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Compulsion by Alison

Compulsion by Alison
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Category: Slash, Langly/Byers
Rating: NC-17
Status: Sequel to "Arousal"
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc
Archive: Lone Slasher, Basement, WWOMB, Gossamer, Ephemeral
Summary: You might have known we hadn't seen the last of that stuff. Did you really expect Mulder to throw it all away?

Sunday, late October

Mulder was bored.

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

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

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

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

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

"Why, what's he doing?"

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

"What started it?"

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

Mulder whistled sympathetically. "When was this?"

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

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


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

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

Mulder found himself standing in front of the bathroom cabinet without the faintest idea of how he had got there. On a high shelf, out of sight at

the back . . . a small white tube of lubricant. His hand seemed to move of its own accord and he turned it over, read the label.


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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mulder just went on looking at him.

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

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

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

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

Mulder leapt to his feet. "Another beer?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah . . how many beers you got?"

"I was thinking of something better than beer."

He pulled the tube out of his pocket and laid it on the table in front of them. Looked up at Byers. Watched the flush of . . . what? Embarrassment? Arousal? building in his face. Heard the almost inaudible noise Byers made in the back of his throat.

The silence grew and thickened in the room as they stared at each other. Mulder reached out and picked up the tube, unscrewed the top and, meeting Byers' eyes again, squeezed out a small amount on his fingers; less than the last time, now he knew how strong the stuff was. He felt the tingling begin in his fingertips as the chemicals were absorbed through the skin.

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

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

"Wait . . . "

"What is it?"

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


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

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

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

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

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

"You sure?"

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

"I'm sorry Byers . . . "

"Just shut up and fuck me!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Byers, are you okay?"

"Yeah . . . just cold . . ."

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

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

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

"What? What for?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I . . . I said Ree."


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

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

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


To be continued . . .


"Many small people who in many small places do many small things can alter the face of the world"
Graffiti on the Berlin Wall

Archived: November 03, 2001