always laced his breath. "I 
understand this is not the first time this particular John has 
requested your services."

"No."

"In fact, it sounds like he's been taking more and more of 
your time lately."

I vaguely wondered who he had blackmailed his information 
from. "He pays me for my time."

"That's not what concerns me. You're a smart man, Michael. You 
must know that you are merely a temporary amusement to him, 
despite what he may lead you to believe. Men are jealous 
creatures. Once he realizes that you cannot devote yourself 
completely to him, he will move on. And by that time you will 
have lost many of your regular paying customers."

I shifted my gaze to the wall behind his shoulder, knowing he 
was right, but too proud to admit it. I could handle Will.

I startled when Sloane's hand rested on my shoulder, massaging 
lightly. "My concerns are not only professional, Michael." He 
implored me with kind eyes. "You know I think of you as 
family. I would hate to see you hurt because of this."

"Thank you," I said evenly. "But I know exactly what I'm 
getting into. Mr. Kuipers won't hurt me."

Sloane watched me in thoughtful silence for several long 
moments before sighing and squeezing my shoulder gently. "I 
suppose you know your weaknesses better than I do. Just be 
careful."

I nodded, my muscles relaxing as his hand slid from my 
shoulder. "I will." 

********

Lauren squealed. "You passed out?"

"Briefly, yes." I shoveled another forkful of egg into my 
mouth. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until Sydney had 
thrust a plate full of her scrambled eggs in front of me. Of 
course, Sydney was an amazing cook so I was always hungry for 
anything she made.

"What does he want from you," Sydney asked.

I snorted and asked "Is that a trick question," around a 
mouthful of food. 

"You know what I mean, Vaughn," she said impatiently. 
"Obviously this is about more than sex."

"He thinks he's in love with me, I guess," I muttered, feeling 
her worried, pitying eyes boring into me. "Look, Sloane 
already gave me a lecture. I know what I'm doing. Will's just 
another customer - he just pays better and gets off on fucking 
me until I scream."

"This guy feeds you and asks you to stay the night," Sydney 
argued. "It's like you're a stray he's trying to house train."

"He's not trying to domesticate me, Syd. Once he's done with 
whatever the fuck it is he's here to do he'll go back to 
Virginia and I'll never see him again." I ignored the slight 
twinge I felt in my chest at that, afraid of what it might 
imply. "I'm just showing him a good time while he's here."

"She's right," Lauren piped up, sobered by our conversation. 
"How do you know what this man wants? Maybe he wants to take 
you as his personal concubine. Or maybe he's Jack the Ripper 
and he gets off on earning his victims' trust before he cuts 
their hearts out."

My fork clattered to my plate. "Shut up," I snapped. I knew 
she hadn't meant the comment to hurt me, but I couldn't help 
but be reminded of Danny. 

Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry..."

"I don't want to talk about it." I pushed my chair back 
abruptly and hurried from the room. I knew I was overreacting, 
but I just couldn't deal with their accusations at that 
moment. If for no reason other than my own insecurities about 
my arrangement with Will.

"She didn't mean it to sound like that, Vaughn," Sydney 
whispered in my ear later, her body molded to my back where I 
lay curled on our bed. She kissed my ear gently. "She's just 
afraid you're setting yourself up to be hurt. We both are. 
Lauren just always uses humor to pretend she's not afraid."

"I know that," I mumbled.

"We love you, Vaughn," she continued. "We just want you to be 
safe."

"I know," I whispered back, bringing her hand to my mouth and 
kissing it gently. "I'm trying to be."

*******
(Three days later)

The most dangerous thing about taking Johns with kinky sexual 
habits was not the possibility of being hurt, but the risk 
inherent in submission. The John could gag me, fuck me until I 
bleed and leave me tied to the bed, taking his money and mine 
along with him. One night, years ago, the maid of the Horizon 
motel had found me tied spread eagle to the bed with a lit 
cigar shoved in my ass. I was lucky she got to me in time.
 
'Although there is something to be said about the dangers of 
dealing with bondage amateurs who didn't know their own 
strength,' I thought with a wince as the deceptively muscular 
John secured my wrists to the headboard a little too tightly. 
He maneuvered me into a position he liked, spreading my legs 
obscenely wide and tilting my hips so he could get a clear 
view of my wet hole.

I moaned loudly as he massaged my inner thighs, simply 
admiring me hungrily. "Please sir," I said, letting my voice 
warble just a little to really play into my submissive role. 
"Give me your cock."

"I will be the one giving commands here, Michael," he said in 
a silky British lilt. "Although I do like to hear you beg. You 
can call me Sark."

Well, it was better than the clichéd "master".

"Please, Mr. Sark," I begged, tugging against my bonds for 
emphasis. The man was clearly younger than me, but he was 
paying me well. I would call him Daddy if he asked me to.

"You are not to come until I give you permission," he 
instructed. "I'm sure a man of your...talents is more than 
capable of such control."

I held back a snort. It was doubtful that I would come at all, 
much less before he did, but I couldn't tell him that. If the 
cocky little shit wanted to believe he could reduce me to a 
mindless slut desperate for release that was what he would 
get. I nodded and wiggled my hips impatiently. "Yes, please!"

He put on a condom and plunged into me abruptly. I yelped and 
clamped down on him, squirming as if in agony. It was mostly 
for show, although it had hurt a little. He groaned as my 
muscles spasmed repeatedly, clenching and releasing his 
motionless cock. "Fuck, that's good," he muttered.

I blinked furiously and cringed, taking deep breaths and 
forcing my eyes to water. I looked up at him pleadingly. 

"You are a convincing actor, Michael," he purred. "However, I 
highly doubt I have done anything to hurt you."

I dropped the act and sneered at him. "Forgive me for thinking 
you got off on other people's pain. It was a natural 
assumption." I tugged at my hands, which he had secured to the 
headboard with his belt, for emphasis and hissed as the too-
tight leather bit into my wrist. 

"I never said I didn't want your pain," he said 
condescendingly. "I just don't want you to make it so easy for 
me." With that he slammed into me forcefully, hooking an arm 
under my left knee and raising my leg to allow him to go 
deeper.

"You think you can make me scream, you cocky bastard," I asked 
with a sneer. I hissed as this earned me a hard slap across 
the face but I had fully expected it. It was quickly becoming 
clear that this John didn't actually want me to submit. He 
wanted me to fight him. It made subduing me all the more 
challenging and rewarding. 

He bared his teeth at me in a parody of a smile. "That's more 
like it."

I yanked against my bonds, twisting in his grip, slamming my 
hips up into his, meeting his thrusts. "You son of a bitch," I 
hissed.

He responded by biting my neck, hard enough to create a deep 
bruise but not enough to break the skin. He was inflicting 
maximum pain with minimum damage. He was marking me. 

He sucked hard at the same spot he had bitten as I squirmed 
and bucked against him. I bit my lip to muffle the whimper I 
couldn't hold in. He stopped at the sound and pulled back so 
he could look down at me. "Very good," he purred. 

He fucked me with a strength that seemed to contradict his 
slim body and delicate features. I fought him as best I could 
given my disadvantage, kicking and biting until he threatened 
to gag me. By the time he came with a triumphant shout I had 
more bruises on me than I got on an average week.

I curled in on myself when he released me from the makeshift 
bonds, cradling my sore arms against my chest. I was shaking, 
on the verge of orgasm in spite of my mind's protests. My body 
clearly didn't know the difference between pain and pleasure. 

I jerked as I felt his hand on my arm. "Lie back," he ordered, 
his voice strangely gentle. 

"Why," I grumbled. "You got what you paid for."

"I'm not finished with you, Michael," he said kindly. "I'll 
gladly pay the additional charges." He pushed me onto my back 
and began running his hands over my chest and abdomen gently, 
seductively. "I may be harsh, but I never let my conquests go 
unrewarded."

"You think you've conquered me," I snorted. 

He hummed and bent to place a soft kiss to one bruised, 
swollen nipple. I hissed at the contact but didn't flinch. 
"You prefer to think of it as seduction that led to you being 
tied up and at my mercy?" He unrolled a condom over me and 
lowered himself until his mouth hovered over my straining 
length. "Don't be such a romantic, Michael."

I groaned as he took me in his mouth, squeezing my balls 
roughly and jabbing a finger inside me in search of my 
prostate. 

It didn't take him long to finish me off. I lay dazed on the 
bed as he removed the condom and sauntered into the bathroom 
to clean himself. I didn't hear him come back and I jumped 
when a wad of bills landed on my chest.

"That's for the blowjob," he purred. "You can get dressed 
now."

*******

I was quiet on the ride back to the corner. Not that it was a 
long ride since Sark obviously bought into the idea that 
flashy sports cars are meant to be driven at breakneck speeds. 

"I like you," he said as he turned a corner onto our street. 
"I may have to make use of your services again in the future." 
His hand crept up the inside of my thigh, inching steadily 
toward my crotch. 

"Don't touch me," I growled. 

He smirked, letting his hand linger just a little longer 
before taking it away. I focused on making my face into a mask 
of anger and humiliation but inside I was laughing. Sark 
thought he was the one in control, but in the end I was the 
one manipulating him. The more I threatened and resisted, the 
more he wanted me. I had no doubt I would see him again. Most 
likely on a regular basis. Sydney and Lauren would be thrilled 
to know I had found another gold mine - a gullible rich boy 
with sadistic kinks. Well, maybe I wouldn't tell them about 
the sadistic part...

He dropped me at the curb and sped off into the night without 
another word. I smiled as I saw the familiar green Ford parked 
across the street, waiting for me. This night just kept 
getting better.

*******

Will was kissing me hungrily the second we entered his hotel 
room. His arms wrapped around my waist, drawing me up against 
him tightly and I winced. 

He froze. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said easily. "I just...do you mind if I wash up a 
bit first?" I could still feel the sticky remnants of my 
encounter with Sark between my legs and as stupidly romantic 
as it seemed I didn't want to be reminded of any other Johns 
when I was with Will.

"Of course," he replied, watching me curiously as I 
disappeared into the bathroom. I didn't bother locking the 
door. I stripped and washed away the mess of lubricant and my 
own semen before slipping back into my pants.

I was washing away the remnants of my smeared eyeliner when 
Will knocked on the door. "Can I come in," he called.

"It's open," I called back. "I'm almost finished," I added 
when he stuck his head in.

I saw his eyes widen slightly in the mirror. "Vaughn, what 
happened to you?" He moved to my side and grabbed my arm, 
inspecting the bruises and friction burns left by Sark's belt. 

"The last John liked it a little rough," I said flippantly. 
"No big deal. It'll heal in a couple days."

Will's eyes flashed. "A couple days? Vaughn, he hurt you. Safe 
bondage shouldn't leave marks like this."

I hissed as he prodded at the angry scrape on the inside of my 
wrist that I had gotten when I had twisted my arm a little too 
far. "It's not that bad. Besides it was my fault. I pulled too 
hard. I'll just have to be more careful next time."

"Next time?" Will looked alarmed. 

I finished wiping away the last trace of eyeliner and dropped 
the washcloth on the counter before turning to face him. 
"Will, I know what I'm doing. Like it or not, this is what I 
do for a living. And frankly, I hope I see this guy again 
because he pays almost as well as you."

Will shook his head, a pained look on his face. "Vaughn..."

"You can't save me, Will," I interrupted softly. "Stop 
trying."

He seemed to consider this for a moment, his eyes searching 
mine, his expression unreadable. "I just want you to be safe," 
he finally said.

I sighed. "I'm a whore, Will. Safe is a relative term."

"I know that. I just don't want you taking any unnecessary 
risks," he argued.

I snorted. "I have sex with multiple partners on a regular 
basis. Risks come with the territory."

He sighed and gave up, likely realizing he would not win this 
argument. "Stay with me tonight. I don't care how much I have 
to pay."

I shrugged, pretending it didn't matter one way or another to 
me even though inside I was relieved. "Fine. Where do you want 
to start?"

He pointed to the Jacuzzi in the corner by the small shower. 
"Why don't you fill that. I'll go see if I can order something 
from room service."

"Are you trying to fatten me up or are you just obsessed with 
food," I asked playfully.

He smiled. "A little of both, I guess," he fired back. He 
kissed me and left the bathroom to call room service. 

Ten minutes later I slipped into the hot, bubbling water of 
the Jacuzzi with a groan. I lay back and let the jets massage 
away my tension. I didn't even open my eyes when I heard the 
door to the bathroom open. I listened to the light, tinkling 
sound of glasses being clinked together and set carefully on 
the tile counter.

"Here."

I cracked my eyes open to find Will, dressed only in his 
bathrobe, holding a half-full glass of red wine out to me. "No 
thanks, I don't drink on the job," I said wryly. 

He didn't move. "Technically you're not on the job for the 
rest of the night."

I sighed and accepted the glass from him, taking a small sip 
before setting it on the tile behind my head and sinking back 
into the soothing water. I felt him slip in beside me and 
groaned as he jostled me forward, sliding onto the bench 
behind me and pulling me back against his chest.

"Comfortable," I asked sarcastically.

He hummed an agreement and reached for the tray he had set 
within reach, retrieving a dark red strawberry and bringing it 
to my lips. "Open."

I opened my mouth and let him feed me, feeling a trickle of 
strawberry juice run down my chin. Will groaned and thumbed it 
away. "You're going to kill me."

I shrugged languidly, my eyes still closed. "Fine by me. I can 
sell my ass in prison just as easily as I can on the street. 
Better, even."

I felt him stiffen. "Don't talk like that."

"Why not," I asked as I reached back for the abandoned wine 
glass, taking a healthy swig. "At least it gives us something 
to talk about."

He was silent for a moment while I returned the glass to the 
ledge. "Is that what you did the first time you were there?"

"No. I was lucky. Although my cellmate and I did share a 
bottom bunk a few times."

We lapsed into silence after that and I felt myself drifting, 
lulled into a stupor by the effects of the wine and warm, 
bubbling water.

"Are you still awake," he asked softly.

"Mostly," I murmured.

"Good."

I gasped as he shifted me forward suddenly so that one of the 
water jets was directed between my legs. He spread my thighs 
gently, hooking my knees over his own, and cupped my balls, 
lifting them up and out of the way. I groaned and squirmed 
when this caused the jet strike my perineum directly, 
effectively massaging my prostate from the outside. 

"Is that okay," he asked gently.

I reached behind me and wrapped my hand around the back of his 
neck for support, rocking in his lap restlessly. "Need you," I 
gasped.

"Yes," I hissed in relief as he responded by wrapping his hand 
around my quickly rising erection and stroking firmly.

I came within minutes and lay quivering in his arms, drifting 
fully into unconsciousness with the feel of his lips on my 
forehead.

*******

I awoke to find myself sprawled face down across the bed, 
Will's fingers tracing light patterns on my bare back. 

"Are you back with me," he whispered.

I hummed contentedly in spite of myself - the alcohol and hot 
bath leaving me pliant and agreeable. "That feels nice," I 
murmured. He responded by rubbing harder with a flattened 
palm. I groaned and arched into his touch. My groan turned to 
a whimper when he stopped suddenly and I felt the bed dip 
under his removed weight. 

"Just a second, baby, I want to try something."

I lay quietly as he returned moments later with a bottle of 
lotion and straddled my hips. I moaned loudly when he began 
massaging my back and shoulders, his hands firm yet gentle, 
easing away whatever tension had remained in my body until I 
felt like I might melt right into the bed.

"You're gonna spoil me," I said quietly after he had worked 
his way to my lower back.

"That's the idea," he said heatedly, leaning over so his lips 
brushed my ear.

I shook my head, as much as I could from my position, and said 
"no. I mean I can't remember the last time a man touched me 
like there was more he wanted from me than just sex."

He hesitated a moment. "Maybe I do want more."

I closed my eyes tightly. That was exactly what I had been 
afraid of. "Don't."

He slipped off me. "Vaughn..."

"Don't," I repeated, rolling onto my back and looking up at 
him pleadingly. 

He barreled on anyway. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

He reached his hand out to cup my cheek but I slapped it away. 
"I'm a whore, Will. You can't love me."

"I don't care what you are," he insisted gently.

"You *should*," I snapped. "What, you think you can whisk me 
away to your mansion in Virginia and we can live happily ever 
after? I'm an ex-convict who gets paid to let guys shove their 
dicks up my ass. I will never find a descent job and I 
certainly won't sit at home and play housewife to you!"

He looked pained. "No. I refuse to give up hope on you."

I snorted. "Then you're more idealistic than I thought."

"Vaughn..." He sighed and seemed to reconsider his approach. 
"I've been drawn to you ever since the first time I saw you. 
You were standing at the counter of the SavMart, buying 
groceries. You didn't see me, but I couldn't take my eyes off 
of you. There was something about you...your beauty, the way 
you carried yourself...the way you smiled at the cashier and 
talked to her like you were old friends. I knew I had to meet 
you. So I asked the cashier where I could find you and she 
directed me to your corner. I knew what you were then, but 
that didn't bother me. I still wanted to meet you. Wanted to 
get to know you."

"Why?"

"I already told you - I don't know. But I'm glad I did. And 
now I don't want to leave you."

"Will..."

"What if I said I could find a way to get you a descent, 
legitimate job?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'd say you were crazy."

He gathered my hands in his own and I didn't fight him. "I can 
pull some strings, call in a few favors. I'm sure I can find 
you a job if you'd come back to Virginia with me."

My mind reeled. "You want me to come live with you?"

He nodded soberly, his eyes pleading. "Just think about it. 
Please."

********
(Next day)

"He WHAT," Sydney squawked, causing nearby shoppers at the 
SavMart to look at her quizzically. 

"Please tell me you're not going along with this," Lauren 
added, wide eyed. 

"I told him I'd think about it," I said as I held out a 
plastic bag for Lauren to put fruit in. 

"Oh, Vaughn," Sydney groaned, taking the bag from me when 
Lauren had finished and placing it in the cart.

"I'm not going to say yes," I said defensively. "I just want 
to let him down easy. I'll 'think about it' for a while and 
then say sorry but no thanks and send him packing back to 
Virginia."

"You're playing with fire," Lauren chastised, shaking her 
head.

I knew better than to argue with them. "I know what I'm 
doing," I said, unsure whether I was trying to convince them 
or myself. "I can handle this."

I looked at the row of cashiers as we rounded one of the 
aisles and thought about what Will had said. He must have seen 
me talking to Francie - she was the only cashier I was on a 
first name basis with. I scanned the checkout lanes looking 
for her and spotted her immediately, gossiping with another 
regular customer, her dark eyes wide, leaning over the counter 
and speaking in a conspiratory whisper. She smiled brightly 
and waved at us when we approached her queue. 

"Hey, guys," she greeted cheerfully. "Did you find 
everything?"

Sydney smiled. "Hey, Francie." She ignored the last question. 
It was just a formality the employees were required to ask - 
not necessarily meant to be answered. "How's your boyfriend?"

Proving that the world is, in fact, small my former college 
roommate, Will Tippin, had gone on to become Francie's live-in 
boyfriend. Francie and I traded stories about him often, many 
of which she liked to use against him when he least expected 
it. She particularly liked to use the "remember when you got 
drunk and fucked Michael's brains out" card during arguments.

Francie beamed and held up her left hand, flashing the 
impressive engagement ring on her finger. We offered our 
congratulations and the girls gushed and cooed over the ring 
as she rang up our groceries. 

"Of course, you guys are all invited to the wedding," Francie 
said happily. 

"I don't think Tippin would want me there," I piped up. 

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, it was *one night*. I'm 
sure Will can be an adult about it. Besides, it's not his 
decision. You'll be on my side of the aisle." 

The wonderful thing about Francie was that she knew what the 
girls and I did for a living and yet it didn't bother her. She 
treated us like we were co-workers or best friends from high 
school. She was almost like family.

"We would love to," Sydney decided. 

Francie's smile brightened further, if that was even possible. 
"Great! I'll let you know when we have a date set."

Lauren stuffed the last bag of groceries into the cart and she 
and Sydney started for the exit, calling their goodbyes to 
Francie over their shoulders. 

"Go ahead, I'll meet up," I told them, hanging back so I could 
speak to Francie in private. I wasn't sure why this was 
bothering me, but I felt that I needed to get to the bottom of 
it. "Did a guy come by here looking for me?"

Francie's smile faltered slightly. "What do you mean?" 

I moved aside as she started scanning the next customer's 
groceries. "Tall, dark hair, good looking? Maybe he didn't 
talk to you..."

"Oh, *that* guy," she said hastily. "Yeah, he asked where he 
could find you and I gave him directions." She looked at me 
warily. "Why?"

"No reason. I was just curious."

"What did he want with you?"

"Oh, the usual. Except he wants me to come to Virginia with 
him now."

Her eyes widened and she froze, the can of tomatoes in her 
hand poised above the scanner. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'm not actually going."

She gave me an odd look. "Oh..."

"I should probably go catch up to the girls. I just wanted to 
ask."

"Okay," she said with a smile.

As I left the store, I wondered if it was surprise or 
something else that had made Francie act so strangely. It was 
almost like she was suspicious of something, but I had no idea 
what it could possibly be.

*******
(Four days later)

I struggled as Sark bent me over the trunk of his car, 
wrapping his belt tightly around my wrists so that my bound 
hands rested at the small of my back. I yelped angrily as he 
plunged inside me without warning.

"Stop fighting me," he hissed.

"Never," I growled, twisting my arms against his tight grip. 

He pinned me bodily to the cool metal and fucked me brutally. 
"I don't particularly care for your tone, Michael. Perhaps I 
should remember to bring a gag with me next time."

I smiled. I had spent practically all of the last few nights 
fucking Sark - when I wasn't fucking Will, of course - and in 
just that short amount of time I had learned that Sark was not 
easily put off. I could kick, bite, scratch and call him a 
bastard all I wanted and it would only turn him on. He was a 
twisted little fucker, but that suited me just fine. It made 
him that much easier to control. Plus, I could take out my 
frustrations with other Johns on him without the risk of 
losing money.

I turned my head and bit into his hand, not hard enough to 
break the skin, but enough to leave a mark. He yelped and gave 
me a sharp jab to my right kidney, forcing a pained groan from 
me. Satisfied that this would dissuade me from any further 
attacks, he pulled out and flipped me onto my back, hitching 
my legs over his arms and slamming back inside me. I felt my 
tailbone grind uncomfortably on the hard surface and hissed, 
baring my teeth at Sark. 

"You'll never break me, you son of a bitch," I snarled.

I bit back a scream when he responded by biting down cruelly 
on my left nipple.

"I should hope not," he said heatedly. 

He came with an impassioned grunt a few short minutes later, 
his hand wrapped around my cock, bringing me off while he 
softened inside me.

"Fuck, that was good," I muttered when he pulled out of me and 
disposed of the condom. I waited for him to untie me, but 
instead he seemed to take his time readjusting his clothes. 
"Hurry up, I think my fingers are starting to turn blue."

My breath hitched as a Swiss knife was pressed against my 
throat suddenly. "Who is that man I keep seeing you with," 
Sark asked. "The one in the green Ford."

"None of your fucking business," I snapped, my voice warbling 
slightly in fear. 

"I don't like the way he looks at you."

I snorted. What way was that? Like a love struck teenager? 
"He's harmless."

"That is not my concern, Michael. How shall I put this? I 
don't particularly like sharing my toys," he said.

"I'm a whore, Sark. I'll fuck anyone for a price. You, Will, 
the fucking President. I don't care."

Sark smiled dangerously. "The others don't concern me. I am 
simply worried that this...*Will* intends to...take you off 
the market, as it were."

"His intentions don't necessarily mirror mine," I said calmly. 
"I'm not going anywhere."

Sark's smile widened and he removed the knife from its 
position at my neck and returned it to his pocket. "All right 
then."

The fact that Sark could be spying on me made me almost 
relieved that Will didn't show up that night. Still, I 
chastised myself for the disappointment I felt at not seeing 
the familiar green Ford pull up to the curb.

*******
(The next day)

"It seems we need to have a talk, Michael."

"About what," I asked innocently.

The laundry basket fell out of my hands as Sloane moved across 
the room with more speed than a man his age had any right to 
possess, shoving me against the nearest wall with one hand 
wrapped around my throat.

"You've been holding out on me," he said calmly. "We're losing 
business."

"Please, Mr. Sloane," I gasped as I tried to pry his hand from 
my neck. He merely tightened his grip.

"It's because of Mr. Kuipers, isn't it? You're wasting time 
and money on a schoolboy crush."

I shook my head. "I'm not," I mouthed, his impossibly strong 
grip robbing me of my voice. He let go suddenly and I slumped, 
coughing and rubbing gingerly at my abused throat. The blow to 
the face took me completely off guard. The next thing I knew, 
I was sprawled on the floor, one hand cradling my throbbing 
right eye.

"Get up," Sloane growled. 

I didn't move - too stunned to process his command. The world 
tilted dizzyingly as he dragged me upright with a fist 
clenched in the front of my T-shirt. I was face-down on top of 
one of the washers before I even had a chance to defend 
myself, my left arm twisted painfully behind my back, being 
held immobile by his body weight.

"You're forgetting your place," he hissed in my ear. "You 
would be dead in the street if I hadn't taken you in. You 
*belong* to me." He twisted my arm a little higher to drive 
home his point, wrenching a whimper from my abused throat as 
fire tore through my shoulder. 

I relaxed my body in spite of the pain. I had learned long ago 
that it was best to just ride it out - let him do whatever he 
was determined to do. At least if he took out his frustrations 
on me I knew Sydney and Lauren would be safe. 

A feminine shriek interrupted Sloane and he loosened his grip, 
startled. I wrestled free of him, but only managed one 
tottering step before I slumped to the ground, clutching my 
throbbing arm. Gentle hands framed my face and Lauren's soft 
features appeared in front of me. 

"Are you okay," she asked quietly. 

I nodded, belatedly realizing that Sydney had pulled Sloane's 
attention away from me and was now ranting at him for hurting 
me, her flashing eyes making her look like an angry mother 
protecting her child, as she always did where Lauren and I 
were concerned. She wasn't afraid of Sloane and Sloane never 
reprimanded her for talking to him the way she did. He was 
just as protective of her, almost as if he thought of her as 
the daughter he never had. She could get away with murder as 
far as he was concerned. I heard her point out to Sloane that 
damaging my face was not going to make me any more profitable 
and if he had talked to either her or Lauren he would know 
that they had the rest of my regular customers covered. I 
wasn't losing business; I was making plenty of money from two 
very satisfied, wealthy customers.

Sydney finally finished her rant and marched over to Lauren 
and me. She gently pulled me to my feet, her eyes still 
flashing angrily and ordered Lauren to pick up the discarded 
laundry basket before guiding me from the room and back up to 
our apartment.

******
(The next night)

I winced as Sydney touched up the makeup she used to cover my 
black eye. It didn't hide the bruise completely, but at least 
it didn't look so raw. 

"Stop moving," she scolded.

"It hurts," I muttered, trying not to sound like I was 
whining. She was trying to be gentle, but it still hurt.

She made one last dab high on my cheek and smiled 
triumphantly. "There!" She stuffed her makeup kit back in her 
purse as a dark blue Toyota pulled up to the curb.

"I've got it," Lauren called as she sashayed over to the car. 

"Thanks again for saving me yesterday," I said quietly. 

Sydney shook her head, an expression of disgust on her face. 
"I still can't believe he did that. I don't want to think 
about what he would have done if we hadn't gotten there when 
we did."

I instinctively leapt to Sloane's defense. "I understand why 
he was angry with me. He would never hurt me intentionally, he 
just...wasn't himself at the time."

Sydney's look of pity made me want to scream. I had to admit, 
I had my doubts about Sloane now. I had never seen him so 
angry and violent. It scared me.

I withered as Will's Ford pulled up to the curb. Why did he 
have to show up now, when the bruises from my altercation with 
Sloane were still fresh? The last thing I needed was to give 
him justification for his suspicions.

Sydney smiled at me sadly and took the cigarette I held out to 
her. "Good luck."

I took a deep breath as I made my way to the car. Whatever 
happened, I could deal with it.

I ducked into the car quickly, hoping to at least delay the 
inevitable confrontation until we had reached the hotel. "The 
usual," I asked brightly.

I sighed in defeat as Will responded by taking my chin in his 
hand and turning my face toward him, staring at my barely 
disguised swollen eye in horror. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I said instinctively. 

"Did Sloane do this to you," he demanded.

"Will, please...just drive. I'll tell you later," I pleaded.

Will hesitated for several painfully long heartbeats before 
seeming to come to some sort of decision, giving a small nod 
of his head. "I need to show you something," he said gravely.

*****

"Where are we," I asked in confusion as Will pulled the car 
into the driveway of a small house on the outskirts of the 
city.

Will shut off the engine and turned in his seat, taking my 
hands and staring into my eyes with an urgency I hadn't seen 
in him before. "I'm going to show you something, but first I 
need you to know that I would never do anything to hurt you."

My mouth opened and shut impotently, my mind at a total loss 
for words.

"Do you trust me," he asked.

I nodded instinctively. "Yes."

He let go of my hands to frame my face between his palms, 
drawing me in for a desperate kiss.

My mind scrambled to come up with a possible explanation for 
his behavior as he pulled me out of the car and into the 
house. I finally decided that either he was finally calling an 
end to our whirlwind affair, or he was planning to bring me 
into some sort of cult - more likely as a sacrifice than a 
member. 

The house was empty. 

"In here," Will directed, pointing to a closed door on the 
furthest wall. He opened it and stepped aside, allowing me to 
enter in front of him.

I don't think anything could have prepared me for what I saw 
when he turned on the lights. Pictures were plastered all over 
one wall over a heavy oak desk in a haphazard collage, along 
with post-it notes and scraps of paper, all with notes hastily 
scrawled on them in the same handwriting. Pictures of me, 
Sloane, Sydney, Lauren and a few other prostitutes I 
recognized from the Dauphine building. I scanned over them in 
shock, picking up random words and images. A picture of Sloane 
talking to a man I had never seen before. The words "Dauphine" 
and "Alliance". Another picture of Sydney, leaning in the 
window of some John's car, Lauren and I watching from a 
distance. One picture in particular caught my attention - a 
shot of me, standing in line at the grocery store, talking to 
Francie as I dug through my worn fake-leather wallet for the 
money Sydney, Lauren and I had pooled together that week. 
Will's earlier words came flooding back to me. "You were 
standing at the counter of the SavMart, buying groceries. You 
didn't see me, but I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

"What is all this," I asked, my head spinning.

Will reached into one of the desk drawers and pulled out a 
leather wallet, shoving it in my hands. I fumbled to get it 
open, my fingers feeling numb from shock. I froze as the 
leather sides gave way, revealing an official FBI badge and a 
photo ID of Will. Except the name on the ID was different.

"I don't understand..." I mumbled.

"My name is Fox Mulder. I'm with the FBI. Arvin Sloane is not 
the man you think he is. We've been trying to nail him for 
years. With your help, we may finally succeed."

"You lied to me," I said quietly, barely even registering the 
words he was saying. 

"Only about my name," he said gently, placing his hand on my 
shoulder. 

His touch jarred me from my paralysis. I flung his badge onto 
the desk as if it had burned me and ran for the door - unsure 
of where I was going but knowing that I didn't want to stay in 
this place. He caught me before I was halfway across the main 
room of the house. 

"Vaughn," he shouted. "Calm down!"

I fought him violently, so blinded by rage and fear that I 
wasn't even sure where I was striking or what I hoped to 
accomplish. He continued to shout at me, struggling to control 
my movements without hurting me, until finally I felt my back 
connect with the wall, my arms pinned at my sides. "Listen to 
me," he yelled.

"Fuck you, you son of a bitch," I spat, fighting to free 
myself from his strong grip. I tried to kick him and he 
responded by pressing the full length of his body against 
mine, holding me immobile, his chin pressed to my shoulder so 
I couldn't head butt him. 

"Please, Vaughn, I need you to listen to me," he begged, his 
warm breath caressing my ear. "I swear I never wanted to hurt 
you. Everything else I told you is the truth, I promise."

"Your promises are meaningless," I growled.

"Please, just hear me out..."

He yelped as I turned my head and bit down on his earlobe - 
hard. His grip loosened and I shoved him away, dashing toward 
the door. I had my hand on the doorknob when I heard a 
distinctive metallic *click*. I turned my head to find Agent 
Mulder's gun aimed at me.

"Are you going to kill me," I asked, my voice filled with 
disgust.

"No," he replied calmly. "But I can't let you leave yet. If 
you try to walk out that door I will have no choice but to 
shoot you."

He was bluffing. "Go ahead," I sneered, yanking the door open. 
The wall beside me exploded with a loud crack, sending shards 
of wood and plaster dust raining to the floor. I froze and 
looked back at him in disbelief. 

He lowered his weapon, aiming somewhere in the vicinity of my 
leg. "Next time I won't miss."

I closed the door with an angry slam. "What do you want?"

"I just want you to hear me out." He lowered his gun but 
didn't put it down. "Please."

I sat reluctantly in a large, comfortable chair, my eyes fixed 
on a indistinct point in space. He tucked his weapon away and 
sat on the coffee table, facing me, leaning uncomfortably 
close. 

"Vaughn," he began, reaching out for my hand. 

I yanked it violently out of his reach. "Don't touch me." 

He pulled his hand back, a wounded look creeping onto his 
face, and tried again. "Vaughn, I meant what I said. I may 
have lied to you about my name and I wasn't completely honest 
with you about my job, but everything else was...*is* true. I 
am a psychologist - I work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit at 
the FBI. I was married until four years ago when I slept with 
a coworker. I never lied to you, I just didn't tell you the 
whole story."

"Well, that makes me feel better," I said, my voice dripping 
with sarcasm.

"I need you to understand why I couldn't tell you this 
before."

"You used me," I hissed. "I don't need to know what it was 
for. You're no different than any other John."

He flinched visibly at that. 'Good,' I thought bitterly. 

"Just listen to me. Arvin Sloane is not the man you think he 
is. We have evidence that ties him to an organized crime ring. 
He's involved in drug and weapons trade and murder. We think 
he has ties to the Mafia."

I laughed. "Either you're lying to me again or you guys are 
seriously hard up for criminals because that is not Sloane."

"About a decade ago a man reported Sloane to the police. He 
said he could provide them with evidence of Sloane's criminal 
ties. His name was Daniel Hect."

I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut. All the breath went 
out of me in an instant and my heart wrenched at the mention 
of Danny.

"You're lying," I said stubbornly even though somewhere in the 
back of my mind I knew that I had never told this man Danny's 
last name. 

He just stood up and held his hand out to me. "Come with me. 
There's something you need to hear."

I pointedly ignored his hand and stood, not because I was 
interested in whatever he had to show me, but because I 
figured I didn't really have a choice.

He led me back to his office and pulled a tape recorder out of 
a desk drawer. "We've been watching Sloane for some time," he 
began. "We got this off a phone tap the day before Danny was 
killed." 

He hit play and a voice I had never heard before filled the 
room. "My superiors are becoming concerned about this 'leak' 
of yours, Arvin."

"I am aware of that," Sloane's familiar voice responded 
smoothly. "My contact has already informed me that he has 
identified the source."

"I trust you are handling this matter?"

"I have already made the arrangements. By tomorrow night, Mr. 
Hect should no longer be a problem."

Agent Mulder stopped the tape.

I stood frozen in place, horror and disbelief robbing me of my 
voice. I shook my head silently, blinking furiously to stave 
off my rapidly forming tears.

"I'm sorry, Vaughn," Agent Mulder said gently. 

His voice spurred me into action and I stumbled toward the 
door. He caught up to me easily, his hand under my arm, 
offering wary support. "Bathroom," I mumbled. He guided me to 
it and I dropped to the tiled floor immediately, heaving into 
the porcelain toilet. He didn't say anything. He just 
patiently waited for me to finish and handed me a wet 
washcloth.

"Why," I asked, my voice sounding pitiful even to my own ears. 

"Because Danny was a threat to him," he replied, flushing the 
toilet and kneeling on the floor next to me. "Danny tried to 
do the right thing. He didn't know that the cop he talked to 
was a contact of Sloane's. The report was never filed."

"No," I moaned, bringing my knees to my chest and 
unconsciously beginning to rock. This couldn't be happening.

He cupped my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. "He 
tried to save you from a monster and failed. I won't," he 
vowed. 

I snorted half-heartedly. "I'm a hustler. There's nothing you 
can do for me."

"Yes, there is," he insisted. "We can put you in witness 
protection - give you a new identity. You can get a job and 
start over." 

"Yeah, right. Nobody cares that much about me, man."

He kissed me gently, even though my breath must have been 
horrid. "I do. The FBI has been keeping tabs on you ever since 
we found out that you worked for Sloane. I was brought in to 
analyze potential targets - you and the girls - and figure out 
everybody's weaknesses - who would be most likely to provide 
us with the information we needed. I found myself drawn to you 
when I was doing my research - reviewing surveillance footage. 
I was attracted to you. And when the research told me that you 
were our best chance of catching Sloane, I volunteered to go 
undercover to draw you out. I wanted to meet you...touch you. 
And once I did I knew it had become about more than the 
assignment. I've fallen in love with you."

I shook my head, even as something inside me began to break 
and melt away. "You're crazy, Fox."

He laughed. "First of all, call me Mulder. I don't even let my 
parents call me Fox. And second, you're not the first person 
to point that out but it has nothing to do with my feelings 
for you. I miss you every moment we're not together. At times 
I wanted to call you just so I could hear your voice but I 
couldn't because I knew I would only be putting both of us in 
danger. I woke up before you one morning and just watched you 
sleep and I couldn't take my eyes off you. You looked so 
beautiful...so peaceful. And it hurt me to know that I would 
eventually have to tell you the truth - even if it meant 
saving you from this life - because I was so afraid I would 
lose you."

I didn't react as he pulled me into his arms - too stunned to 
reply. But after a moment, I sank into his embrace, wrapping 
my own arms around his shoulders and burying my face in his 
neck. I couldn't help feeling wary. It still felt like he had 
betrayed me. But his speech seemed so genuine that I wanted 
desperately to believe in it - to think that there was someone 
in the world who could love me that much and show such 
devotion.

"I love you," he murmured softly in my ear. "Please, don't run 
from me."

"I can't," I muttered, still dazed by the force of this sudden 
revelation. "You have the car."

He went silent for several breaths and then burst into 
laughter. He squeezed me tighter and kissed my cheek before 
reluctantly breaking away. "Let's see if I can find you a 
toothbrush."

******

He left me in the bathroom while I brushed my teeth and 
cleaned myself up. I found him in the kitchen after I had 
finished, pouring a glass of water.

"So what is this place," I asked.

"FBI safehouse." He shoved the glass into my hands. "Drink 
this. You need to stay hydrated."

I drank obediently, watching as he shoved the pitcher back 
into the refrigerator. "I can't help you. The FBI. I can't 
help you catch Sloane," I said softly.

He leaned against the counter and folded his arms. "What made 
you change your mind?"

"I didn't. I just can't do something that's going to put 
Lauren and Sydney and all the others who work for Sloane at 
risk."

"They won't be at risk," he started to argue, but I cut him 
off.

"You can't put them all in witness protection. Even if you 
don't arrest them, they'll just end up back out on the 
streets. Most of them can't make a living any other way and 
the rest won't even try because they don't know how."

Mulder crossed the kitchen to stand beside me, picking up a 
folder that he had left laying on the counter. He handed it to 
me. "You should see this," he said simply. 

I hesitated a moment before opening the folder. Clipped to the 
inside was a picture of a beautiful, raven-haired woman along 
with several official looking papers, one of which identified 
her as Nadia Santos, born in the late seventies in a small 
town in Argentina. She looked familiar, but I wasn't quite 
sure why. "What is this," I asked.

"She's one of Sloane's girls," Mulder answered. "She's an 
illegal immigrant. We think Sloane blackmailed her into 
working for him. And since she's not a U.S. citizen, she 
couldn't go to the police without risking deportation. And 
that's if she even knows anything about her situation - we 
don't even know if she speaks English. Not much is known about 
her except that her parents died when she was sixteen. The 
bottom line is that Sloane is holding her prisoner - whether 
she realizes it or not. She's a sex slave."

I closed the folder and shoved it back into his hands. "You're 
not going to guilt me into this. This woman - if she is who 
you say she is - just proves my point. You think taking her 
from Sloane is going to save her? I'm sure there's a reason 
she left Argentina and you guys will probably just send her 
back. If you don't throw her in jail first. Worst case 
scenario: she manages to escape deportation and jail time. She 
has no one to turn to, nowhere to go. How long do you think 
she'd survive on the streets?"

He sighed and tossed the folder back onto the counter, his 
hand brushing my cheek gently before settling against my neck. 
"This is going to happen one way or another. If you don't 
help, the FBI will just find another approach."

"Let them," I said stubbornly. "I won't do it."

"Vaughn..." He sighed. "Please. I want to help you. All of 
you. All we need is information. You can get close to Sloane 
without arousing suspicion."

"If he caught me searching through his office he would kill 
me."

"He would never find out. We can go over a plan with you and 
find a way to do it that would keep you safe."

I shook my head. "No. Danny tried it once and he was 
murdered." I could feel my throat squeeze briefly but my 
sadness over Danny's death was now replaced by anger over the 
knowledge of why he had died. 

"That won't happen to you..."

"You can't guarantee that," I practically shouted. "If I die, 
then what? You'll just try again? How many times do you think 
you can do this? And what if he suspects that I told Lauren or 
Sydney and goes after them next? I. Can't. Do it."

He pulled me into his arms and I gathered two handfuls of his 
shirt in my fists as angry tears formed in my eyes. "For once 
in my life...I don't want to die," I murmured as he rubbed my 
back. He remained silent for a while and I let the muffled 
sound of his steady heartbeat soothe me.

"Okay," he finally said with a sigh. "We don't have to do 
anything right now, but I want to give you some more time to 
think about it. Maybe we can think of some alternatives... 
something. Would you at least agree to think about it?"

I sighed. "Fine, but it won't do any good." 

"Thank you," he said softly, leaning his head down to brush 
his lips over mine. I felt a sudden shift in me and 
straightened, kissing him back enthusiastically, tugging his 
shirt loose from his slacks, desperate to feel his warm skin 
under my fingers - to know that he was real...that *this* was 
real. 

I held back a whimper as he pulled away. "Vaughn, you don't 
have to do this," he protested.

"No," I said quickly. "I want to." I ran my hands up over his 
chest, feeling his nipples tighten into stiff peaks as I 
flicked them with my thumbs. "I want to feel you...inside 
me...I want you to make love to me."

He groaned and pulled my arms from beneath his shirt, tugging 
me in the direction of the bedroom with a firm grip on my 
wrist.

******

"Stop teasing me," I groaned nearly an hour later, my hands 
twisting in the already rumpled sheets as he nipped and licked 
up and down the insides of my thighs. He had managed to make 
me come once already - before he'd even finished taking all 
his clothes off - and he seemed determined to do it again 
before he got around to actually fucking me. 

"I'm not teasing," he murmured, biting at the sensitive skin 
on the inside of my knee before winding a path back up my 
thigh, swirling his tongue maddeningly over my hipbone. "You 
wanted me to make love to you."

"That doesn't mean I want you to kill me with foreplay," I 
muttered. I hissed, my back arching from the bed as his hand 
closed around my swollen cock, stroking slowly, his touch too 
light to bring me any closer to the edge but firm enough to 
maintain my level of arousal. 

I whimpered as his limber tongue painted abstract patterns on 
my abdomen. "Who said this was foreplay," he asked gently 
between swipes. "Relax. I know what I'm doing."

Reality came crashing into me as he began to move lower, his 
mouth coming increasingly close to my cock. I stopped him with 
a firm grip on his head. "Don't," I gasped. "It's not safe..."

A condom seemed to materialize in his hand and he had it 
unrolled over me before I could say anything more. He stuffed 
a pillow under my hips and sat back on his heels, his eyes 
roving over my body appreciatively. "Is that comfortable?"

I sighed, frustrated. "Yes, but..."

He cut me off with a stern gesture. He reached into a nearby 
dresser drawer and removed a tube of lubricant. "I need you to 
trust me. Just lay back and relax. Let me do this for you. I 
want to make you feel good." 

I sighed and gave in, letting my body sink into the mattress, 
the tension easing from my muscles. In spite of everything, I 
realized I did trust him. I closed my eyes and listened to the 
cap on the lubricant pop open and snap shut seconds later, my 
cock throbbing in anxious anticipation. I moaned as one 
slippery finger pressed against my opening, massaging gently, 
encouraging the clenching muscles to relax. 

"Open your eyes," he whispered. I did and whimpered when he 
rewarded me by slipping his finger inside, stilling once he 
was in past the second knuckle. "Say my name."

"Mulder," I whispered.

He smiled. "Good." Then he bent to take my cock in his mouth, 
his finger moving inside me in slow thrusts. 

I writhed on the bed as he slowly brought me to a second 
orgasm, the pleasure effectively distracting me from the burn 
of his fingers stretching me. I came with a wail, my hips 
jerking in furtive thrusting motions, my muscles clenching and 
rippling against his intruding fingers.

I went boneless, my body unresissting as he rolled me onto my 
side and pressed himself to my back. My own breathy moan rang 
in my ears, even though I wasn't aware I was making the noise, 
as he drew my leg up and over his and pushed his cock inside 
me. My sated body offered no resistance and I realized that 
that was exactly what he had been hoping to accomplish. 

When his hips were flush with mine, he stopped and simply held 
me, seemingly content to just lay there, his hands lovingly 
soothing my body. 

"Are you okay," he asked quietly, pressing his lips to my 
sweaty neck.

"Yeah," I gasped. I wiggled against him experimentally. There 
was no pain - not even discomfort - just an incredible feeling 
of fullness. "Move...please."

I made a tiny noise deep in my throat as he began to thrust, 
his movements agonizingly slow and wonderfully slippery. He 
was positioned at just the right angle to brush tantalizingly 
against my prostate and I whimpered as my cock began to stir 
lazily after several minutes. 

He stroked my thigh comfortingly. "Just let it happen," he 
murmured. 

I made tiny rocking motions against him as my strength 
gradually returned.

"That's it," he cooed, his thrusts growing a little more 
forceful. 

"Stop," I panted. "I want to see you..."

I nearly changed my mind when he pulled out suddenly, leaving 
me achingly empty. I felt the mattress sway and bounce as he 
re-settled himself and turned to find him reclining against a 
haphazard pile of pillows. He held his hand out to me and 
pulled me over his lap. I moaned as I sank down onto his cock, 
the sound muffled when he drew me in for a sloppy kiss. I 
swayed dangerously as I tried to ride him - the sated lethargy 
left by my previous orgasms making me clumsy.

His frustratingly calm grip on my hips stilled my awkward 
movements. "Do you want me to be on top," he asked, his voice 
tight with restraint. 

I shook my head stubbornly. "Just...help me."

He managed to sit up and scoot backward on the bed until both 
he and the pillows were propped against the wall, all without 
breaking our connection. I reached for the headboard and used 
it for leverage, hauling myself halfway up his thick cock 
before plunging back down. His hands gripped my hips firmly, 
supporting me and guiding my movements and I kissed him 
gratefully.

I moaned and whimpered as the heat began to pool once more in 
my abdomen. I was so lost in pleasure that the world seemed to 
blur. "Mulder," I gasped as my body began to tremble 
uncontrollably. 

His hands seemed to be everywhere at once - both soothing me 
and encouraging me to move faster, harder. I whined, my hips 
beginning their own mindless rhythm, my exhaustion forgotten 
in the heat of the moment. I vaguely felt Mulder's hands 
tremble against my skin, but I was too far gone to care 
anymore. I closed my eyes and let my head loll on my 
shoulders, panting heavily. 

Mulder let go of my hip with one hand, bringing it up to cup 
my cheek. "I didn't think it was possible," he whispered 
heatedly. "But you're more beautiful than ever right now."

I moaned, only barely hearing his words as the wave of my 
third orgasm rushed to greet me. My mouth fell open and I 
jerked spasmodically against his grip as it washed over me, 
tossing me mercilessly. Incoherent noises spilled from my lips 
but I was helpless to curb them. I was helpless to do anything 
but let the overwhelming pleasure take over my body. I heard 
him groan from a great distance and felt his thick length 
pulse hotly inside me as he followed shortly after.

I collapsed against his chest when it was over, my chest 
heaving, trembling and weak as a newborn kitten. He stroked my 
back as I drifted back to my body. 

"No," I slurred, clinging to him as tightly as I could when he 
tried to roll me onto my back. "Don't move."

He hesitated. "Okay, just...lift up a little..." I moaned as 
he helped me raise up over him, feeling him draw his softening 
cock out and hearing the familiar noises of a condom being 
removed and thrown away. 

I sank back into his lap, my head resting heavily on his 
shoulder, and hummed contentedly when he drew the sheet over 
my cooling body and kissed my forehead. 

"Is this comfortable," he asked.

I made an affirmative noise and snuggled deeper into his 
warmth. 

"So why did Sloane hit you," he asked gently.

I sighed. Might as well get it over with. "He thinks I'm 
spending too much time with you - that I'm neglecting the 
other Johns." 

"Okay," he said after a long pause. "I'll let you rest for a 
while and then I'll take you back."

"No," I protested. "The girls are covering for me..."

"Sloane's paranoid," Mulder interrupted. "He could have you 
monitored at all times. You can't give him any reason to be 
suspicious." 

I tightened my grip around his neck involuntarily. "Does that 
mean I can't see you anymore," I asked, trying not to sound 
too remorseful. 

He gently coaxed my head from his shoulder so he could look 
into my eyes. "No. It means we have to be more careful. 
Whether or not you choose to help us, I'm in too deep to turn 
back now. I won't leave you. At least not until I know you're 
safe. If, by then, you decide that you don't want anything to 
do with me, I'll walk away, but not until then."

I hesitated. "When you asked me to move to Virginia with 
you..."

"I meant it," he said firmly. "Witness protection would be 
even more effective if you're as far away from Sloane as 
possible. And I would feel better if I could keep you close - 
make sure you're safe." He paused. "But mostly I just want you 
near me."

I lowered my eyes and kissed his shoulder softly. "I want 
you," I admitted somewhat reluctantly. "But I can't help 
you...the FBI. Spending time with me would only waste time you 
could spend getting one of the girls to give you information."

"None of them have been around as long as you. You have 
Sloane's trust - you have access they don't. I just need you 
to think about it. I'll give you a week and if you still don't 
want to do this, we'll start considering alternatives."

I closed my eyes and sighed mentally. "Okay," I agreed.

*******
(Two hours later)

"Remember, you can't tell anyone about any of this," Mulder 
said as he turned the green Ford onto our street. "Not even 
your friends. Sloane can't suspect anything out of the 
ordinary. You can tell them you were with me, just tell them I 
took you to the same hotel as usual and try not to act 
suspicious."

"Trust me, if there's one thing we prostitutes are good at - 
it's acting."

He winced subtly. "I may send somebody else to pick you up or 
deliver messages after tonight. I wanted to warn you so you 
don't panic, but you should treat them as you would any John, 
just in case anyone's watching."

I nodded, plucking at my too-tight jeans nervously. "Okay."

He pulled the car up to the curb, several feet away from where 
Sydney stood leaning against the lamppost, waiting 
impatiently. 

Mulder grabbed my hand and squeezed. "Be careful."

I squeezed his hand back, shooting him a tight smile. "Yeah, I 
will." Then I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, 
forcing myself to relax. If this was going to work I was going 
to have to pretend the last few hours hadn't happened. 

Sydney looked surprised to see me. "What happened?"

"Nothing, he just has an early meeting tomorrow," I lied 
easily. "And I told him I can't spend the night anymore."

She smiled sympathetically. "You really like this guy, don't 
you?"

I shrugged. "He pays well," I said flippantly. I pulled the 
money he had given me from my pocket and her eyes grew wide, 
dollar signs practically flashing in her pupils. 

"He paid you for the whole night anyway," she asked in 
disbelief.

"Yeah, he figured out that my pimp gave me my black eye and 
said he felt sorry for getting me in trouble."

"Fuck Sloane," she exclaimed. "If Will keeps paying you like 
this, you can stay as long as you want and we'll sneak you 
back into the apartment when the bastard's not looking."

I laughed. "No, it's okay. Sloane's right. I've been 
neglecting the other regulars. Will probably won't be hanging 
around much anymore anyway."

I hoped I didn't sound as disappointed about that as I felt.

*******
(Three days later)

I grunted as Sark fucked me into the worn mattress at the 
Horizon motel. He had me tied face down in a spread eagle, 
bound to the creaking bedframe by my wrists and ankles. I 
struggled against him but there wasn't much I could do from my 
position. 

"I see your precious Will has been coming by less frequently."

"Quit stalking me you sick bastard," I hissed as he stimulated 
my prostate, causing my erection to press uncomfortably into 
the bed. "My life is none of your fucking business."

"Ah, but it is my business," he cooed. "I make it a point to 
get to know the men I sleep with."

I snorted. "Then why don't you try talking to me instead of 
following me around?"

I didn't need to turn my head to know he was smirking. "It's 
more fun this way."

"You're a twisted fucker," I grumbled as he came with 
astonishing speed.

"You've no idea," he gasped as he pulled out of me and 
disposed of the condom. 

My eyes widened as he dangled what was obviously a shiny new 
set of anal beads in front of my face. "Props cost extra, 
man," I said calmly, my asshole clenching in apprehension at 
the thought of having those things shoved inside me. The 
largest one had to be a good two inches across.

"I'll pay," he said with a wicked smirk. He disappeared from 
my line of sight and I hissed as I felt him push the first 
bead inside me.

"I don't understand what you get out of this," I grumbled as 
he continued to push one bead after another past my lax 
opening, each one slightly larger than the last.

"The pleasure of being in control," he purred silkily. "Of 
watching you writhe and scream and beg me to put an end to the 
exquisite torture."

"I'm not begging you for anything," I spit, groaning as the 
last bead was pushed inside, spreading me wide and forcing me 
to accommodate its girth. I squirmed restlessly at the feeling 
of fullness and gasped as the movement jostled the beads, 
causing them to bump and roll over my prostate. Sark untied my 
limbs and stood beside the bed, his naked sweaty body glowing 
in post-coital bliss.

"Stand up," he said simply. 

I gasped and moaned as I obeyed him, sparks of pleasure flying 
through me with every subtle movement as the beads rolled 
around inside me. 

"Sit in that chair," he ordered, pointing to the straight, 
hardback chair ten feet from the bed. I stood gingerly and 
awkwardly made my way over to it. By the time I sat down I was 
sweating, my eyes were unfocused and I was moaning almost 
continuously. I focused on catching my breath while Sark re-
tied my limbs to the chair. The second he had me secure he 
produced a small remote control seemingly from nowhere and 
flipped the switch. Instantly, the beads inside me began to 
vibrate and I whimpered, struggling against my bonds futilely 
as the stimulation brought me careening toward orgasm. The 
more I struggled, the more the beads moved, pressing against 
my prostate, threatening to drive me insane with pleasure.

As abruptly as it had started, the vibration stopped. I panted 
while Sark drew his index finger gently along the length of my 
cock, swirling through the moisture leaking from the tip. "I'm 
not begging you," I said determinedly. If it was anyone else, 
I would have given him what he wanted readily in the hopes of 
getting it over with faster. But this was Sark. I knew he 
wouldn't appreciate a quick surrender.

I clenched my jaw as the beads began to vibrate again, letting 
my body go limp and riding out the sensation. I knew I didn't 
have to worry about holding off my orgasm - he was skilled 
enough to be able to stop me before that happened.

"Tell me more about Will," he said when the vibrations stopped 
again.

"What," I gasped. I had fucked a lot of guys with strange 
kinks but this guy was definitely proving to be the weirdest.

The beads pulsed once, briefly. "Why did Will suddenly abandon 
you after he tried so hard to win you over?"

"How the fuck should I know? You think I'm psychic?"

Sark bent over to lick teasingly around the shell of my ear 
and hovered there, letting me feel his breath on the delicate 
skin. I shivered in spite of myself. "Guess," he whispered.

I struggled against my bonds. "Maybe he gave up on me and went 
back to Virginia," I sneered. "I really don't fucking care."

"I would think you, of all people, *would* care seeing as you 
said yourself he paid you very generously."

"So do you but you wouldn't see me crying if you disappeared 
tomorrow. Johns come and go. It's the nature of the business." 
I hissed and bucked as the beads began vibrating again.

"Good to know," he mumbled absently.

The vibration stopped. "Damnit Sark," I spit, my patience 
wearing thin. "Finish this!"

Sark smiled victoriously. "In a moment," he promised. "First I 
want to see how good you are at multi-tasking."

He had a condom on in seconds and forced my head down 
awkwardly so I could suck him off while he played some more 
with the anal bead controls.

I came several long minutes later, struggling not to choke on 
his cock as he reached his own orgasm, thrusting wildly down 
my throat. I squirmed and bucked in the chair as the beads 
continued vibrating long after I was finished coming, 
stimulating me to the point of pain. I whimpered when he 
finally turned the beads off and lay limp while he untied me. 

He massaged my arms as he released them, more for efficiency 
than as a show of affection. "Will 500 dollars be sufficient," 
he asked in an appropriately business-like tone.

I nodded dumbly and sat quietly while he got dressed. He 
tossed my clothes in my lap. "Get dressed. And you can keep 
the beads," he added, slipping the remote into my hand and 
smiling devilishly. "Consider it a souvenir."

*******

When Sark returned me to the corner I was surprised to find a 
woman I only vaguely recognized as one of Sloane's girls 
waiting for me in Sydney and Lauren's place. 

"Are you Vaughn," she asked.

I nodded, racking my brain for her name. "Rachel, right?"

She smiled and nodded. "Sydney and Lauren wanted me to send 
you back to the Dauphine as soon as possible."

I frowned, baffled. "Why?"

She shrugged. "They didn't say."

Before I could think of any further questions to ask, a car 
pulled up to the curb, its driver motioning to her. "I have to 
go," she said kindly. "Good luck!"

As I watched her saunter up to the car, her light brown hair 
bobbing and swaying behind her, I was struck by just how many 
people Sloane had deceived. This girl looked so innocent and 
sweet. I was torn between my desire to help Mulder catch him 
and my fear of the consequences of such an action.

*******

"What's going on," I asked when Lauren opened the door. She 
looked pale and worried. "Where's Sydney? Is she okay?"

Lauren nodded numbly and said only one word. "Bedroom."

I found Sydney slumped on the end of the bed. She looked like 
she had been crying. Her eyes were swollen and red, faint 
traces of mascara marring her cheeks. 

"What is it?" I went to sit next to her but she halted my 
progress by thrusting a thin piece of plastic into my hands. I 
stared at the stark white stick, its flat surface marred by 
two bright pink lines. "What..."

"I'm pregnant," she said, her voice hoarse-sounding and thick 
with tears.

My knees went weak. I dropped to the bed beside her silently.

"It's yours," she added.

"Are you sure," I asked, stunned. I winced internally, knowing 
how insensitive that question sounded, but in our line of 
business it was a valid question.

"That night two weeks ago," Lauren cut in, appearing suddenly 
in the doorway. "The condom broke. Sydney made me promise I 
wouldn't tell you."

My mind reeled. "Why would you..."

"Because I thought maybe if I didn't think about it, nothing 
would happen," Sydney interrupted. "I knew there was a risk of 
me getting pregnant that week and when I saw the rip in the 
condom...I was scared. I thought maybe I could *will* it 
away."

I drew her into my arms. "Okay. We'll figure something out."

"I think I know of a place that does abortions," Lauren 
offered. "It's completely legal..."

"I don't want to abort," Sydney interrupted.

"Sydney, are you sure you want to have this baby," I asked.

"What if this is my only chance to be a mother? What if it's 
your only chance to be a father? I don't know if I could live 
with myself knowing what I could have had but didn't because I 
was too scared of losing my job as a hooker," she argued. She 
wiped her eyes angrily and sniffled. "I can't tell Sloane. I 
don't know how I'm going to work..."

"Let us worry about that," Lauren said, coming to sit beside 
us on the bed, rubbing Sydney's back comfortingly. 

Sydney reached back to grab her hand, holding onto it like a 
lifeline. "Thank you."

I didn't sleep much that night. I lay awake, staring at the 
stains on the ceiling, feeling Sydney's warm breath on my 
chest, her fingers entwined with mine, twitching every once in 
a while in her sleep. Lauren was also fast asleep, spooned up 
behind Sydney, one arm draped over her, fingers just brushing 
my stomach. I traced one particularly long crack in the 
ceiling with my eyes and debated whether or not it was worth 
it to risk my life and the safety of all the other girls in 
the building, so my child could have a better life.

*******
(Four days later)

"How much," the driver asked in a raspy voice. His bright blue 
eyes and vaguely southern drawl conveyed a gentleness that 
belied his harsh features and severe military-short haircut. 

"Fifty to a hundred depending on what you want," I replied, 
pitching my voice low.

"Get in."

I climbed into the SUV and started directing him to the usual 
alley as he pulled away from the curb.

"Actually, I think we may need someplace more private," he 
interrupted, his eyes flitting between the rearview and 
sideview mirrors. 

I smirked and reached across the console, rubbing my hand 
against the inside of his thigh. "You planning to make me 
scream," I asked seductively. 

"No, I think we're being followed," he said as he reached into 
his pocket and pulled out a wallet, opening it so I could see 
the now-familiar FBI badge. 

I jerked my hand back as if I'd been burned. "Mulder sent 
you?"

He nodded. "Just point me to the nearest hotel and we can 
talk."

I craned my neck slightly, trying to see in the rearview 
mirror as I gave him the directions to the Horizon. 

"Don't look. They can't know you're onto them."

I sank back into my seat complacently, my heart pounding and 
my head spinning. Was it just Sark being his perverted self or 
was Sloane really having me followed?

I sat staring nervously ahead and continued giving directions. 

"Is there a room you usually get," the agent asked as he 
pulled into the parking lot. 

"Number four," I said meekly, nodding toward a door further 
down the row of hotel rooms.

He nodded and patted my knee absently. "Stay here. Try to 
relax. Pretend this is business as usual."

I took several deep breaths while he stepped out and headed 
for the front office. Business as usual. Right. I looked out 
the window, searching for the car that had been following me, 
trying not to convey anything more than bored curiosity. I 
couldn't see anyone suspicious, but then I hadn't seen anyone 
earlier either. Whoever it was, they obviously knew how to 
stay inconspicuous. I jumped when the door on my side of the 
car opened.

"Room seven," said the agent, holding the door open for me. 

I followed him to the room, resisting the urge to look around 
the parking lot again, keeping my posture relaxed. If somebody 
was watching me, then they weren't going to suspect this was 
anything more than a routine fuck. I made sure I brushed 
against the agent as I walked past him into the room. He 
pulled the curtains and then turned to me, holding out his 
hand. "My name's John Doggett. I'm Fox Mulder's partner."

I shook his hand, my eyes widening as a previous conversation 
with Mulder flitted across my mind. "I think he's mentioned 
you...you were the reason he got a divorce, right?"

Agent Doggett's lips pursed. "He tell you about that?" 

"He didn't go into details, but yeah," I said as he peaked 
through the curtain, making sure anybody looking in couldn't 
see him. He motioned to me and stood back so I could look at 
what he was seeing. 

"That guy down there in the suit. You ever seen him before?"

The man he indicated was standing beside a car, talking on his 
cell phone and gesturing angrily. "No. Never. Was he the guy 
following me?"

John nodded grimly and pulled what looked like a fancy earbud 
for a cellphone from his pocket, settling it in his right ear 
as he stepped away from the window. "Agent Mulder, do you 
copy?"

I watched the man outside a while longer until he looked up in 
my direction. I jerked my head back, plastering myself to the 
wall, my heart racing, hoping he hadn't seen me. After several 
shaky breaths, I peeked back out and sighed with relief when I 
saw the man still deeply involved in his conversation. If he 
had seen me, he gave no indication. I stepped away from the 
window and watched as John paced the floor anxiously. 

"Agent Mulder," he repeated. "Is this line secure? ...Okay, 
change of plan. I've got him, but it looks like we were 
followed...We're at a hotel. Sloane's man's got us under 
surveillance so we're gonna have to do this quick before he 
starts gettin' suspicious...All right." 

John removed the earpiece and handed it to me, helping me 
place it in my own ear when I hesitated.

"Mulder," I asked tentatively. 

His relieved voice filled my ear instantly. "Vaughn, are you 
okay?" 

"I'm fine," I replied automatically, despite the anxious 
pounding of my heart.

"Have you thought about..."

"Sydney's pregnant," I blurted before he could finish the 
question.

My exclamation was met with stunned silence. "What," he 
finally asked.

"Sydney's pregnant," I repeated. "The baby's mine."

He blew out a noisy breath. "Vaughn..."

I interrupted him again. "If I do this...if I help you, you 
have to promise me that she'll be taken care of."

He didn't hesitate. "Of course. Whatever she needs. I'll help 
pay medical expenses myself if I have to."

"She just needs help getting back on her feet - finding a job 
with a decent health plan."

"Not a problem," he said, sounding relieved. "Does this mean 
you're in?"

I closed my eyes, swallowing my fear and apprehension and 
nodded. "Yes. I'll help you catch Sloane."

"That's great," Mulder said and from the tone of his voice I 
could tell he was smiling broadly. "I promise I'll make sure 
you and the girls are taken care of."

"What do you need me to do?"

"We'll start out slow. For now, just find out as much as you 
can about the rest of Sloane's girls. How many there are, 
their names, what apartments they live in - just the basics. 
And try to keep close to Sloane - make sure he trusts you. See 
if you can get into his office alone, but don't do anything 
yet. Just make note of as many details as you can about the 
room so we can direct your search later. Don't start poking 
around yet, we just need to know where things are in the room, 
what type of computer he uses...that sort of thing. Be 
careful. We don't want him to get suspicious."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Okay. When will I 
see you again?" I winced at how needy the question made me 
sound.

"I don't know," Mulder said gently. "We'll try to work out an 
arrangement, but we have to be careful."

I turned my back to John, even though he already had his back 
to me and was obviously pretending not to hear me, staring 
cautiously out the window at our follower, giving me the 
illusion of privacy. "I miss you," I admitted softly, feeling 
a blush rise to my cheeks. 

"I miss you too, baby. I'm sorry. We'll try to work something 
out, but I don't want to put you at risk."

"I know," I said softly. If there was one thing I had become 
certain about where Mulder was concerned it was that he would 
never do anything that he thought could hurt me.

"I'll talk to you again soon. Can you put Agent Doggett back 
on the line?"

I removed the earpiece and held it out for John. "He wants to 
talk to you."

John stuck the receiver into his ear, keeping his eyes focused 
on the man in the parking lot and making sure he stayed hidden 
in the shadows. "We have to get going," he said, as much to me 
as to Mulder. "Our tail is gettin' restless. I'll contact you 
when I'm clear." He jammed the receiver back in his pocket and 
untucked his shirt, rumpling it and re-tucking it haphazardly, 
trying to appear as if he'd just had a quick fuck.

I shifted awkwardly, wanting to help any way I could but 
unsure of what I could contribute. "Bite me," I said suddenly, 
before the idea had even fully formed in my mind.

John squinted at me. "Excuse me?"

"You want it to look real," I asked calmly, pulling the collar 
of my T-shirt aside, partially exposing my right shoulder. 
"Trust me." 

He hesitated. "What makes you think I'd do something like 
that?"

"Mulder said you used to be marine. You look...severe. I'd 
expect a guy like you to be rough with me."

He stepped closer to me and I forced myself not to flinch as 
his hand wrapped around my arm. "I'm not that guy," he said 
softly. Then he shoved my back against the nearest wall and 
pinned my arms at my sides with a bruising grip. "But if it'll 
help..." I couldn't hold back a small yelp as he bit me, hard, 
right where my neck met my shoulder. It wasn't enough to 
break the skin, but it would definitely leave a mark. I pulled 
instinctively against his hold, but his strong hands kept me 
from escaping. I whimpered and tried to hold still as he 
finished marking me. 

"You okay," he asked as he let me go.

I nodded and ran my fingers through my hair shakily, mussing 
it just a little, hoping it was enough, docilely stuffing the 
money in my pocket when he thrust it into my hands. "Try 
pinching your cheeks a little," I suggested.

He gave me a friendly smirk before following my instructions, 
forcing his cheeks to turn slightly pink. "You're a smart 
kid," he said kindly as he opened the shades and reached for 
the door. "I can see why Fox likes you."

******

My knee bounced restlessly the whole ride back to the corner 
as I tried not to look back for the car that I now knew was 
following us. 

"Relax," John said, giving me a friendly pat on the arm. 
"You'll do fine."

"What if Sloane suspects something," I asked worriedly. "What 
do I do if something goes wrong?"

John subtly reached over and popped the glove compartment, 
revealing owner's manuals and service records and a small 
disposable cell phone. "Take it," he said. "Speed dial one 
will get you through to Fox. Two will get you the bureau's LA 
office. Tell them who you are and what your situation is and 
they'll know what to do." 

I tucked the phone in my shoe - the only place I knew no one 
would be able to spot it and I could keep it safe. "Thanks."

"Don't worry," he assured me as he pulled up to the curb. 
"It'll be over before you know it."

I gave him a small, tight smile before climbing out of the 
truck and joining Sydney over by the bench. Her eyes widened 
when she saw the bruise forming on my neck. "I thought you 
weren't going to let them be rough with you anymore," she 
accused.

"I thought you were giving up smoking," I replied, pointing to 
the cigarette dangling from her fingers. 

"It's Lauren's," she shot back indignantly. "Don't change the 
subject."

"It's one little bite. It's not like he tied me to a tree and 
fucked me until I bled. He did it in the heat of the moment. 
In fact, he actually apologized for it afterward." That much 
was basically true. 

I coaxed the cigarette from her fingers and took a drag from 
it, grimacing at the taste. It really was Lauren's cigarette - 
she was the only one who liked that mentholated crap. I 
suspected she had started buying them to try to get me to quit 
along with Sydney. In the few days since she found out about 
the pregnancy, she had been trying to get us to adopt better 
habits. No smoking, no drinking...Sydney was only allowed to 
give handjobs and blowjobs, that kind of thing. It was almost 
funny really, considering the vocation we were in. Lauren and 
I were doing double time to lighten Sydney's load, but we all 
knew it would only work for so long. Eventually, Sydney would 
start to show. She and Lauren figured they'd cross that bridge 
when they came to it. I couldn't tell them that I was already 
clearing the path.

*******

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Sloane," I asked as I stepped into 
my employer's dim office. 

Sloane looked up, seemingly caught off guard. "Mr. 
Vaughn...yes, come in," he said smoothly, getting up from 
behind his desk and stuffing a large, manila folder into a 
drawer. I made a mental note of that as I closed the door 
behind me. Sloane perched on the edge of his desk casually. "I 
wanted to apologize to you for the other day. I let my 
frustration get the better of me and I caused you undeserved 
pain. I'm sorry."

"No, you were right," I argued. "Mr. Kuipers lured me with 
generous offers and I took the bait. I let him distract me 
from the other regulars. It won't happen again." I didn't 
believe a word of what I was saying, but that didn't matter as 
long as Sloane believed that I was on his side.

He smiled and for the first time I saw a spark of evil in the 
kindly smile I had seen so many times before. "Still," he 
sighed, standing up and walking past me. "That is no excuse 
for the way I treated you." I swallowed hard, my heart 
pounding as I heard the ominous click of the tumbler in the 
lock, trapping me in the small office. I tried to quell my 
apprehension and appear calm as he came back around to face 
me. I didn't flinch as his fingers brushed along my arm, his 
hand closing around my wrist. "I hope that you will allow me 
to make it up to you," he said, his tone of voice making it 
clear exactly how he intended to do so.

I swallowed. "All right," I said weakly.

I closed my eyes, more to block him out than anything else, as 
I felt his lips brush my cheek, tracing the edges of the 
healing bruise he had given me. I knew that there was still a 
chance he actually felt remorse for what he had done. No 
matter how evil he may have been, I knew there was at least a 
part of him that was capable of love. I had seen it in his 
fatherly devotion toward Sydney and in the heartbroken 
expression on his face when he regarded me after the rape. Or 
was that just what I had wanted to see? Had he looked at me 
the same way after Danny was murdered? All those days I had 
spent crying on his shoulder, had he ever felt any remorse for 
ordering my lover's death?

I let myself be led to the plush couch in the corner opposite 
his desk. I laid back quietly as my clothes were removed, 
trying not to show my revulsion as his hands explored my body 
intimately, his eyes becoming hooded and dark as my bare skin 
was exposed to him a little at a time. He frowned when he 
uncovered the bruises I had gotten from encounters with 
windows and steering wheels in tight quarters, the scratch on 
my hip from an overly enthusiastic John, the fading mark on my 
neck I had instructed Agent Doggett to give me. I wondered if 
he was bothered by the evidence of the careless treatment I 
received from my Johns or if it was merely the reminder of how 
many men I fucked on any given day. 

It was easier than I anticipated. In the end, it wasn't any 
different than any of the thousands of times I'd had a man 
between my thighs. It was no less painful or unpleasant than 
the average John. Except that the revulsion I felt now was 
deeper and more intense. Twelve years ago he had fucked me 
like this, knowing that, at that moment, Danny was dying in 
some dirty back alley somewhere. I twisted the fabric of his 
shirt tighter in my fists and moaned. He hardly ever removed 
his clothes when he fucked me - and the scrape of his zipper 
against the backs of my thighs always made my skin raw.

I made small, helpless noises of pleasure when he came, 
knowing it pleased him when I did that. Then I closed my eyes 
and laid still, waiting for him to get up, dispose of the 
condom, fix his clothing and tell me I could leave as usual. 
So I was taken completely by surprise when I felt his hand 
close around my cock, stroking me gently, coaxing me toward 
orgasm. My eyes must have registered my surprise. He smiled 
silently at me and pressed his lips to my cheek, his right 
hand stroking my hair soothingly, the fatherly gesture at odds 
with the movements of his left hand below. I whimpered when I 
came, clutching his arm tightly as if it would keep me 
grounded. I lay dazed as he cleaned me with one of the wet 
wipes he seemed to always have on hand and drew me into his 
arms, holding me as if I were a small child in need of 
comfort.

His fingers brushed the edges of my bruise as he began to 
speak. "I know what I did was wrong. I just hope you can find 
it within you to forgive me."

I didn't respond, knowing he didn't really expect me to. I 
wondered if he was asking my forgiveness for his violent 
outburst a week ago or for his betrayal twelve years ago.

I cried later in the shower, letting the hot water wash away 
my tears. I cried for myself, for Danny, for Sydney and our 
unborn child that would eventually be brought into this cruel 
world and for every other prostitute that ever lived in the 
Dauphine building. But mostly I cried over a world in which a 
man like Sloane could ignore his own capacity for human 
kindness and cause so much pain for so many people.

********

I quickly determined that getting Sloane's trust would be 
easy, but in order to keep it I would have to refrain from any 
behavior that strayed too far from normal lest I raise his 
suspicions. That made collecting census data on the rest of 
the buildings residents that much more difficult. I developed 
a habit of jogging up and down the stairs at least once a day, 
branching out into the halls at each level, telling anyone who 
asked that I was trying to quit smoking and exercise was the 
only way I could effectively distract myself from my nicotine 
cravings. Really, I was looking for an excuse to run into 
other residents. Questions of why I was using the building as 
my personal racing track proved to be a perfect conversation 
starter and after a week I had learned the names of several of 
Sloane's girls. I drew sketchy diagrams of the building at 
night, noting room numbers and checking them off one by one as 
I learned the names of the people who lived in each one. 

What I didn't learn on my jogs, I was able to fill in by 
chatting with the girls on laundry duty or in the entryway 
while I checked the mailbox. It turned out to be a fairly easy 
task, and I learned more about the other girls in the building 
in that one week than I had in the twelve years I had been 
living there. I got the names of everyone in the 
building...except one. Room 8 was still unaccounted for. And I 
knew exactly who lived in it. Nadia Santos. She seemed to 
carefully avoid all contact with the other residents of the 
building. I didn't need to talk to her, really. Clearly the 
FBI already knew she was there. But I had become too curious 
and involved in this assignment to let it go at that. I wanted 
to see her...talk to her...find out if she was really the 
person Mulder believed she was.

It was on Wednesday night that I finally saw my chance. I went 
downstairs to get the mail and found several bundles of 
letters heaped on the floor haphazardly. I sighed as I began 
searching through the piles for the bundles addressed to me or 
the girls. I found mine and Lauren's stacks fairly easily, but 
Sydney's was more difficult. I finally uncovered it and 
started back toward the apartment. I was halfway up the first 
set of stairs when I realized that the stack felt thicker than 
it should have and looked down to find that I had accidentally 
grabbed someone else's mail in my haste. I started back down 
the stairs and froze when I spotted the name on the envelopes. 
It was Nadia's. I carefully slipped the top letter from her 
stack, adding it to mine before returning the rest of her mail 
to the entry floor, hoping that no one would notice.

On Thursday, I returned late from turning tricks and sat in 
the empty stairwell long past the time I knew Lauren and 
Sydney and probably every other resident in the building was 
asleep. I was almost starting to nod off myself when I heard 
the front door to the Dauphine building buzz, followed by the 
click of high heels against the wooden floor. She didn't even 
glance in my direction as she passed the stairwell, likely not 
expecting anyone to be roaming the building at this hour. I 
drew the letter from my pocket and stepped out into the 
hallway behind her. She was standing in front of her door, 
slipping her key into the lock, when I approached. 

"Nadia," I asked tentatively.

She whirled around, startled, her eyes wide, her mouth open 
but her voice seemingly muted by fear. I held out my hands and 
tried to make my posture as non-threatening as I could. "It's 
okay...I don't want to hurt you."

She found her voice suddenly and began babbling at me in 
rapid-fire Spanish. I took Spanish in high school and I'd had 
a Mexican cellmate in prison, but I struggled to understand 
what she was saying. I recognized the word for "police" 
though. 

"Yo soy no policía," I said awkwardly, no doubt butchering the 
words badly. "Yo habito aqui."

That made her hesitate. Her eyes roved up and down my body 
suspiciously and she said something that sounded a lot like a 
French word for "whore".

I nodded. "Sí." I held out the letter and racked my brain for 
the words I wanted to say. "Yo deseaba...de lo 
volver...*devolver*-"

"I speak English," she said in a heavily accented voice and I 
breathed a sigh of relief. At least Mulder was wrong about 
that part.

"I got some of your mail by mistake. I just wanted to return 
it to you."

She squinted at me, making no move to take the letter I held 
out to her. "Why didn't you just put it in my mailbox?"

"Because I wanted to meet you," I said honestly. "You're the 
only person in this building that I've never really seen."

"I don't like socializing," she hissed, snatching the letter 
from my hand and turning to unlock her door.

"Nadia, wait," I pleaded, reaching out to lay a tentative hand 
on her shoulder. 

I yelped as she whirled around and snatched my hand, twisting 
my arm away from her with a firm grip on my wrist. Her hold 
loosened almost instantly and a startled look crossed her 
face. She hadn't used that much pressure.

"My wrist," I hissed, wincing. "I think I pulled a muscle." 
'Giving that last John a handjob,' I added silently.

Her eyes registered understanding and a bit of sympathy and 
she let go. I rubbed my wrist gently. 

"You really do work for Sloane," she said, cocking her head at 
me curiously. I nodded and she hesitated a while longer before 
going back to unlocking her door. "Come in," she said over her 
shoulder. "I'll see if I have something for your wrist."

*******

Talking to Nadia proved to be easy once I got past her initial 
wariness. Within a half an hour we were chatting comfortably 
over cups of weak coffee. She was almost like a slightly 
younger, more bitter version of Sydney.

"I didn't realize Sloane employed men as well."

"I'm the only one now," I said. "Seems the female-slash-gay-
male population willing to pay money for sex isn't as big as 
you'd think. Not around here anyway. Although I still get up 
to a half a dozen tricks a night." 

She nodded thoughtfully and sipped at her coffee cup, her nose 
wrinkling slightly at the bitter taste of the cheap grounds 
bought on a prostitute's salary. 

"So why do you avoid the others," I asked gently.

Her eyes dropped to her lap. "I told you, I don't like to 
socialize."

"Not talking to people is one thing. Leaving and coming home 
hours after everyone else so you can avoid coming into contact 
with them seems pretty extreme."

"I'm a very private person, Michael..."

"Please, call me Vaughn," I interrupted. 

She smiled shyly. "Vaughn. I'm used to being alone. I'm 
uncomfortable socializing with people."

"Does this have anything to do with Sloane," I asked bluntly. 

Her dark, expressive eyes widened slightly and she stared at 
me in confusion. "Why would Sloane have anything to do with 
it?"

I flustered. "I don't know, it just...seems strange. You're 
one of the few girls here who wasn't born in this country. I 
thought maybe you were hiding from somebody."

She laughed. "You have quite an imagination, Vaughn. What, did 
you think I was a fugitive? That Sloane offered to hide me 
from my government if I agreed to be his prostitute?"

I felt myself blush. "Yeah, something like that."

She shook her head, her amused chuckles dying off. Her eyes 
became distant as she seemed to prepare herself for what she 
was about to say. "My parents died when I was a teenager. It 
was a car accident. I was staying with my aunt."

"I'm so sorry," I said softly. 

Nadia waved her hand dismissively. 'Let me finish,' her eyes 
pleaded. "My father was a cruel man. Not to me - he hardly 
ever talked to me. He never held me when I was little, never 
played with me, and he was so distant..." Her eyes misted as 
she became wrapped up in her memories. "But my mother...he 
would come home late at least once a week, smelling like smoke 
and cheap liquor and he would yell at her, usually about 
nothing important. He would accuse her of cheating on him. He 
would say that I wasn't even his daughter - that I was just 
some bastard child my mother used to trick my father into 
marrying her. He never hit her in front of me, but I saw the 
bruises. I heard her crying...begging him to just listen." 

A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly. 
"The witnesses said he was yelling at her the night of the 
accident. They were parked on the curb. He was yelling at 
her...grabbing her by the hair...shoving her in the car. He 
had just pulled away from the curb when a drunk driver hit 
them from behind...pushed their car into a busy intersection. 
They were dead by the time the ambulance arrived."

She fell silent, staring deep into her coffee mug. I placed my 
hand gently on her arm, not knowing what to say after such a 
revelation.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she said with an 
ironic huff of a laugh. 

"Because you needed to tell somebody," I said softly. She 
looked up at me, her eyes filled with wonder. "What happened 
then," I prompted gently.

She sighed. "I lived with my aunt for a while. She was a nice 
woman but she had my father's temper. I left when I was 
eighteen and moved to Mexico with my boyfriend...Cesar." Her 
jaw tightened slightly. "We fought all the time. I never 
thought anything of it until the night he hit me. I swore I 
was not going to end up like my mother, so I left him and 
bribed some college boy to take me with him to Los Angeles. I 
gave him what little money I had and a blowjob. I had nothing 
left when I got here. I started whoring myself for cash to buy 
food. That's how Sloane found me." She smiled. "Sloane has 
been a better father to me than Juan ever was."

I bit my lip. Her story sounded disturbingly familiar, in a 
broad sense. Sloane had a knack for finding recruits who were 
desperate and would latch onto the first person to show them 
kindness. I realized suddenly how lucky I had been. I had 
lived in a loving - if odd and crude - family. No matter how 
cold and uncaring some of my past relationships had been, they 
had never tried to intentionally hurt me. This woman had seen 
the ugliest side of human relationships. Kindness was rare in 
her world, love a completely foreign concept.

I uncurled her hand from her mug, wrapping it between my own 
hands. "Not all men are like your father, Nadia," I said 
quietly. "And not all women are like your aunt. You don't have 
to hide from the world. Sloane is not the only person you can 
trust."

She stared at me for several long moments, the ticking of the 
wall clock behind her sounding like thunder in the silence of 
the room. Then she slipped from her chair and into my lap, her 
eyes locked with mine to judge my reaction. I brushed her hair 
back away from her face and tilted my chin toward her as she 
leaned in to kiss me, her lips barely brushing mine, unsure. I 
cupped her face in my hands gently and deepened the kiss, 
carefully prodding her tongue with mine. 

Within minutes she was leading me down the hall to her 
bedroom, stripping off her clothes and falling onto her 
sagging but comfortable mattress. I followed and lay beside 
her, hovering over her, fully clothed. This was not about sex 
and whether or not I found pleasure was certainly not a 
concern. It was about showing her the love, kindness and 
pleasure that had been largely absent from her life.

She writhed as I stroked her bare skin and combed her fingers 
through my hair as my lips followed. For a long time the only 
sounds in the room were the creaking of her mattress, the rasp 
of skin, the soft, wet sound of kisses. She was clearly not a 
vocal woman, but then she must have known I would see through 
any false signs of pleasure. I paid attention to the subtle 
changes in her breathing - every tiny hitch, every whispered 
sigh - using it to guide my actions. She panted softly and 
squirmed as she reached the height of her pleasure. She came 
with a tiny, almost inaudible cry, her muscles clenching 
around my fingers, trying to draw me in deeper.

"Vaughn," she breathed as she came down from her plateau, 
shifting restlessly on the bed in a half-hearted attempt to 
escape my fingers still manipulating her sensitive skin, 
easing her down from her orgasm. The taut skin over her 
abdomen quivered beneath my lips. I gave her one last kiss 
before drawing away, rolling onto my back and staring at the 
dull white ceiling. I was only mildly surprised when she 
followed me, her tongue flicking my ear seductively and her 
hand pressing warmly against my abdomen, deftly slipping 
beneath my waistband. 

I grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her movements. Her eyes 
met mine and she smiled slightly in understanding, drawing her 
hand back and resting it, unmoving, on my chest. She curled 
into my side without another word and I drifted to sleep 
sometime later to the sound of her deep breaths.
 
********

I awoke the next morning to the sound of somebody banging 
urgently on the door. Nadia was already halfway out of bed, 
pulling on her robe hastily as she hurried to answer. 

"Yes," she asked sleepily after she opened the door.

"Nadia," a familiar voice drifted from the hallway. "Sorry to 
disturb you, but it appears Michael Vaughn didn't come home 
last night and his roommates don't know where he is. I was 
hoping you might have seen him..."

"Mr. Sloane," I asked, walking over to stand behind Nadia. I 
watched the shock register in his eyes as he took in my 
rumpled clothing and disheveled hair. 

"What are you doing here, Mr. Vaughn," he asked calmly.

"I got some of Nadia's mail by mistake," I answered just as 
coolly. "I came here to return it and we got to talking...I 
guess time kind of got away from us." 

Sloane looked from me to Nadia, who studiously avoided his 
gaze. "Come with me," he said, gesturing to me.

I stepped out from behind Nadia reluctantly, feeling like a 
man being led to his death, and shot her a reassuring look, 
grazing her arm with my fingers on my way past. Sloane's jaw 
seemed to tighten at this and he grabbed me by the arm, 
wordlessly pulling me in the direction of his office.

"What do you think you're doing," he asked when he had shut 
the door, closing us in his office.

"We were just talking..."

"Nadia has made it clear she does not wish to speak to anyone. 
Why are you harassing her?"

"I'm not harassing her. I was returning her mail."

"I doubt simply returning a letter would require you to stay 
the night."

"Arvin..."

I gasped as his palm struck my face with enough force to snap 
my head to one side, cutting off whatever words I might have 
said. "I know I made a promise to you, but Nadia is family to 
me just as much as you and I will not stand back and let you 
cause her harm."

I wondered if taking her away from him constituted "harm" in 
his mind. "Arvin, I swear to you that is not my intention."

He squinted at me unnervingly. "Did you sleep with her?"

"Yes, but I didn't fuck her. We just slept." 'Mostly,' I 
thought. 

He glared at me suspiciously. "Why?"

I tried to put on an indignant face but inside I was flailing, 
hoping he wouldn't see through my behavior and figure out my 
underlying intentions. "It was late. We were tired. She had 
just told me about her parents and her abusive boyfriend. She 
was upset. I didn't want to leave her alone."

Sloane's expression faltered slightly. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine. She just needed someone to talk to."

I saw a flash of something like hurt in his eyes. Like he was 
hurt that Nadia had betrayed him by opening up to me instead 
of him. I decided to use the opportunity to stroke his ego.

I stepped closer to him, just short of touching him. "You 
can't protect us from everything, Mr. Sloane," I whispered. 
"Nadia is a grown woman and she's smarter than you give her 
credit for. She can make her own decisions - talk to whoever 
she wants, sleep with whoever she wants. You just have to 
trust her to know what is best for her."

He stared at me in silence for several long, unnerving 
seconds. I flinched instinctively as he raised his hand to my 
face again but relaxed when he just laid his palm gently on my 
cheek. He kissed me gently, almost chastely. 

"You are wise beyond your years Michael," he said softly. "I 
am sorry I doubted your intentions."

I tried not to give away how relieved I felt. He didn't 
suspect anything. Now I just needed to see how far he was 
willing to trust me. I leaned in to kiss him again, throwing 
as much passion into it as I could stomach. I wrapped my arms 
loosely around his neck and panted hotly in his ear as he took 
the cue and began sucking at my neck. I felt him smile against 
my skin and knew he understood. I had spent the night with 
Nadia but claimed nothing had happened between us. I let him 
believe I had been left sexually frustrated - both reassuring 
him of my pure intentions with Nadia and stroking his ego - 
giving him the illusion of power over me. 

I was bent over his desk within minutes, my pants around my 
knees, his cock plunging deep inside me. I moaned and bucked, 
using all of my skills as a hustler to convince him that I was 
enjoying every minute of it. I used the opportunity to study 
the computer from the corner of my eye, making a mental note 
of the make and model. I pulled myself further over the desk 
on one particularly forceful thrust, glancing down at the 
drawers. There wasn't a lock on them. I closed my eyes, 
thanking my lucky stars I wouldn't have to try to steal the 
key from Sloane if the FBI wanted me to poke around in there 
later. I grunted when Sloane hit my prostate inadvertently, 
feeling my cock stir in spite of my disgust. 

I closed my eyes tightly and pretended it was Mulder behind me 
and the hard surface beneath me was the kitchen counter in the 
safe house instead of Sloane's imposing wooden desk. I came 
within minutes, biting my lip to keep from calling out 
Mulder's name, feeling Sloane shudder to a stop. He pulled out 
of me and disposed of the condom before cleaning me, himself 
and the desk splattered with my come. 

I stood and turned to face him, adjusting my clothes. "Thank 
you," I whispered.

He squeezed my shoulder silently and stood back as I headed 
for the door.

*********

I sat stiffly in the passenger seat of the bright red 
convertible as a John reached one hand across the console to 
rub my inner thigh suggestively, licking his lips and leering 
at me in a way that made me want to throw up. He was obviously 
one of those guys who couldn't get a date because he had a 
tendency to frighten people off - either because he was a 
pervert or a psychotic killer, I couldn't decide which was 
more likely. I had just spent the last half an hour giving him 
a lap dance at the Horizon and he had not let me touch him 
once the whole time, although his hands had been all over me. 
After the lap dance he had watched while I masturbated, 
groaning softly between whispered directions to go slower, 
spread my legs or fuck myself with my fingers. As far as I 
knew, he had never come but he seemed to be satisfied and now 
he was driving me back to the corner.

"I'll be seeing you," he vowed as I got out of the car, his 
lilting British accent dripping with promise. Why did all the 
perverts have to be British?

"I don't think I've ever felt quite as dirty as I do now," I 
muttered as I rejoined the girls. 

Lauren patted me on the back sympathetically. 

"Sorry about that," Nadia said sincerely. "I think he used to 
be one of my regulars."

I had been surprised when Nadia had joined the girls and I at 
our corner that night. The girls had been apprehensive at 
first but had quickly warmed up to her, welcoming her like an 
old friend they hadn't heard from in ages.

"He once took pictures of me," she continued. "Playing with my 
breasts, mostly. Some of me masturbating."

"Yeah, it's definitely the same guy," I grumbled, accepting 
Nadia's proffered cigarette and taking a long drag. 

Lauren ripped it from my hands before I was finished and 
handed it back to Nadia. "He's trying to quit."

I glared at her but didn't get a chance to comment before a 
white pick-up screeched up to the curb and Sydney climbed out. 
"I think that guy just proposed to me," she grumbled as he 
peeled off down the road. "I'm not entirely sure, though. I 
think he was on about seven different drugs." She tried to 
take Lauren's cigarette from her and Lauren batted her hand 
away. She turned to look at Nadia pleadingly but Nadia just 
shook her head.

"She threatened to kill me if I let you have it," Nadia said 
apologetically. 

Sydney groaned and leaned against me. 

I massaged her shoulders lightly. "You want to sit down?"

"No, I'm fine," she said stubbornly.

A silver station wagon pulled up to the curb, a familiar face 
nodding at me from behind the wheel. 

"I've got this one," I said, pulling away from Sydney hastily 
and forcing myself to walk casually over to the car.

"Get in," Agent Doggett said simply as I leaned in the open 
passenger window. "Pretend you don't know me."

I straightened and signaled to the girls before climbing into 
the car. 

"I got the names of all the girls," I said as he pulled the 
car onto the street and started in the direction of the hotel. 

"Good," he replied, his attention fixed to the road, his eyes 
darting to the rearview and side mirrors periodically. "Was 
that Ms. Santos with you?"

"Yeah. You guys were wrong about her. She walked into this 
with her eyes open."

John nodded. "Okay. We'll brief you at the hotel. How about 
Sloane? He seem suspicious?"

I frowned. "No. Who's 'we'?"

John didn't answer and remained silent for the rest of the 
drive. By the time we reached the hotel, I was a nervous mess. 
If he was taking me to meet Mulder, he would tell me, wouldn't 
he? Or was he worried I would look too eager to our followers 
if he did? Was I going to be meeting somebody else entirely? 
How many agents were involved in this?

I shot John a questioning look as he guided me toward room 1, 
wondering if he knew it was one of the rooms that was joined 
to another by a connecting door. It seemed an odd choice for a 
clandestine meeting. 

I stepped into the room and froze. Sitting on the edge of the 
bed, surrounded by pieces of paper and file folders, was 
Mulder. He stood and smiled warmly at me, holding his arms out 
invitingly. "Hey baby."

The click of John shutting the door behind me spurred me into 
action and I rushed to Mulder, taking his face in my hands and 
kissing him with the enthusiasm of a man reunited with a long 
lost love. 

He chuckled when I broke the kiss to bury my face in his neck, 
inhaling the scent of his cologne and hugging him tightly. "I 
take it you missed me," he observed dryly.

The light grew dim in the room as John pulled the shades. 
"Holler if you need me," he said as he opened the connecting 
door to room 2. 

"Thanks John," Mulder murmured. John nodded and disappeared 
into the adjoining room. The sound of a television coming to 
life drifted through the wall shortly after that. 

Mulder gently detangled my arms and nudged me toward a section 
of the mattress not covered in paperwork. I sat reluctantly. 
"Are you okay," he asked gently.

I knew what he was really asking. "Sloane apologized to me."

Mulder hesitated, his jaw clenching slightly as he 
straightened a pile of papers and shoved them in a worn 
briefcase. "He doesn't suspect anything?"

"No," I said softly. 

He nodded tightly. He didn't ask anything further about my 
contact with Sloane. I had a feeling he didn't want to know. 

I pulled the folded pieces of notebook paper with my diagrams 
and all the other information I had collected from my shoe. "I 
got the names of all the girls, where they live and some other 
information I thought might help." I indicated another sheet 
of paper. "And this is Sloane's office. He keeps everything on 
his computer or in his desk, which he keeps unlocked. I wrote 
down everything I could remember about the computer. I hope 
it's enough..." 

He took the papers from me and smiled. "This is great. How 
long did this take you?"

"A few days."

He laughed. "It would have taken us weeks."

"You were wrong about Nadia," I blurted.

He cocked his head questioningly as he put my sketches in one 
of the folders in front of him. 

"She's not a slave. She knew exactly what she was getting into 
and her understanding of English is perfect."

Mulder frowned. "So why does Sloane keep her hidden?"

"He doesn't. Nadia has a history of abuse. She doesn't trust 
people, especially men."

Understanding flashed in Mulder's eyes. "Self preservation. 
She avoids relationships to protect herself from what she 
assumes is their inevitable dissolution." He sighed. "Okay, 
well, that's just one charge removed from Sloane's rap sheet. 
There's plenty more that we can get him on."

"What will happen to her...once you catch Sloane," I asked 
cautiously. "Will you just send her back to Mexico or 
Argentina?"

"We'll do what we can, but yeah, it's possible that we'll have 
to." He reached for my hands, squeezing them gently. "You're 
doing the right thing, Vaughn. Sloane must be stopped."

"I feel like a traitor," I muttered. "Those girls are all 
going to hate me once Sloane is gone and they're kicked out 
onto the street."

"They'll understand. Eventually."

I sighed. I knew he was right. This was what Danny had fought 
for years ago. Now it was my turn. I slid closer to Mulder on 
the bed and brought my lips close to his, until I could feel 
his breath on my face. "How much time do we have," I asked 
breathily. 

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders but made no move to 
kiss me. "We don't have to do anything, Vaughn. I don't want 
you to feel like you have to..."

I pressed my lips to his, cutting him off. "I want to," I 
murmured into his mouth. "I missed you. And I don't know when 
I'll see you again. I just know I want you to fuck me...I want 
your cock so deep inside me that I'll be able to feel it for 
days...weeks."

Mulder blindly swept the stray sheets of paper into one of the 
folders and dropped the files onto the floor. He had the 
covers striped from the bed and me sprawled naked across the 
mattress in less than a minute. 

I moaned as he fucked me with long, deep strokes, kissing me 
until I was breathless. I clung to him, feeling like I would 
levitate right off the bed if I didn't.

I came with a soft wail, my body arching up into his, barely 
aware of his soothing voice whispering nonsense in my ear, 
easing me back down.

When it was over he lay on his side next to me, pressing 
against me, entwining his hand in mine and kissing each 
knuckle one at a time.

"What do you need me to do now," I asked softly.

"We need to take a look at what you gave us, do a little 
poking around, cross-referencing. We'll contact you when we 
know the next step. Do you still have the phone Doggett gave 
you?"

I nodded.

"Good. If you need anything, if you even suspect Sloane or 
anyone else is onto you, you call me. The deeper we get into 
this the more dangerous it could become. If anything goes 
wrong we'll pull you out immediately. It's not worth risking 
your life over this."

I nodded again dumbly and closed my eyes, leaning into him as 
he kissed me, throwing as much passion and desire into it as I 
could, not knowing when I might see him again.

*******
(Ten years ago)

I combed my finger through Danny's hair idly, feeling 
wonderfully sated and happy, the smell of sweat and sex 
lingering in the hot summer air. His head was a welcome weight 
on my stomach. 

I swatted at his hand as he swirled his finger through the 
sweat pooling in my navel. "Stop that, it tickles."

"I know," he teased, pointedly continuing the action until I 
was squirming, fighting to hold back a fit of giggles.

"Stop!"

He responded by sitting up and attacking me, tickling 
mercilessly until I dissolved into helpless laughter. He 
stopped then and crawled further up the bed, laying half on 
top of me. 

He smiled down at me lovingly. "You've no idea how gorgeous 
you are when you laugh, do you," he asked, his soft British 
lilt dipping into a register that never failed to make my cock 
stir with interest. 

I groaned. "Come on, haven't you had enough yet?"

He chuckled. "I can never get enough of you, love."

"Hmmm, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak, it would 
seem," I murmured, pointedly rolling my hips to press my sated 
length against his.

He moaned. "Just give me a few minutes."

I laughed. "You've already made me come twice in the last 
hour. Are you going for a record or are you just trying to 
kill me?"

He smirked. "That wouldn't be such a bad way to go, now would 
it? Death by orgasm...wonder if they would put that on the 
tombstone?"

I swatted his shoulder playfully. "Stop it."

He rolled onto his side next to me and simply stared at me, 
stroking my hair reverently, as if he were trying to commit my 
face to memory. "I love you."

"I love you too," I whispered, smiling. I curled my hand 
behind his neck and dragged him down for a kiss.

"One of these days I'm going to get you out of here," he 
vowed, his tone suddenly serious. "I'll take you somewhere far 
away and find a descent job and you'll never have to hustle 
again."

I snorted. "I think all the blood hasn't made its way back to 
your brain yet."

He didn't laugh. "I'm serious, Michael."

I sighed. "Okay, I'll make a deal with you. You prove me wrong 
and I will go wherever you want to go and become a kept man."

He grinned. "That's the spirit, love."

A few days later, I stood in a cold morgue, surrounded by 
unforgiving steel, watching as the coroner removed the sheet 
from the face of a body with a toe tag that identified him as 
"John Doe". Tears sprang instantly to my eyes as Danny's face 
was revealed. He looked peaceful, almost like he was merely 
asleep. If not for the ragged wound that slashed his neck from 
one ear to the other I would have expected him to open his 
eyes and tease me for sobbing like a bloody baby.

Gentle hands turned me from the grisly sight, pressing me 
against a strong body. Sloane. He cupped the back of my neck, 
bringing my head down onto his shoulder and holding me as I 
broke down. He confirmed for the ME, in a soft, somber tone, 
that it was, indeed, Daniel Hect's body. Then he practically 
carried me to the door, out into the stark white hallway where 
I collapsed onto the nearest trash receptacle and threw up.

"Oh god no...no...this can't be happening..."

"I'm so sorry, Michael," Sloane murmured, his hand covering 
mine in silent support.

I choked and coughed and spit into the trash can between 
hysterical sobs. Sloane produced a handkerchief for me and 
guided me to his car when I had calmed down enough to follow 
his directions. I spent the night curled up on his couch, my 
head in his lap, falling asleep with the feel of his hand 
petting my hair soothingly.

******

I knelt in front of Danny's grave, brushing aside leaves, 
grass and flower petals that had blown from surrounding 
gravesites. Sloane brought me to visit his grave once a year, 
right around the anniversary of his death. He used to stand by 
my side, offering support, but as the years progressed he 
began staying in the car, letting me have some time alone. I 
looked around to make sure no one could hear me, even though I 
knew the cemetery was deserted except for myself and Sloane 
and he was in his car several yards away.

"I'm going to be a father," I began, my voice disrupting the 
surrounding silence, almost startling to my own ears. I 
laughed quietly, ironically. "I bet you never would have seen 
that coming. Sydney is going to have my baby." 

I shook my head and closed my eyes, growing quiet, listening 
to the sound of the wind blowing through the trees. When I had 
first visited Danny's grave alone like this I had sworn I 
could almost hear Danny's voice whispering to me on that wind, 
telling me he loved me. That I could let him go and live my 
life. I could still feel his presence surrounding me.

"The FBI approached me," I murmured. "A man named Mulder...he 
told me what you did. What you tried to do. I understand now. 
You died trying to save me - save *us*. I'm sorry I didn't see 
it sooner. I'm sorry I blamed you for taking too many risks... 
getting yourself killed by a John." I felt tears well in my 
eyes and blinked them away rapidly. "I know you wanted to 
protect me from this, but I'm too deep now. I'm going to 
finish what you started. And I promise I will make Sloane pay 
for what he did to you - to us. He won't get away with it." I 
sniffled and wiped my eyes, taking a deep breath and looking 
up at the car waiting for me. "I'm sorry. I know I promised I 
wouldn't cry. I miss you." 

I sighed. "You'd be happy to know that I'm finally moving on. 
Agent Mulder has been doing his damndest to win me over and I 
think he might be succeeding." I laughed softly. "You would 
have liked him, I think." I grew silent for several 
heartbeats, taking comfort in the reverence of the silent 
graveyard. "He's promised to take me away from here. Help me 
start over. I know that's what you would have wanted, so...I 
guess this is goodbye since I don't know when or if I'll ever 
come back." I kissed my fingers and brushed them against the 
plaque, next to the black letters spelling out his name, 
swallowing against the lump growing in my throat. "Wish me 
luck," I said. "I love you."

Sloane was staring out into the distance when I approached the 
car, almost meditating. He jumped when I opened the car door 
and climbed in. He reached over the moment I was settled and 
rubbed my shoulder in a way I used to think of as friendly. 
"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," I said with a smile, trying not to flinch. 

He looked past me, out at Danny's grave, and something flashed 
in his eyes - something that looked an awful lot like regret. 
For the first time since Mulder had revealed the truth to me I 
wondered if there was more to the story. 

******

"Sloane answers to some pretty powerful people," Agent Doggett 
explained a few days later. "It's possible he was pressured to 
kill Mr. Hect." 

I rocked back and forth in his lap in the driver's seat of the 
blue Saturn. Both of us were fully clothed and I was careful 
to avoid any actual contact below the belt. This was all just 
for show - to fool the man following us in the black sedan. 
Once I had identified the car following me it had been easy to 
spot. He was always nearby, parked across the street, 
following a couple of cars behind a John's. We couldn't afford 
to let him think my meeting with Agent Doggett was anything 
other than business as usual.

"I don't care what his orders were," I growled. "He had my 
lover killed. I can never forgive him for that."

"I'm not sayin' he's innocent," John said gently. "I'm sayin' 
you have to look at the big picture. Sloane's just a cog in 
the machine. He's expendable. This ain't about you gettin' 
revenge for Danny. This's about taking down a national crime 
ring."

"I know," I sighed. "The Alliance." Twelve major US crime 
rings, including weapons traders, drug dealers and likely 
members of the Mafia, all working together through myriad 
contacts to form one large, seemingly impenetrable 
organization.

John grabbed me by the chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. "Can 
we trust you to do this?"

I nodded and threw my head back, closing my eyes as he kissed 
my throat. He latched down on my neck suddenly, sucking 
strongly, forcing blood to the surface. I whimpered. "What do 
you need me to do?"

"There's a bug under your seat," he murmured, his lips almost 
touching my ear. "We need you to get it close to Sloane's 
computer. Attach it to the CPU tower if you can - somewhere it 
can't be seen. It's got an adhesive on the back."

"What will it do?"

"It'll let us hack into his computer remotely. Then you need 
to drop this somewhere in his office - on or near his desk if 
possible." He slipped a paper clip into my hand. "It's a 
listening device. Voice activated."

I gaped at him. "Are you kidding me?"

"Developed by the CIA. Technically it's on loan."

He threw his head back suddenly and stilled, mouth open, 
obviously faking an orgasm. I took his cue and slowed my 
movements to a stop, pausing for a moment before climbing from 
his lap and returning to the passenger's seat. I reached 
underneath and found a small disk taped to the underside of 
the cushion. I removed it and shoved both it and the paper 
clip deep into my pocket.

John started the engine and pulled back onto the road. "Once 
you're done, use the phone I gave you to call Mulder."

"What about the files in his desk?"

"Too risky. He might have cameras in his office. You'll have 
to be very careful. Don't do anything too suspicious."

I nodded, ignoring the butterflies rattling around in my 
stomach. 'I can do this,' I thought. 'It's basically just more 
acting. Mulder said it himself - Sloane trusts me. I can use 
that to my advantage. I just have to make sure I don't give 
him a reason to stop trusting me.'

The black sedan stopped a block from our corner as John 
dropped me off. I pretended not to notice it. Then I froze as 
John drove off, an idea coming to me suddenly. What if I could 
turn the tables on the spy?

I turned and walked deliberately toward the car, watching the 
driver's face grow wary as I approached. He was young - 
possibly younger than me - with unremarkable features and a 
military short haircut.

I knocked on the passenger window and waited while he rolled 
it down a crack. 

"See something you like," I asked seductively, leaning down to 
look him in the eyes.

He flustered. "Excuse me?"

"I keep seeing you hanging around here. Are you waiting for 
something or are you just shy?"

"No...I'm not..."

I squinted at him. "You're not a cop, are you?"

He shifted nervously. "No."

"Then what? Are you just stalking me?"

He didn't reply, seemingly debating whether or not he should 
just roll up the window and drive off. Cut his losses. 

I glared at him. "Sark sent you, didn't he? Tell that fucker I 
haven't seen Will in over a week and if he's so damn 
interested in who I fuck he can just ask me next time."

I slapped the top of the car and stalked away indignantly, 
trying to ignore the shaking in my knees. I hoped to God I had 
just done the right thing.

"What was that about," Sydney asked when I returned to the 
corner.

"Stalker," I said simply. "I took care of it." I glanced in 
the direction of the sedan and breathed a sigh of relief when 
I saw the driver turn on his headlights and slowly drive away.

*******

"So, I understand you scared away a stalker," Nadia said as 
she perched on the couch next to me, nursing a glass of red 
wine fresh from the box. She handed me my own glass as she 
took a dainty sip. Sydney and Lauren had invited Nadia to 
dinner and she had agreed on one condition: she got to bring 
dinner. It turned out she was almost as good a cook as Sydney.

"Sark," I grumbled. "Bastard thinks he owns me."

Lauren handed Sydney her glass, half full only, where she sat 
in the chair across from us and sat on the other side of the 
couch, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under my 
leg. I pulled them up into my lap and massaged them absently. 
"Figures," she snorted. "You finally get rid of one nutter and 
an even crazier one comes along."

I winced inwardly. I couldn't tell them that I had never 
actually "gotten rid of" Will without risking everything 
including, possibly, all of our lives. So I had let them 
believe Will had gone back to Virginia alone. "The worst part 
is, I actually kinda miss Will," I said cautiously. "How 
pathetic is that? I'm surrounded by three beautiful women - 
practically living a Playboy fantasy - and I'm pining after a 
guy I only knew a couple weeks who paid me to have sex with 
him."

"Maybe it wasn't Will you were drawn to," Sydney offered. 
"Maybe part of you wished you could just abandon this life and 
run off to live with some wealthy man in Virginia."

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, Dr. Bristow. How much do I owe 
you for that analysis?"

She stuck her tongue out at me indignantly. 

"No, maybe she's right," Nadia said. "I mean, who here 
wouldn't jump at the chance to leave this business?"

Her question was met with silence as the girls likely pondered 
what their lives would be like if we were all given the 
opportunity to quit. I had the advantage of knowing not only 
what I could do, but when it would happen.

Lauren swatted my hand away, which had been drifting further 
and further up her leg almost of it's own volition. "Don't 
even think about it. You are not getting me pregnant too."

I snatched my hand away obediently. The girls had always kept 
very careful monitor of their menstrual cycles, but Lauren had 
become even more diligent since Sydney had found out she was 
pregnant. "I wasn't going to do anything," I protested.

"Sure. You were just trying to cop a feel, right?" Lauren 
snorted. "You would hump anything with legs. We should have 
had you neutered years ago." She snatched my wine glass from 
me suddenly, laying it on the rickety coffee table along with 
her own. Then she abruptly unzipped my jeans and drew my cock 
out into the open, stroking me firmly.

"Lauren," I squeaked, startled by her bold behavior. I wanted 
to remind her that we had company, but somehow I didn't think 
it would make much of an impression. I wondered vaguely if 
this was simply her way of marking her territory.

I came within minutes - Lauren is nothing if not an expert at 
what she does - my groan of pleasure muffled by her mouth. I 
lay panting as she tucked me back into my jeans and handed me 
my wine glass again.

Nadia's eyes darted from me to Lauren to Sydney, unsure. 

Lauren took a swig of her wine and smiled broadly at Nadia. 
"Don't worry, love. We're very open around here. Would you 
like to stay for a nightcap?"

*******

'Definitely a Playboy fantasy,' I thought as I sat in a chair 
beside the bed later that night, watching all three women 
groan and writhe together on the bed. Nadia had her head 
between Sydney's thighs, her tongue poking obscenely through a 
latex mouthguard, alternately flicking and massaging Sydney's 
swollen clit. Sydney moaned into Lauren's mouth, her hand 
moving clumsily and frantically between the blonde's thighs. 
She cried out when Lauren abandoned the kiss suddenly, her 
thigh muscles trembling as she fought not to buck against 
Nadia's face.

"Are you just going to sit there," Lauren asked, shooting me a 
smoldering look over her shoulder.

"You seem to be doing fine without me," I said even though my 
cock definitely seemed interested.

Lauren smirked and groaned as Sydney's hand made a 
particularly forceful move between her legs. "I think Nadia 
could use a little incentive," she gasped, rocking against 
Sydney.

I stood up and moved to the end of the bed before I even 
registered the motion. Clearly my dick had a mind of its own 
and was currently overriding my brain. Lauren reached into the 
bedside table drawer absently for a condom and tossed it at me 
without looking. I caught it and put it on quickly, kneeling 
on the bed behind Nadia. 

I gently coaxed her legs further apart and she rolled her hips 
back, fully opening her dripping channel to me. I pressed two 
fingers inside her and thrust gently, searching for her G-
spot. I found it almost immediately. Nadia moaned, her 
attentions to Sydney faltering and then growing increasingly 
frantic.

"He's good, isn't he," Lauren gasped, combing her fingers 
through Nadia's hair. Nadia responded by plunging two fingers 
inside Sydney, pumping frantically. Sydney moaned, her own 
attentions to Lauren faltering. 

Nadia wiggled her hips impatiently and I took the hint, 
plunging my cock inside her without any further preparation. 
She groaned and Sydney cried out, arching her back as the 
sound sent vibrations through her. Nadia repeated the sound 
until Sydney began to shake. She screamed into Lauren's mouth 
as her orgasm tore through her, her hips making aborted 
thrusting motions, her hand emerging from Lauren's body to 
grip the blonde's leg as she thrashed, anchoring her to 
reality.

Lauren spread kisses all over her face as she came back down 
but I didn't really get a chance to watch them before Nadia 
pulled herself away from me, flopping on the bed beside the 
recovering Sydney and beckoning me. I crawled over her and 
plunged back inside her welcoming body, grunting as she 
wrapped her legs high around my waist, allowing me even 
deeper.

Lauren tore her lips from Sydney long enough to hiss "You'd 
better not come," at me.

I groaned and rolled my hips steadily, my eyes drifting closed 
at the feel of Nadia's tongue flicking playfully at my 
earlobe. "Yes, mistress."

I yelped as Lauren swatted me on the backside suddenly, my 
hips snapping forward, forcing a groan from Nadia. Lauren 
didn't like it when I pointed out her bossiness. "Sorry," I 
hissed.

I drew Nadia's legs up over my shoulders and adjusted the 
angle of my thrusts until I knew I had to be hitting her G-
spot. She gasped, her eyes growing hazy and distant as she 
neared orgasm. I reached down and thumbed her clit roughly, 
nudging her closer. 

It took only about another minute of thrusting to send her 
flying over the edge, a tiny moan of pleasure spilling from 
her lips. I clenched my jaw as her muscles spasmed tightly 
around my cock, drawing me deeper, encouraging me to join in 
her pleasure. I resisted, knowing Lauren would kill me if I 
came now before she was finished. I knew I could have just 
come and used my hands or my mouth to finish her off, but 
clearly that was not what she had in mind.

I kissed Nadia as she floated back down to earth, stroking her 
hair back from her face. She smiled up at me dazedly. The 
moment was interrupted by Lauren shoving at me insistently 
until I rolled off of Nadia. Nadia took the cue and dragged 
herself to the other side of the bed to join Sydney.

I hissed as Lauren shoved me onto my back roughly and pulled 
off the old condom, replacing it with a new one and plunging 
herself onto me in seconds flat. She braced her palms on my 
chest and began rocking, hard. I raised my knees and snapped 
my hips upward, trying to meet her thrusts as best I could, 
wondering vaguely if the violence of our movements would leave 
bruises or just make us sore in the morning. Not that it 
mattered either way since we all had the next day off.

I found myself thinking back to the science classes I had 
taken years ago, trying to remember which species of the 
animal kingdom it was wherein the females would kill the males 
after mating with them. I seemed to recall there was more than 
one. Whatever they were I imagined I could identify with the 
males in that moment, looking up into Lauren's hungry, 
predatory gaze. "Don't come until I tell you to," she hissed 
in my ear.

It took several long minutes before she came, rocking back and 
forth and moaning deep in her chest. I was holding my breath 
by that point, straining to not come until she gave me 
permission. She smirked down at me as she shuddered through 
the last of her orgasm, stroking my sweaty forehead and 
kissing it softly before lifting off of me suddenly and 
slithering down my body, taking my aching cock in her mouth. I 
took this as the permission I needed and bit my lip to muffle 
the cry I couldn't hold in as I came, pumping down Lauren's 
welcoming throat. 

When it was over I lay limp on the bed, whimpering as Lauren 
removed the condom and inspected it carefully. "Huh," she 
murmured almost to herself. "Looks like this one held." She 
shrugged and tossed it into the wastebasket, crawling back up 
the bed and draping herself over my sated body. 

I turned my head wearily to find Sydney and Nadia curled on 
the other side of the bed, their limbs tangled together. Nadia 
smiled at me and curled closer to Sydney's already sleeping 
form. I sighed and stroked Lauren's back when the feeling 
returned to my fingers. 

"Looks like she's fitting in well," Lauren murmured softly. 

I smiled and kissed her hair. "Mmm-hmm," I hummed before 
closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep.

*******

I took a deep breath as I approached Sloane's office the next 
day. He had called up to our room and requested that I come 
talk to him face to face. Usually when he called the room like 
that it resulted in more of me bending over his desk than 
doing any actual talking, but I had jumped at the opportunity 
to plant the bugs John had given me. I had gone over how I 
planned to do it many times in my mind, but I was nervous as 
hell. What if he caught me? What if he suspected I was on to 
him?

'Just relax,' I reminded myself. 'You can do this.'

I opened the door and slipped inside. "You wanted to see me?"

He looked up from the paperwork on his desk calmly. "Michael, 
yes." He laid down his pen and leaned back in his chair. "I 
heard you've been having problems with a stalker?"

I marveled at his bravado. He had hired the guy to stalk me 
and he had the nerve to confront me for scaring him off? He 
*had* hired the guy, right? I hesitated. What if Sloane didn't 
know anything about the guy tailing me? What if another member 
of the Alliance was having me followed? It made sense, didn't 
it? If Sloane trusted me and the Alliance didn't, they could 
send somebody to keep an eye on me without telling him. 
Couldn't they?

I decided to hedge my bets and tell him the same story I told 
the girls. "One of my regulars has been spying on me. He's 
obsessed with me and he has way too much money and free time. 
I caught the guy he sent to watch me and told him to buzz 
off."

Sloane nodded thoughtfully, his face seeming to show genuine 
worry. "Do you need help taking care of him?"

I held back a shudder. I just wanted Sark to quit stalking me, 
I didn't want him thrown into the nearest river wearing 
nothing but a pair of cement shoes. "No. I can handle him."

"Are you sure," he asked, something that looked like genuine 
concern flitting over his face.

I smiled kindly and stepped closer. "Yeah, I'm fine." I walked 
around his desk and sat perched on the heavy oak. I glanced 
down at the papers he had left on the desk, seeing only a 
bunch of numbers and decimals. Balancing his checkbook, I 
supposed. "But you could have asked me that over the phone, 
Arvin," I continued. "So what is it you really wanted me to 
come down here for?"

"Actually, that was all," he said coolly, cupping my cheek. "I 
just wanted to see for myself that you were all right."

I faltered slightly. Part of me wanted to believe that. That 
he truly did care about me. I mentally shook myself. No. This 
man had ordered the death of my lover and best friend. Whether 
or not he had made the decision under pressure from the 
Alliance didn't matter. He was still a murderer. And if the 
Alliance found out I was helping the FBI he would probably 
have me killed too.

I reached out to press my hand against the slight bulge in his 
slacks, feeling it grow beneath my palm. "I could take care of 
this for you," I offered.

Within minutes I was unrolling a condom over him with my 
mouth. I stood and quickly removed my pants, deliberately 
dropping them close to the computer tower under the desk. I 
laid back on the desk, spreading my legs and drawing my knees 
toward my chest. He fingered my hole, desire building in his 
eyes. "You prepared yourself for this," he observed.

"You asked me to come down here on my day off with no 
explanation. What was I supposed to think?"

He shook his head but said nothing further. He plunged into me 
without any preparation and I fought to hold back a whimper. 
While I had prepared myself earlier, I hadn't spent as much 
time loosening the muscles as I would normally. I clung to him 
as he fucked me, his movements slower than usual, his thrusts 
long and deep. I let my head loll from one side to the other, 
my eyes searching his desk for something I could use. As luck 
would have it, I found a paper clip wedged, forgotten 
underneath the computer monitor. I moaned and shifted 
restlessly, letting my fingers slip under the monitor, 
surreptitiously brushing the paper clip to the floor behind 
the desk. 

I relaxed when he didn't seem to notice the action. There was 
nothing more I could do until he was finished. I closed my 
eyes and tried to imagine I was anywhere else but underneath 
Arvin Sloane. I prayed that the bugs John gave me wouldn't be 
active until I called Mulder. I didn't think I could face him 
again if I knew he had heard this.

Sloane came with a grunt. I nuzzled and kissed his neck, 
moaning and clenching around him to convince him I was 
enjoying it. He lingered inside me, kissing me and stroking 
whatever parts of me he could reach. I couldn't hold back a 
shiver of disgust. I hoped he would interpret it as something 
else.

"Are you cold," he asked softly.

I mentally sighed in relief. "A little."

He pulled out of me and I reached for my pants while he 
readjusted his clothing. I glanced at the CPU tower as I 
fished the bugs out of my pocket, trying to determine the best 
place to hide one. There was a gap in the plastic casing on 
the front of the unit, toward the bottom. I couldn't see any 
reason for it to be there other than aesthetic purposes. I 
quickly peeled off the backing on the tiny disk and slipped it 
into the narrow space, curling my fingers outward and sticking 
the bug to the outer flap of opaque plastic. I tried to make 
the movements as quick and nonchalant as possible, using my 
body to block Sloane's view. It all happened in a few seconds. 

I pulled my pants on. 'One down, one to go,' I thought 
nervously. I cradled the second bug in my suddenly sweaty palm 
and bent to retrieve the paper clip I had dropped on the 
floor, subtly switching the two in my hand.

"I assume this is yours," I said, holding the bug out to him 
between two fingers.

Sloane looked baffled for a moment, taken off guard. 

"I think I knocked it off your desk," I added.

"Ah, yes. Thank you," he said quickly, taking the bug from me 
and placing it in the top drawer of the desk, alongside 
several pens, pencils and other paper clips.

"I think I'm going to go for a run."

"Of course. I heard you were trying to quit smoking."

I ground my teeth together. It unnerved me that he could so 
easily get information on any of us. All he had to do was ask, 
probably. Most of the girls trusted him - they would likely 
tell him whatever he wanted to know if he asked nicely. 
"Yeah."

He smiled and rubbed my shoulder supportively. "Good for you."

"Thanks," I mumbled. I made my way to the door without another 
word, ending our encounter as awkwardly as usual.

I ran upstairs and grabbed the phone John had given me from a 
cabinet behind a bunch of towels where I had hidden it. The 
girls were out running errands, but I couldn't risk making the 
call from inside the building anyway. I stuffed the phone in 
my pocket and ran back down the stairs and out the front door. 

I jogged several blocks, making turns down random alleys to 
make sure I wasn't being followed. When I had reassured myself 
I was safe I pulled the phone out and hit speed dial one.

"Mulder."

"It's me. I planted the bugs."

"Both of them already? That's great, Vaughn! Are you sure 
you've never done spy work before?"

I rolled my eyes. "If I had I wouldn't have lived this long."

"Do you think Sloane suspects anything?"

"No." I looked down at the slightly dusty paper clip still 
clutched in my palm and threw it on the ground. "He took the 
paper clip from me himself. He had no idea it was bugged."

I could almost hear Mulder smile. "Great. We're activating 
them right now. Good work."

I hesitated. "So...they weren't picking up anything before, 
right?"

I could picture him frowning in confusion. "No, why?"

"It's nothing," I replied quickly. "I was just wondering."

There was a long pause and he sighed. "No, Vaughn. They didn't 
record anything. Whatever you had to do to get the bugs in 
there...nobody has to know."

"I fucked him," I blurted. I didn't know why but I felt a 
sudden need to tell him everything. "Actually, I let him fuck 
me. That's how I got the information on the computer too."

He was quiet for several moments. "I know."

"Are you alone?"

"Yeah. I just stepped into the bathroom."

"I miss you," I murmured. 

He sighed again. "I miss you too, baby. Just hang on a little 
longer. We're getting close now, thanks to you. It'll be over 
before you know it."

I closed my eyes and leaned against the cool brick wall of the 
nearby building, wishing I could feel his arms around me, 
protecting me from the chilled air...protecting me from my own 
demons and insecurities. "Promise me."

He seemed to pick up on my meaning immediately. "Everything 
will be okay. We'll get you out of there, I promise."

I love you.

The words flashed through my mind, but I still couldn't quite 
say them. The last man I had said them to had died. Even 
though I was stronger now than I was then I didn't think I 
could handle letting myself fall in love again. Part of me 
still wondered if he really loved me or if he just saw me as a 
project. A fallen man for him to rescue. Once he took me away 
from this life and got me back on my feet, how long would it 
take him to grow bored of me? To become disillusioned? A year? 
A couple months? I didn't think I could handle having my heart 
broken again.

"Are you still there," he asked gently.

I took a deep breath. "Yeah. I'm here."

"If anything happens - if you even suspect Sloane or any 
member of the Alliance is onto you - you know what to do, 
right?"

"Yeah, I remember." Mulder had told me repeatedly that if 
anything went wrong I was to get myself to the safehouse and 
use one of the two numbers programmed into my phone. They 
would tell me what to do from there.

"Okay. I'm going to hang up the phone now, all right?"

I bit back the urge to beg him to stay on the line. Keep 
talking...keep reassuring me. But I knew I couldn't stay away 
for long. I couldn't afford to let Sloane get suspicious. 
"Okay."

"I love you."

I hesitated. "Yeah," I said in a tiny voice. 

I hung up and stuffed the phone into my shoe before resuming 
my jog, heading back in the direction of the Dauphine 
building. 

********

Some kinks don't require props, giving certain Johns a 
loophole. 'Like this one,' I thought, clutching the covers to 
my chest as the muscular John slipped into bed beside me. I 
didn't usually mind role play, but this guy made me especially 
uncomfortable. I tried to compensate for my unease by throwing 
myself into the role, hoping I looked appropriately meek and 
vulnerable.

"Don't be shy," he said with an amused grin. "I promise I 
won't hurt you."

'Sure you won't,' I thought. I remained still, letting him 
draw the covers from my reluctantly loosening grip, gradually 
exposing my naked body to his hungry gaze. "I know you won't, 
Daddy," I said in a small voice.

His hand smoothed across my chest and down my stomach, coming 
to rest wrapped loosely around my limp cock. "Do you love me?"

"Of course I do, Daddy."

I jumped as he pushed an exploratory finger inside me. He 
frowned when it slid in easily. "Were you playing with Mommy's 
vibrator again?"

Yuck. I hesitated a moment. Then, taking my cue from the word 
"again", I nodded shyly, avoiding his gaze. 

He smiled. "You're a naughty boy," he said in a tone that made 
me want to throw up.

"Please, Daddy, I was just..."

He pressed his fingers to my lips, cutting off my words. "I'm 
not going to punish you, Mikey. But you can't tell Mommy 
because she'd be really mad."

I faked an expression of relief and squirmed as he continued 
to fuck me with his finger.

I cried out when his latex covered cock plunged into me 
minutes later. "Please, Daddy. You're hurting me."

He slapped me with enough force to snap my head to one side. 
"Shut up you stupid whore," he snarled.

Well, at least I knew he drew the line somewhere. I whimpered. 
"I'm sorry, Daddy."

He melted back into character and cupped my cheek gently. 
"It's okay, Mikey. Daddy's here. I won't let anybody hurt 
you."

'Anybody else, you mean,' I thought as he began to rock, 
fucking me steadily.

I moaned and whimpered as he fucked me for a good ten minutes. 
I gave a soft cry when he came, squeezing my muscles as 
tightly as I could around his cock. My own cock remained 
utterly limp throughout the whole ordeal.

"You're sick," I spit once it was over while he disposed of 
the condom.

His meaty hand wrapped around my throat. "Shut the fuck up or 
I'll make you shut up you stupid bitch."

I stared at him defiantly. I refused to let this sick bastard 
scare me.

He stood and threw my pants at me. I instinctively felt the 
right pocket to make sure my money was still there. "Find your 
own way home," he growled when he finished getting dressed. He 
stormed out of the hotel room and slammed the door.

I sighed and got dressed, cleaning myself up a bit before 
heading outside to find a pay phone. Normally, I would have 
walked back to the corner, but the hotel this John had chosen 
was considerably farther away than the Horizon. 

I dumped a quarter into the pay phone and dialed a number from 
memory. "Francie, it's Vaughn. I know it's late, but could you 
give me a lift?"

*********

"Are you okay," she asked before I was even completely in the 
car.

"I'm fine. The last guy just left me stranded here."

Francie shook her head. "I know this is not exactly a normal 
date, but what happened to common decency, anyway?"

"Well, he might be a child molester, so he can't exactly speak 
for the rest of humanity."

Francie looked horrified. "Shouldn't we tell someone?"

"And say what? 'I think this guy who just paid me to have sex 
with him might be into underage boys,'" I asked rhetorically. 
"He never told me his name and I'd be willing to bet that the 
car wasn't his so I doubt any information I gave the police 
would be useful. Besides, it's possible he's never actually 
touched a child. He kept calling me Mikey. Maybe he gets off 
on having prostitutes *pretend* to be underage."

"Or he just happens to be molesting a kid named Michael," she 
argued as she navigated through a maze of streets. "Besides, I 
watch 'CSI'. Guys like that are bound to escalate. Even if he 
hasn't touched a kid yet, he will."

I smirked at her. "Has anybody ever told you you watch too 
much TV?"

She squinted at me. "Don't change the subject."

I sighed. "I know. My gut tells me there was something off 
about him, but I honestly don't think there's anything I can 
do."

"Tell you what," she said, fishing in her purse with one hand. 
She handed me a pad of paper and a pen. "You write down his 
license plate number and as many physical characteristics as 
you can remember. I'll call in an anonymous tip and say I 
overheard him talking about sleeping with little boys. Or 
something. I'll think of something later. Just write."

I jotted down as much as I could recall and glanced at her 
again. "That guy I talked to you about before...the one who 
was asking about me? Did he tell you he was a fed?"

She looked startled. "He told you?"

"Yeah. Not long after I talked to you."

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she said sincerely. "He told me not to 
tell you. He said it was a matter of life and death." She 
hesitated. "Is it?"

"Sort of," I sighed. "I don't think I can tell you any more. 
The less you know, the better."

"Certainly sounds like life and death to me," she muttered. 
"You're not in trouble, are you," she asked suspiciously.

I laughed. "No. There's just...something I have to do for him. 
Something that could get me and Sydney and Lauren out of the 
prostitution business."

She beamed. "That's great!"

"But you can't tell them," I added hurriedly. "They can't know 
what I'm doing yet. It's safer if they don't know."

Francie pulled up to the curb across the street from the 
corner. "I trust your judgment. And if you think this will get 
you guys off the streets..." She shook her head. "Okay, I 
promise I won't say anything."

I pulled her into a hug. "Thank you," I murmured in her ear.

"But you have to promise me that you won't do anything too 
dangerous," she added, pulling back to look me in the eye. "I 
don't want to see your face in the papers and find out you've 
gone missing or were found dead in a hotel room somewhere."

I smiled. "I promise."

"Okay." She patted my cheek lovingly. "See you later, 
sweetie."

I squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek. "Love you, Francie."

********

The next John was much easier to handle. He was clearly of the 
egotistical narcissist variety. His hair was slicked with so 
much mousse it was practically dripping down his neck and his 
teeth were perfectly straight and glaringly white. He was good 
looking and he knew it. He drove as far as the alley around 
the corner and had me get out of the car and place my hands on 
the roof as if he were a cop and I was a petty thief. It 
seemed to suit his ego well.

I moaned when he plunged his hand inside my pants, testing the 
waters as it were. I could sense his smirk without having to 
turn my head. "Easy, sweetheart," he laughed. "We've got 
plenty of time."

I rolled my eyes. He thought he was fucking Don Juan. Out to 
show the world what a fantastic lover he was. He licked and 
bit at my neck. "I assume you brought protection?"

I froze. "Didn't you?"

He smirked and produced a condom packet. "Ribbed for extra 
pleasure. Not that I need the help."

I groaned. Great. Now I really had to pretend to enjoy it. He 
took the sound to mean I was getting impatient to have his 
likely pencil sized dick in me and quickly yanked both of our 
pants down to our knees, fumbling to put the condom on.

I moaned loudly when he thrust into me, letting my head roll 
back on my shoulders. Yep. Definitely pencil sized.

He held my hips steady and set an agonizingly slow pace, his 
in-stroke far too rough. It probably would have been painful, 
were it not so late on a busy night. By that point, my lower 
rectum was practically numb. I wondered if the girls had gone 
home yet or if they were waiting for me.

"Fuck, that's good," I muttered absently as I began 
entertaining myself by counting the bricks on the wall of the 
building on the other side of the car.

I could practically feel his chest puff up with pride. "You 
like that?"

'Like what?' I thought. 'Your sexual repertoire so far has 
consisted entirely of inserting tab A into slot B and 
thrusting.' 

"Yeah," I murmured. "That's good."

I switched from counting bricks to daydreaming about this guy 
developing some sort of rare disease that would make his dick 
shrivel up and fall off. Possibly overly cruel, yes, but it 
made me smile.

"Hang on, baby," he purred before he began slamming into me 
with enough force to make my teeth rattle. I winced but arched 
my back into him, making loud noises of pleasure.

It seemed to take forever for him to come. I groaned and 
writhed in fake pleasure as he erupted and grew soft.

"That was amazing," I lied, moaning as he pulled his limp cock 
from me and dealt with the used condom.

He didn't say anything, but the look on his face clearly said 
"I know."

*******

Sydney was leaning in the passenger window of a gold station 
wagon when I returned to the corner, Lauren watching her from 
the usual post, absently flicking ashes from her cigarette.

"You've been busy tonight," Lauren observed.

"That was my seventh," I muttered. "My ass is getting numb."

She rubbed my back supportively and watched as Sydney 
approached us, the gold car remaining idle at the curb. "She 
wants you," she said, cocking her hip and fiddling with her 
hair - a habit she had developed in lieu of smoking.

"She," I asked wearily.

Sydney nodded with a small smirk. "Looks like you're popular 
tonight."

I groaned. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Good luck," Lauren called as I made my way over to the car. I 
waved my hand at her without turning my head.

I leaned in the window to find a dark haired woman with 
bright, soulful eyes. "Get in," she said.

I slid in the car and she began to drive.

"Would you like directions to a hotel," I asked tentatively.

"Nope," she replied. "I know where it is." She held out her 
hand to me. "I'm Agent Reyes."

I shook her hand with a nod. It wasn't all that surprising, 
honestly. I didn't have very many female customers, much less 
ones as direct and sure as this woman. "What happened to 
John?"

"We don't want the Alliance to get suspicious, so we figured 
varying your contacts would be a good idea."

I nodded again. "So what do you need me to do?"

She smiled. "I'll let Agent Mulder tell you. He's waiting at 
the hotel."

I tried not to look too eager, but after a night of getting my 
ass pounded and my hair pulled practically clean out of my 
skull, I was looking forward to Mulder's gentle touch.

*****

I let Agent Reyes enter the room first, tamping down my 
anxiousness in case anyone was watching.

I practically threw myself into his arms before she had even 
shut the door completely.

"Thank you, Monica," he murmured and I heard the connecting 
room door open and close softly.

"You picked a horrible day," I muttered, burying my face in 
his neck.

He rubbed my back. "I know. Reyes drove around the block for 
hours waiting for you but other guys kept beating her to you." 
He nudged me away gently, forcing me to look him in the eyes. 
"But like I said before, this doesn't have to be about sex. 
I'll give you money to appease Sloane but you shouldn't feel 
any obligations. We don't have to do anything you don't want 
to."

I hesitated. "I want you," I admitted. "But I'm really sore 
and the parts of me that aren't throbbing went numb about two 
tricks ago."

He winced in sympathy and thumbed some stray eyeliner from my 
cheek. "Would you like me to give you a massage?"

I smiled. "That sounds nice."

*******

I moaned as Mulder dug the heels of his hands into my lower 
back. "Fuck, that feels good," I said honestly (for the first 
time that night), my voice slurring in contentment as I melted 
into the lumpy mattress. 

"Good," he murmured. "Take off your pants."

My eyes sprang open. "I thought we weren't..."

He kissed me into silence, as well as he could from his 
position. "We're not." 

He helped me remove my pants and resettle, face down, naked on 
the bed. I grunted when he began massaging the sore muscles of 
my ass and down the backs of my thighs. So this was going to 
be a full body massage. I sighed and moaned in pleasure.

He got up suddenly and disappeared into the bathroom. I heard 
water running and he reappeared moments later. I felt him part 
my cheeks and wipe the remnants of lubricant from me.

"No, don't," I protested. "I still have to..."

He kissed me again. "No, you don't. No more tricks tonight. I 
have enough money to cover you for three more Johns. Go home, 
take a shower and rest."

I sighed. "I'm sure the FBI is thrilled with the amount of 
money you keep giving me."

He chuckled. "Anything to get the job done is fine by them 
basically. Besides, they'll get it back once the Alliance is 
destroyed. Roll over."

I rolled onto my back languidly and groaned as he resumed the 
massage, starting at my shoulders and working his way down my 
arms. "What do you need me to do?"

"We need the passcode Sloane uses to access the main server 
that controls all the business transactions of the Alliance. 
Our cryptographers are working on it but we know it's ten 
characters long and it could have numbers, letters or a 
combination of the two so we're looking at millions of 
possibilities. It could take us months or years to crack it. 
We were hoping you could help."

I thought for a minute while he massaged my hands one at a 
time. "You think he could have told me?"

"It's possible he did and you didn't realize it. We can give 
you a device that would disable any security cameras or bugs 
in his office and you could search the place, see if he wrote 
it down somewhere..."

I shook my head. "Sloane hardly ever writes down stuff like 
that. Besides, this password is important, right? Something he 
would never let anyone else find? He wouldn't leave it written 
anywhere in his office. He would make it something he could 
easily remember." I wracked my memory for anything Sloane 
could find significant enough to create a password out of it. 
I came up blank. "Ten letters," I asked with a frown.

He moved down to begin working on my legs, digging into the 
knotted muscles on the insides of my thighs. "Or numbers," he 
repeated.

I tried to recall every conversation I'd ever had with him, 
every significant fact he might have told me about his life. 
His ex-wife Emily? No, five letters short. Maybe her maiden 
name? Her middle name? A pet name? 

Suddenly a long-forgotten memory came tumbling back to me. 
"Jacqueline."

He paused the massage, his hands stilling on my left calf. 
"What?"

"He once told me he'd had a daughter, but she died at birth. 
His wife never quite got over her grief. It's probably the 
reason they split up. He told me he still thinks about her all 
the time - what she would have been like. She would be my 
age." I paused. "Her name was Jacqueline."

Mulder smiled and resumed the massage, slowly working his way 
down to my feet. "That's great, baby. We'll try it. If it 
doesn't work out, we'll go to plan B."

"What's that," I asked curiously.

He winked at me. "We'll kidnap him and torture it out of him."

I smiled. "You wouldn't dare."

He sighed. "No. Unfortunately, that would only compromise the 
operation right now." He finished with the massage and crawled 
up the bed to lay beside me, his fingers smoothing over my 
chest. "But the second we take down the Alliance I will 
personally take care of all the questioning." 

I could almost see him threatening to break Sloane's fingers 
one by one if he didn't tell the FBI everything they needed to 
know. It almost made me smile. "Good."

*******

(Hours later)

After saying goodnight to Nadia, the girls and I crashed on 
the sofa and watched television. I sat sideways on one end, 
Sydney between my legs, using me as a full body pillow. Lauren 
sat on the other end, Sydney's feet in her lap.

"By the way, how did it go with that woman," Sydney asked.

"Her boyfriend was waiting for us at the Horizon," I said, 
reciting the story I had been rehearsing since leaving Mulder 
at the hotel. "Apparently she gets off on watching two men 
fuck."

Sydney winced in sympathy and rubbed my arm. "You must be 
really sore by now."

"Actually, I'm feeling pretty good," I said honestly. "I'll 
probably be hurting in the morning, though."

"I think we all will," Sydney groaned as Lauren rubbed her 
feet. "I'm pretty sure the entire male population of LA came 
out tonight."

"Look at the bright side," Lauren offered. "If everyone was 
out tonight then tomorrow night should be quiet."

Both Sydney and I groaned. We didn't even want to think about 
having to go back to the corner the next night. We tried to 
watch the movie playing on television a little longer - some 
fluff piece based on a comic book series - and finally gave 
up.

"I'm going to go take a shower," Lauren announced, pushing 
Sydney's feet from her lap and standing up.

"Don't use up the hot water," Sydney called after her as she 
reached for the remote and changed the channel. 

I rubbed my hand over her stomach. "Are you feeling okay?" I 
had spent the better part of that morning holding her hair 
back while she threw up violently.

She sighed and snuggled deeper into my arms. "Yeah. I'm not 
looking forward to doing that again tomorrow. And the day 
after that. Hopefully the morning sickness won't last too 
long." She went silent for several moments. "I suppose I 
should go join Lauren so we don't use as much hot water."

She didn't move a muscle.

"You could join me," I offered after a long pause.

"Yeah, that sounds good," she replied quickly.

******

Sydney leaned against me in the shower and groaned as I 
massaged shampoo into her scalp. "Do you need anything," she 
asked, rubbing my hip gently. It was rare that any of us were 
aroused to the point of frustration by a John, but in the 
event that it did happen the girls and I had a silent 
agreement to help each other out.

"No, I'm too exhausted," I answered honestly.

She hummed and leaned back into the warm spray so I could 
brush the suds from her hair.

"Are you okay," she asked as she reached for the washcloth and 
soap.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been acting...different lately," she said as she ran 
the soapy cloth over my chest. "Ever since Will disappeared."

Damnit. I could fool Sloane and the Alliance but I could never 
fool Sydney. She had known me longer than anybody - having 
moved into the Dauphine building shortly after Danny's death. 
"I'm fine," I said sincerely. "He just sort of threw me for a 
while I guess."

Her hand paused on its way down my stomach and she gave me a 
look that told me more than words ever could. She knew it 
wasn't like me to let a John get to me. One doesn't survive as 
long as I had in the business without developing a thick skin. 
"He just...nobody's treated me like he did. Not since Danny." 

Sydney slowly began washing me again. 

"Most guys see me as a faceless whore," I continued. "A warm 
body for them to fuck. Will saw *me*. He treated me like a 
lover. He seemed to care about my pleasure more than his own."

She looked at me with so much sympathy in her eyes that it 
took all of my willpower to keep from breaking down and 
telling her everything. "You know you can't let him get to 
you," she said gently.

I smiled reassuringly at her. "I know. I'm trying not to."

She finished washing me and stepped aside to let me rinse off. 
"You know if you ever need to talk to me or Lauren..."

I kissed her. "I know."

*******
(Two days later)

"I hate when there's more than one of them," Lauren moaned as 
the silver SUV drove off, the man in the passenger seat 
leaning out the window to make crude gestures at her. I 
flipped him off with one hand, giving Lauren back her 
cigarette with the other. Nadia patted her on the back and 
Sydney squeezed her shoulder supportively.

She groaned when another car pulled up to the curb. "Could one 
of you get that? I need some time to recover."

"I got it," I volunteered, patting her on the arm as I walked 
past.

"See something you like," I purred, leaning in the passenger 
window of the red Honda. I froze as a familiar face smiled at 
me from beneath a low slung baseball cap. 

"Hey, baby."

I moved to get in the car, but he halted me. "Wait. Not yet. I 
need to talk to the girls first."

Alarm bells went off in my head. Was this it? Was the FBI 
getting ready to move in and they needed to get the girls to 
safety?

"It's okay, Vaughn," Mulder reassured me. "I just need to talk 
to them. Doggett will come by to pick you up in a little 
while."

"Is this it," I asked stupidly. "Is it happening now?"

"Soon," Mulder promised. "It should all be over by morning."

I felt nervous and light-headed. I hadn't expected it to 
happen so soon. I looked around quickly and reached for his 
hand, giving it a small squeeze. He squeezed back tightly.

"I'll see you soon," he promised.

I nodded and straightened, spinning on my heel and going back 
to the girls. "He wants you guys."

Sydney did a double take. "All *three* of us?"

I nodded.

"Oh, no way in fucking hell," Lauren moaned. "I just got back 
from the threesome from hell..."

"Just go," I interrupted, trying to keep the urgency from my 
voice. 

Lauren's eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say something 
but Sydney cut her off, grabbing her by the arm and pulling 
her in the direction of Mulder's car. "Come on. Let's just get 
it over with." She too gave me an odd look, but didn't say 
anything as Lauren handed me her cigarette and all three of 
them made their way to the car.

I paced back and forth after Mulder drove off, puffing 
nervously on Lauren's cigarette - menthol be damned. I stamped 
it out when another car pulled up to the curb. That must be 
John.

I hurried to the car and my spirits sank when I looked in to 
find an unfamiliar face. "How much," he asked.

I almost told him to take a hike before thinking better of it. 
Even if it was almost over, I still couldn't appear too 
suspicious. All it could take was one Alliance spy to pick up 
on suspicious behavior and send up a red flag and the whole 
plan would unravel. "Fifty for a handjob. A hundred for a 
fuck. Props cost extra."

He nodded and waved me in. I slipped into the car smoothly and 
slammed the door. "You wanna drive around the corner or do you 
want to get a hotel room?"

"Actually, I had something else in mind," he said 
mysteriously.

There was a sudden flurry of movement in the backseat. Before 
I could turn my head to determine the source, I heard an 
electrical sound and felt something jab against my neck. A 
taser, I realized fuzzily as the current surged through me, 
sending my muscles into spasms and leaving me weak.

I was barely conscious as my attacker dragged me over the seat 
into the back and pushed me to the floor. 

"Nice to see you again, Michael," Sark purred as his face swam 
into view. 

My eyes widened and I struggled against the effects of the 
taser, fighting Sark as he held me down and jabbed a needle 
into my arm. 

"Now, now, Michael," he cooed. "This will be a lot easier on 
you if you don't fight me."

My mind grew fuzzy as the drug he had given me quickly worked 
its way through my system. I vaguely heard the engine start 
and felt the vibrations beneath me as the car began to move. 

I felt him wrap rope around my wrists. I tried to fight him, 
but I found I could barely move. The last thing I was aware of 
before I slipped into unconsciousness was the feel of a 
blindfold being drawn across my eyes.

********
MULDER

"I don't understand," Lauren said, pacing the floor of the 
safehouse living room. "Why wouldn't he tell us about this?"

I sighed. "We thought it was best for the safety of all four 
of you if you were kept in the dark. Vaughn was protecting 
you."

Lauren had been the most talkative of the three women ever 
since she had recognized me as "Will" in the car. Nadia was 
sitting in a chair, staring at Lauren and me in turn, looking 
shellshocked. Sydney sat on the couch, staring out the window, 
her hand resting on her still flat abdomen.

I could tell Lauren was growing increasingly frustrated. "How 
long has this been going on?"

"Vaughn's only known the full story for about a month. He 
agreed to help us catch Sloane three weeks ago."

Sydney's eyes drifted from the window to me. "He did it 
because he found out I was pregnant," she said flatly.

"That's part of it," I admitted. "He wanted to make sure you 
and the baby were taken care of. He made it a condition of his 
agreement to help us."

Sydney shook her head. "That wasn't his decision to make."

"I know, but you have to understand. He *couldn't* talk to you 
about this. He was already putting himself in danger by 
agreeing to help the FBI take down the Alliance. He couldn't 
endanger you too."

Lauren flopped on the couch next to Sydney and dropped her 
head in her hands with a soft groan. "How much danger is he 
in?"

"I assume you know about his former lover - Danny." Lauren and 
Sydney's eyes both flashed with recognition. "Danny found out 
the truth about Sloane and the Alliance. He went to the 
police...Danny wasn't murdered by some random serial killer. 
Sloane hired a hit man to kill him before he exposed the 
Alliance."

Sydney gasped softly and Lauren's eyes widened.

"Vaughn knew the dangers he was exposing himself to. He was 
afraid that any suspicion of him would lead back to you. 
That's why he made me promise that no matter what happened I 
would get you girls out of there and keep you safe from the 
Alliance."

Nadia laughed quietly. "He barely knows me. Why would he go 
through so much trouble to get me involved?"

"You were already involved. We had reason to suspect that 
Sloane was keeping you as a slave. We knew nothing about you - 
we weren't sure you even spoke English. We figured Sloane was 
holding you against your will and you had no way to get 
yourself out."

She blinked at me, realization seeming to dawn in her eyes. 

Sydney spun to face me, her eyes flashing. "So all this time 
you were just playing him."

"No," I replied quickly. "No, I fell in love with him." I 
collapsed in a chair nearest Lauren. "I let my feelings for 
him cloud my judgment. I came really close to pulling him from 
the assignment altogether before we had everything we needed."

The silence that followed my declaration was broken by the 
shrill sound of the phone ringing. My heart skipped a beat, 
adrenaline pumping through my body. Only the FBI had the 
number for the safehouse. If somebody was calling, that could 
only mean one thing. Something had gone wrong. We'd been 
compromised.

I raced to the phone and picked it up with a shaking hand. 
"Hello?"

"Mulder, it's John Doggett," my partner's gruff voice 
responded. 

I closed my eyes in relief. Doggett. I had forgotten he would 
know the number. "Is Vaughn with you?"

"No. He wasn't at the pick-up. I think he may have been 
compromised."

My heart began pounding again. "Are you sure?"

"No, but I saw a suspicious looking car drive off. There were 
two people inside. I didn't get the license plate. We're 
workin' on re-routing the numbers on his cell so whoever has 
him doesn't know who he's workin' for. We'll try to set up a 
trace if he calls, but..."

At that moment, my cell phone began to ring. I stared at it, 
sitting on the coffee table, almost afraid to answer it. 
"There's a call coming in on my cell right now. Can you trace 
it?"

"Hang on a second." I heard Doggett talking to somebody in the 
background. I waited impatiently, listening to the phone ring, 
anxious to pick it up in case it was Vaughn and he needed 
help. "Okay, go."

I put down the receiver and raced to pick up my cell. "Hello," 
I answered hopefully.

"Who am I speaking to," a man with a soft British accent 
asked.

"You called me. I think I'm the one who should be asking 
that."

He hummed thoughtfully. "My name is Mr. Sark. Can I assume 
that this is the infamous Will Kuipers?"

"Yes," I coughed out.

He chuckled. "Ah, good. I have some questions you might be 
able to answer regarding a Michael Vaughn. I believe you know 
him?"

I heard a muffled groan in the background. "What have you done 
with him you son of a bitch," I growled. All three women 
looked up at me in alarm.

Sark tsked. "Now, Will, what makes you think I've done 
anything to harm him?"

"He told me about you. You're the guy who left more bruises 
and welts on him than a dominatrix."

He chuckled. "Ah, yes. Well, in my defense, Mr. Vaughn has 
always participated willingly. Present circumstances 
notwithstanding."

"Let me talk to him. Then you can ask your questions."

Sydney sat up straighter, her eyes flashing with equal parts 
concern and outrage. Lauren looked worried and ill. Nadia 
looked like she was still struggling to process everything 
that was happening.

Sark sighed. "Very well." 

There was a scuffle, some murmuring and a whimper before the 
line was filled with Vaughn's heavy breathing. "Will," he 
asked weakly. 

"Vaughn! Are you okay?" I winced inwardly at the stupidity of 
the question. He had been kidnapped by a sadistic stalker. 
Okay had just become a relative term.

"Don't believe a word he says," Vaughn slurred.

There was a sudden flurry of movement and I heard Vaughn cry 
out somewhere in the background. 

"Sark, you son of a bitch," I shouted. "Leave him alone!"

"Now that you know he's alive, I would like to know who your 
employers are," Sark said calmly.

"Who I work for is none of your damned business."

"I beg to differ. You see, my employers have become concerned 
about Mr. Vaughn's behavior ever since you started acquiring 
his services. They suspect he has become a liability."

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," I spit. 
"But I swear to God, if you hurt him I will make sure you 
regret it for the rest of your life."

There was a clattering noise, as if the phone had been dropped 
suddenly, and then the line went dead.

I ran back to the landline. "Did you get anything?"

"Yeah," Doggett said, his tone suggesting it was anything but 
good news. "It looks like he called from the side of the road. 
We can send some guys to check it out but chances are he's 
already gone and we don't know where he's headed."

I clutched the phone so tightly that my knuckles turned white. 
"It was Sark. He was the Alliance spy. How could we not have 
seen it?"

"I know, Mulder," Doggett said gently. "We're workin' on it. 
We'll get him back."

I hung up and returned to the girls, all of whom were now 
alert and anxious looking. "You guys can't go back to the 
Dauphine building." 

Sydney leapt out of her seat. "What's going on," she demanded. 
"What does that twisted fucker want with Vaughn?"

"He works for the Alliance," I said dejectedly. "They suspect 
Vaughn's been talking to somebody and they're trying to figure 
out who."

Lauren's face grew paler by the second. "Will they kill him," 
she asked fearfully.

"Not yet. They probably want to know how much he knows and who 
he may have talked to first. Right now they're on damage 
control." I swallowed hard. "But once they have that 
information...chances are they'll probably kill him, yes."

Lauren ran past me into the bathroom and the sound of her 
vomiting drifted out seconds later. I put my arm around 
Sydney's shoulders. "We won't let them get that far," I vowed.

She nodded and leaned against me, dazed. Nadia stood and went 
after Lauren, most likely to comfort her judging by the hushed 
voices and hiccuping sobs that continued to drift from the 
bathroom.

Sydney pulled away from me after a few seconds. "What can we 
do," she asked determinedly. 

I leaped at the opportunity to talk to her in private and 
guided her to the kitchen. "Sydney, you should talk to your 
father."

She faltered. "What?"

"Vaughn told me you haven't talked to him in a long time, 
but..."

"My relationship with my father is none of your business."

"I know that," I said hurriedly. "But I talked to him and he 
agreed..."

"Wait, you talked to my father," Sydney interrupted, disbelief 
radiating from her face. 

"Sydney, your father is not the person you think he is..."

"I know exactly who my father is. He's an emotionally distant 
man who coped with his wife's death by throwing himself into 
his work as if selling airplane parts was more important than 
being there for his only daughter when she needed him most."

"Your father doesn't sell airplane parts, Sydney," I explained 
carefully. "He never did. He works for the government."

She stared at me, shock and disbelief warring for prominence 
on her face. "What?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this. You should hear it from 
him."

The truth was that Jack Bristow was a CIA agent. Officially, 
his wife was killed in a car accident when Sydney was little. 
Unofficially, her death was the result of a failed attempt to 
assassinate her husband. Rumor had it Jack had spent months - 
possibly years - hunting down her killer. He had succeeded, 
but his obsession with the task had driven a wedge between him 
and Sydney. He had known all along about Sloane's involvement 
with the Alliance and had tried on several occasions to get 
Sydney to quit without giving her too many details. 
Unfortunately, his sudden involvement in her life only made 
things worse. He finally gave up trying to get through to her, 
knowing she would be safer if the Alliance believed she had 
severed ties with her father as they no doubt viewed him as a 
threat to their organization.

"But," she sputtered.

"He couldn't tell you. He didn't want to put you at any more 
risk than you already were."

She collapsed into one of the kitchen stools heavily and 
stared into the distance in shock.

"I know it's a lot to take in, but..."

"My mother," she interrupted. "He told me she died in a car 
accident. Was that another lie?"

"No. She died in a car crash. It just wasn't an accident. It 
was a mistake. The crash was meant to kill your father."

Sydney covered her mouth with one hand, blinking furiously 
against the tears in her eyes.

"I've already told you more than I should have. You need to 
talk to him. There's a lot of things you need to talk about."

She nodded, dazed and I patted her on the shoulder before 
leaving the kitchen to check on the other girls, giving her 
time to recover.

********
VAUGHN

"Why are you doing this," I asked as Sark strapped my legs 
into a pair of stirrups attached to the bottom of a bed. I had 
no idea where we were, but judging by the toilet in the corner 
of the room and the lengthy chain binding my wrists to the 
metal bed frame I wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

"My employers have become concerned about you," he replied. 
"They believe you may be a liability."

"What the fuck are you talking about," I snapped.

"You confronted a man who had been following you. You made it 
clear that you suspected he was working for me and yet you 
never mentioned it to me directly." He attached two small 
electrodes connected to a nearby machine to the sensitive skin 
just behind my testicles. "At first I thought perhaps you had 
assumed I had gotten the message." He flipped a switch and the 
machine hummed to life. My heart began to pound, my breath 
accelerating. I struggled against my restraints helplessly. 
"But now I suspect you didn't confront me because you knew I 
was not the one who had hired the man to follow you." He 
turned a dial on the machine until a red light began to glow 
and let his hand hover over another switch. "So my question 
is: who are you working for?"

I took a deep breath and steeled myself against whatever was 
to come. I stared at him as bravely as I could, saying 
nothing.

He sighed. "Very well." 

He flipped the switch and the current shot through me, 
spreading fire from the contact point between my legs out. I 
screamed and pulled against my restraints, but I couldn't 
escape the painful stimulation.

As quickly as it had started, the current stopped. I gasped 
and panted, moaning as the pain continued to pulse through me.

"Who are you working for," he asked again calmly.

I set my jaw firmly and closed my eyes, bracing myself for the 
next jolt. My back arched from the bed when it came and I 
shouted at the inhuman pain. I couldn't give in. If I told him 
what he wanted to know I could be risking the lives of all the 
girls in the Dauphine building as well as Mulder, John, Monica 
and everyone they were close to. I didn't know how long I 
could survive Sark's "questioning", but I knew I couldn't let 
him break me.

******
(Hours later)

I mewled as Sark wiped the sweat from my forehead with a cool 
washcloth, his touch almost tender and loving. I was barely 
conscious anymore - hanging on to my sanity by a fragile 
thread. As time had passed he had moved the sensors around and 
added more, attaching them to my abdomen, chest and the 
insides of my thighs, continuing to shock me until I was sure 
I would pass out. But I still stubbornly refused to give in.

"Your body can only take so much of this, Michael," he 
murmured, stroking my face from temple to chin with the 
soothing cloth. "Are you really willing to die over this?"

A couple tears escaped the corners of my eyes. "I can't...I 
don't know anything. I work for Arvin Sloane. Please..."

He sighed deeply and reached for the machine. I whimpered as 
he carefully reattached two of the electrodes to my temples. 
"Very well."

My back arched as fire surged through me again. I didn't even 
have the strength to scream anymore. All that emerged from me 
was a pathetic wail. I felt a sudden wetness between my legs 
and dimly realized that my bladder had released itself.

I lay limp when it was over, my limbs still twitching with 
powerful aftershocks. A second voice pierced my fading 
consciousness. He seemed to be scolding Sark. The face of the 
man who had helped Sark kidnap me floated above me just before 
I slipped into unconsciousness.

********
MULDER
(FBI Office: Los Angeles)
(Two days later)

In the large, bare interrogation room under the harsh glare of 
fluorescent lights, Sloane looked small, old and meek. It was 
hard to imagine this man was responsible for countless crimes, 
including weapons dealing and murder. 

It was nearly twenty four hours since the Alliance had been 
disbanded. The take down had gone surprisingly smoothly, with 
only a few casualties - mostly in the cells on the east coast 
and Chicago. Doggett and I had been part of the team that had 
raided the Dauphine building - taking Sloane into custody. He 
hadn't put up a fight and had been strangely serene ever 
since.

"I should have known Michael was working with you," he said by 
way of greeting, his voice calm and unnerving. "You people 
have all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. A rich loner falling 
in love with a common hustler..."

I slammed the file folder I had been carrying on the table in 
front of him loudly. "We both know Vaughn is anything but a 
common hustler," I sneered. 

He cocked his head at me curiously. "Vaughn," he parroted.

I held back a flinch. "That's the name he asked to be called 
by."

A light seemed to flash in his eyes. "You're Will Kuipers, 
aren't you?"

I didn't respond, but it was answer enough for him.

"You actually think you're in love with him..."

"My relationship with Vaughn is not your concern right now. 
What is your concern is the condition we find him in. Now 
where is he?"

Sloane sat up straight, his face showing a mixture of surprise 
and alarm. "I had assumed you knew where he was."

"Don't play dumb with us, Arvin. We know a member of the 
Alliance is holding him. If you tell us where they are we 
might be willing to make your time here more comfortable." 
More like we wouldn't make it any more uncomfortable than 
usual.

"Mister..." he squinted at my ID tag. "Mulder, I am just one 
member of the Alliance. There are eleven others, none of whom 
are required to clear their actions with me."

"You expect me to believe you have no idea where he is?"

"I am simply telling you what I know. Whether or not you 
believe me is your choice."

I circled the table to stand beside him, resting one hand on 
the table and the other on the back of his chair, leaning well 
into his personal space. "If anything happens to Vaughn, I 
will make sure that you are personally held accountable."

He looked me in the eye unflinchingly. "Mr. Mulder, I can 
assure you that, despite what you may think of me, I would 
never do anything to hurt Mr. Vaughn."

I clenched my jaw. This was the man who had abused Vaughn's 
love and trust for over a decade. Now he was the reason Vaughn 
had been missing for almost two days and was possibly dead or 
dying in a gutter somewhere. 

I punched him before I was even aware I had moved. Doggett's 
voice pierced my rage suddenly, his strong arms wrapping 
around my chest, pulling me from Sloane before I could do any 
more damage. He shoved me toward the door. "Back off," he 
barked.

I ground my teeth. I knew he was right. I wasn't thinking 
clearly. Hurting Sloane would not help Vaughn. 

"You will burn in hell," I snarled before walking out of the 
interrogation room, slamming the door behind me.

*******
VAUGHN

'Please God, somebody help me.'

I cried out as the whip struck my exposed skin. For hours Sark 
and the other man Sark had called Noah had alternated between 
beating and electrocuting me. Sometimes I was tied to the bed, 
others I was strung up on a strong but leaky pipe in another 
room. Like now. The cold water dripping steadily from the pipe 
kept me alert and, when coupled with the electric baton Sark 
seemed so fond of, increased my pain. I had lost all sense of 
time. I could have been there hours, days or weeks. I had not 
eaten since I had been captured. What little water they gave 
me had been mostly thrown up in the dingy toilet in my room 
during my brief periods of reprieve. I was starving, thirsty 
and cold. My body shook almost constantly from the pain. But I 
still refused to let them break me.

"Please," I begged. "I don't know anything." 

My head snapped to one side as Noah responded by punching me 
in the face. I spat a mouthful of blood onto the cement floor 
and moaned in pain. I hissed as he pulled my head up by my 
hair, forcing me to look into his dark eyes. "Who do you work 
for," he asked almost gently, his words belying his actions.

"I work for Sloane," I whimpered.

He responded by jabbing his fist into my abdomen, forcing a 
yelp from me.

"This isn't working," I dimly heard Sark tell him.

I sagged in my restraints as Noah released his grip. "Do you 
have a better suggestion?"

"Actually, I do," he mussed, moving to stand in front of me, 
following the path of water trailing down my cheek with his 
fingers. "How does the saying go? One can attract more flies 
with honey than with vinegar..."

*******
MULDER
(FBI Safehouse)

"He's lying," Sydney spat. "He has to be."

"You said yourself he may not know about Sark," Nadia reminded 
her gently.

"I think we're going to have to accept the fact that Sloane 
knows nothing about Vaughn's kidnapping or Sark's involvement 
with the Alliance," I said with a sigh, feeling Lauren tense 
beside me. I squeezed her knee reassuringly.

"So where does that leave us," Lauren asked.

I sighed. "How much do any of you know about Sark?"

Sydney made a noise of frustration. "Nothing! We didn't even 
know he was using bondage on Vaughn until you mentioned it."

"Did Vaughn ever mention Sark taking him anyplace other than 
the usual?"

"The only John he really talked about was you," Lauren said 
softly.

I tried to ignore the clenching in my gut. Getting emotional 
right now would not help Vaughn.

"He always drove a black sports car," Sydney tried.

I shook my head. "We'll try to search for it but he's probably 
switched cars by now. Even if he didn't, it's doubtful it 
would be registered under his real name. If Sark is even his 
real name - we're flying blind right now."

"It was a white sedan," Nadia said. We all stared at her in 
surprise. "After we got in your car, I saw Michael get into a 
white sedan. Maybe that was the car he was driving."

I sat up a little straighter. That was the same car Doggett 
had described seeing leaving the area. "Did you see the 
license plate?"

"I don't remember...I think the letters were BGR, but I can't 
remember the numbers..."

I had my cell phone out before she was finished talking. 
"That's good enough. We'll run a search - see if we come up 
with anything." I stood to move into the kitchen so I could 
make the call and gave Nadia's shoulder a squeeze as I passed. 
"Thank you."

********
VAUGHN

The irony of the situation was not lost on me - the fact that 
Sark was using sex to try to get information from me. He had 
sent Noah from the room long ago, after he had helped Sark 
inject me with something that I now suspected had been an 
aphrodisiac.

I moaned as he manipulated the vibrator inside me, sending 
sparks of pleasure through me, eclipsing the pain. 

He flipped it off suddenly and stilled his hand. "Who are you 
working for?"

I smiled through my drugged haze and underlying pain. "You 
really think you can use sex to break me? I've been a hustler 
since you were wearing braces."

He smirked back. "Ah, but that's where the drug I injected you 
with becomes important." He stroked my hair with the hand not 
holding the vibrator. "A special cocktail of aphrodisiac and 
sodium pentathol...more commonly known as truth serum."

I faltered. His smile widened and he flipped the vibrator back 
on. 

"This is not my choice, you know," he said as he moved the 
vibrator back and forth, searching for my prostate. "Just give 
me the information I need and I'll let you walk out of here."

"Your employers would never allow that," I gasped, fighting 
the pleasure curling in my abdomen.

He paused and cocked his head thoughtfully. "What makes you 
say that?"

I wasn't quite drugged enough to fall for the bait. "Anyone 
who would hire somebody to kidnap and torture someone for 
information wouldn't let that person just walk away." 
Francie's words from several days ago popped into my mind. 
"Anyone who watches television knows that. I've seen your 
face, so I can't be allowed to live, right?"

His smirk returned. "You can't believe everything you see on 
television," he said.

The room was beginning to blur. I could feel my control slowly 
seep away from me. My skin became sensitive to the slightest 
touch and I panted and moaned as the vibrator brushed my 
prostate, sending bolts of pure fire ricocheting through my 
body.

"Who do you work for," I dimly heard Sark ask. 

"I work for Sloane," I mumbled, stubbornly clinging to my last 
remaining thread of lucidity. I couldn't let them win. 

I whimpered as Sark jabbed the vibrator inside me, striking my 
prostate brutally. My body jerked and trembled. 'I work for 
Sloane. I work for Sloane,' I chanted silently.

He stopped the vibrator again, cutting off the maddening 
stimulation. "Who do you work for?"

"Sloane," I repeated, struggling through the fog that seemed 
to be closing in around me. "I work for...Sloane..."

I writhed and moaned as he continued to stimulate my drug-
sensitized body. After several long, agonizing minutes during 
which I fought the effects of the drug and the pleasure 
threatening to overcome my sanity, I came with a wail and 
promptly passed out.

******

I awoke to the feel of gentle fingers rubbing my wrists, 
carefully pulling the cuffs aside to tend to the chaffed skin 
underneath.  I dimly realized that I was only bound to the bed 
by one wrist. Whether that was because they believed I was too 
weak to fight them or they were trying to lull me into a false 
sense of security I didn't know, but I knew I could use it to 
my advantage. I opened my eyes slowly and laboriously to find 
Noah hovering over me.

"'m not dead," I mumbled.

He snorted. "No, Michael, you're not dead."

I smiled inwardly at the frustration in his voice. Obviously I 
hadn't told them anything either.

"You've held on longer than we expected," he admitted. 
"Although I don't suppose I should be surprised after you 
spent the majority of your life on the streets. But you can't 
hold out forever." He gently tended to a long gash in my side 
that I had gotten from a particularly violent strike of the 
whip and prodded at the bruise forming on my abdomen. "Think 
about the people you would leave behind if you died. Your 
mother, Sydney, Lauren...don't make the same mistake Danny 
did."

"Don't you fucking talk about him you son of a bitch," I 
snarled.

"His last thought was of you, you know," Noah continued as if 
I hadn't spoken. "He couldn't really speak - he was choking on 
his own blood - but he mouthed one word...'Michael'."

I stared at him in stunned silence. He had to be bluffing. But 
from the look on his face...no... The only way he could 
possibly know something like that was if...

I surged upward, screaming in outrage, swinging my arms at him 
blindly, the bound one straining against the chain. He shoved 
me back down and immobilized me with frightening ease. Days of 
torture had obviously robbed me of my strength.

"You killed him," I screamed, struggling against his hold, 
white hot anger blurring my vision.

Noah held me down, suffering only a few bruises and scrapes as 
I wore myself out trying to fight him. "It wasn't my choice," 
he said softly when my screams died down. "My employers pay me 
to take care of people they want eliminated. They don't give 
me the details and I don't ask. I just do what they tell me to 
do."

I sobbed angrily. "You killed him, you son of a bitch! You 
killed Danny..."

"I know, Michael," he said softly. "It wasn't my choice and 
I'm sorry. But you have a choice. You can tell us what you 
know and walk away now. Don't make your loved ones go through 
the same pain you did."

I went limp in his hold, taking deep breaths in an effort to 
calm myself. It wouldn't do me any good to waste my energy 
now. "You killed the man I loved. I'm not telling you 
anything."

Noah sighed and let go of me. I lay still, too tired and 
defeated to attempt anything. 

His fist slammed into my abdomen, right over the already 
forming bruise. I groaned in pain and curled onto my side, 
gasping for breath, listening to his retreating footsteps as 
he walked away. The door slammed behind him, followed by the 
metallic sound of the tumblers rattling in the lock, trapping 
me in the small room that had become my prison.

********
MULDER

I crouched behind a dumpster, watching the entrance to the 
warehouse anxiously, forcing myself to take deep breaths and 
focus. Nadia's description of the vehicle Sark had used to 
kidnap Vaughn had paid off. Within twenty-four hours we had 
managed to track the vehicle to an abandoned warehouse just 
outside of Los Angeles. I felt Doggett crouch behind me and 
heard him adjust his kevlar vest and recheck the ammo in his 
Smith and Wesson. We were going to check out the building 
alone. From the lack of any other vehicle or movement around 
the building I doubted we would need to call for backup. I 
just hoped we weren't too late.

I rechecked my own weapon and snapped off the safety, deftly 
sliding a round into the chamber. "You ready," I whispered.

"Yeah," he replied, arming his weapon. "Go slow," he reminded 
me. "Watch for trip wires or detonators."

I nodded. "Let's go."

I crept up to the building and pressed myself to the wall on 
one side of the door, Doggett pressing himself to the other 
side. He made a few hand signals to indicate that I should go 
in first and he would cover me. I nodded and he mouthed a 
countdown. 'One...two...'. 

On three I kicked in the door and stepped inside, sweeping the 
room with my Smith and Wesson. The large room was empty and 
there was no sign of any explosive device. I moved across the 
open space to another door in a cautious half crouch and 
waited until Doggett was beside me. I kicked open the door and 
he slipped inside, gun held out in front of him. He did a 
quick sweep of the room and gave me the all clear signal 
before we hurried to another room.

After two more rooms turned up empty, my hopes began to 
deflate. There was no one here. We had followed a lead to a 
dead end.

I kicked in the last door and burst through, sweeping the room 
as I had all the others. But this time, I froze in mid-sweep, 
my breath catching in my throat. 

I had known it would be bad, but seeing the condition Vaughn 
had been left in made me physically ill. Vaughn was curled on 
a ratty mattress, his bare skin covered in bruises, welts, 
burn marks, blood and various other fluids I didn't want to 
think about. He was anchored to the bedframe by a chain on his 
wrist that allowed just enough play for him to reach the 
small, dank toilet in the corner. 

Doggett swore under his breath and I vaguely heard him radio 
for an ambulance as he began checking the area around the bed 
for explosives. I hurried to Vaughn's side, holstering my 
weapon and calling his name softly, hoping we weren't too 
late. 'He's too still,' I thought frantically. I squatted 
beside him and tentatively brushed his arm with shaking 
fingers. "Vaughn..."

He came alert instantly and thrashed, fighting to get away 
from me.

"Vaughn! It's just me, baby, calm down."

His movements slowed and he squinted up at me with 
considerable effort. "Mulder?"

I winced at the dry, raspy quality to his voice. He must have 
screamed himself hoarse. "Yeah, honey, it's me." I pulled off 
my FBI jacket and spread it over his shivering body. "I need a 
lock pick," I called to Doggett, who was just finishing his 
search of the room. 

"Mulder," he said softly. I looked down to see him pull 
something from beneath the foot of the bed. It looked like a 
leg brace a gynecologist would use, except it had straps to 
hold the "patient's" leg immobile. It was attached to the bed. 

My eyes met Doggett's, my expression no doubt reflecting the 
horror and dismay I could see in his. "Lock pick," I repeated. 

He nodded and ran out of the room, back outside to the car. I 
refocused my attention on Vaughn. "The ambulance will be here 
soon," I said quietly. "We'll get you to a hospital."

"Is it over," he asked, barely audible.

I smiled reassuringly. "Yeah. It's over. We got 'em. The girls 
are safe. They're worried about you."

"Syd..."

"The baby's fine. It took some doing, but I convinced Sydney 
to let us help her. She wanted me to tell you that her dad 
says hello."

He smiled in spite of his obvious pain. "She talked to him?"

I smiled back. "Yeah."

He nodded slightly and winced.

Doggett returned with the lock pick and freed Vaughn in 
seconds. I winced along with him as the blood flowed freely 
through the neglected limb. 

"Can you roll on your back," I asked gently.

I helped him slowly roll over. He groaned in pain when he was 
only halfway there and curled into a partial fetal position. I 
lifted the edge of my jacket and saw, for the first time since 
I arrived, the dark bruise that almost completely covered his 
abdomen. My heart sank. 'Internal bleeding'.

"How far away is that ambulance," I asked, forcing my voice to 
remain calm so I didn't alarm Vaughn.

Doggett looked over my shoulder at the discoloration, his lips 
set in a grim line. "I'll check."

"Ask them if we would be better off bringing him to the 
hospital ourselves."

He nodded and stepped out of the room to make the call so 
Vaughn wouldn't hear.

I held Vaughn's hand and stroked his hair, wishing I could do 
more to comfort him as his face continued to contort with 
pain. 

"Water," he rasped.

"I'm sorry, baby, I can't let you drink anything. You're 
probably gonna need surgery soon."

"How bad," he asked weakly.

I kissed his forehead gently. "You'll be fine. You just have 
to keep fighting. Don't worry about anything else right now."

"Stay with me," he asked, his voice small and almost child-
like.

I squeezed his hand as tightly as I dared. "I'm not going 
anywhere," I promised.

"Ambulance is still twenty minutes away," Doggett announced, 
returning to the room. "We'll take the car." He threw his own 
jacket over Vaughn's lower body and handed me the car keys. 
"I'll take 'im. You get the doors."

I didn't argue with him. I knew Doggett was stronger than me. 
I stood aside and watched him put Vaughn's arms around his 
neck and pick him up carefully, my gut wrenching at Vaughn's 
tiny whimper of pain.

We quickly made our way out to the car and I opened the door 
and slid into the back seat, helping Doggett carefully lay 
Vaughn across the cushions with his upper body pillowed in my 
lap. I tossed the keys to him and he slammed the door. I 
hurried to soothe Vaughn as he winced at the sudden movement. 
Doggett climbed in the driver's seat and started up the 
engine, slapping the portable siren onto the roof and pulling 
away from the warehouse quickly.

I realized suddenly how much the present situation mirrored 
the rape a year ago he had told me about back when he thought 
of me as "Will". I cradled him to my chest and began babbling, 
talking to him about anything and everything - a stream of 
meaningless nonsense - hoping to keep him from regressing to 
that moment in time. I held his hand, squeezing it every time 
a small, unexpected movement of the car caused him to flinch 
and squirm against the pain. He curled into me, his head 
pressed against my shoulder, his pained breaths brushing my 
neck.

"I didn't tell them anything," he mumbled.

I stroked his hair back and pulled him closer to my body, 
trying in vain to quell his shivering. "Them," I repeated 
softly. "There was somebody besides Sark?"

"...man named Noah," he said, his teeth beginning to chatter. 
"He killed Danny."

I wrapped the thin jackets tighter around his shivering body. 
"We didn't find either of them, but we'll keep looking," I 
vowed. 

He nodded and buried his face against my neck with a soft 
moan. I stroked his hair and swallowed a scream of frustration 
and anger. I should have taken him with me to the safehouse. I 
should have known the Alliance would catch on to him. I should 
never have put him in so much danger. 

We arrived at the hospital in a relatively short amount of 
time. Doggett ran around to the back door and opened it, 
reaching in to lift Vaughn out of the car. I waved him off. 

"I've got him."

Vaughn whimpered softly in my ear as I slipped out of the car, 
lifting him into my arms carefully. I swallowed another cry as 
I discovered just how much weight Vaughn had lost in the days 
he had been held captive. He wasn't nearly as heavy as I 
imagined he should have been.

"It's okay, I've got you," I whispered in his ear. He clung to 
me weakly and I carried him through the automatic doors into 
the hospital. The two women behind the desk at the entrance 
took one look at Vaughn's state and rushed to call for a 
nurse. Within seconds, Vaughn was transferred to a gurney and 
I had to run along with a group of nurses as they wheeled him 
down a long hallway, answering their rapid-fire questions as 
best as I could.

"Sir, you're going to have to stay out here," one of them said 
as we came to a door marked "hospital staff only". 

I leaned over the gurney as they paused outside the door, 
tuning out the bustling and medical chatter of the nurses 
surrounding us. "I'll be right out here waiting for you," I 
promised. 

He nodded and squeezed my hand, a tear of pain escaping the 
corner of his eye and disappearing into his hair. I kissed his 
hand and reluctantly let go, watching as the gurney was pushed 
through a set of swinging doors, disappearing around a corner.

********

It took Doggett hours to get me to settle into one of the 
hospital waiting room chairs. I had no sooner sat down than 
Reyes arrived with Sydney, Lauren and Nadia.

"Is he okay," were the first words out of Sydney's mouth.

"He's in surgery right now," Doggett said calmly. "We'll know 
more when he's out."

Sydney looked at me questioningly, as if searching for a more 
satisfying answer.

"He was tortured," I said numbly.

"Oh, god," Lauren gasped, sinking into the chair beside me.

"Did you catch Sark," Nadia asked, perching in the chair 
opposite me.

I shook my head. "He was gone when we got there. So was the 
man who was with him...Vaughn said his name is Noah. He told 
Vaughn he was the one who killed Danny."

Sydney's posture stiffened. She opened her mouth to say 
something - likely to demand that we catch the son of a bitch 
- but was interrupted when a man in a white lab coat 
approached us. 

"Are you here with Michael Vaughn," he asked. 

I sprang from my seat. "Yes. I'm Fox Mulder, FBI." I reached 
to shake his hand and he accepted.

"I'm Doctor Jain. Mr. Vaughn's surgery went well. He's in 
recovery right now."

"Is he okay," Sydney asked.

"There's always a chance of complications, but right now I 
don't see a reason for him to not make a full recovery."

I felt all three girls breathe a sigh of relief.

"However, that's just his internal injuries. I am told Mr. 
Vaughn was held captive for several days," he continued.

"Nearly a week," I confirmed. 

He nodded. "That would explain the advanced state of 
dehydration and malnutrition. He has multiple leisions and 
electrical burns on his body. Almost all of them are 
superficial, but the signs of prolonged torture have me 
concerned about his state of mind. He also appears to have 
been sodomized..."

I flinched. "Yeah, we suspected as much."

"We've performed a rape kit already. How much do you know 
about Mr. Vaughn's recent sexual history?"

I flinched again, inwardly. "He's...he *was* a prostitute."

"He's always very careful about protection," Sydney jumped in. 
"Except..." She pressed her hand to her abdomen. "I'm having 
his child."

If the evidence of Vaughn's promiscuity shocked Dr. Jain, he 
didn't show it. "We'll screen him for STDs. I'd like to run 
some tests on you as well, if that's all right."

"Whatever you think is necessary," I cut in. "And the FBI will 
need a sample from the rape kit for DNA."

He nodded. "Of course."

I watched him walk away for a moment, then turned on my heel, 
brushing aside Reyes' "are you all right?" and heading 
straight for the bathroom.

I slammed into the first stall I came to and promptly threw 
up. My mind wouldn't stop replaying the image of Vaughn as we 
had found him in the warehouse - cold, weak, bleeding, in 
pain...scared and starved half to death. What if we hadn't 
gotten to him when we did? What if we'd been too late?

I took several deep breaths and steadied myself before 
flushing and moving to wash my hands. I heard the bathroom 
door squeak open behind me and wiped away the tear that had 
worked it's way slowly down my cheek. 

"You really do love him, don't you?"

I looked up, startled. Sydney stood in the doorway, her arms 
wrapped around herself as if to ward away a chill. "You 
shouldn't be here."

"I've been in plenty of men's rooms," she shrugged. "You 
didn't answer my question."

I hesitated only a moment. "Yes."

She smiled and crossed the short distance to wrap her arms 
around me. "Good," she said simply.

*******
VAUGHN

"You scream and we'll put a bullet in your head, bitch," the 
man sneered as his buddy shoved his pants to his knees and 
plunged inside me.

I clenched my jaw, barely muffling a scream at the brutal 
invasion. After eleven years as a hustler it seemed strange 
that sex could still be painful for me, but the feel of the 
gun barrel pressing against my temple made relaxing my muscles 
to accept the thick cock impossible. Even though they had 
spent a while beating me into submission, they still held me 
down, just in case the gun wasn't enough to convince me to 
stay still.

"Please," I begged, my voice small and quivering with fear. 
"Don't..." I felt tears forming in my eyes - both at the pain 
and the humiliation. 

One of the thugs holding me down let go long enough to punch 
me in the face. "Shut up," he growled.

I sobbed and whimpered as the guy fucking me finished with a 
grunt and pulled out abruptly. I was sure they would kill me 
once they were finished with me no matter what I did. I 
struggled as they rotated positions so one of the guys holding 
me down could get a turn raping me and earned a punch in the 
gut for my efforts.

I cried out as the second man thrust inside my already abused 
channel and felt the barrel of the gun press harder to my 
temple, painfully bruising the skin.

"Who do you work for?"

I looked up through the pain and tears to see Sark hovering 
over me. He snapped his hips, driving his cock deeper into me 
and I yelped. "Who do you work for," he repeated.

"I work for Sloane," I cried. "Please..."

"Don't make the same mistake Danny did," Noah hissed, pressing 
the gun even harder against my temple. "I can kill you just as 
easily as I killed him."

"Please," I sobbed, tears squeezing out from the corners of my 
eyes. "I don't know anything. Please. Stop hurting me."

"You betrayed my trust, Vaughn," another voice said. I turned 
my head to see Sloane holding me down. "I took you off the 
streets. I gave you a place to live and money to put food on 
the table and this is how you repay me?"

"I'm sorry," I sobbed.

I closed my eyes and opened them to find myself alone in the 
alley, my clothes torn, half hanging on my thin frame. I felt 
bruised and battered. Every time I moved even slightly, pain 
shot through my body, most of it radiating from between my 
legs. I knew I had to be torn badly. I could feel blood 
trickling down my thighs and it felt like I might be bleeding 
internally too.

I rolled over with great effort and cried out at the 
debilitating pain. No, I couldn't die here. Not like this. 

I forced myself to my hands and knees and crawled slowly, 
pulling myself in the direction of the phone booth that seemed 
to appear suddenly in front of me. But the more I crawled the 
further away it was. 

'No,' I thought frantically. 'Sydney...the baby...I have to 
keep them safe. Sark will go after them...'

Mulder appeared in front of me suddenly, blocking my path to 
the phone booth. "I never loved you," he sneered. "You were 
just a means to an end."

I coughed painfully, spraying a fine mist of blood onto the 
sidewalk, feeling more of it run down my chin. "Please... 
Will...help me..."

He laughed. "I can't believe you actually thought I would 
ever see something in a whore like you...wake up, Vaughn."

I collapsed onto the sidewalk, helpless, crying out as my 
already bruised body was jarred painfully. I was really going 
to die here... "Please," I begged softly.

"Wake up," Mulder said again, his voice louder, more frantic. 
"Come on, baby, wake up."

I blinked slowly and the sidewalk, the street and the elusive 
phone booth disappeared, replaced by a dimly lit hospital 
room. Mulder hovered over me, his hands gripping my shoulders, 
holding me down gently but firmly. 

"It's okay, Vaughn. It was just a nightmare," he said 
worriedly.

I lay still for several moments, trying to catch my breath. A 
nightmare. Of course. 

Mulder stroked my hair and muttered a string of soothing 
nonsense as the nightmare gradually loosened it's hold on me, 
my breathing slowly evening out. He disappeared for a moment 
and returned with a cool washcloth, which he ran over my face 
and neck. I watched in wary amazement.

"How do you feel," he asked softly. "Are you in pain?"

The suggestion alone seemed to make me aware of a dull 
throbbing in my stomach. "A little," I admitted, wincing at 
the scratchy quality of my voice. "Water," I rasped.

He winced. "Okay, I'll see if I can get you some."

He disappeared and I stared after him for several long 
minutes. Part of me was surprised that he was still there. I 
had half expected him to ditch me the second the Alliance was 
destroyed - no longer having a reason to stick around. But the 
more cynical part of me wondered if he was staying only 
because I was in no condition to fend for myself. He still saw 
me as a fallen man for him to save. Once he realized it was 
hopeless, he would leave and I would end up right back on the 
street. Only this time I wouldn't have the girls with me...or 
Sloane. That thought scared me. In spite of everything Sloane 
had done, he had always been kind to me. He treated me like 
family. I knew not everyone was that lucky.

Mulder returned, styrofoam cup in hand and a nurse in tow. He 
stood back while she checked the monitors and listened to my 
chest with a stethoscope. 

"I'm going to check your stitches, okay," she said softly 
before carefully peeling back the hospital sheets and gown. I 
flinched, unable to hold back a tiny whimper as she gently 
prodded at my sore abdomen. She apologized but kept on 
prodding.

I let my eyes wander the room, trying to distract myself from 
the discomfort and caught Mulder staring at me with an 
expression that seemed to be a combination of sympathy, pride 
and love. I looked away quickly. I no longer doubted his claim 
that he loved me. But I doubted his ability to distinguish 
love from lust and pity. I had allowed myself to fall for it 
for a while but I couldn't take it any longer.

The nurse adjusted my pain medication and left with 
instructions for me to let her know if I needed anything.

"Here," Mulder said softly, holding a spoonful of ice chips 
out for me. I let him feed me the ice reluctantly. Eventually, 
I knew, I would have to push him away. But for now, I was too 
weak to protest.

The painkillers kicked in quickly and I drifted to sleep with 
the feel of Mulder combing his fingers gently through my hair. 

**********

I woke to find Mulder gone and Lauren sitting in the chair 
beside my bed.

"Hey," I greeted, my voice still weak.

She leaped up and carefully threw her arms around my 
shoulders, hugging me with restrained strength. "Don't ever do 
that again."

I hugged her back as best I could, wincing as my aching body 
protested the movement. "I'm sorry. I couldn't tell you guys. 
They would have killed me..."

She pulled back with a tiny sniffle. "I know. Will...Agent 
Mulder told us everything."

"How are Sydney and Nadia?"

She smiled and shook her head. "They're fine. Sydney talked to 
Jack."

"I know. Mulder told me."

"I'm not sure what changed, but she seems to have forgiven 
him."

It felt like a giant weight had lifted off my shoulders. 
Sydney was talking to her father again. I knew he was more 
than capable of helping her get back on her feet.

"How do you feel," Lauren asked worriedly.

"Like I was hit by a truck."

She winced and stroked my hair.

"Where is Mulder," I asked after several long moments of 
silence.

"He just left," she said simply.

I closed my eyes. I had known he would ditch me eventually, I 
just didn't expect it to happen quite so fast. Having my 
suspicions confirmed so easily was more painful than I cared 
to admit.

"Vaughn," Lauren said worriedly, gripping my hand tightly. 
"Are you all right? Should I get the nurse?"

I shook my head and squeezed her hand. "No," I rasped, giving 
her a small smile. "I'm fine. Where's Sydney?"

"She went with Agent Mulder."

I stared at her in shock. "What?"

Lauren blinked at me, confused. "Sydney, Nadia and Agent 
Mulder just left to get some food and coffee. The instant 
coffee they have in this hospital is terrible. Why?"

I sagged back against the pillows and told myself the relief I 
felt had more to do with Sydney than Mulder. "Nothing."

I could tell she didn't believe me. She wasn't stupid - even 
though she sometimes played the dumb blonde with her Johns. 
But for now she was willing to let it go. "You should try to 
get some rest," she said, stroking my hair. 

I closed my eyes and let her lull me back into a restless 
sleep.

********

I moaned into Mulder's mouth as he rocked his hips against 
mine. We were both still clothed, but I felt like I could come 
from this alone.

I was almost there when he groaned and stilled above me. I lay 
quietly, panting as I waited for him to come back down and 
finish me. Instead he rolled away and stood up, adjusting his 
clothing.

"That was great, baby."

"But," I sputtered. "You're just going to leave me like this?" 

He stilled and stared at me in confusion. "That was the plan, 
wasn't it?" I bit my lip as he reached into his wallet and 
tossed several bills at me. "Here, buy yourself a sandwich. 
You're starting to look sick."

I clutched the money in one hand and leaped from the bed to 
follow him as he headed for the door. 

"Wait!"

I only got a few feet before I was stopped short by a sturdy 
chain wrapped around my wrist, binding me to the bed.

"The key is on the wall," Mulder called over his shoulder. 
"You can free yourself."

I searched the room frantically and located the key dangling 
from a hook on the far wall. I ran to retrieve it but found 
the chain holding me wasn't quite long enough to reach. I 
stretched my arm as far as I possibly could, grunting with the 
effort, but the key remained just beyond my extended fingers, 
the metal glinting merrily in the dim light as if to mock me.

"I can't get it," I called toward the door Mulder had 
disappeared through. "It's too far away!"

There was no response. I realized with horror that he had 
already left. And since the building was abandoned there was 
no telling when anyone would find me.

"Mulder! Please don't leave me here like this," I shouted 
frantically. "Mulder!"

"Vaughn," Mulder's voice called from somewhere beside me. 
"Vaughn, can you hear me?"

I opened my eyes to find Mulder hovering over my head. The 
warehouse had been replaced by stark hospital walls. I moved 
my hands experimentally. No chains. I closed my eyes. It was 
just another dream.

I held back a flinch as Mulder stroked my hair.

"You're still here," I observed, my voice still unsteady and 
dry. 

He smiled. "Of course I am. I told you I wouldn't leave."

I shook my head. "Why?"

He froze, his fingers halfway through my hair. "What do you 
mean?"

"It's over. The Alliance is gone. You don't need me anymore."

He drew his hand back slowly, a wounded look on his face. "You 
still think this was just about taking down the Alliance?"

"I think you're fooling yourself if you still think you're in 
love with me."

"Vaughn..."

"I'm a hustler, Mulder," I interrupted. "I've spent the better 
part of my life getting paid to have sex with anonymous men. 
You might think you love me now, but eventually you'll realize 
that sex is all I'm good for. And when that happens, you'll 
get tired of me because you'll know that outside the bedroom 
I'm nothing but a fucked up whore with more baggage than you 
know what to do with."

He stood in stunned silence for a long time. "Is that what you 
think?"

I shifted painfully on the bed, unnerved by his calm stare, 
but said nothing.

He bent down to kiss me, taking advantage of my surprise to 
shove his tongue past my unresisting lips. He explored every 
inch of my mouth before finally pulling away, allowing me a 
much needed breath of air. He grabbed me by the chin and 
forced my eyes to meet his. "I love you, Vaughn," he said 
firmly. "You were never just a hustler to me and I don't ever 
want to hear you say that fucking is all you are good for 
again. You are smarter than that. I know you are more capable 
than you make yourself out to be."

I snorted softly in disbelief and opened my mouth to say 
something more but he cut me off with two fingers pressed to 
my lips. "I don't care if you're injured," he said. "If you 
say one more word about being a useless whore I will slap 
you."

I quieted reluctantly.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe this relationship won't last long, 
but you know what? I don't care. Because that's the nature of 
relationships regardless of what one does for a living. I know 
it's going to be rocky - at least in the beginning. There will 
probably be many arguments and a lot of frustration, but none 
of that matters because I know we can work through whatever 
problems we may face together. I want to be there for you when 
you start your new life. I want to be there for all of the ups 
and downs. I want you to let me love you."

I sat in stunned silence for a few moments.

"No," I said simply. 

He stared at me for several heartbeats before he slowly drew 
his hand away. "Okay," he said softly. "If that's what you 
want." 

He gave me one last lingering look before walking out the 
door.

I turned my head away from the door and tried to ignore the 
tears pricking my eyes.

*******

I had just drifted off when I was awoken by a sharp jab to my 
arm. I cracked my eyes open and saw Sydney standing over me, 
her arms folded, a pissed off expression on her face.

"What the hell is wrong with you," she demanded.

"What," I asked sleepily.

"You told Mulder to leave?"

"I..."

"Do you have any idea what you're walking away from?" She 
didn't pause to let me answer. "That man would bend over 
backwards to make you happy and you tell him to get lost?"

"He would have come to his senses eventually," I finally cut 
in, coming fully awake.

She went silent for several minutes, staring at me with 
something akin to disbelief. Then she sighed heavily and 
perched on the edge of the bed. "I know in our line of 
business it's hard to not be cynical. All we ever see is the 
bleak, gritty side of relationships. But you can't let it 
blind you to love if it comes along."

I snorted and winced as my injuries protested the gesture. "He 
could never love me."

She huffed, clearly frustrated. "He already does Vaughn. And 
he just spent the last hour practically crying on my shoulder 
because *you* refuse to see it."

I faltered.

"Anybody can see Agent Mulder is head over heels for you. Open 
your eyes and stop being so stubborn."

I played with the edges of the bedsheet nervously. "He's still 
here?"

"Yes, but only because I begged him to give you another 
chance. Apparently he promised you he would leave if you 
wanted him to. I convinced him that you were too drugged and 
in pain to know what you were saying."

My eyes darted around the room. "I can't..."

She grabbed my hand. "It's been ten years, Vaughn. You need to 
let go of the past and move on. Mulder may be the best thing 
that's ever happened to you. I've seen the look in your eye 
whenever 'Will' pulled up. You're falling for him. Stop trying 
to deny it and go with him. If it doesn't work out, fine. At 
least you'll have a new life and a decent job. But if you 
don't go, you'll end up regretting it for the rest of your 
life."

I was silent for several moments, listening to the muffled 
sounds of the busy hospital filtering from the other side of 
the door. "What about you and the baby," I finally asked.

"We're gonna stay here. Dad and I have a lot of catching up to 
do." She smiled. "I won't make you pay child support or 
anything, but I will expect you to visit every once in a 
while."

"I will," I vowed.

Her smile grew wider. "Does that mean you'll talk to him?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, just...not yet."

She gave in reluctantly. "Okay." She bent down to kiss me. 
"I'm going to go get something to eat. You get some rest."

I squeezed her hand. "Okay."

********
(Hours later)

I woke from a dreamless sleep feeling drugged and lethargic. 

'Pain meds,' I thought blearily. I pried my eyes open and saw 
a blurry figure sitting in the corner of the room, watching a 
muted basketball game on the small hospital television. I 
tried to sit up and gasped as a dull pain throbbed in my 
stomach. 

The blurry figure moved and gentle hands pushed me back to the 
bed. 

"Easy," Mulder's voice whispered.

I coughed, my throat feeling uncomfortably dry, and moaned as 
my body throbbed in protest. A second later Mulder was holding 
a styrofoam cup of water under my chin, gently prodding my 
lips with the straw. "Here."

I sucked greedily, the cool liquid soothing my raw throat and 
bringing my blurred vision back into focus. When I finished I 
watched silently as he replaced the cup on the nearby tray. He 
seemed different somehow. Ragged, exhausted...defeated almost. 
I wondered how long it had been since he'd gone home...or 
wherever it was he was staying in Los Angeles.

He helped me raise the bed a little and pulled his chair over 
to sit beside me, his hand resting loosely on mine.

"Sydney talked to me," he began hesitantly. "She made me 
realize that maybe I've been pushing too hard. Maybe it would 
be better if we took things slow."

I shook my head. "I..."

He pressed two fingers to my lips, silencing me. "I know it's 
hard for you to accept, but I really do love you. Please don't 
push me away."

I bit my lip and shifted on the bed, swallowing a whimper at 
the dull pain.

He noticed my distress and pressed a gentle hand to my chest, 
easing my movements. "I know you're scared, but I swear to you 
I meant every word I said. This was never about sex. If you 
never want to have sex again that's a sacrifice I'm more than 
willing to make. I want to take care of you. I want to wake up 
beside you every morning and fall asleep with you in my arms 
every night. But most of all I want to make you happy." He 
paused and took a deep breath. "Will you move to Virginia with 
me?"

I thought about it for a moment. Every instinct in me screamed 
that it would be a huge mistake - that I could only get hurt. 
But deep down I knew Sydney was right. Even if there was a 
good chance Mulder would leave me, if I didn't take the risk I 
would regret it the rest of my life.

"Okay," I said softly.

A slow smile lit up his face. "Okay?"

I nodded nervously.

He grinned and leaned forward to capture my lips in a deep 
kiss. It wasn't so much a kiss of passion as it was a show of 
gratitude. He pulled back and smiled at me. "I love you," he 
said softly.

I opened and closed my mouth hesitantly. Did he expect me to 
say it back?

"You don't have to say anything," he said, almost as if he 
could read my thoughts.

I lay quietly for several long minutes. His fingers traced 
random patterns up and down the inside of my arm, making me 
shiver.

"By the way, I wanted to tell you earlier, but I never got a 
chance," he said. "The doctor tested you for STDs."

I closed my eyes. This was it. This was the part where I found 
out that the only reason he wanted me to stay with him was 
because I had AIDS or something and his Florence Nightingale 
complex wouldn't allow him to leave me to die alone. 

"I wanted to be the one to tell you," he continued. "They all 
came back negative. You're clean."

My eyes shot open and I stared at him in shock. Clean? "There 
must be a mistake..."

"There's no mistake."

"But...how is that possible?"

He shrugged, the smile still plastered to his face. "I don't 
know, but it's true. Aside from the injuries you got in 
captivity you're perfectly healthy."

My mouth opened and closed silently. I felt tears spring to my 
eyes.

Mulder carefully slipped his arms behind my shoulders and held 
me tightly as the tears began to fall. I clung to him as best 
I could, the tears flowing faster, feeling lightheaded. Twelve 
years I had spent letting men fuck me for a profit. I had 
always been careful and used protection and the men who raped 
me had used condoms because they didn't want to catch anything 
from a "dirty whore", but even that didn't account for this. 
Condoms were not infallible. The only way I could have 
survived for so long as a hustler and not gotten any sort of 
infection was by being incredibly lucky.

"It's okay," Mulder murmured in my ear.

"What about the girls," I asked shakily.

Mulder eased me back down to the bed and gently wiped the 
tears from my cheeks. "Sydney was tested. She has a mild 
infection, but the doctor told her it shouldn't affect the 
baby. Lauren and Nadia haven't been tested yet."

I closed my eyes and nodded, taking a deep breath and trying 
to get myself back under control.

"Whenever you're ready, the FBI is going to want a statement. 
I've put it off for as long as possible but my boss is 
starting to lose his patience."

I swallowed heavily. "Okay."

"I can have Agent Reyes do it if you'd be more comfortable..."

I shook my head. "Can John do it?" I didn't know much about 
John Doggett, but I sensed he would be the least likely to 
treat me like a fragile, broken man - something I didn't think 
I could handle at that point.

Mulder quickly covered up his look of surprise but not before 
I saw it. "Of course." He stroked his fingers down my cheek. 
"I'll have him come by tomorrow morning."

I nodded. "Thank you."

He smiled and kissed me softly. "Get some rest. I'll be right 
here."

I smiled back hesitantly. "Yeah. Okay."

*******

I sat in the old rocking chair on the porch of the Martha's 
Vineyard house Mulder had inherited from his mother. Donovan, 
the little bulldog he had bought for me, lay curled at my 
feet, snoring contentedly. I pulled the light blanket tighter 
around my shoulders to ward off the late autumn breeze and 
watched the squirrels frantically scurrying in the yard to 
bury their acorns in preparation for winter. 

It had been seven months since the destruction of the Alliance 
and I was almost fully recovered physically. I was starting to 
feel stir crazy, but I was nervous about having to face the 
world again. My scars were fading and I hadn't had a nightmare 
in over a week, but I knew I was still healing emotionally.

Lauren had moved back to her hometown in Virginia, a couple 
hours away from Mulder and I. Sydney and Nadia had rented an 
apartment together back in Los Angeles, only a few miles away 
from Jack Bristow's apartment building. We all still kept in 
touch, in spite of the distances, but sometimes I missed not 
being able to see them every day.

"Here."

I jumped as Mulder appeared suddenly beside me, holding out a 
steaming mug of cider. I took it from him, wrapping my hands 
around the worn ceramic, feeling the warmth seep into my 
fingers. "Thanks."

He sat on the swing beside me and sipped at his own cup. 
"Sydney called. She wanted you to know she's decided to name 
the baby Isabelle."

I smiled. Isabelle had been my suggestion. "Did you get the 
plane tickets yet?"

He nodded. "Are you sure you want me to go with you?"

"If you don't want to..."

"No," he said quickly. "I'd love to. I just wanted to make 
sure you weren't asking because you were afraid I'd skip town 
while you were away."

I fingered the edge of my cup, feeling the little droplets of 
steam stick to my hand, warming my skin. "No," I said 
nervously. "I just want you there when my daughter is born." 
It sounded stupid when I said it like that but Mulder was fast 
becoming one of the most important people in my life. I felt 
he should be there for something so significant.

He cupped my chin gently and turned my face toward his. "I 
know," he said. "I'm flattered." He kissed me softly, 
lovingly.

I moved closer to him, curling into his side. He wrapped his 
arm around my shoulders and kissed my hair.

"Dr. Barnett called. She wanted to reschedule your appointment 
on Wednesday."

I sighed. Mulder had insisted I see an FBI appointed 
psychologist. Admittedly she was helping, but she and I didn't 
exactly see things the same way - to put it gently.

"I canceled it."

I froze, my cup halfway to my lips. "What?"

He set his mug down on a small folding table and framed my 
face with his hands. "I know you're not happy here. And it's 
not fair of me to ask you to live so far away from your 
daughter..."

I felt my heart begin to pound. Was this it? After all this 
time he was going to just send me away?

"There's a job opening at the FBI office in LA..."

"You..." I swallowed nervously. "You're moving to LA?"

He nodded, a smile spreading slowly across his face. "I was 
hoping you'd come with me."

I felt lightheaded. I set my mug down on the ground and threw 
myself into his arms. "Yes," I whispered. "Yes!"

He laughed and wrapped his arms around me tightly. "I thought 
you might."

I pulled back and kissed him gratefully. He was right. As nice 
as Virginia was, I missed having the girls around me and I 
wanted to be a part of my child's life.

Mulder cupped the back of my neck and deepened the kiss 
briefly, his teeth nipping lightly at my lower lip before 
pulling away. I stared at him as a sudden realization dawned 
on me. We hadn't had sex in months. He was always touching me, 
kissing me and he always held me through my nightmares. More 
often than not I woke up in the morning to find myself 
plastered to him, our limbs entangled with each other. But he 
had never taken it any further. And now he wanted to move to 
Los Angeles with me because it would make me happy. For the 
first time I wondered if I had been wrong about him all 
along...if he truly did love me.

"What's wrong," he asked worriedly.

"Nothing," I said hurriedly. "I just realized...we haven't had 
sex since before the takedown of the Alliance."

He smiled. "The night you gave me the list of Sloane's girls," 
he confirmed. "You were so nervous but determined. I knew then 
that I had made the right choice, recruiting you."

"No...I mean, why?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"We haven't had sex in months. You haven't even seemed 
interested..."

He laughed. "Oh, I'm interested. I just didn't think you were 
ready." He stroked his fingers down my cheek. "You've been 
through so much..."

I realized suddenly that he had been waiting all this time for 
me to make the first move. He still wanted me but he was 
willing to abstain for as long as it took for me to be 
"ready".

"What if I'm ready now?"

His breath caught. "Are you?"

I responded by straddling his lap and kissing him tentatively. 
I pulled back after a moment and nodded. "Yeah. I'm ready."

His hands went to my hips, at once holding me steady and 
holding me back. "I need to be sure you're not doing this 
because you think you have to. After everything that's 
happened I would understand if you never wanted to have sex 
again. If we do this it'll be because you want to - not 
because you feel some sort of obligation."

I kissed him. "I want to."

He smiled and kissed me back. Then, inexplicably, he began to 
laugh.

I frowned. "What?"

He pointed to the ground behind me and I turned to find 
Donovan lapping up the rest of my rapidly cooling cider.

"Donovan," I scolded, sliding off Mulder's lap and reaching to 
snatch the mug.

Mulder stopped me. "Let him. It can't hurt him." He stood up 
and held his hand out to me. "C'mon."

I took his hand and let him pull me up from the bench and lead 
me inside. 

We were barely through the bedroom door when he stopped and 
pulled me into his arms for a passionate kiss. I melted into 
him, humming into his mouth.

"Do you have condoms," I asked as he abandoned my lips to 
begin on my neck, his hands slipping underneath the hem of my 
sweater.

"I thought maybe we could do without them tonight," he 
murmured between wet kisses to the sensitive skin where my 
neck met my shoulder.

I froze.

He sensed my hesitation and began back pedaling immediately. 
"I've got some in the bathroom if you're not comfortable. I 
just thought...since we're both clean...I wanted to feel you." 
He let his hands slide from under my sweater. "I can get 
them..."

"No," I blurted. "It's just that..." I shifted nervously. 
"Nobody's ever fucked me without protection. Not even Danny."

He smiled kindly and kissed my cheek. "We don't have to do it 
if it makes you uncomfortable."

His offer hung in the silence of the room for a good minute 
while my mind waged an internal debate. "No," I finally said 
softly. "I want to feel you too."

His eyes darkened and he captured my lips hungrily, exploring 
every inch of my mouth with his tongue until my knees felt 
weak. He removed my clothes gently until I was standing before 
him in nothing but a pair of boxers. I shivered as the cool 
air raised goosebumps on my bare skin. Mulder maneuvered me 
until I was standing next to the bed and pushed me until I lay 
sprawled on my back in the middle of the king size mattress. 
He followed me down and spread my legs with warm, steady 
hands, kneeling between them and bending to resume his 
exploration of my body, starting with my chest.

I moaned loudly when his lips closed over my left nipple and 
he froze, lifting his head to look into my face. "Vaughn..."

I knew exactly what he was going to say. I had instinctively 
reverted back to my old habits - reacting loudly to the 
slightest touch. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"No, it's okay," he said hurriedly. "I just don't want you to 
pretend with me. You don't have to fake pleasure. You won't 
bruise my ego or anything."

"I know," I whispered. "It just slipped."

He smiled. "It's okay. But from now on I want any noises you 
make during sex to be genuine. If it doesn't feel good, you 
don't have to pretend it does."

I bit my lip and nodded, grunting as he returned his 
attentions to my chest, sucking on my nipples one by one. He 
slowly traveled down my body, awakening nerves I thought had 
gone numb years ago. I relaxed and tried to force myself to 
remember what sex was supposed to be like for somebody who 
didn't have to sell their body for a profit.

I whimpered when he drew his finger over my navel.

He hesitated. "Vaughn?"

"I'm really sensitive there," I explained quickly.

A slow smile spread across his face. "Really?" He dipped his 
finger purposefully in the hollow of skin and I hissed, 
squirming restlessly. "How could I not have noticed that 
before?"

"Most guys don't."

"Yeah, well, I'm not 'most guys'." He ran his finger around 
the rim and dipped inside again.

I bat at his hand. "Stop. It tickles."

He smiled and bent to dip his tongue teasingly in the cavity. 
"How about that," he asked. "Does that tickle?"

I moaned but didn't reply. He repeated the motion and I moaned 
louder, my hips twitching involuntarily.

"Interesting," he murmured. He gave one last lick to my navel 
and mercifully moved on, painting random patterns across my 
abdomen. He skirted around my cock and continued down my 
thighs. "Has anybody rimmed you before," he asked almost 
casually.

I hesitated. "Yeah, but they had a mouthguard."

He brushed his finger over my hole. "Would you let me?"

I squirmed. "Yeah, but..."

"It's okay if you don't want to," he added hurriedly.

"No, I do, it's just...are you sure?"

He smiled. "Roll over," he said simply.

He helped me roll onto my stomach and placed a pillow under my 
hips.

"Relax," he whispered in my ear before kissing his way down my 
back as leisurely as he had my front. I moaned softly when he 
reached the small of my back. "Are you sensitive here too?"

"Yeah," I whispered. "But not as much."

He focused his attention there for what felt like hours anyway 
until I began to squirm. I held my breath when I felt him 
trace once finger down the center of my ass.

"Relax," he repeated as he gently separated the globes. 
"Breathe."

I hissed as he dragged his tongue all the way from my balls to 
the top of my buttocks. Then he focused his attention on the 
clenching opening in the middle, swirling his tongue in 
maddening circles around it but never quite getting near 
enough. I instinctively spread my legs, opening myself to him 
and felt him rub my thighs encouragingly.

I gasped when I felt the tip of his tongue slip inside 
suddenly, darting back out before I could fully register its 
presence. He repeated the motion a few more times until I 
began to squirm. 

"Stop teasing," I pleaded.

I inhaled sharply, my body going completely still, as his 
tongue pushed deeper inside me, gently stretching the tight 
ring of muscles, opening me to him. I whimpered and clenched 
my fists in the sheets, forcing myself both to relax and stay 
absolutely still, resisting the urge to buck back into him, 
letting him control the speed and depth of his exploration. It 
was startlingly intimate and erotic. He pressed one thumb into 
the sensitive spot behind my balls and I moaned, feeling my 
cock grow thick and heavy, my body relaxing, fully open and 
responsive to his every touch.

His tongue left me suddenly and I held back a whine. I laid 
still and listened to him fumble for something in the bedside 
dresser, followed by the familiar sounds of a bottle of 
lubricant being opened. 

"You leave the condoms in the bathroom but you keep the lube 
out here," I observed without opening my eyes.

"Condoms don't serve much purpose if you don't have a 
partner," he answered simply.

I wondered vaguely if he had made use of the lubricant since I 
had moved in with him. 

I hissed as the cold liquid drizzled over my exposed opening.

"Sorry," he whispered, swirling one finger through the pool of 
fluid, spreading it around the edges of the winking hole, 
warming it instantly.

He dipped the tip of his finger inside, barely past the first 
knuckle and pulled it back, resuming his maddening circles 
around the sensitive rim. He repeated the process several 
times until I was sure I would go insane. Circle. Circle. Dip. 
Circle.

"Please," I gasped. "More..."

My plea dissolved into a breathy moan as his finger slid 
easily inside me, past the second knuckle. He thrust a couple 
of times experimentally and then slipped a second finger in, 
gently stretching me, coating me with lubricant.

I bucked when the fingers inside me curled downward, pressing 
against the spot that made my cock surge. My hips rolled in 
small, rhythmic thrusts as warmth began to pool between my 
legs. I felt his lips brush my ear, his heated breath tickling 
the sensitive shell. 

"That's it," he encouraged softly. "Let go...let it feel 
good."

I whimpered as he slipped a third finger inside, the tiny 
twinge of discomfort instantly transforming into pleasure as 
my body welcomed the intrusion. By the time he pushed a fourth 
finger inside I was thrusting into the pillow beneath me, 
mindless with the mounting pleasure. He bent low over me and I 
felt his tongue dip into the small of my back, painting 
maddening circles over the sensitive skin as his fingers 
twisted and writhed within me, rubbing insistently over that 
one spot.

I cried out, startled, as the tension in my abdomen snapped 
suddenly and I thrust into the pillow beneath me, lost in a 
wave of white-hot pleasure.

I floated back down to Earth gradually, my body quivering with 
the force of my sudden orgasm, feeling like I had been 
shattered into a thousand pieces. The room seemed to spin as 
Mulder gently maneuvered my limp body until I was on my back, 
rearranging the pillow beneath my hips. I heard the bottle of 
lubricant snap open and shut dimly and then his warm hands 
coaxed my legs apart and his thick cock slid inside me. 

"Oh," I gasped, my eyes popping open. There was no pain - not 
even the slightest twinge of discomfort. My body had simply 
given way, welcoming him inside as if it knew instinctively 
that this was where he belonged. 

He rested on his elbows above me, buried to the hilt, and I 
wrapped my legs around his torso, relieving the pressure on my 
hips.

"Are you okay," he asked softly. "Did I hurt you?"

I shook my head, unable to speak around the lump rising in my 
throat. I closed my eyes, struggling to sort out the 
overwhelming sensations. I could feel his breath on my face, 
smell the faint traces of his soap intermingled with sweat. I 
could feel his stomach press against mine gently, rhythmically 
with his deep breaths. But mostly I could feel the throb of 
the turgid length buried deep inside me. I wondered how it was 
possible for a small thing like the absence of a thin layer of 
latex to make the act feel so much more intimate. 

"Vaughn," he called gently. "Baby, are you all right?"

I opened my eyes, meeting his concerned gaze. "I'm fine," I 
reassured him, my voice no louder than a breath. 

I listened to the soft ticking of the nearby clock as his eyes 
searched mine, looking for signs of distress. I felt naked 
suddenly - my emotions laid bare - absolutely certain he could 
read my every thought. 

"Are you sure," he asked cautiously.

I slid my hands up over his chest and neck, tangling my 
fingers in his hair and drew his face closer to mine, covering 
his lips with my own and pouring as much passion as I could 
into a deep, demanding kiss. He swallowed my groan as he began 
rocking tentatively. Then his lips slid away from mine to 
press hot kisses along my throat and I gasped as he drew 
himself out and slowly filled me again. I dug my fingernails 
into his shoulders and moaned as tiny sparks of pleasure began 
shooting up my spine. He moved just a little faster in 
response, drawing almost all the way out of me before plunging 
back in. I held on tightly and moved with him, following his 
lead, feeling the coil of tension build again in my abdomen.

"You are so incredible," Mulder whispered, his lips just 
brushing my ear. I whimpered, arching into him, my eyes 
fluttering shut as the sensations became overwhelming. He 
groaned and thrust harder, deeper.

Everything seemed to spin away - the ticking of the clock 
growing distant, the smells of sweat and sex seeming to 
disappear. For a moment, everything went black. Then the coil 
snapped. I thrashed, my hands clawing at the rumpled 
bedsheets, an incoherent cry spilling from my lips as a 
brilliant white light exploded in my vision, searing heat 
spreading from the center of my body outward. I dimly heard 
Mulder groan in my ear and felt a splash of warmth deep inside 
me.

The next thing I was aware of was the feel of Mulder's gentle 
lips caressing the hollow of my throat. I whimpered softly in 
protest as he pulled his softened length out of me and moved 
to lick purposefully down my chest and stomach. It took a 
moment for me to realize that he was cleaning my semen from me 
and I felt the lump return to my throat. 

When he had finished he stretched out beside me, twining his 
fingers with mine and bringing my hand to his lips. The 
fingers of his other hand gently stroked my hair from my 
temple and he smiled down at me kindly. As I stared into his 
eyes for several long moments I felt the last of my defenses 
break and crumble away.

"I love you," I whispered.

Mulder's breath caught in his throat. His eyes searched my 
own, as if he couldn't quite believe what he had heard and was 
searching for confirmation. Then he swept me into a hug so 
tight it nearly crushed my ribs. "Oh, god, baby, I love you 
too."

I laughed, feeling tears of joy and a tiny bit of pain spring 
to my eyes, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding 
him just as tightly. "I love you," I repeated, my voice 
stronger in spite of the constriction.

He pulled back slightly and kissed me - hard - until I was 
breathless. "Thank you," he whispered against my lips and I 
could see the tears beginning to form in his own eyes, hear 
the thickness of emotion in his voice.

I nodded and kissed him back just as fiercely, our hands 
alternately clutching and stroking each other's hair, faces 
and bodies.

Later that night I laid awake, studying his sleeping face. He 
looked happier than I had ever seen him before. I realized 
that he and Sydney had been right - even if our relationship 
didn't last it didn't matter. Mulder was the best thing that 
had ever happened to me. And even if it did end, it wouldn't 
be because of my former profession.

I shifted position as much as I could given the tangled mess 
our limbs had become and felt a trickle of semen slip from me. 
Mulder snuffled and unconsciously shifted closer to me, his 
grip tightening around my waist. 

I smiled and brushed my lips against his forehead, careful not 
to wake him. "I love you," I whispered again.

I closed my eyes and smiled as the sound of his deep breaths, 
Donovan's snoring and the cold wind whistling through the 
trees outside lulled me into a peaceful sleep.

********
(Los Angeles - Two weeks later)

"Push!"

A low, animal-like cry escaped from Sydney's lips as she bore 
down, her hand squeezing mine so tightly I feared she might 
break it. The contraction passed and she slumped into the 
raised hospital bed, panting.

"You're almost there, sweetheart," Jack soothed from his post 
on the other side of the bed while I dabbed the sweat from her 
forehead with a washcloth. Jack brushed several damp strands 
of hair from her face.

Sydney squeezed his hand with a soft groan and glared at me. 
"When this is over, I'm going to cut your balls off," she 
muttered.

I smiled gently. "You don't mean that."

"Watch me," she growled. Then she whimpered and sat up as the 
next contraction barreled down on her.

"I see the head," the doctor announced after several more 
minutes of grunting and pushing. She poked her head out from 
behind the barrier blocking our view of Sydney's lower body. 
"Would you like to take a look, Dad?"

A warm, giddy feeling rushed through my body as I realized 
somewhat belatedly that she was talking to me. I looked to 
Sydney for approval and she nodded wearily, her head lolling 
on the bed, her chest heaving with deep breaths. I squeezed 
her hand supportively before letting go and stepping around to 
the end of the bed.

At first I only saw a lot of hair, overstretched skin and 
various fluids I didn't care to identify. Then Sydney pushed 
and I saw the surface of a tiny head move an inch or so, 
slowly emerging from Sydney's body. I watched, transfixed as 
Sydney labored to deliver our daughter, amazed and humbled 
suddenly.

I looked back up at Sydney. Her gaze had grown distant as her 
base instincts took over, completely focused on the task at 
hand. Her father leaned over her, murmuring words of 
encouragement, clutching her hand tightly for support. 
Satisfied that she didn't need me at the moment I turned back 
to the miracle happening on my side of the sheet.

The head gradually emerged from Sydney's body and I winced in 
sympathy of the pain Sydney must be feeling. She had opted not 
to take anything to dull the pain after some careful weighing 
of the pros and cons including side effects and the tendency 
for drugs to lengthen the birth process. 

"Is that normal," I asked warily, eyeing the misshapen skull 
emerging from Sydney.

"Perfectly," the doctor replied before poking her head up to 
address Sydney. "Stop pushing for a moment."

Sydney sagged back against the bed, panting heavily. "Vaughn," 
she gasped, holding the hand not gripping her father's out to 
me. 

I quickly stepped back to her side and took it. "I'm here."

She squeezed my hand gratefully. Then her eyes widened and she 
gasped.

"Okay, push," the doctor called from the foot of the bed.

Sydney curled upward and pushed seemingly with everything she 
had left, an animal scream pouring from her. I tried not to 
whimper as she clenched my hand so tightly I could feel the 
bones rub against each other.

Minutes later, after a couple more rounds of pushing, Sydney 
slumped completely in the bed and the impossibly loud, sharp 
cry of a newborn filled the room.

Within minutes the squalling, writhing little body - wrapped 
in some sort of blanket - was placed on Sydney's chest and the 
doctor handed me a pair of sterilized scissors to cut the 
umbilical cord. Tears of joy and relief poured down Sydney's 
face as she exhaustedly soothed our daughter. Jack smiled down 
at his new granddaughter, the expression seeming almost 
unnatural on his face. I realized it was the first time I had 
seen him smile.

"She has your nose," Sydney murmured, tracing Isabelle's tiny 
face with a tentative finger.

I groaned. "Hopefully she'll grow into it." I reached over to 
run my fingers over Isabelle's head gently.

"Do you want to hold her," Sydney asked.

I glanced at the doctor hesitantly. She nodded. "Go ahead. 
Just make sure you support her neck."

Sydney slowly and carefully transferred the baby to my arms. I 
held her awkwardly, afraid I might do something wrong. She was 
so tiny and fragile looking... Isabelle whimpered in protest. 
One tiny fist came loose from her cocoon and she waved it 
aimlessly, making choking little noises that threatened to 
become full-blown cries. I cooed at her and freed my hand to 
catch her flailing fist. I gently uncurled the tiny hand and 
marveled at the small perfectly formed fingers. The hand 
wrapped around my index finger tightly, squeezing so hard I 
could feel the tiny nails digging into my flesh and I felt a 
part of me melt. I loved her already.

*******
(15 minutes later)

I stepped into the waiting area, Jack close behind me and was 
practically bowled over by Lauren.

"How is she?"

"Sydney's fine," I reassured her. "Really tired but fine."

Nadia sidled up to Lauren. "The baby?"

I felt a smile spread uncontrollably across my face. "Seven 
pounds five ounces."

They both beamed and gushed and hugged me tightly. "When can 
we see them," Lauren asked. 

Jack cut in to relay the information the doctor had given us; 
namely, that Sydney needed rest more than anything right now 
but she would let us know when Isabelle was transferred to the 
viewing room. While he was talking my eyes wandered the room, 
suddenly realizing that something was missing.

"Where's Mulder?"

"Right here," a voice replied from behind me, causing me to 
jump, startled. I turned to find Mulder smiling at me, holding 
a cardboard container filled with covered coffee cups, which 
he handed over to Nadia. "I thought we could use some decent 
coffee," he continued sheepishly as he drew me into his arms. 
"Congratulations, baby," he murmured.

I melted into his warm embrace, my own arms wrapping around 
his neck. "Thank you."

From the corner of my eye I saw Jack edge toward the door. I 
called his name, reluctantly pulling myself from Mulder and 
making my way over to him. 

"Are you leaving," I asked.

"Actually I was planning to ask if I could sit with Sydney," 
he said coolly. 

I glanced back to find Mulder and the girls seated several 
feet away - far enough that they likely couldn't hear our 
conversation. They were deep in conversation themselves but 
Mulder watched us curiously, trying to be surreptitious. 

I turned back to Jack. "I wanted to talk to you," I said in a 
low voice. 

He nodded briskly and walked out into the currently empty 
hallway. I trailed behind him. He stopped just outside the 
door and looked at me, waiting patiently. 

I cleared my throat nervously. "I uh...just wanted to make 
sure we're okay."

He stared blankly. "We?"

"Us, I..." I flustered. "I want to be a part of Isabelle's 
life and I know you do too. We'll probably be seeing a lot of 
each other." His eyes flickered but his expression didn't 
change. "I just don't want things to be awkward between us."

Jack was unnervingly silent for several long moments. I 
glanced at our surroundings warily, wondering how much I 
should say. Could I tell him how awkward it felt for me, 
knowing I had sucked off my daughter's gradpa numerous times 
in the front seat of his sedan - a service for which I was 
always generously compensated?

His posture suddenly relaxed slightly, his expression 
softening. "When I first learned that Sydney was working for 
Arvin Sloane I was devastated. I couldn't convince her to quit 
without compromising myself and risking her life. I tried to 
help her but she just pushed me away." He unexpectedly placed 
a hand on my shoulder, the gesture both warm and impersonal at 
the same time. "You and Ms. Reed provided me with a connection 
to my daughter - a way to provide for her without damaging her 
pride...or yours. I don't regret anything. Neither should 
you."

My eyes fell to the floor and I felt a slight blush creep into 
my cheeks. Jack shifted, his hand falling from my shoulder. 
"Although if in the future you choose to tell Isabelle about 
your former life I would appreciate if you wouldn't mention my 
part in it."

I let out an involuntary snort. "Believe me that's the last 
thing I would ever want to tell her."

He nodded and granted me the smallest flicker of a smile 
before brushing past me to search for a doctor.

I walked back to the waiting room to find Nadia and Lauren 
locked in an ecstatic embrace. Lauren grinned at me and gently 
pulled away from Nadia. 

"What's going on," I asked. 

Lauren stood, her hands smoothing the front of her sweater in 
barely contained excitement. "I'm moving back to Los Angeles," 
she announced.

I stared at her dumbly for a moment as the news slowly sunk 
in. Then I pulled her into a fierce hug, feeling a stupid grin 
spread across my face. "That's great!"

"Vaughn," she groaned. "My ribs..."

"Sorry," I muttered sheepishly, loosening my grip. She kissed 
my cheek lovingly and stepped back, a brilliant smile making 
her eyes glitter. "Do you need a place to stay," I asked, 
glancing over at Mulder uncertainly. Our apartment wasn't all 
that big but we had a second bedroom.

"Oh, no, I've got an apartment," she said with a flippant 
wave. "It's not much but I just couldn't stay away from you 
guys."

"If you ever need anything..." Mulder offered.

Lauren grinned and bent to wrap her arms around him right 
where he sat. "I'm so glad Vaughn met you."

Mulder smiled at me over her shoulder. "So am I."

She pulled back and reached for his hands. "I mean it," she 
said seriously. "I've never seen him so happy before. Thank 
you."

Mulder squeezed Lauren's hands and winked at me. "I'm lucky to 
have him." 

I felt a surge of warmth go through me, bringing with it all 
sorts of mushy feelings I didn't really want to delve into in 
the middle of the hospital waiting room. I sat next to him as 
Lauren returned to her seat next to Nadia and the two of them 
began making plans to get together next week. Mulder twisted 
sideways in his chair and cupped my face in his palms, drawing 
me in for a reaffirming kiss.

"I love you," I murmured against his lips.

He smiled. "I know."

I rolled my eyes and leaned against his shoulder. "I talked to 
Sydney...how would you feel about being Isabelle's godfather?"

Mulder froze, his arm halfway around my shoulders. "Are you 
sure?"

My eyes met his and I saw a wary delight shining in their 
hazel depths. "I want to be a part of her life. And I want 
*you* to be a part of her life. I want her to think of you as 
family - as her stepfather."

"What about Jack?"

"He's her grandfather. He's already family."

Mulder smiled. "I'd love too. But if and when Sydney gets 
married you are going to explain to Isabelle why she has three 
daddies."

I laughed. "Deal."

"Excuse me," a nurse called from the doorway. "Are any of you 
here for Sydney Bristow?"

"Yes," Lauren, Nadia and I responded in unison.

"You can see the baby now if you'd like."

Lauren was up before the nurse was finished speaking, Nadia 
shortly thereafter. 

Mulder reached over to squeeze my hand. "Come on. Let's go see 
my new stepdaughter," he said with a smile.

**********

"Are you sure you want to do this," Mulder asked again.

I took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. Just...stay close to 
me."

He squeezed my arm. "Of course."

My heart pounded as a loud buzzer sounded and the steel bars 
in front of us parted. The large, imposing prison guard led us 
down a long hallway - the white walls gleaming dully under the 
fluorescent lamps that provided the only real source of light. 

The guard stopped in front of a cell and tapped on the bars 
with his nightstick. "You have a visitor," he announced.

The figure on the bed looked up from his old hard-bound copy 
of "The Illiad" in surprise. 

The guard left and I stepped closer to the bars. "Hello 
Arvin."

Sloane dropped his book on the bed, forgotten, and moved to 
stand in front of me. I was struck by how old and 
unintimidating he looked in the standard prison uniform, 
surrounded by unforgiving walls. "Michael," he said softly. 
"They told me what happened. Are you all right?"

I shook my head. I had expected any number of comments, 
questions or accusations from Sloane. That he would show 
concern about my well-being had not occurred to me as a 
possibility, although I should have expected it. "The 
nightmares finally stopped," I said flatly.

Something that might have been sympathy flashed in his eyes, 
but he covered it quickly.

I took a deep breath and steeled myself for what I was about 
to do. "You were like a father to me. You protected me. You 
gave me a chance when no one else would."

An expression I couldn't identify flitted across his weathered 
face. 

"Since I found out the truth there's been one question that 
has been nagging at me...Why?"

"I'm afraid you will never understand the choices I've faced - 
the sacrifices I've had to make."

"And Danny? Was he one of those sacrifices?"

Sloane flinched. "Danny never fully understood what he was 
going up against. He had no idea how dangerous the Alliance 
could be. I tried to discourage him from getting involved - I 
even offered to buy his silence. But he wouldn't listen." He 
reached through the bars to touch my cheek and I heard Mulder 
inhale sharply behind me. I didn't flinch. "Ordering Danny's 
execution was one of the most difficult things I ever had to 
do. More than anything else I've done as a member of the 
Alliance that is the action I most regret - if for no other 
reason than knowing the pain it caused you."

I laughed bitterly, feeling tears prick at my eyes and 
blinking them back. "You fucked me, Arvin. While Danny was 
dying in that ally you were fucking me on the couch in your 
office."

A pained look came over Sloane's face and he drew his hand 
back, wrapping it around the bars that separated him from me, 
his eyes pleading with me. "It was the only way I knew I could 
keep you from him without arousing your suspicion. If you had 
followed Danny that night...if you had seen anything - if the 
Alliance suspected that Danny told you what he knew..." Sloane 
shook his head as if trying to shake away the passion creeping 
into his voice. "I knew you would be safe if I could keep you 
close. Sex was merely a pretense to keep you from asking 
questions that could have concerned the Alliance."

My mind reeled. "You were protecting me from the Alliance?"

His face melted into some semblance of fatherly pride and 
devotion. "I spent months trying to convince the other members 
that you were not a risk in spite of your relationship with 
Danny. Michael, despite what you may think of me I have always 
loved you."

"If you had loved me you wouldn't have put me at risk in the 
first place."

Sloane sighed. "How much do you remember of the events 
following your attack two years ago?"

"What does that have to do with this," I asked defensively.

"I held you while the doctor examined you and stitched your 
wounds. He had already given you something to calm you but you 
still fought. You cried and screamed and begged your attackers 
to stop hurting you. And then you looked me in the eye and you 
begged me to make the pain stop." He swallowed hard. "I saw 
what those animals did to you and it pained me to know that 
there was nothing I could have done to stop it."

"I don't remember any of this," I said skeptically.

His shoulders seemed to droop slightly in relief. "Consider it 
a blessing. I prayed you would pass out before you had to 
endure too much pain. But you were conscious through the 
entire procedure." He smiled sadly and reached through the 
bars again and rested his hand on my shoulder, squeezing 
lightly. "I checked on you every day. I took care of you when 
Sydney and Lauren couldn't."

A memory tumbled back to me suddenly of a familiar male voice 
reassuring me that I was safe and a strong, warm hand stroking 
my face. Had that been Sloane or was I transferring memories 
of Mulder caring for me after I had been tortured because deep 
down I wanted to believe that Sloane would have taken care of 
me?

"I vowed that I would make the men who had hurt you pay for 
what they had done," he continued.

I shook my head. "The authorities never looked into the case. 
Those men are still out there."

"No, they're not," he said with alarming surety. "I did some 
research...called in a few favors."

My eyes widened, my stomach twisting with dreadful 
realization. "You had them killed?"

Sloane's expression didn't confirm or deny the accusation. "I 
did what the authorities couldn't. I made sure those animals 
would never hurt you or anyone else again."

I backed away from him, wrenching my shoulder from his grasp 
violently, staring at him in horrified disbelief. I jumped 
when Mulder appeared at my side suddenly, grabbing hold of my 
elbow.

"This was a bad idea," Mulder growled. "We should go."

"I'm sure, Agent Mulder, that you would have done the same had 
you been in my position," Sloane continued, his voice flat and 
matter of fact. 

Mulder's teeth ground together audibly as he held back a 
retort. He pulled me in the direction of the exit.

"No," I protested, pulling my arm from his grasp. "Not yet." I 
walked back to the bars and hesitantly covered one of the 
hands Sloane had wrapped around the bars with my own.

"I hardly recognized you when we pulled you out of that phone 
booth - you had been beaten so badly," Sloane murmured. "There 
is no justice for men like them. Not in this world."

I nodded slightly and took a deep, stabilizing breath, forcing 
the tears back from my eyes. "But there is for men like you," 
I said softly. "I won't play your mind games anymore, Arvin. I 
won't come back here. Don't try to contact me. And if you even 
try to contact my daughter I will make sure you spend the rest 
of your life in solitary confinement. Do you understand?"

Sloane closed his eyes briefly and sighed, nodding 
reluctantly.

I reached through the bars to put my hand on his cheek, 
feeling his rough whiskers scratch my fingertips. "I loved 
you...but I can never forgive you for what you've done."

He took my hand in a gentle grip and turned to press a kiss to 
my palm, squeezing briefly before nodding and letting me go.

"Goodbye, Arvin."

I turned to leave, brushing off Mulder's hands as he tried to 
touch me and walking briskly two steps ahead of him. He 
followed, remaining silent until we were inside his car. Then 
he turned sideways in the driver's seat and silently pulled me 
into his arms. I let him, feeling the emotions I had held back 
well up in me.

"The worst part is that I believe him," I choked out. "Killing 
those men was his own twisted way of showing that he loves 
me."

"I know," Mulder said, rubbing my back gently. "And as 
disturbing as it is, he's right...about us not being all that 
different. From the second I saw him all I wanted to do was 
reach through those bars and break his neck for everything he 
did...to you, to those girls..."

I held him tighter, burying my face in his shoulder. 

"And while I don't approve of his methods I'm not sorry those 
men are dead. Although I would have preferred to watch them 
rot in prison for the rest of their lives." He kissed the 
exposed skin of my neck and squeezed me tightly.

I pulled back and wiped at the tears that had escaped my eyes. 
"Is that what you plan to do to Sark and Noah?"

He went silent for several moments. "Vaughn...Noah died a week 
ago."

I stared at him in shock. "What?"

Mulder reached over to clutch my hand. "I didn't want to tell 
you until I was sure. I talked to Jack Bristow this morning. 
He couldn't give me the details but he confirmed that a man 
named Noah Hicks matching the description you gave us was 
killed in the course of a CIA operation."

I closed my eyes, reeling. I vaguely wondered if Jack had 
pulled the trigger himself. "And Sark?"

Mulder squeezed my hand. "We're still looking for him. We'll 
find him."

I blew out a breath and sank back into my seat. "He doesn't 
scare me," I said. "Without the Alliance he was just a horny 
kid with kinky preferences. He was easy to control."

He seemed to hesitate for a moment. "I thought you told me the 
John was always the one in control."

"Sometimes," I said honestly. "Even if they weren't, I always 
let them believe they were."

"Is that what you did with me?"

I looked at him, seeing the uncertainty in his eyes. I knew it 
pained him to remember the lies we had told each other back 
when we first met - some of them out of necessity and some out 
of habit. I realized I couldn't lie to him anymore.

"No. I could never control you. I tried, but you wouldn't let 
me."

He smiled and reached over to brush back an errant lock of 
hair. "I just couldn't let you believe I was like all of your 
other Johns - even if that might have made the Alliance less 
suspicious," he whispered.

I blinked away a couple of tears. "Yeah, well, you succeeded. 
No John ever made me feel the way you did."

His smile grew wider and he leaned over to capture my lips in 
a tender kiss. "I love you," he murmured.

I nodded and squeezed his hand, blinking furiously to combat 
the emotions that had been rising in me since we had left 
Sloane's cell. "I love you."

He pressed another kiss to my hand and let go, turning to face 
the wheel and starting the car. "Let's go home."

I nodded, brushing away a single stray tear. "Yeah."


THE END