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This story takes place about six weeks after "Dead Letters"

Frank Black leaned back in the comfortable, well worn chair and looked around the cluttered, tiny office. The last office had been larger, but even though there was quite a bit of clutter, there was a sense of calm to the place; calm that he hoped was present in the man this time.

The receptionist told him that Mr. Horn was teaching a class and would be back soon. Teaching, Frank never imagined that James Horn would go into teaching and at the University of Seattle of all places, right in Frank's back yard. Well, teaching was a lot less stressful than tracking down serial killers, hopefully James wouldn't go ballistic on one of his students, the way he'd gone on the "dead letter" killer.

Frank shuddered remembering that case, where he first met James Horn. It was like looking into a mirror. James was just where Frank had been a year ago, angry, defensive, nearly insane. It pained Frank to see the man that way, so much so, that when James did beat the serial killer to a bloody pulp, Frank could not stand to look into James' eyes. He was afraid that he'd see his own face there; Frank had worked hard to get himself away from that state, he silently thanked God for Catherine, if it wasn't for her, he never would have made it.

But James didn't have a Catherine. His wife, Hilary wasn't accepting of James' career. She was one of those women who married a man, knowing the profession he was in, and then spent every minute of every day trying to change him. She'd even tried to use their son TC to get James to change careers. Well, Hilary must be happy now, she'd gotten what she wanted. Frank's eyes looked over at James' desk, to a photograph of James and TC.

At that moment, Frank sensed that someone was outside the door. He rose, just as James Horn walked in. Frank looked at him and was silently glad that he was still clean shaven, the beard made him look old, without it Frank could see James' handsome features in detail, the glint in his blue eyes.

James was stunned to see Frank in his office. He never thought he'd see the man again, since his chances of joining the Millennium group were dashed.

"Frank, what are you doing here?" James almost smiled, but didn't quite make it.

Frank put out his hand. "Nice to see you James."

James took it firmly and shook it. "Don't tell me you're interested in taking my course?"

Frank shook his head. "Abnormal psychology and serial killers? No thank you. Too close to home."

James put the books he was carrying, down on his desk. "How's Catherine, and Jordan?"

"They're both fine. How's Hilary and TC?"

At the mention of his son, James' face lit up. "TC's fine. Hilary...she and I are getting a divorce."

Frank wasn't surprised. "I'm sorry."

James shrugged. "Sit down. Nothing to be sorry about, just one of those things."

Frank sat back down. James sat at his desk. "So, what do you think?"

"It's nice. I'm glad you're here..I'd wondered...after that killer..."

James leaned forward and Frank realized just how handsome the man was. "You thought I went psycho or something?"

"No James...I just kept wondering what happened to you...and then when I heard you were teaching, in Seattle...I just had to see for myself."

James looked into Frank's eyes and felt that the older man wasn't telling the entire truth. Frank could see that James was doubtful.

"So, you see," said James.

"Yeah...I do."

James leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "How come I don't believe you?"

Frank cursed himself for being so obvious. He should have known better. James didn't have his gift, but he was observant. He could tell that James was interested, but nervous as well.

"You don't believe that I wanted to see you?"

"No, I don't believe that you wanted to see me *just* because you wanted to see that I was okay."

Frank shrugged. "Believe what you want."

James stared at Frank for a moment, then gave him a smile. "When I first met you, you just sat there and stared at me, I thought you were profiling me. Now I know that's not what you were doing."

The smile was the signal. Frank looked at the photograph of James and his son. "You have a good looking boy, takes after his father."

James' face suddenly grew serious. He looked down at his hands, when he looked up, Frank was still stareing at him. "I...I'm not in a good place right now Frank...the divorce...going through the custody thing..." James put his elbow on the table, rested his chin in his hand and looked off to the side. "It really hurt me when Hilary said she wanted a divorce...that she couldn't take living with me anymore. I haven't been hurt like that since..." James rubbed his eyes and ran his hand through his short, silver hair.

"James," Frank said sympatheticly.

James shook his head. "When I was in college, undergrad, there was this guy, Alex, he was in grad school for psych. He was tall, dark and handsome, Italian or something..." He shook his head as if he were trying to shake away the memory. "I fell head over heels in love. I never felt anything like that in my life...but Alex didn't feel the same way...we went together, practically lived together for six months, then he left me for a professor in another school. Didn't even have the guts to tell me to my face; came back from class one day, found a note; Jim, move your shit out." He chuckled sadly, Frank's hands balled into fists, thinking about the insensitive beast that hurt this man. He imagined what James must have looked like then, probably blonde, lithe, sensitive.

"The one good thing that Alex did for me was get me interested in psychology," James finally said. He looked at Frank and caught his sympathetic stare. For a moment their eyes locked, Frank saw that James was uncomfortable, and he looked away.

"I don't want to get hurt like that again, Frank," James said.

"I don't hurt people, James." Frank looked at his watch and stood up. "It's late. Why don't I buy you dinner."

James looked at Frank, nervously.

"Come on James, I'm hungry, I'm sure you are too. Just dinner, okay?"

James rose, inhaled deeply and then nodded. "Okay."

James followed Frank, from the university, in his own car. There was no way that James was going to ride in Frank's car, at least this way he could leave if he felt too uncomfortable. But James had a feeling that wouldn't happen. As he drove, his hands tensed around the wheel, his back tensed up and he felt it begin to ache. He cursed himself and took a deep breath. When they got to the restaurant, James would have a beer, at least that would loosten him up. Then, he frowned. He didn't want to let his guard down too much around Frank. No, they were going out to dinner, that was all it was.

The restaurant was a small, intimate place in downtown Seattle. James wondered if Frank ever took Catherine here. They were seated in a back table, a place reserved for...lovers? James tried to put those thoughts out of his mind, but one look from Frank told him that he wasn't doing such a good job of it.

"I don't like sitting in the front of restaurants. Too noisy," Frank said.

James just nodded. He sat down at the table, for slightly more than two people, and looked around. Most of the people there were couples, men and women, he didn't see any children, not a place he could take TC.

"You want a beer?" Frank asked.

At first James was going to say no, but he knew if he said no, Frank would think something was wrong. "They have Becks?"

"Yeah, I think so." When the fresh faced, blonde waitress came over, Frank ordered two beers. She flashed a smile at James and switched away.

"I don't get looks like that," Frank said.

"She probably saw the ring," James replied.

"Thanks James, but I don't think it was the ring that repelled her."

"Don't put youself down like that Frank," James said, "you have an interesting face."

Frank raised an eyebrow and managed a smile. "I've never heard my face be described as interesting before."

"It's got character," James said.

When the waitress came with their beers, she smiled at James and asked if she could take their order now.

"Not yet," James said.

"Well, if you need anything, just give me a call," she gestured to the name plate on her black and white uniform, that read "Candy."

"I'll remember that," James managed a half smile and she walked away.

"Never had a way with the ladies like that, or anyone for that matter," Frank said.

"Sometimes, people get too caught up with things like looks." James poured his beer into the tall glass, then sipped it slowly. Frank watched him, and nearly forgot that he too had a beer in front of him. Frank took a long swollow, then put it down hard and looked across the table at James.

"I'm not into hurting people, James. I know what it feels like to be hurt too. My last relationship...with a man, lasted five years."

"What happened?"

"He was in DC. I moved out here."

James nodded his head and wondered if that was all, maybe Catherine found out. "What about Catherine, aren't you worried about hurting her?"

Frank took another long sip of his beer. "James, my relationship with Catherine is special. There's no way I'd ever let anything or anybody jepordize that. Nothing." He looked long and hard at James.

Candy came back to the table and asked if they were ready to order now. This time, they were. Frank ordered steak, and potatoes, while James ordered fish. "I'm not into red meat," he explained.

"That's healthy," Candy smiled. She walked away. James looked at her and shook his head.

"I bet she's got a boyfriend who's not taking care of business, she's looking for something. People aren't friendly like that, so quickly."

"You haven't been in Seattle long, everyone's nice here." Frank raised his eyebrow, "but I think you're right about Candy. Now who's profiling who?"

"Old habits are hard to break, I guess."

James and Frank talked about general things, children, family, wives, work. When Candy came with their food, the talking practically stopped. James ordered another beer, and Frank saw that the younger man was a bit more at ease with him.

The two men ate, practically in silence. Then, James looked up and frowned. "You know Frank," he said between bites, "you never did tell me why you do it. Track down serial killers, madmen."

Frank looked at James, then shrugged. "I do it because I want the world to be a better place for Jordan, and for TC, a world without all these madmen."

"You can't catch them all. As long as there is human life, there will always be evil."

Frank suddenly stopped eating. He put his fork down. "So what should I do, James, stop? Put my head in the sand and hope that things turn out alright?"

"You mean like I did?"

Frank knew he shouldn't have stated it that way. "No. That's not what you did James, you had to get out, or else you would have gone completely insane and would have become a monster, just like them."

"That's what I did become. If you hadn't showed up, I would have beat that bastard to death, not that he didn't deserve it..." He looked into Frank's dark eyes, then looked away. "I *wasn't* going to ambush that guy Frank. I really was going to go home. But then...I just kept seeing those vans, it was like they were all mocking me, and I knew that if I didn't do something about it, I'd go nuts...." He looked back at Frank, "sounds a lot like a lot of serial killers, huh? Driven by an urge they can't control."

"That's why you had to get out James. You're not sticking your head in the sand," Frank pointed his finger at James, and when he put his hand down on the table, it lightly brushed James' hand.

Though the touch was slight, James' entire body felt the surge of heat, as if Frank's rough hand had some kind of magical powers. The heat started at his head, and pulsated down to his toes, he felt the familiar twinge in his groin, and though he tried to will it away, it was no use, and he found himself getting very aroused.

Frank too was affected by the touch. James' hand was almost baby soft. He wanted to touch it again, just to make sure, but he knew that would send the man running. If his hand was that soft, the rest of him would certainly follow suit. When Frank looked up at James' face, he saw that his ice blue eyes had darkened, James bit his bottom lip and Frank realized that the man was aroused. The thought that James could become so aroused by one slight touch, made Frank wonder, maybe James would just have to learn to pace himself.

James cleared his throat. He sipped some more of the beer, hoping it would chase away his erection, but it didn't. Damn, Frank probably knew what was happening and was getting a good laugh. He looked at Frank, who was looking at him, not stareing, not profiling, just simply looking at him. Their eyes met, and Frank nodded slightly.

"It's alright James," he said.

"I feel like an ass. Just my luck to be with a guy who can look right through me."

"I can't see through you James. It's just that I feel the same way. Now, normally, I'd make the first suggestion, but I'm just not certain that you want me to. It's important to go after what you want, but not at the expense of the other person's dignity. You're the one who's been hurt badly. So, it's your move, James."

James knew that Frank was doing the right thing, but he couldn't help but feel manipulated. If he wanted a relationship with Frank, he had to come to him. That certainly saved Frank from the role of the agressor, but then he thought some more. If Frank did make the first move, with James in this condition, there was no way he could say no, and perhaps risk getting hurt in the process.

"What if I don't move?" James said.

"Then it's your decision. You're a good man, James and they're very few of those out here."

"Is there a time limit on this?"

Frank had to smile. "Well, don't keep me waiting fifty years."

James picked up his beer and sipped it some more. "I wouldn't do that to you."

Frank simply nodded. "I know."

James Horn stood across the street from the Department of Justice building, in downtown Seattle. It wasn't cold outside, but cool enough to require a jacket. James had his hands in his jacket pockets as he stood, looking up at where he knew Frank Black was. It had been three weeks since their dinner "date" and for those three weeks, James Horn hadn't been able to get Frank Black out of his mind.

James knew Frank was working a case; someone was killing young women with blonde hair and severing their heads. When James read about the killings, in the newspaper, he knew it was the kind of case the Millennium group, and Frank Black would be working on. He called Frank this morning and nearly hung up the telephone when Catherine answered; but he said who he was and asked for Frank. Catherine was very nice, she asked how he and TC were. When Frank got to the phone, James didn't bother with preliminaries.

"I read about the blonde killer," James said, referring to the name the newspapers gave the suspect.

"Yeah," Frank said curtly.

"Guess it's your kind of case."

"Yeah," Frank said again. James wondered if Catherine was in the room. Then he spoke again. "I'm going downtown to look at some of the evidence today."

James sighed. He wasn't sure if that was an invitation, but he cleared his throat. "Sure."

So, now, James Horn stood across the street from the old, gray building, waiting for Frank to come out and had absolutely no idea what would happen when the man finally did emerge.

James must have stood there for two hours before Frank appeared. Instantly, his eyes darted across the street, spotting James. Frank rushed across the street, dodging traffic, and stopped in front of the younger man.

"I'll follow you," Frank said.

James just nodded and entered his black jeep. He looked through his rear view mirror, as Frank got into his red one. James sighed as he started the car and slowly pulled out into the street. His palms were sweating and his breathing ragged in anticipation. But he put on some classical music and calmed down as he drove, it wouldn't be good to either get a speeding ticket or get killed.

The drive took only fifteen minutes, but it was the longest fifteen minutes of James's life. He parked the car in front of his building. Frank parked three cars behind him. James stopped in front of his building, waiting for Frank to catch up. Frank looked the place over and nodded.

"Nice."

The building was nearly eighty years old and it had once been a mansion, but it had been restored ten years ago and now sported co-op apartments, all with high ceilings and parquet floors.

"It is nice," James said.

"Lead the way," Frank gave him a half smile that nearly made James loose his breath. James lived on the fourth floor of the five story building. He pressed for the elevator, but Frank shook his head.

"Walking's good excercise," he said.

"Yeah," James just nodded and led Frank up the four flights. He was suprised that when he reached his apartment door, neither one of them was out of breath. James knew he was in good shape and guessed that Frank was too, even though he'd been out of the FBI for a while.

James opened the door to his apartment that faced the south, so the sun was shining through the vestibule. Frank walked in, then James closed the door. Before James could say anything, Frank pushed him roughly against the wall and kissed him passionately on the mouth. Though startled, James slowly opened his mouth and began to caress Frank's tongue. Frank's hands explored James's slim, sturdy build, the muscles in his arms, his back. James put his arms around Frank's neck, pulling him closer. Their respective erections, pressing through their pants, rubbed slowly against each other's and soon James's hips began to involuntarily thrust, bumping against Frank's erection.

Jesus, Frank thought, this guy's going to come right here. He pushed himself away from James, bringing a groan of disapproval from the younger man. Frank was breathless from the kiss and from James' body; he hadn't realized the man was so solid and compact. James frowned, and wondered if Frank was going to leave or something, but when Frank smiled, he knew he would not.

"I'm not going anywhere James."

"Bedroom's down the hall," James responded.

Frank nodded as James led the way. He turned on the light inside the room, since the dark brown curtains were shut. The bedroom was very dark, very masculine. There was a king sized bed, with a dark brown spread, the curtains matched the spread, a mahogany bookcase covered one wall, the bookcase covered with books, three easy chairs graced the room as well. There was a desk, probably oak, in the corner, on the desk was a computer, and many books and papers. A professor's room, Frank thought.

James went to the night table and opened a drawer, he shyly pulled out some condoms and lubricant.

"Always good to be prepared," Frank said as James blushed.

Frank said nothing else, but started to undress. James figured that was a cue to do the same, and both men undressed in silence. Frank folded his clothes, neatly, placing them on a chair, while James placed his on another chair, not as neatly though. Then, when they were naked, they turned to each other. James looked down as if ashamed of something. Frank looked at him and had to stop his eyes from widdening; the man was quite well endowed. It was a good thing he was the dominant one.

Frank walked over to James and took his hands. Then he pulled the man into an embrace, again their mouths found each other with the same intensity as before, and again James began to rub himself against Frank's hard penis, practically climbing into his arms. Frank grunted, time for lesson one. He moved his mouth from James's and pushed the younger man onto the bed. James's breathing was ragged and he was beginning to sweat.

"Easy James, take it easy," Frank whispered.

Frank's soft voice, only made James harder and he groaned loudly. Then Frank pushed James onto his back and gently massaged his chest. He leaned over and kissed one nipple, gently at first, then with more vigor, until he was suckling it roughly. James cried out, wanting the torture to end, pressing his swollen penis against Frank's thigh. Frank moved to the other side and started working on the other nipple, easily caressing at first, then suckling. James arched his back and tried to pull Frank's head down, to kiss him, but Frank smiled and shook his head.

"I like to take things slow," he said.

James just sighed and shut his eyes very tightly as Frank's tongue began to move past James's nipples, down to his stomach and belly button.

"Frank...oh God...Frank..." James groaned.

Frank's journey continued slowly, easily, his tongue moving lower, then, his hand touched James's testicles, nearly causing the man to scream. Frank continued to caress his testicles while his tongue reached its destination. Frank's tongue slowly caressed James's penis, his entire length, stopping at the head and licking some of the precum juice that was there. Instantly, James started to thrust his hips upward, he tried to pull Frank's head down, James was stronger, but Frank was quicker. He moved his head back, to where James's hands couldn't reach. Frank slowly took James's entire length into his mouth, until it pressed against the back of his throat, Frank relaxed his throat so he wouldn't gag. Then, his mouth and tongue began to move in a gentle rhythm, up and down James's penis, while his hand continued to stroke his testicles.

"Frank....Oh...please....harder...." James pleaded, as he grabbed the bedspread with both hands.

Frank responded by blowing on James's penis, before he continued with the slow rhythm, causing James to cry out, as if in pain.

Gradually, Frank began to increase the rhythm, as James thrust into his mouth, careful not to thrust took quickly, lest Frank would stop. He was a fast learner, Frank thought. Frank rewarded him by sucking more forcefully, occasionally allowing his teeth to gently trace across James's penis. James groaned as his hips bucked wildly. Frank could see his testicles tighten and knew the man was close. Then, he gently released James's penis, sat up and stared at the younger man's face that was now baithed in agony.

"Frank...." he whimpered.

Frank didn't speak. He simply reached for the condom and the jelly. "Turn over," he said gently, but firmly.

James grunted, but turned on his stomach. Frank squeezed some lubricant on his fingers and gently probed James's rectum. The man was tight, but Frank wasn't exceptionally large, so he wasn't worried about hurting him. Then, Frank rolled the condom onto his swollen erection. Strange, while he was sucking James, Frank hadn't realized just how hard he was.

Frank positioned himself on top of James, bracing himself on his arms, he gently sank into the younger man. James gasped in a combination of agony and estacy as Frank's length sunk into him. James felt Frank's testicles on his behind and wriggled his backside so he could feel them more. Slowly, Frank began to thrust into James, the man's tightness was turning him on, making him harder and he grunted loudly, but he fought for control of his slow, steady thrusts.

Suddenly, he noticed that James was moving from side to side, Frank realized that he was rubbing his penis against the bedspread, desperately trying to gain release. This was unacceptable to Frank, so he stopped moving. It took a few seconds for James to become aware of what was happening. He stopped moving as well, then looked over his shoulder at Frank.

"James, that's not fair," he said.

"Shit," James whispered, and put his head down on the bed, he grabbed the bedspread with his hands, but stopped moving. Frank smiled and resumed the rhythm. "I haven't been fair to you, have I?" Frank whispered in James's ear. He reached underneath him until he found his swollen erection. James's head went up in response.

"Please...please..." he moaned, his breathing ragged.

"Of course James," Frank said. He stroked James's penis, in time to his own thrusts into James's body. James took the inititive pumped furiously into Frank's hand, as Frank found himself thrusting more forcefully into James, though he hadn't wanted to. James's hands clutched the bedspread to tightly, that Frank was certain he'd rip it to shreads with just his bare hands.

Within seconds, their rhythm became desperate, furious, vicious. Frank was thrusting uncontrollably, his vision was blurred, he wasn't even aware that his hand was pumping James in a wild, frenzied manner. Release was the only thing on his mind, control did not exist as they raged on towards estacy.

Then, suddenly, James cried out, screamed, Frank began to feel the warm flood of his release, when just as suddenly, the muscles in James's backside began to contract, pulsate against Frank's penis, at first gripping and clenching, then violently stroking. Frank heard someone cry out and realized it was him as he felt insanity envelope him and he came, shuddering, trembling, gasping for air, until finally it was all too much and he collappsed on top of James.

When Frank finally regained himself, he was on his side, facing James's back, with his arms tightly around him. He couldn't remember getting into this position, in fact, he coudn't remember anything after comming. Frank wondered how much time had passed.

Frank placed a kiss on James's neck. "James..." he whispered. He didn't know what to say. He'd never had an experience like that before, never felt so out of control or so... fulfilled. Frank felt like singing an aria from Don Giovanni or something like that, or running a marathon.

James moved away and sat up, his back still to Frank. Frank frowned, afraid he'd done something wrong.

"James?" he said.

"It's late Frank. You have to get home, to Catherine."

Frank looked at the clock, his eyes widdened. He'd completely lost all track of time.

"Yeah, you're right," he said.

Frank started to dress, he looked at James and saw that the man's back was still to him. He wanted to go to him, tell him something, but he didn't, he couldn't; he'd always been the dominant one, the others wanted to talk to *him* when it was over.

James pulled his knees to his chest. He didn't dare look at Frank, for fear that his heart would break or his temper would get the best of him. Frank Black had a wife and a daughter, how the hell could James have been so stupid? He'd set himself up yet again. This was nothing more than a back street affair to Frank. James reminded himself that *he'd* just suggested that Frank go home to Catherine, not the other way around. Well, he had to, Frank was a married man, and he loved Catherine and that was it. James never should have called him this morning, never should have waited for him....

When Frank was dressed, he turned to look at James.

"James...I..."

"Go home Frank."

Frank sighed deeply. "James...I....I...." find the words Frank, find them! "I...I want to see you...again..."

Another morning tryst, or maybe a weekend when Catherine and Jordan were out of town? James just nodded. "Yeah."

Frank focused on James's back. "This isn't a one night stand, not for me."

James said nothing. Frank didn't know what to do, he looked at James's back and looked at the clock and realized it was quite late. He sighed loudly in frustration.

"I'll let myself out," was all Frank could muster. James just nodded slightly.

As soon as Frank Black had closed James Horn's apartment door, he groaned and leaned against the wall. Frank closed his eyes as images of he and James making love danced inside his brain, he tried to will them away, but they wouldn't disappear.

"Goddamn," Frank said to himself.

Frank Black walked down the stairs and sighed as the cold air hit him. He walked to his car and stopped just before getting in. He looked up, to the fourth floor, James's floor, looked at windows, until he saw the brown curtains, James's bedroom. Still looking up, Frank tried to unlock his car door, but couldn't, he looked down and realized that his hands were shaking. He held his right wrist with his left hand and, after two tries unlocked the car. Frank got into his car, slammed the door and leaned his head back against the rest.

"What the hell have I done?" Frank whispered.

Frank Black picked up the telephone in his basement study, and quietly put it back in its cradle. It was the umpteenth time he'd done that this hour and he still hadn't managed to dial *his* number.

At first, it was easy, Frank told himself it was all about work, the blonde killer. He needed James's expertise as a profiler, so he'd phoned him, two days after their first sexual encounter.

"James, it's Frank Black."

"Hello Frank," James's voice sounded cold, dispassionate.

Frank was thrown off by the tone. "Um...James, I'm having some trouble with this blonde killer, and I think I need your help."

"My help?"

"Yeah. Maybe you could come to the house, we could work together."

Silence. Then James cleared his throat. "I can't imagine why you need my help Frank. You're a hell of a lot better than I am."

Now it was Frank's turn to clear his throat. "I just would like a different opinion."

Silence again. "I'm sorry Frank, I can't. You of all people know what that work did to me."

Frank shut his eyes tightly. "You won't be alone James."

"No Frank, I can't. I've got things to do, I'll be spending the week with TC, while Hilary's out of town."

"Oh, really. That sounds nice," Frank knew the disappointment in his voice was evident.

"Thanks for considering me Frank, goodbye." And James had hung up the telephone without another word.

A few days later, Frank tried again, this time asking James to come to the police station, believeing James might feel safer there, but the younger man gave the same answer, he didn't want to profile anymore cases, that part of his life was behind him. He thanked Frank for considering him, but said he couldn't.

After that, Frank stopped trying to convince himself it was all about work. He thought about James constantly, even in his dreams. Frank knew the man was avoiding him because he felt used, cheap. Frank was married, had a family and had already told James that he'd never leave Catherine. Though Frank still felt that way, he also knew that there had to be a way that James Horn could co-exist with Catherine in his life.

Frank surprised himself with that thought. Though he'd had relationships with men in the past, it never reached the level of any type of love or affection. Those relationships were about domination and control. Frank was always the one in charge, he called the shots, he said when the relatiohship was finished. This was different, Frank was completely out of control, he couldn't put a cap on his feelings for James and realized he felt the same way about the man that he'd felt for Catherine when he first met her.

So, now Frank sat in the basement, hand on telephone. How many times was he going to do it tonight? He'd sat down for hours last night, doing and thinking the same things, until Catherine came downstairs and asked him if he was alright. He'd told her yes, and then come to bed, but James Horn still danced in his head, even after he'd closed his eyes.

Frank picked up the receiver once more. He looked at the clock, it was eleven thirty. Too late? Maybe he should call tomorrow. To hell with this, Frank thought, it was now or never. He punched James's number and held his breath. Maybe the answering machine would come on, maybe someone else would answer the phone, a woman? Another man?

"Hello," it was James's husky voice.

"James, it's Frank Black."

James sighed. "Hello Frank."

Frank could tell by the tone that James wasn't too happy hearing from him. "Don't worry James, I'm not going to try and convince you to profile another case."

"Heard you got the blonde killer. Congratulations."

"Thanks. How are you James? Hope I didn't wake you up."

Another sigh. "I'm fine Frank, you didn't wake me up, I was just doing some reading."

"Yeah," Frank felt so nervous and out of control. Maybe he should just hang up right now. He cleared his throat instead. "James, there's something I need to talk to you about. Not work. I'd like to see you if that's possible."

Seated at his desk in his bedroom, James rubbed his eyes. He'd wondered when Frank would get to the point. James was silent a minute, keep Frank off balance.

"James?" Frank said.

"Yeah Frank, I heard you. Sure, it's possible. Doing anything Wednesday?"

That was two days away. "No, not that I know of."

"You can come in the morning, about ten. We'll go and get something to eat."

Something to eat? Was that supposed to be a joke, Frank wondered. He closed his eyes and realized his penis was slowly hardening.

"Okay, I'll see you then," Frank said.

"Good." With that, James hung up the telephone. He rested his chin in his hand and sighed. Then, slowly, his lips curled up into a shy smile.

Frank told Catherine that he was going to see James Horn, that James needed his help in writing a paper. Catherine gave Frank one of her understanding smiles and said how nice it was that he was helping James out.

"He's a good man, Catherine," Frank told her.

Frank drove slowly to James's apartment, even though his heart was racing and his palms sweating. The closest parking space was three blocks away from James's apartment, it would have to do. Frank locked the car and nearly ran the three blocks. When James buzzed him from downstairs, Frank took the stairs, hoping it would quiet his growing erection, it did no such thing. By the time Frank stood in front of James's front door, he was rock hard.

James let him into the apartment. His pale face was dispassionate. As soon as the door closed Frank pulled James into his arms and kissed him. At first, James didn't respond, he didn't push Frank away, he just didn't respond. Jesus, Frank thought, what the hell is wrong with the man? He pulled back and gently touched James's face, he stroked his cheek with the back of his hand.

"James, I told you this isn't a one night stand for me, I meant it."

Again Frank pulled James into his arms, but this time, James slowly responded, kissing him back, rubbing himself against Frank's healthy erection. Frank's hands moved to James' hips, he pushed the younger man against him and within seconds, he got a response, James began to harden. Frank smiled, remembering the size of the man and kissed him with more force.

James drew back and took Frank's hands. "I think we better take this party in the bedroom."

Frank was almost breathless. "Yeah," was all he could get out, as he stared at James and never realized just how handsome the man was, no, handsome wasn't the word, James was something else, he was beautiful.

This time, Frank wasn't so neat about folding his clothes. He was tearing them off, as they seemed to strangle him, bind him, keep him from what he wanted. James pulled him close and slowly ran his tongue, lips and teeth across the newly exposed flesh. Frank groaned out loud, hoping he wouldn't come right there and quickly unbuttoned James's shirt, nearly ripping two of the buttons in the process. Frank pulled James onto the bed and kissed the man's lips, cheeks, nose, chin.

"Oh..God James...why the hell did you make me wait..." Frank's hand reached down and felt James's buldging erection through his jeans. He smiled, his vision blurred with lust, then turned away from James, to get the condoms and lubricant, that he knew was in the night table. As soon as his back was to James, he heard a metallic sound and felt something grab his wrist. When Frank looked up, he saw that a handcuff was around his left wrist and he was being shackled to one of the posts of the brass headboard.

"James...what the...." Frank said as the cuff went around the bedpost.

But James had grabbed Frank's other wrist and was attempting to shackle that one.

"James...what the fuck..." Frank tried to struggle, but James was stronger, and he easily shackled Frank's right wrist to the bedpost. Frank looked up at his bound wrists, then he looked over his shoulder at James, who was standing, arms folded across his bare chest, smiling.

"That's exactly right Frank. You've been wanting this for two weeks, well now you're going to get it." James started to slowly undress.

Understanding hit Frank between the eyes. He pulled at the restraints but it was no use. He'd played this little game before, with Walter a lot, but then *he* was always the one doing the cuffing. This had never happened to Frank before. He watched James as he took off his boxers and freed his very well endowed erection. James was going to put that in him, Frank realized; his first emotion was terror, but as he watched James look at him, that terror became excitement, as his erection swelled underneath him.

When James was finally naked, he poured some lubricant on his hand and slowly massaged Frank's buttocks. Frank squirmed, the man must have warmed the stuff up or something, it felt soothing against his skin. James poured the lubricant on his fingers and probed Frank's anus with one finger, then two.

"Virgin, huh?" James said.

Frank responded by pulling at the cuffs. James smiled and shook his head. He leaned over and whispered softly into Frank's ear. "No Frank, that won't do you any good, you'll just cut your wrists, and then you'll have to explain that to Catherine. Just lie still, you can't do anything else." His voice was soothing, silky, and it aroused Frank even more.

James continued preparing Frank, who could only groan at the combined feelings of pain, fear and arousal and frustration. He turned his head around and looked at James.

"For God's sake James..."

"What Frank, what do you want me to do?"

Frank closed his eyes tightly. "I want you James...I want you inside me....now..."

"Well, I don't think you're in any position to demand anything." With that, James slapped Frank's bare buttocks, first one cheek then the other. Frank squirmed on the bed, he put his head down to supress a scream of frustration.

When James felt Frank was ready, he slid on the condom, then braced himself on his forearms. Frank turned his head, sensing what was going to happen. James raggedly pushed himself into Frank. Frank's eyes shut tight as the man roughly entered him. He remembered doing this to Walter, my God, was this what it felt like?

"How do you like this, Frank?" James grunted as he had completely entered the older man. Frank felt James's testicles against his buttocks and knew he was all the way in. The sensations of pain and pleasure mixed together and Frank gasped. Then James began to push himself in and out of Frank's body in a slow, but angry rhythm. He reached underneath Frank and roughly grabbed the man's penis, stroking it unevenly.

As James thrust in and out of Frank, he opened his eyes and with his free hand, touched the man's back and realized just how smooth it was. He rubbed his testicles against Frank's buttocks, which was quite firm for a man his age. James looked at his lover's body underneath him as if he was seeing it for the first time, he noticed every curve, every line and thought that every part of him was truly beautiful.

Suddenly James was pumping wildly he knew he was close to orgasm, he didn't want it to end yet. Underneath him, Frank groaned in anger and frustration, every time he was close to comming, James's hand would change the rhythm, keeping the older man off balance. James took Frank's erection in hand and slid his hand up and down the length of it, now in time to James's thrusts into Frank. Frank bucked his hips and slammed himself down into James's hand. "Oh....God...." Frank cried, "I'm going to...."

James felt the madness approaching and he wrapped his free hand around Frank's chest, pulling him up, as close at the restraints would allow. Frank gasped, cried out James's name over and over again as his seed exploded into his lover's hand. James came before Frank's buttock muscles pulled and caressed at his penis, the extra sensations milking James completely as he came and came , until he lay, spent, exhausted on top of Frank.

James opened his eyes and felt Frank breathing hard underneath him, both men were baithed in each other's and their own sweat. James crawled to the night table, grabbed the key and with shaking hands, unlocked the cuffs. When Frank was free, James pulled him into an embrace, kissing his damp face.

"I'm sorry...Jesus...I'm sorry Frank...." he nearly sobbed.

Frank put his arms around James. "It's alright," he managed to say. Jesus, the man had cuffed him to the bed, nearly tore him apart, and now he was telling him he was alright? What the hell was going on?

James lay on his back, he stared upward at the ceiling. "I felt so fucking cheap, like some goddamn back street affair."

Frank just shook his head. James wasn't a back street affair two weeks ago, and certainly not now. Frank couldn't name all the feelings that were inside him at this moment.

"You're no back street affair James...You know, I told Catherine that I was going to meet with you."

James raised himself on one elbow and looked at Frank, who was lying on his back. "You did what?"

"I told her you needed my help writing a paper."

That remark caused a chuckle to come from James's mouth. "Some paper, huh?"

Frank smiled, then he realized the name of one of the feelings inside him, it was love.

There had already been three murders.

In the past three months, there had been three similar killings, one in California, two in Washington state. The victims were all young boys, around ten years old. They had all been abduced early in the mornings, off their bycycles, always on a Saturday. The killer raped, then strangled the boys; after death, he cut off their genitals with a carving knife, stuffed them in the boy's mouths, then left their bodies and their bicycles in open fields, where they were always found.

After the third murder, the FBI was called in, as well as the Millennium group. Frank Black was working on the case, trying to get a handle on what kind of monster would do such things to children, it made him hug Jordan tighter when he put her to bed at night.

Frank asked James Horn if he wouldn't mind helping him with a profile on the killer, not really expecting James to agree, since *he* had a son. To Frank's surprise though, James did agree.

"It'll be nice working with you," James said enthusiastically.

"It'll be work James, not a honeymoon."

James just laughed. "It's always a honeymoon with you Frank."

The man wasn't joking. Frank and James enjoyed each other's company tremenoudsly, they could talk for hours, without even touching each other. When they did touch each other, it was always a new experience, Frank and James always found new pleasure centers in each other's bodies. To Frank, it was like going to a sort of erotic school.

Catherine liked James too and Jordan enjoyed playing with TC. Some weekends, when James had TC, they'd spend weekends at Frank's house. Jordan and TC enjoyed playing together. James was glad of that, though sometimes it was difficult being so close to James, without grabbing him and kissing him passionately. Frank though made it clear that in his home, he was Catherine's husband. Once, Catherine took Jordan and TC out for ice cream, leaving Frank and James alone; it was one of the hardest things Frank had to do, not to get lost in James's beautiful blue/green eyes.

"I understand Frank," James smiled sadly.

At the end of the weekend, Frank went with James to take TC back to his mother, who was now living in Washington, with her sister, he explained to Catherine that James often got depressed when his visits with TC were over.

"I can imagine," Catherine said.

After taking TC back to Hilary, Frank and James drove to James's apartment. As soon as the front door shut behind them, they quickly ripped off each other's clothes and barely made it to the sofa before exploding in estasy together.

Frank, Catherine and Jordan were in the dining room, having dinner, when the telephone rang. Catherine rose and answered it, Frank couldn't hear her voice, he'd cut some string beans for Jordan, she made a face and shook her head.

Catherine came back into the room and looked quite amused at her daughter. "Frank, it's Walter Skinner."

At the mention of Walter Skinner's name Frank's first reaction was to stiffen. He hadn't even heard the man's name in months. He slowly stood, glad his knees didn't buckle beneath him. Frank walked into the kitchen and put the receiver to his ear.

"Yeah," he said.

"Frank." "Walter," Frank said. He tried to smile but felt uncomfortable. Why? Walter had never made him feel that way before. "Where are you?" Frank asked, even though he knew the answer.

"I'm here in your Washington. Officially I'm here to surpervise the Open Field investigation...but it was really an excuse...to see you."

The Open Field case was the name the press gave the murders. "That's nice Walter."

Walter Skinner cleared his throat. There was something strange about Frank's voice. Maybe Catherine was close by. "We should get together. I'm staying at the Sheraton. Maybe we could get together for a drink or something..."

The "or something" was gnawing at the pit of Frank's stomach. He knew just what that meant. But, he cleared his throat and became the dominant partner.

"We'll see. Tomorrow, at six thirty?"

"Sounds good to me," Walter was always so accomodating; James might not be so eagar, or if he was, *he'd* suggest the date.

"I'll see you then, bye."

"Bye," Walter said, and was stunned that Frank hung up the telephone so quickly.

Frank had to smile when he saw Walter Skinner in the hotel lobby. It was so like Walter to be in a shirt, tie and jacket, even when he was off duty. Frank was dressed in his usual, khaki jacket, slacks and white shirt. Frank was also surprised that the sight of Walter Skinner did not immediately arouse him. Six months ago, even a phone call go make Frank hard as a rock. He instinctively knew that Walter was quite erect now.

The two men shook hands. Walter tried to prolong the handshake, but Frank drew his back. "Let's go have that drink," he said.

Walter frowned, but nodded.

The two men sat at a table by the window that faced downtown Seattle. Frank ordered a beer, Walter a scotch and soda.

"You and your beer," Walter said affectionately.

"Can't tear me away from it."

Walter could sense that something was wrong, Frank was never this uncomfortable. Then it dawned on him, it was the case. Children were being killed, Frank had a child. How could Walter have been so blind, he had only been involved with the man for five years.

"This is some case, isn't it?" Walter said.

The waitress brought them their drinks. Frank looked up at Walter and nodded. He tried to formulate the words from his brain to his mouth, but could not articulate them.

"The killer is destroying something in himself when he kills these boys. He's not concerned with who they are at all." Frank sipped his beer and looked away.

Walter looked at Frank. He seemed cool, professional. It wasn't the murders that were bothering him. Walter searched his mind for something that could be wrong, and when he'd found it, sighed.

"There's someone else," he said simply, "another man." It was a statement, not a question.

Frank nodded. "I was going to tell you...he's someone here."

"I figured that," Walter's baritone was tight, curt. Frank saw his face fighting for control. "Didn't waste any time, guess those five years didn't mean anything."

Frank frowned. He took his index finger and ran it along Walter's knuckles. "That's not true Walter. I wasn't looking for anything. We said our goodbyes, Walter; you know I don't do long distance relationships."

Walter watched Frank's finger trace his knuckles, he grew even harder than he had been earlier, but couldn't bring himself to draw his hand away.

"I know," Walter finally said. He downed the rest of the drink. "I hope you can find this killer, Frank."

"We'll find him, Walter."

Walter closed his eyes, when Frank said his name, the familiar shiver went down his spine. He quickly opened his eyes and drew his hand away to signal the waitress. When she came over, he asked her for the check.

"I'll take it Walter," Frank said.

But Walter shook his head. "No Frank, I asked you here, I don't want you feeling sorry for me."

"I am sorry, Walter."

Walter said nothing. He flipped through his wallet and took out a twenty dollar bill. When the waitress came over he gave it to her. "Keep the change," he said.

The woman's face brightened. "Thank you, sir," she said.

Walter looked into Frank's eyes, then looked away. "It'll be good working with you again, Frank."

Frank looked at Walter and remembered working with the man, he remembered the good times they'd shared. Those thoughts disappeared as Frank saw James's face in his mind, and felt himself getting hard.

They rose, looked at each other nervously, then shook hands.

"See you at work, Frank," Walter said, turning around and leaving, before Frank had a chance to respond.

The detective's lounge in the Seattle police station, acted as makeshift ward room for the FBI agents, and Washington and Oregon detectives assigned to the Open Field case. Frank Black and Walter Skinner sat at a table with agents and detectives, as they looked over autopsy reports, photographs, accounts of people who found the bodies, histories of the victims. Walter was telling the agents who should do what with whom; Frank couldn't get the image of a blue car following a boy of a bycycle out of his mind.

James Horn walked into the smoke filled lounge and immediately noticed the look on Frank's face, an intensity, he had seen only once before, when they worked on the "Dead Letter" case. Walter saw the look as well.

The thought disappeared and Frank looked up and saw James stareing at him. For a second, their eyes met and they said nothing, then Frank waved him over.

Walter looked at the silver haired man as Frank rose. "James Horn, this is AD Walter Skinner."

"An AD huh?" James said as he looked the man over. Shirt and tie, balding, glasses, completely conservative and most likely uptight. James shook Walter's hand.

"I'm just here to supervise," said Walter.

"James has worked with the police in Portland, we worked together on a case down there."

"But now, I'm happily retired. I teach Abnormal Psychology & Serial Killers."

"Cheery," Walter said.

The men sat back down and continued looking at the photographs and reports.

"You okay James?" Frank said, watching James's face.

"Yeah. If it's too much for me, I'll leave."

"Okay."

As they worked, Walter Skinner suddenly looked up. He wasn't certain but he swore that Frank's demeanor changed as soon as this James Horn walked into the room. Frank's eyes were brighter, his face more relaxed. Every now and then Frank looked at James, as if to check to see if he was alright. James responded by looking at Frank, and nodding. Walter's face tightened as his eyes returned to the photographs. Walter wasn't blind, he recognized the signs of affection, though hidden. So, this was the new bitch, huh? Frank said they worked together, guess that's where it started, Walter thought. He looked over at the man, Horn looked younger than he, had all his hair, odd, but handsome features, alright, he wasn't bad looking, but still, *he* hadn't been with Frank for five years, he didn't know Frank's fears, maybe didn't even know about his breakdown.

James kept noticing that the Assistant Director kept looking at Frank, as if he was probing him for something. He put his hand on Frank's back a few times, it didn't register a response from Frank, and Walter Skinner seemed to be upset by that. Then, Skinner turned his eyes on James, nearly glaring at him. James was taken aback, he wondered if Skinner knew about his breakdown in Portland. Then, he noticed the AD look at Frank, then at him, then back at Frank. James sucked in a deep breath as understanding dawned. So, this was the man Frank had been with for five years in Washington. James allowed himself a better look, he had broad shoulders, strong hands and wasn't bad looking even with his balding head. James wanted to chuckle, an AD huh? He wondered if he was Frank's boss, but he didn't think so, Frank wasn't the type who'd sleep his way to the top.

The men worked for hours. Frank rubbed his eyes, as he could no longer see himself inside the killer's head.

James looked at his watch. "Shit, I got to go. Got to take TC to a birthday party."

Frank looked at Walter. "His son."

Walter nodded sadly, realizing another common thread the two men had. Frank looked at Walter's face and put his hand on the man's shoulder. James observed this and cleared his throat. "I got to go. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Monday," Walter said. Today was Saturday.

"Monday," James said. His eyes met Frank's. Frank immediately saw that he was hurt. Shit, he thought.

"I'll call you," Frank said.

"Sure." With that, James left.

Walter was surprised, but not upset that Frank said he'd come back to his hotel, to have a drink he said. Frank followed him in his jeep and Walter kept checking his rear view mirror, just to make sure he was still there. Maybe the new man wasn't all he was cracked up to be, maybe seeing them together made Frank see things differently.

When they entered the hotel room, Walter closed the door behind them and sighed. "Beer right?" he said.

"Yeah."

While Walter made the drinks, Frank looked around the room and wondered what the hell he was doing here. He sighed, he knew why. He owed Walter, the man had been there for him during his breakdown, they had been together for five years, he deserved more than to be thrown out like an old shoe, he deserved one more chance.

Walter handed him his beer, and Frank looked into Walter's hazel eyes. There was another reason he was here, there was no way he could be certain of his feelings for James unless he was certain his relationship with Walter was over.

The two men sat across from each other, and drank their drinks, Walter had his usual scotch.

"I hope we catch this bastard before he kills again," Walter said.

"I hope so too Walter."

Walter sensed that Frank was uneasy. "So, Frank, you like it out here?"

"Yeah, well, you know I'm from this area Walter, it's nice being home again."

Walter sipped his drink and smiled. "I don't think I could get used to it. I guess I've been in DC too long."

"Yeah," Frank smiled, "with all that power."

Walter laughed, kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie. "It's good seeing you Frank."

Frank looked at the man and smiled, admiring the broad shoulders, the strong back. He put down his drink, went over to Walter, leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth. Walter submissively bowed his head, as Frank kissed his neck and rubbed his hand along his muscular back.

Walter stood and allowed Frank to pull him into a full embrace, he opened his mouth and Frank sucked on his tongue; immediately both men became fully erect, and they rubbed their arousals against each other. Walter pulled his mouth away and gasped. Frank roughly undid Walter's tie and unbuttoned his shirt, nearly tearing it from his body. Walter's trembling hands couldn't undo any of Frank's clothes, so Frank had to do that for himself.

When both men were naked Frank grabbed Walter's broad shoulders and pulled him in for another full embrace. Without clothes now, the sensations, muscular arms, tight buttocks and legs, along with completely full arousals, were all heightened, so much so that Walter was afraid he'd come right then and there. He pushed himself away from Frank and climbed into bed. He reached for a small bag and got out a tube of lubricant and a condom, then positioned himself on his hands and knees. Walter was panting.

"Jesus Frank...I'm going to explode if you don't get over here..."

Frank sighed and got on the bed. "Walter, this isn't what I want."

Walter's eyes widened. "What?"

Frank put his hand on a bare shoulder. "I want you to make love to me, I want you to do me."

Walter sat on his heels. "But...Frank....I...we..."

"I know. I want you inside me, Walter..." He leaned over, kissed the man's earlobe and neck. "I want you now...Walter...don't worry, I'll guide you through it..."

Walter looked unsure, but nodded anyway. "Yeah...I'll do it."

An hour later, Frank and Walter lay side by side, neither sure of what to say. Frank didn't want to say anything that might make Walter more ashamed, and Walter didn't want to sound any more foolish than he felt. Walter shouldn't have...Frank shouldn't have wanted him to....

Walter had been fine, lubricating Frank, then his own penis, was fine when he put on the condom, but his trouble began when he entered his long time lover. He didn't hurt Frank, he was able to enter him fully, but four strokes later, he found himself thrusting and thrashing uncontrolably and climaxed hard. It wasn't until Walter recovered himself, that he realized Frank was still erect, Walter managed to masturbate Frank until he came, but he knew that act wasn't something Frank liked.

"Frank," Walter finally said, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright Walter, don't be sorry." Frank meant that. It wasn't Walter's fault. Frank shouldn't have asked him, Walter was uncomfortable. Frank had no right to ask Walter to be....like James.

As Frank lay beside Walter, he found James popping into his mind again and again. Though James knew him for far less time than Walter did, James knew the inner depths of Frank's soul, a lot better than Walter. Once, the only thing that turned Frank on was the feeling of dominating another man, but now he wanted something more, a partnership, equal partnership, love. Frank couldn't love someone who wasn't an equal behind closed doors.

"I guess I'm not like him, am I?" Walter said. Of course he wasn't, James was handsome, had all his hair, and was younger.

"Who?"

Walter sat up. "Come on Frank, don't play with me. Shit! James Horn. I'm in the FBI Frank, I'm not stupid."

Frank wasn't surprised that Walter could figure it out. "So, why're you here Frank? A quick fuck for old time's sake?"

"No, Walter." Frank rose and started dressing. Walter watched him and felt quite vunerable, naked in bed, alone. He too rose and dressed.

"Then, why?" Walter said, angrily pulling up his pants.

"Because I believe that you deserve more than just goodbye, I've found someone else. I had to be sure..."

"That you love...him."

"Sure of my feelings."

"And?"

Frank walked close to Walter, then gently tied his tie. "Walter, those five years we spent together were wonderful, they'll always mean the world to me, you'll always mean the world to me..."

"But that was then, this is now and your needs have changed," Walter's voice was sarcastic, "am I close?"

"Walter, I'm sorry."

Walter put on his glasses. "I guess challenging James Horn to a duel is out of the question."

Frank just shook his head and met his former lover's eyes.

"I love you Frank. I know you don't believe that, but I do love you." Walter gently touched Frank's cheek.

"I believe it, Walter."

On Sunday morning, Frank took Catherine and Jordan to the farmer's market. When they got back home, he told Catherine he was going to the police station, to work on the case.

"No one'll be around, I'll be able to get more work done that way."

Catherine smiled and kissed Frank on the cheek. "Catch him, Frank."

"I will."

Frank went to the police station, looked at some autopsy photographs, but could not concentrate. He put the files away and left the building, knowing just where he had to go.

Frank knew he was taking a chance, going to James's apartment. The man could be out with his son, anywhere, it was Sunday. Frank didn't care. All he knew was that he had to see James.

Farnk held his breath as he pressed James's buzzer, then exhaled as he was buzzed inside. He ran up the stairs to the fourth floor, James's door opened before Frank had a chance to ring the bell.

Frank carefully stepped inside the apartment and found himself staring at James, who stood in the middle of the living room. He was barefoot, wearing jeans and a tee shirt.

"Wow, you have one hell of a guilty look on your face Frank." James's expression wasn't angry, he looked quite calm.

Frank looked at the floor. "I was with Walter Skinner last night." He could not believe he just blurted that out, like it was nothing.

James folded his arms across his chest. "I thought so. So, he's the one you were with for five years?"

Frank just nodded.

For awhile, they stood, just eyeing each other, finally James nodded slightly and came over to Frank. "You know something Frank, I was worried about Catherine, competing with her for you. But now I see that's not going to be my problem. My problem's going to be other men. Frank, do you have any idea how sexy you are?"

Frank fought the urge to blush, but didn't make it. He couldn't believe that James, who looked like Michaelangelo's David in jeans, was telling *him* he was sexy.

"James...you don't have to worry about Walter anymore...that's why I'm here..."

James quickly took Frank in his arms and kissed him fiercely. Frank opened his mouth, receiving the kiss, desperately sucking on James's tongue. Frank felt himself begin to harden and felt James harden as well. James dragged Frank's jacket from his body, throwing it onto a chair, he quickly unbuttoned Frank's shirt, throwing it too to the floor, and started to gently suck the older man's nipples. Frank rubbed his body against James's, the friction, causing James to suck even harder. Frank managed to get James's tee shirt over his head and started to unbutton his jeans.

James raised his head. "Easy Frank," he said, only half convincingly.

"No," Frank breathed, "I want you."

James smiled, and unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped Frank's pants. Frank tore them and his boxers off his body, then toed off his shoes. Desire got the better of Frank as he pulled James's jeans and boxers off in one swift motion, causing James to smile.

Their bodies freed of their confines, James pushed Frank against the wall, giving him one passionate kiss after another. Their frantic hands massaged, rubbed, kneaded each other's bodies, feeling each line, each muscle, each contour.

Finally Frank, mad with longing and desire, turned around in James's arms, so his back was to him. "I want you inside me...here...now James..." his voice was low, his breathing ragged.

James leaned over and, with his tongue, caressed Frank's inner ear and earlobe. "Just a second," he said and he was gone.

"James..." Frank groaned. Damnit he was in agony. Maybe James was getting a condom, shit, couldn't he see just how much he wanted him?

It was the longest second in Frank's life, but James did return. "This'll make both of us feel good," his deep voice crooned.

Suddenly Frank felt the oil on his back, it was deliciously warm, and smelled like a pine forest. Frank gasped as James's oiled hands moved with agonizing slowness to his lower back and then to his buttocks. He nearly cried out as James rubbed the oil around his rectum.

"Almost there Frank," James rubbed a tiny bit of the oil on his rigid penis. Frank opened his legs and braced himself against the wall. James braced himself against the wall with one hand, the other hand moved around Frank, to his belly and lower. He gently pulled Frank towards him and then entered him, gently, carefully. Frank grunted and pushed back against James, feeling the full testicles as the younger man was all the way inside. James began to thrust rather quickly inside Frank, though Frank could tell the man was trying to pace himself. James took his right hand and encircled Frank's penis, sliding up and down, in time to this thrusts.

Frank was panting and sweating, and impaitently pushing against James. "Yes...yes...James...oh...God...harder...oh God...James...I'm yours...I love you..."

Frank's movements caused James to pump harder and much faster inside Frank, his hand too kept the same tempo.

James felt the madness approaching, though he would have liked to slow down, he could not stop the frenzied pace if his life depended on it. He took his hand from the wall and wrapped that arm around Frank's waist, Frank continued to push against James, keeping the pace himself, as he thrust his hips harder and faster against James's hand. Then Frank threw his head back.

"Oh...God...James!" he cried as he exploded into James's hand.

Frank's buttock muscles roughly contracted, stroking James's penis vigorously, causing James to shudder. James gave a gutteral moan as he came, still milking Frank who came all over James's hand, dripping onto the carpet. It seemed to go on forever, until both men were spent and they collapsed on top of each other, on the thick carpet.

When Frank could again see clearly, he rolled James onto his back and kissed his mouth, his cheeks, his eye lids, his nose. James weakly put his arms around his friend's neck and gave him a satisfied smile.

"I've never...it's never..." was all Frank could get out.

They lay there on the carpet, arms around each other, perfectly and completely relaxed. Then, Frank sat up and reached for the bottle of oil that now sat on the coffee table. James put his hands behind his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Frank just smiled. He put some of the oil on his hands and began to massage James's chest, his fingers kneading his stomach muscles. James groaned, as it did feel quite good, he grabbed the bottle from Frank and performed the same act on Frank.

Soon both men were rubbing and massaging oil on each other's chests, shoulders, backs, buttocks, and before long, both men became quite hard. Frank pushed James down on his back and got on top of him, their erections rubbing in a back and forth motion. James gripped Frank's buttocks, wanting him to go faster, but Frank held his ground and set the pace. The rhythm was a calm back and forth motion at first, then slowly, the pace would increase, but just before their movements begame too frenzied, Frank would slow down again, causing James to moan in frustration.

Frank kept the man off balance, until he couldn't stand it anymore himself. The tempo quickened, both men gripping each other's buttocks, raging towards release. Then, they climaxed together, crying out each other's names, their semen mingling together. When both men regained their senses again. They looked at each other and smiled.

Frank and James took a shower together, too exhausted to do anything but wash and rinse off their bodies, then after toweling off, retired to James's king sized bed. Where Frank pulled his lover in an embrace.

"James," he whispered. "You know I love Catherine, but I will never have with her, what I have with you."

James looked at Frank and realized what the man just said. He just smiled and touched Frank's face.

"You don't have to worry about Walter Skinner or anyone James...This isn't a backstreet affair James...I love you."

James smiled and rubbed his eyes as tears were about to come. "I love you too Frank."

One Month Later - Washington DC

Walter Skinner sat in his office, looking but not looking at the file on the "Open Field" murders. The killer, who had been caught a month ago, was a laid off school teacher, who himself had been abducted and raped as a boy. Walter had looked at that folder over and over for the past week, looking for Frank Black's name, even though he knew it would not be in an official FBI report. The phrase "local consultants" was the closest mention to Frank.

Walter rubbed his eyes. Shit, he had to snap out of it. It was a month ago, Frank was across the country, in love with another man and there was no changing that fact.

Outisde Walter's office, Special Agent Fox Mulder raised his hand to knock on the door.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Agent Mulder," Margie, Skinner's secretary said.

"What, knocking?" Fox half smiled.

The woman frowned. "The Assistant Director has been in a rotten mood for weeks. I'm surprised you haven't noticed it."

Fox nodded. "I've noticed." Then he smiled at Margie. "Guess I won't knock then." With that, Fox entered the Assistant Director's office, softly closing the door behind him.

Walter looked up. He dropped the file in his desk. "Mulder, what do you want now?"

Fox locked the door behind him and sauntered over to his boss's desk. Walter frowned as Fox placed his palms on the desk, then leaned over so their faces were nearly touching.

"I was wondering when you'd realize that Frank Black's no good for you." Fox then planted a light kiss on Walter's lips.

Walter jerked away, his body went rigid. Visions of his career and reputation in ruins danced inside his head.

"What...what the hell are you talking about Mulder..." he managed to say.

Fox shook his head. "Don't worry Sir, your secret's quite safe. No one else knows. The only reason I know is because I've been watching you for a long time, because I love you."

Walter rose involuntarily. Fox came over to him, put his arms around him and kissed him fully on the mouth. This time, instead of pushing him away, Walter received the kiss warmly, as his mind did sommersaults. Fox was in love with him, HIM, older, bald, Walter S. Skinner. The kiss finished, but Walter continued to hold the younger man in his arms. Jesus, Walter thought, this feels GOOD. He never thought of Fox Mulder that way...or had he? As Walter began to think of his time in Seattle, a realization dawned; the reason he wasn't able to perform with Frank had nothing to do with Frank, it had to do with him, Walter Skinner. Frank Black might have changed, but so had he.

Walter ran his hands through Fox's hair and sighed. "What are you doing tonight Age...Fox?"

Fox looked at Walter, then winked, "Nothing."

Walter pulled the man into an embrace once again. "Good, very good." He smiled and as he let out a satisfied sigh, thought that he could get used to this very easily.

THE END

Little Eva 11/25/96

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