Title: Armani
Author/pseudonym: Drovar
Email address: drovar@ix.netcom.com
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: XF
Pairings: Pendrell/Spender
Date: 1/7/99
Other website/archive: The Ferret Cage 
http://www.geocities.com/area51/hollow/3190/ferret.htm
Summary: Pendrell and Spender get into trouble in Mulder's 
apartment. 
Category: Slash, sort of humor, sort of angst, sort of weird, 
part of  the Mythos AU.
Warnings: Ferret & Lab-Mouse up to some hanky-spanky, naughty 
stuff abounds. 
Disclaimers: Don't own `em, wish I did, don't sue, I'm just a 
poor XF fanboy.
Notes: Another Pen & Jay story. After a night on the town the 
boys decide to pay a certain grumpy special agent FBI guy a 
visit. Features a surprisingly talented and limber Spender.  It 
connects with my stories `Acranon', `Tooms', and 'Shae D' el'. 
One further note, at the time of this story Spender & Pendrell 
have had an established relationship for sometime, and Mulder 
and Spender have reached a grudging half-brother accommodation.


Armani

By Drovar


Pendrell didn't think he was all that drunk, well not really 
drunk, not stinking, fall down, throw-up drunk, not yet anyway. 
He looked down at his drink, he couldn't really remember what 
it was called, but it was one of those fruity things with a 
little umbrella, and a surprising kick. He liked it. He liked 
it even more than he had liked his first or his second . . . or 
his . . . or his . . . How many of these had he had? 

Spender would know, he always knew things like that. He knew 
how many eggs were in the fridge, how much gas was in the car, 
all those kind of things. His own mind was quick enough, he 
supposed, able to cut to the heart of a scientific question, or 
reduce a laboratory conundrum to its solvable components. 
However Spender was special, Jay Spender had a knack. He knew 
obscure, but important things, he could pull together data from 
widely scattered files and distill them into a cogent theory, 
and play a damn mean game of racquetball at the same time. 
Mulder had that knack.

Mulder. Pendrell stirred his drink, the smell of fruit and 
maybe rum filled his senses for a moment. Spender's half-
brother, the two of them reconciled, sort-of, his ex-lover. 
Mulder, the name echoed in his thoughts. He pulled the little 
umbrella and downed half of the drink feeling the cleansing 
burn as he swallowed. He knew medically that the warmth was an 
illusion, caused by the alcohol irritating his throat, but 
still, he felt warmer. 

Then there was Mulder. The name resonated inside him in ways 
that he still couldn't quite grasp or understand. Two years 
done and passed, two years since their relationship crashed and 
burned. Two years and he still felt fumbly and embarrassed 
around the man. What was it going to take to get out from under 
that seductive shadow?

He looked around the nearly empty room. Two urban cowboys, both 
probable DC desk-jockeys, were necking in a side booth, while 
the bartender did a half-hearted job of cleaning the bar. 

Once his eyes stopped rolling, he spotted Spender at the 
dilapidated juke box pumping in quarters, and gyrating in a 
gangly, loose-hipped dance. It was a sight that never failed to 
make Pendrell perk up. It looked even better in jeans than in 
Spender's usual, drab, 'take me serious' suits. They'd been in 
The Corral for over an hour, drinking and talking, and 
drinking. Pendrell was surprised Spender could move at all, let 
alone so provocatively, he'd been downing some bar specialty 
called floaters for a while.

The jukebox was blaring a song Pendrell remembered from a few 
years back, something about Elvis, he thought. The female 
singer's voice was strangely sensual, with a hard-edged drawl 
that crawled up your spine on its way to your brain. Pendrell 
liked that in a woman.

He stood, feeling the room tilt wildly, then settle, and 
toddled over, drink in hand. He leaned one elbow against the 
jukebox, and popped the tip of the little umbrella stick into 
his mouth. "Hey cowboy," Pendrell said through clenched teeth, 
"how about buying a sailor a drink." 

Spender turned, his seriousness breaking into a wide leering 
grin. "Black Velvet," he crooned, placing his hands on 
Pendrell's hips and swiveling his own hips in sinuous 
gyrations, matching the beat of the music. "Black Velvet, and a 
soft southern style." Spender's voice matched the woman's note 
for note, inflection for inflection, adding a sexy base growl 
to the already sensual music. Pendrell always marveled at this 
transformation. As soon as Spender began to sing his voice lost 
it's reedy, thin quality and became a thick, melodious, growl 
of a voice. The man had a great set of lungs.

"A new religion that'll bring you to your knees." Spender 
dropped to his knees at Pendrell's feet, arching his back and 
leaning over backwards until his shoulders touched the floor. 
Spender began to thrust his hips in time with the music, his 
voice rising with the song toward its slow drawn-out, but 
cathartic crescendo. "Black velvet . . . If you please."

Pendrell jerked, and spat out his umbrella, when raucous cheers 
erupted behind him. He turned to find both cowboys and the bar 
tender standing at the near ending of the bar clapping and 
hooting. Pendrell dragged the grinning, mostly drunk Spender to 
his feet and pushed him toward the door, nodding politely to 
shouts of 'encore' and 'show us some skin.' 

*	 * 	*

The air outside was cool for August in DC; the night sky was 
heavily overcast with gathering storm clouds. Spender stopped, 
leaning against the bar's front wall while Pendrell checked the 
sky. Weather forecasts had been calling for thunderstorms 
overnight. The thick clouds blocked all light from the night 
sky, leaving the world profoundly dark. Pendrell could feel a 
downward splay of cold air, and in the near West sky he could 
see the first flashes of lightning. He even thought he could 
smell ozone in the air.

"Feels like rain, Jay, and lots of it." Pendrell started to say 
as he turned to face the bar. His words were cut short when 
eager hands slipped around his waist, and demanding lips 
pressed against his. Anxiety, decorum, and shyness seemed to 
leach out of his body as he felt Spender's crotch beginning to 
grind against his own. Agile hands drifted up his back, pulling 
and embracing, deepening the kiss. Spender's hands paused 
there, enforcing the kiss, and then slid down to Pendrell's 
ass, kneading and squeezing. Pendrell felt his own passion 
rising as his body responded to the assault. 

Pendrell broke the kiss and began to lick and suck along 
Spender's neck. Spender sighed deeply and ran his fingers 
through Pendrell's hair. The world shrank down in Pendrell's 
view, until all it encompassed were their own straining bodies, 
pressed close in the darkness. 

There was a short trill of country music as the bar door swung 
open. Pendrell broke the deepness of the embrace, shattering 
their tight little world. Both cowboys stepped out, stopping to 
stare openly, Pendrell couldn't say he blamed them. "We've got 
company Jay." he said before returning his lips to the warm 
skin. Spender moaned slightly and shifted position, pressing 
his crotch into Pendrell's thigh.

Spender finally turned and grinned through the darkness at the 
spectators, and then looked up at the looming storm. Large 
raindrops began to splatter the ground, as deep rumbling flowed 
down from the dark night sky. Pendrell suddenly felt Spender 
slide away and grab his hand. "Come on Pen, or we're going to 
get wet." Spender yelled as he dragged Pendrell across the 
parking lot, away from the bar. 

Thunder crashed overhead again, closer, and louder this time. 
Spender laughed and ran, nearly pulling Pendrell off his feet 
as they raced across the lot. Pendrell felt the cold downdraft 
of on rushing storm as Spender dragged him under a copse of 
large pines at the edge of the parking lot. "But the car's 
behind the bar." Pendrell yelled as the storm flashed the sky 
with brilliant lightning and shattered into a downpour.

"Yeah I know." Spender said as he stepped up behind Pendrell, 
and suddenly pulled him backwards, further into the sheltering 
trees. Pendrell could smell the alcohol on Spender's breath as 
he whispered into his ear, alternately nibbling and murmuring 
obscene suggestions. Spender began grinding his crotch into 
Pendrell's ass, murmuring and pushing.

"Do you like that, baby?" Spender whispered into his ear, his 
breath warm, and laden with sin. "Do you want me to take you 
here? Now?" Pendrell groaned and began to thrust backwards 
against Spender's hardness. "Ever done it in the woods, Pen? 
Ever done it on bed of pine needles, ever felt your bare ass on 
the ground, felt it grinding into the dirt, your legs in the 
air, calling your lover's name into the night like the 
Valkryies screaming down from Valhalla?"

Spender moved again and Pendrell felt his cock, now free of its 
denim lair, prodding at his ass. The darkness here, deep in the 
trees, was nearly complete. Vague light from the bar, and one 
lone street light offered little real illumination. The pine 
canopy hung so thick and full above that Pendrell could only 
hear the rain falling and felt only the suggestion of water on 
his skin. His hand went back, sliding along Spender's hip and 
then diving down to grasp the massive cock at its base, and 
squeezed. Spender shuddered lightly under his grasp and moaned 
out loud.

Pendrell pivoted on his right foot and grabbed Spender behind 
the neck and pulled him into a punishing kiss. He pumped the 
cock in his hand twice enjoying the fresh groan this elicited. 
"Yes, I have." Pendrell whispered, then freed his own cock. 

Pendrell continued to kiss and stroke, as he brought Spender 
closer to the edge. With a sudden move Pendrell stepped aside 
and yanked Spender forward by his heavy cock. Pendrell turned 
on his right heel as Spender yelped and stumbled forward, 
catching himself before running into a tree. Pendrell completed 
his turn and ended up directly behind Spender. He slammed his 
cock against Spender's ass and began to pump Spender's cock 
furiously. Spender squirmed and groaned under the sudden 
reversal.

"C'mon give it up for me, baby," Pendrell breathed into 
Spender's ear as he stroked, his hand a blur of motion in the 
dim light. Spender groaned and pushed his ass against 
Pendrell's hard cock. His hands grasping and clenching on the 
tree bark, "Oh Jesus, Pen" Spender gasped. 

"Gimmie the chant, Jay" Pendrell demanded, as he continued to 
pump and grind, feeling his fist grow slick from Spender's 
copious leaking. He was close, very close, they both were. 

"Wha?"

"The chant, give it up."

"Jesus, Pen I can't even think." Spender's words were thick and 
slurred with lust.

Pendrell squeezed, and ran his hand tightly down the long 
shaft, pulling the loose foreskin tight around the head. 
Spender groaned, and bucked against the restraining hand. 
Pendrell's other hand came up, searched out and found a nipple. 
He began pinching and pulling, feeling the small nub grow 
immediately hard, through the cotton western shirt.

"Gimmie the chant," Pendrell demanded again as his other hand 
returned to its industrious pumping. Spender bucked silently 
under the new attack.

"You . . . you, start," Spender said, almost breathlessly. 

"Fair enough," Pendrell said. His own breath was beginning to 
come in short dragging huffs as he pumped his cock against 
Spender's ass.

"Why do we do this?" Pendrell asked.

"Because we're young," Spender answered between gasps.

"Why do we do this?"

". . . cause we're hung."

"Why do we do this?"

" . . . 'cause we're . F"

Pendrell stroked down hard.

". . .B" Spender managed to gasp.

Pendrell stroked.

". . . I"

The letter melded into a shuddering groan as Spender arched his 
back inward and thrust out with his hips. Pendrell felt the 
rushing convulsions and stroked madly. Spender staggered 
forward, the strength gone from his legs as the orgasm rolled 
through him. Pendrell followed him down to the ground stroking, 
and squeezing until Spender's sharp gasping groans turned to 
moans and then silence.

"Jesus, Pen" Spender said as he began to recover. "You're in a 
mood tonight." Even here in the darkness of the pines Pendrell 
could almost see the gleam in Spender's eyes when he rolled 
over, his long cock flopping over one jean covered thigh. His 
voice was sated joy, a need fulfilled. So different from when 
they had first met in the lab, different time, different place, 
it was a different world really. 

Pendrell leaned back against a tree, stroking himself in the 
dimness. Spender scooted over quickly and replaced Pendrell's 
hand with his lips. Pendrell sighed in near contentment. Yes, 
it had been a very different world then.

The rain had nearly stopped by the time they left the copse, 
receding to a fine, sputtering mist. Pendrell felt a little 
grungy, but well satisfied with the night's events. 
Surprisingly he felt slightly drunker than he had when they 
left the bar.

"Where did you dig that Valkryie, stuff up from?" Pendrell 
asked as they began to walk. Spender seemed content to continue 
walking, swaying ever so slightly, rather than return to the 
car. 

"High School Mythology. The Valkryie were the handmaiden's of 
Odin, Choosers of the slain," he paused, yawned, and stretched. 
"Mulder's not the only one with a good memory, I suppose it's 
genetic."

Pendrell shivered slightly in the cool night air. Mulder, it 
all came back to Mulder. The name flew past Pendrell and 
settled high above mocking and calling him. There was history 
there, time spent in the calm eye of the hurricane, history for 
both of them. History that somehow, someday, would have to be 
dealt with, someday, but not tonight, not on this cool, crisp, 
utterly dark night.

The two men walked along silently for a while satisfied with 
each other's company. Needing few words passing between them. A 
scent, a nod, a hand lingering on skin, it was enough.. 
Eventually Spender stopped on the sidewalk, as if coming awake 
from his half-drunk stupor, and looked around. Pendrell 
realized that the area looked a little familiar.

"Doesn't Mulder live around here somewhere Pen?" Spender asked 
as he scanned the buildings. Pendrell ran a hand through his 
mist dampened hair. Well, they were, after all, in Arlington, 
and they had been walking for a while. He supposed it was 
possible. Pendrell started to suggest that they go back to the 
car, the walk, even the cold night air had done nothing to 
sober either of them, when Spender grabbed his elbow and 
pointed between two building to their right. "There it is Pen, 
come on" Spender said as he lurched into a walk. Pendrell 
groaned inwardly. Facing Spender's volatile half-brother while 
they were well past half drunk on booze and sex, was bound to 
be a bad thing, a very bad thing.

* 	*	*

Minutes later they were standing at Mulder's door. They had 
knocked several times, with no answer. Pendrell realized that 
the neighbors had to be getting suspicious by now. Of course it 
probably wasn't the first time they had seen two drunken louts 
banging on Mulder's door. "We should get going Jay," Pendrell 
said as he looked both ways down the hallway. He felt a little 
sick, and unsure, and maybe still just a little horny. "He 
isn't home anyway."

"Not yet," Spender said from his kneeling spot on the floor. 
Pendrell looked down in surprise. Spender had worked a thin 
tool into the lock and was manipulating it and listening, 
intently. There was a short click and he stood up, grinning, he 
opened the door and stepped into Mulder's apartment. "I'm 
family, he should have invited us over ages ago."

"Oh shit, Jay" Pendrell sputtered as he quickly followed and 
shut the door. "Where did you learn to do that?" Spender turned 
and tucked the tool into a pocket inside his jacket. "An old 
friend, taught me." Pendrell stepped further into the 
apartment, not replying. He had an idea just which rat-bastard 
this 'old friend' was and really didn't want to know anything 
more.

Mulder's apartment was dark except for the glow from the ever-
present fish tank and a small kitchen light that illuminated a 
simply enormous bowl of citrus fruit. "Hey Jay, look at this." 
Pendrell said as he stepped over to the bowl. There were 
oranges, tangerines, a couple of pungent fruits he couldn't 
easily identify and two huge grapefruits. 

"Huh," Spender snorted as made his way down the hallway toward 
the apartment's back rooms. "Maybe he's got a touch of 
beriberi, or scurvy or something." Pendrell nodded absently and 
turned back toward the living room. 

He could hear Spender moving around in the hallway, snooping. 
Pendrell fidgeted with his collar, he felt damp, sneezy, 
disconcerted and out of place. He stepped up to the windows. 
The curtains were drawn against the cool night and only a small 
slit let in light from outside. He looked out onto the street 
expecting to see an angry Mulder charging toward the building. 
The streets of Arlington were still, wet and silent. 

Pendrell turned away from the curtain and surveyed the room. 
The apartment looked the same, just like it always had. The 
goofy pool-ball coat rack near the door, the old leather couch, 
no worse for repeated wear, the fish tank, and the omnipresent 
television, all the same. He ran his fingers over the pitted, 
but freshly polished wood of the clock on Mulder's table. He 
remembered the purchase, Maine, a seaport town, sleepy bed & 
breakfast, the tourist bit, and the carefully mulled over 
antiques. Pendrell knew some of what ghosts and echoes haunted 
this place. 

Pendrell stifled a yawn as a sudden wave of weariness and 
memory swept over him. He felt tired, more tired than he had in 
a long time. He stepped over to the couch and sat, feeling the 
familiar sag, the peculiar Mulder smell it had. The old Navaho 
blanket rested in it's regular spot at the end of the couch. 
Pendrell ran his hand over the rough cloth, feeling the course 
thread catching at the skin of his fingers. There were reds 
overlapping blues in repeating patterns that seemed to run deep 
into the fabric. Pendrell felt a moment of vertigo and 
disorientation. 

He rubbed his eyes, feeling nearly overwhelming weariness deep 
in his bones. He opened his eyes and looked up into darkness. 

Whatthefuck?

He jumped up from the couch, except that he didn't seem to be 
sitting on the couch anymore. He was standing in darkness and 
only succeeded in stumbling forward awkwardly.

Whatthefuck?

There was a light moving in the darkness. It was flame, he 
realized. It took a moment for his eyes to resolve the flame 
into a torch. A torch that was carried by what had to be the 
oldest woman that had ever lived. Her long white hair flowed 
over white robes, her gnarled hand clutched at an even more 
gnarled cane. Her vastly wrinkled face looked into his own, as 
she finally drew near. She looked up at him from her bent 
position and began to speak. The voice was strong and smooth, 
hardly the graveled cackle Pendrell expected.

"There's deep holes in the world child; deep holes enough to 
swallow man. I'm not talking just a man. I'm saying' all men, 
all people. People that hate; those that don't. People that 
have seen Gods; those that won't. There's deep holes in the 
world child. Deep enough to swallow your soul. Now you keep 
your faith and you keep that man, safe;  even though he's not 
your man. You keep him, and help them that are close to him, 
and don't let those outside near him. Those that wait, and gnaw 
at the world. They want him. They mean to have him. Now you 
listen child; that man's a special one. Things turn around him, 
people, and things that happen, they turn right around him. 
Turning and boiling. Those that wait outside, eating at the 
underbelly of the world. They know it. It's him they want; and 
they'll kill me and you and your man, and all that touch on him 
to bring him into their service. There's deep holes in the 
world child and their out there waiting."

Pendrell felt his sanity wavering. He was hallucinating. Dreams 
fueled by alcohol and fatigue that was all this was. He tried 
to speak, scream for Jay to awaken him from insanity. All he 
could manage was a small inarticulate croak.

"It's not your time yet child. You go on back, and keep him 
safe, keep them all safe. You got things to do and places to 
be. I won't be there for it. But someday, you'll be back. 
You'll come. Look for the light, and you'll find me. Look for 
the light, always look."

Pendrell jerked awake. He was breathing hard, his pulse 
pounding. He was clutching the blanket to his chest. He 
carefully replaced it on the arm of the couch, just like it 
always was and stood. It had been a dream, just a fucking 
dream, nothing more. He could hear Spender rummaging around in 
a hall closet. The image of the old woman lingered for a moment 
in his thoughts and then it slid away.

Pendrell drew in breath to call Spender and convince him to 
leave, now, when a small motion near Mulder's computer caught 
his eye. He tracked the movement. It was something small, a 
house cat maybe, though he hadn't seen any signs of a cat in 
the apartment. Besides Mulder had never been a cat sort of guy. 
Things were getting just too weird. Pendrell watched as the 
thing, whatever it was, disappeared under the computer desk. 
Pendrell dropped to his knees and looked, something tonight was 
going to have a damned logical explanation. He expected to see 
a frightened kitten huddled beneath the desk, but there was 
nothing.

He looked on both sides and back under the desk. Nothing there 
except a wall vent for a heating duct. It was much too small 
for even a mouse to slide through. Maybe he was imagining 
things after all. He was drunk, that's all tonight events 
meant. Alcohol fueled delirium, that was all.

"Hey Pen." 

Pendrell jumped at the sound, smacking his head against the 
bottom of the computer desk, hard. He saw a movement in the 
duct, behind the grate. Pendrell peered into the vent but what 
ever had been there was gone. He thought for a moment that he 
smelled a hint of citrus in the ductwork, then it too was gone.

Damn, he was drunker than he thought; drunk, crazy, and horny, 
a pretty sad combination.

"Pen, what do you think?"

Pendrell rolled into a sitting position beside the desk. He 
blinked twice. Oh Fuck. Spender stood next to the fruit bowl, 
biting into the skin of a tangerine. He'd put on one of 
Mulder's suits. Check that, Mulder's slate-gray Armani. He'd 
added Mulder's reading glasses, and what was probably the 
ugliest, most vibrant green tie in existence, as well. The 
light-weight suit drooped from Spender's smaller frame, folding 
and bunching at the elbows and cascading over his wrists, 
almost to the tips of his fingers, like a boy's prom tuxedo, 
ordered two sizes too large. 

Pendrell tried to stand, and instead staggered and crumpled 
into a discordant tangle next to the coffee table. He looked 
again. Spender had gnawed a hole in the tangerine's orange hide 
and was loudly sucking the juice from it. He couldn't know, he 
didn't, he couldn't. He trusted Spender, had since that first 
encounter in the lab. However, there were some things left 
better unsaid, some things that made even true love wince, 
Mulder figured into a lot of those.

"What the hell are you doing, Jay?"

Spender opened his eyes, looking down his nose, and past the 
fruit at his lips. He grinned, though it was more a drunken 
leer, and tossed the mutilated citrus into the trash before 
sauntering into the living room. 

"Just trying on some of big brother's stuff."

The suit pants were long, cascaded down his legs, pooling 
around his ankles and flapping beneath his heels as he walked. 
He stepped around the coffee table and threw himself down on 
the couch, stretched, yawned, and scratched

"Haven't ever wondered what it would be like? Spender asked.

Pendrell blinked. How much did he suspect? Spender had joined 
the FBI long after the `situation' with Mulder had been 
resolved, to their mutual dissatisfaction. They had been 
circumspect, cautious, and even paranoid. Late night lab work 
went unnoticed and unremarked. He could trust the few who knew, 
he hoped. 

"What do you mean?" Pendrell answered, hoping that his voice 
carried just the right amount of disinterest to seem 
believable.

"You know, with him, with The Man." Spender chuckled at his own 
slight joke and yawned again. 

Pendrell stood finally, using the coffee table for balance, and 
rubbed the bump on his head. He could feel a definite headache 
coming on. His thoughts and senses felt muzzy, and indistinct, 
as if he were seeing and hearing things at a distance. Spender 
was on Mulder's couch, THE couch. Pendrell took a halting step 
toward the faux Mulder. 

"I mean, I know the two of you spent a lot of late nights down 
in the lab. Didn't he ever put the moves on you? Shy, lonely, 
lab-mouse, you would have been easy prey for oversexed Spooky 
Mulder." 

Pendrell's stance wavered, he sat down on the couch next to 
Spender. Their hips touched lightly, blue denim scratching 
against gray cotton. Spender's eyes, even in the dim light, 
showed no hint of guile or deceit, indeed his eyes were glazed 
with a certain child-bright contentment. In the apartment's 
dimness, dressed in Mulder's suit, Spender could almost be 
Mulder, with very little imagination Pendrell could see the 
full pouting lips, and broad, almost homely nose. 

Pendrell could see Spender's ring reflecting the dim light from 
the kitchen. He wore it on his right hand, in deference to FBI 
decorum, but the symbolism was still there. Pendrell placed his 
hand over the ring, feeling the warm skin beneath. He leaned 
over and brought the hand up to his lips kissing the ring 
softly. Almost, he could almost see telling him everything. All 
about the abrupt beginning of the affair, the incredible sex, 
the slow bank into uncertainty, and the final hurtful 
dissolution by agreement. 

Sex with Mulder had been mind expanding, but it left him 
feeling schizophrenic. He felt intensely aroused and almost 
clinically distant. He had put it off as just his initial 
reluctance to admit the true nature of his sexual confusion. 
After a few months he'd begun to wake at night with vivid and 
disturbing dreams, which became increasingly psychotic as time 
went by. Eventually he began to sleep-walk, often waking to 
find himself sitting in the dark living room, or standing in 
front of an open window, cold and wet from rain.

Things became even worse when they spent the night here at 
Mulder's. He'd become filled with nervous energy and slept 
little or fell into somnambulism, or nightmares when he did 
sleep. They had finally called it quits two summers ago and his 
life had slowly returned to a semblance of normality. What he 
and Mulder shared had been wild, passionate, and ultimately 
destructive.

In a portentous moment, Pendrell struggled to say the hard, 
hurtful truth. He almost could say it, could almost let go of 
the past and it's shadows and memories, but only almost. "No, 
never," he lied. He scooted down the couch, giving himself some 
room near Spender's legs. He leaned down, placing his head on 
Spender's chest. The light cotton felt smooth, and cool, the 
slick material felt familiar on his skin, and vaguely arousing. 
With a sudden sense of Deja Vu he realized that he had been in 
this exact same position with Mulder.

"Hmmm never, really? You ever put the moves on him instead?"

Pendrell lifted his hips and swung himself onto the couch 
between Spender's legs, his face just below his chest. Pendrell 
reached down and undid two suit buttons. Oh lord, he even 
smelled like Mulder. He slid his hands beneath the suit coat 
feeling the smooth slowly rising and falling flesh beneath. He 
touched his lips to the fair skin, the familiar taste mingled 
with the smell of leather and Mulder.

"Ever run your hand up one of those long legs, when he was bent 
over to look at some germ or bug on a slide?"

 Pendrell slid his full weight onto Spender's body and felt him 
sink further into the couch. He could feel Spender's slowly 
hardening cock pressing against his stomach, the light cotton 
of Mulder's suit provided little barrier against the sensation. 

He pressed his weight down fully on Spender's crotch, grinding 
and shifting the nearly hard cock in the tightness between 
their bodies. Spender moaned in a staccato burst and thrust 
back. Two more buttons were undone, leaving Spender's chest 
open to assault from lips, tongue, and fingers. Two quick nips 
from gentle teeth brought Spender's nipples to full attention 
and elicited further moans.

Pendrell slid further up, bringing their crotches into rough 
grinding contact. His mouth dived down finding again the 
delightful skin on Spender's neck. Spender's Armani clad arms 
wrapped around his chest and squeezed. Pendrell could feel the 
heat of Spender's body through their clothes, could actually 
feel the blood coursing through him where their bare skin 
touched.

Spender put his hand on the back of Pendrell's neck, gently 
ruffled the short hair on his nape and then pulled himself up 
until his lips were near Pendrell's ear. "Promise me, Pen," he 
whispered. "Promise me, that this is for always."

Pendrell shifted to softly nibbling an earlobe, as he slid a 
hand between them, unfastening and unbuttoning. "Always" 
Pendrell said. Spender relaxed back onto the couch, his eyes, 
still wide and soft.

"You'll never leave me? Never shove off for greener pastures?'

"Never," Pendrell replied kissing the chest between two 
nipples.

"Till death do us part?"

"Forever," Pendrell replied as he slid further down Spender's 
body, trailing kisses and soft nibbles.

"In sickness and in health."

"For richer for poorer." Pendrell pulled the suit pants 
completely off and freed Spender's cock. He lifted it and 
nuzzled for a moment at the base where it joined the ball-sac, 
enjoying the hot, meaty feel of it on his cheek. He tongued the 
testicles in turn taking each one gently into his mouth.

Spender sighed and raised his knees, allowing Pendrell greater 
access. The white suit pants were quickly discarded, landing in 
a wrinkled pile on the floor. Pendrell slid down, licking and 
nibbling along Spender's perineum. The skin was warm, 
delicately soft, and nearly hairless. Pendrell breathed in 
Spender's scent, wallowing in the maleness of it. 

He had always considered this the most profoundly intimate part 
of a man. It was a place of skin and creases that seemed to 
belong somehow to the deep heart of a man's body and not the 
simple surface skin. He slid his hand down the length of the 
channel, his nails scratching lightly against the tender skin. 
Spender twitched and groaned when the nails scratched lightly 
over his ring of puckered muscle.

"Ah Pen, please, I need you."

Pendrell sat upright, sliding a hand up, and then back down the 
long cock, watching the ample foreskin covering and uncovering 
the large head. He bent down and slipped his tongue into the 
loose skin, sliding the tip into and along the narrow channel 
until it completely circled the head. Spender bucked lightly at 
the first pass and groaned through the second.

"How do you need me?" Pendrell asked before taking the entire 
large head into this mouth. It was bitter and velvet. He could 
feel the foreskin in his mouth. He pulled it up between his 
teeth, biting just enough for Spender to feel the sensation of 
teeth. Spender writhed, his hands, pulling at Pendrell's hair, 
and stroking gently.

"Inside . . . ah," Spender said between gasps. "All of you, 
inside me. Pendrell stooped for a moment, the words rang so 
loudly with memory that he hesitated. His last night together 
with Mulder had been much like this. The same needing, the same 
heated desire, but that night had lacked this sweet eagerness. 
That had been just two summers ago, how could he have 
forgotten? Pendrell eased himself off the couch, went to the 
desk, and retrieved a small bottle of lube. It was just where 
it had always been, just where he knew it would be.

Spender lifted himself as Pendrell settled against him and 
quickly lubed both of them, slowly sliding first one finger, 
then another, into Spender, helping the tight muscle become 
accustomed to the intrusion. Spender's cock remained solid and 
hard, flaying across his stomach as he ground himself on the 
welcome fingers. Pendrell set the head of his cock against 
Spender's tight entrance and pushed, as gently as he could 
given the urgent need they both felt. He was always surprised 
at the ease of first penetration.

Spender gasped then sighed, his body seeming to loose all 
tension, except for his still hard cock, as Pendrell penetrated 
deeper. With a final gasp of his own Pendrell felt himself come 
to a rest against Spender's body. He began to move slowly, 
rocking gently at first and then with more vigor as Spender 
encouraged him with small body signs and moans.

Pendrell caught a movement in the corner of his eyes, he 
stroked harder, feeling the sweat beginning to form in a light 
sheen on their bodies. Spender moaned anew at the deeper 
thrust. Pendrell looked around the room as he fought to 
maintain a rhythm. There was definitely something here, Mulder 
had some sort of small animal, a rat, or something loose. At 
least he hoped that that was all it was.

"Sing for me." Pendrell said. He stroked again, trying not to 
be obvious as he examined the room.

"Wha.?' 

Pendrell grinned just a little at Spender's confusion. So often 
during sex he seemed to epitomize the words `fucked silly.' It 
its own decadent way, it was sweet. 

"Now Pen?" Spender asked between gasps. "Not exactly . . . " 
Pendrell pushed harder eliciting a florid string of prayers and 
profanities. " . . . the best time for controlled breathing." 
Spender concluded. 

Pendrell ran his hand up the long shaft of Spender's cock 
settling on the head, massaging and twisting gently and then 
firmly. "Then close your eyes and hum." Pendrell answered. "I 
want to hear your voice."

Spender settled deeper into the couch's old, supple leather. 
Pendrell could barely see a smile creeping up on his lips. The 
hum started low, barely perceptible, even in the stillness of 
the apartment, mixing with the fuller sounds of skin on skin, 
and leather. The humming became louder as Pendrell began to 
feel sweat pooling between their bodies, and the subtle slide 
of skin on sweat slicked leather. Spender's hands were suddenly 
at Pendrell's nipples, tugging and pulling. Pendrell jerked 
slightly, He was ticklish, and Jay knew that fact very well, 
the bastard.

Pendrell felt the moisture of Spender pre-cum on his hand as he 
stroked, they were both getting close. He began pushing in 
earnest, blocking his feet against the couch arm behind him. He 
leaned heavily against his left arm as his right continued to 
stroke. Spenders hands left Pendrell's nipples and dropped to 
the couch, pushing and straining to match his rhythm.

The hum seemed familiar but it took Pendrell some moments to 
place it. Something from the 70's, an obscure Fleetwood Mac 
tune. Jay's taste in music had always been retro. Pendrell felt 
the rising trill of orgasm approaching as Spender began to 
sing. The voice was stuttering and staccato, singing was an 
obvious effort, and a extraordinary display of breath control 
considering the circumstances.

What a wonderful night to be.

The stars must be my friends to shine for me.

Spender's voice arced high and long, stretching the few words 
out into a sultry ballad. Pendrell groaned as he felt his own 
approaching orgasm. The song was sweet, schmaltzy, and utterly 
appropriate. Words held secrets, he knew, secrets, power and 
magic, the power of love, need and truth.

Pendrell felt Spender's internal muscles flex and contract as 
his orgasm rapidly approached. Pendrell collapsed onto 
Spender's taut body, still thrusting and stroking, as the 
climax rushed through them. Somewhere deep within the swirling, 
gasping throes of his own release he could still hear Spender 
singing softly.

Come on baby, now don't you be cold

Just remember that love is gold

We will never forget tonight.

What a wonderful night to be .

*	*	*

Pendrell blinked. His head hurt, a lot. The room was bright, so 
bright. He blinked again, all the shouting wasn't helping 
either. Slowly and carefully he raised his eyes and squinted. 
There was so much light, damn it was bright. Somewhere in the 
harshness, he could see Mulder, or maybe Skinner, possibly 
Scully, he wasn't entirely sure, holding what might or might 
not be a gun on him, actually on them, he realized as he felt 
Spender stir beneath him.

He blinked again, feeling his eyes water and then clear 
slightly. Mulder squashed nose, dimpled chin, full chewable 
lips, defiantly Mulder. He was yelling, "Give me a good reason 
why I shouldn't shoot you, right now," bad sign.

Clean towels sat in a tidy pile on the coffee table, good sign. 
Unless they were for cleaning up the blood, bad sign. His voice 
was raspy and dry when he finally croaked out an answer. 
"Because I'm young, cute, and hungover? Pendrell moved slightly 
off Spender and felt the dry stickiness between them. He looked 
down at their matted bodies and then back up at Mulder, "Or 
maybe just hung?"

Mulder studied him for a moment, frowning as if trying to 
decide if murder or just plain bodily mayhem was sufficient. He 
sighed with a sound that seemed to express a lifetime of 
feeling put-upon and abused. "I always knew you were a slut 
Pendrell, now get yourself and baby brother cleaned up and fuck 
out of here, I've got company coming."

Mulder retreated to the kitchen where Pendrell could here him 
rummaging around, the smell of fresh coffee quickly filled the 
apartment. Pendrell cleaned them up as best he could, removing 
as much evidence of their activities from themselves and the 
couch as he could. Mulder returned to the living room, and 
collected his corrupted Armani. 

"You in the shower," Mulder said, pointing at Spender. "You, in 
the kitchen" he said pointing at Pendrell. "And for Christ's 
sake, cover up I already know you better than I want to."

Pendrell wrapped one towel around himself, handed one to 
Spender, and watched him gather his clothes in sheepish silence 
and trot down the hall to the bathroom. As he reached the 
bathroom door, Spender turned, winked at Pendrell, and stepped 
inside. In moments the sounds of the shower filled the 
apartment.

Pendrell gathered his clothes and stepped into the kitchen. 
Mulder poured two mugs of coffee and handed one to him. 
Pendrell sipped the hot coffee, it was dark, strong and 
slightly bitter. He looked up from his cup to find Mulder 
staring at him.

The stare was the same, questioning, skeptical, alluring. 
Pendrell had loved that look once. "Look Mulder," he began. 
Mulder, the name was an echo, familiar but oddly distant. 
Perhaps it was better this way. Best to keep old lovers at arms 
length. When the old lover was Fox Mulder even that was too 
close. 

Pendrell's gaze dropped back down to his coffee cup as he 
spoke. There was danger in looking into those eyes for to long; 
a danger of getting lost in their depths and never finding your 
way out. "I'm sorry about this. We didn't mean any real harm, 
not really."

"You break into my apartment, you and my sneak of a half-
brother fuck on my couch like rabid weasels, you ruin one of my 
best Armani, and you don't mean any harm?". Mulder punctuated 
his words by jabbing the soiled suit into Pendrell's chest.

Pendrell winced. "Not really."

Mulder looked at him with a mixture of frustration and slowly 
growing resignation. "No I suppose not," he said. Mulder 
stepped past Pendrell and deposited the suit in the trash. 
Pendrell could still hear the shower, and Spender humming. He 
sipped his coffee and started to turn and apologize to Mulder 
again when he felt large, strong hands suddenly massaging his 
shoulder. Pendrell shivered. "The last time you were here 
Sean," Mulder said, moving to stroke the tender skin of 
Pendrell's neck. "I was the one wearing that suit."

The hands caressed along his shoulders, feeling, and rubbing at 
muscles that were sore from a short sleep in an awkward 
position. The touch was soothing, familiar, and annoyingly 
arousing. "Please don't do this." Pendrell said weakly as he 
felt Mulder's lips on his neck, nibbling, sucking, and gently 
biting. He felt Mulder's hands tugging at the towel and the 
hard press of his wrinkled suit against his own naked flesh. 

"Please, Mulder." He said. Things were moving so fast, spinning 
in his head. Mulder's hands were moving across his skin, 
leaving small trails of fire as they went. The mouth had moved 
from shoulder to collar bone, to neck and was now dancing at 
the edge of his own lips. The towel fell away and Pendrell felt 
a gripping hand wrap around the base of his suddenly hardened 
cock. 

Pendrell groaned and leaned against the hard body clutching 
his. He struggled to understand his flagrant arousal. Mulder's 
touch was electric, profoundly erotic, it left him panting and 
ecstatic, but why? He thought he had put this relationship 
behind him years ago. Still, here he was bare-assed in the 
man's kitchen, sporting the hard-on from hell, and all with a 
touch. He wouldn't do this to Jay, he decided, he couldn't and 
wouldn't.

He felt his resolve slipping as Mulder turned him around, 
forced him backward against the cabinetry and began kissing his 
chest and dropping lower. Pendrell fought for mental balance, 
tried to fight down his arousal, and regain control. He arched 
his back and nearly screamed when he felt the first brush of 
Mulder's warm lips on his cock. The room seemed to be spinning, 
his mind was spinning, perhaps even his soul as well.

"Please, stop don't . . ." Pendrell moaned. "Please don't . . . 
Oh God, please no." Pendrell felt his resolve vanish as 
Mulder's mouth finally closed on the head of his cock. 
Everywhere Mulder touched Pendrell could almost feel the flesh 
searing from his bones. He was lost, everything was lost. He 
groaned in arousal, and defeat, and let the last of his will 
dissolve into the waves of sensation.

For long moments there was nothing but the feel of Mulder's 
mouth on his skin, sucking, demanding, thrilling. Pendrell felt 
the need for this man keening inside himself, screaming like a 
banshee wail through his spirit. It was a need almost 
preternatural in its strength. However, even deep his passion, 
something called to him, just at the edge of his perception, 
something nettled, and jittered, and demanded notice.

Above the sounds of their passion he heard the shower stop 
running, and Jay's voice, half humming half singing. 

What a wonderful night to be
The stars must be my friends to shine for me.

Pendrell grinned at the long string `oh hoo hoo's ` that 
followed, in a muffled voice. Pendrell could imagine it, only 
Jay would vamp through the chorus, never missing a beat while 
drying his hair with a towel.

Pendrell blinked. What the hell was he doing? His mind was 
suddenly screaming, as suppressed synapses snapped shut, 
sending an adrenaline surge through his body. In a full-body 
rush Pendrell came back to himself and recoiled. A wave of 
vertigo rose over him, he felt a lurch in his thoughts, it was 
an almost physical kick. 

Pendrell put his hands on Mulder's shoulders and pushed, 
sending the startled FBI man slamming into the cabinets behind 
him. Pendrell grabbed his towel, covered his slick erection, 
tied the towel securely, and put his hands to his temples. He 
took a lurching step toward Mulder and then swooned back, 
pressing hard at his skull with both hands.

"I'm sorry." He finally managed to gasp out. "I didn't want to 
do this." Pendrell grabbed his clothes and lurched into the 
living room without waiting for a reply as Mulder scrambled to 
his feet. Pendrell hopped toward the bathroom, one leg in his 
jeans, they were getting the hell out of here, and now. He 
stopped short when Mulder blocked his way.

"You're sure about this Sean?" Mulder asked. Pendrell looked 
into the hazel eyes that had captured and held him, bound and 
enslaved, just moments ago. Suddenly they were just eyes, a 
little sad, and lovely, but just eyes. 

"Yeah, I'm, sure Mulder." he replied. He put his hand on the 
other man's chest, feeling his body rising and falling with 
breath, that was all it was after all, just a body, just like 
everyone else's. 

"I'm happy now," Pendrell said. "I've got something solid here, 
It isn't all fireworks and solar flares, but it's real, and 
it's safe." Pendrell brought his hand up to Mulder's cheek, 
"Can you understand that?" Mulder cupped Pendrell's hand in his 
bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly, without passion, 
before releasing it.

"Sure, Sean, whatever you say." Pendrell could see the tension 
drain out of the man, like he was accepting something, that he 
had fought against. It was more than just a loss of sexual 
tension between them, much more. Pendrell started to ask about 
it when he heard the bathroom door open. Spender, freshly 
scrubbed and dressed in last night clothes stepped out, 
grinning.

"Your turn, Pen" he said as he stepped down the hallway. Mulder 
stepped back into the living room as Spender approached. 
Pendrell could see the slouch in his shoulders as he moved, he 
was a man defeated. Pendrell grabbed Spender's hand and pulled 
him into a clinch. Defeated by what, though? "I think I'll wait 
till we get home, c'mon." 

Mulder stood facing the window, staring out through the 
slightly parted curtains. The morning sun streaming in through 
the part lit Mulder with a diffused glow, he looked like a sad, 
rumpled angel. Pendrell quickly slipped into his jeans and T-
shirt, watching Mulder's back as he dressed. Spender slipped 
quietly out of the apartment, glancing only briefly at Mulder, 
his face a mix of confusion and contrition. Pendrell whispered 
for him to go on ahead.

Alone with Mulder Pendrell approached quietly. Mulder stood 
unmoving as Pendrell came close, his hands at his side. 
"Mulder, I'm sorry, but things are different now. Jay and I, 
we've got something special." Pendrell slipped his arms around 
Mulder's waist and put his head on the other man's back. He 
could feel Mulder's cheat heaving in rapid leaps.

Pendrell felt a sudden rush of sadness, and a deep need to 
comfort him. He pulled Mulder tight, as if he could draw out 
his sorrow with just a touch. "I know, Sean." Pendrell pulled 
Mulder tighter, clasping their hands together and placing his 
head on his shoulder. 

"Shh. Shh" Pendrell whispered into his ear. Thing's are going 
to be okay, it's okay."

Pendrell opened his eyes and looked out onto the street below. 
Jay was standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, 
waiting. Spender turned back and looked at the building, 
shielding his eyes from the late-morning sun. Pendrell started, 
he was doing it again, a moment of contact with Mulder and he 
was lost. Pendrell jerked his arms from Mulder's grasp and 
stepped back, he felt suddenly distant and distracted. The room 
seemed to retreat in the distance and snap into sharp focus at 
the same time. 

He stumbled toward the door sputtering useless apologies before 
he bolted down the stairs, banging first into one wall then 
another in his flight. He slammed the building door open and 
stopped. He breathed, once, twice and stepped outside, calmly 
closing the door behind him. He trotted down the walk trying to 
force his racing pulse down below heart attack levels.

"Let's go home Jay"

*	*	*

Mulder sat on his couch and waited. He had watched till 
Pendrell and Spender had finally disappeared, and then watched 
for a while longer. He didn't wait long. He could already hear 
the soft tread on the hallway stairs. Fate and the unavoidable 
hand of destiny moved things along as they saw fit, no matter 
how hard you struggled, fate and destiny will out. The 
apartment door swung open, without a knock, what was the need 
anyway?

"I'm here, Mulder."

[End]

Thanks for reading this bit of lust and destiny. For the rest 
of Mulder's story and the identity of his destiny see the 
`Tooms' series by yours truly. For more on Spender & Pendrell 
check out The Ferret Cage.

Drovar