Triad

Dear Red Shoes:

I can't believe I'm writing you this letter.

I bet you've heard that a hundred times. But it's true. Anyone who's known me for even five minutes would be stunned at the mere notion of me writing to a complete stranger about my sexual fantasies.

Stunned? Make that flabbergasted. Dumbfounded. Scandalized. My mother would faint. Or have a stroke.

My partner would...well, I suppose that's why I'm writing this in the first place. Because my fantasies are about him. About me with him. The man I've been working with for the past year--

Scratch that. Not 'working with' -- 'worked with.' Past tense. They broke up our partnership months ago, closed us down. And I've tried to put it behind me, tried to move on, to put what I feel for him out of my thoughts. Or at least, in some kind of perspective.

But it won't go away, won't leave me alone. He's on my mind constantly, at work, at home--

Lying in my bed alone at night, waiting for sleep to claim me. And on those nights when it's a long time coming, I stare at the blank gray ceiling, thinking of him--

Of that lopsided smirk of his, and the way he used to lean in close when we talked, letting me catch the warm muskiness of his skin, making me wonder what it would be like to press my lips to that softly throbbing pulse point right there in his throat, just to take the tiniest taste of him--

Making me wonder what it would be like to feel his naked body lying next to me--

On top of me--

Inside me.

I thought of these things when I touched myself, pretending, wishing it was him. The pleasure faded quickly.

And the fantasies persisted.

But I really wasn't hurting anyone. At least, that's what I tried to tell myself. We weren't working together anymore. The secret, the guilt was all mine. He never had to know.

But what if I wanted him to know?

The idea staggered me, yet I couldn't deny its truth. I did want him to know. I wanted to stand face to face with him and tell him and let whatever happened then happen. And to hell with the consequences...

One night. That's all I told myself I wanted. A few hours, stolen, out of time. Was that really so much to ask?

After all, Mulder was always lecturing me about opening myself up to 'extreme possibilities.' And I think the rest of this story certainly qualifies...

His apartment door was open.

Just a sliver, but it was enough to send ice rushing through her gut, enough to make her draw her gun before she nudged the door the rest of the way in, then swung around, sweeping the room before she entered.

There was no one in the kitchen, or the living room, so far as she could see. No sign that anyone was here at all.

Then she heard it -- a steady, muffled stream of sound drifting from the direction of the bedroom. Gun raised, she tiptoed in, letting the door snick closed behind her, inching over to the bedroom door--

Looking in--

Seeing Mulder, sitting on the edge of his bed, head thrown back, moaning, receiving a very slow and expert blow job--

From another man.

//Jesus!!//

Shock's jagged blade twisted through her, sending her crashing into the door jamb as she tried to back away--

And Mulder's head snapped up at that same precise moment, his eyes locking on hers--

//God, oh, God, this is not happening...//

She bolted.

"Scully! Wait!"

The sound of his voice reached her just as her hand closed over the front door latch, halting her, rooting her to the spot. No retreat, no escape.

No surrender, either. She'd been caught. If he was angry, she'd rather meet that head-on than slink away like a coward.

At least she had the presence of mind to holster her gun before she turned to face him. She wasn't ready to shoot him.

Not until she'd heard his explanation, anyway.

A microscopic pang of relief rippled through her as he pulled the bedroom door shut behind him, but the sensation dissolved quickly at the sight of a telltale bulge at his crotch even a pair of baggy gray sweatpants couldn't disguise.

It took all of her willpower to look him in the eye. "Y-your door was open, and I heard..." She ran the tip of her tongue over suddenly dry lips. "I'm sorry, Mulder...I thought you might be in trouble."

He stared at her for an endless moment, then chuckled, rubbing a hand through his hair. "It's all right, Scully. I probably would've thought the same thing."

"Yeah, well...I'd better go," she said, turning back toward the door--

But his hand on her shoulder stopped her. "You're shaking."

"S'okay. I was just a little...startled, that's all."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

Her hand slid up, covering his, but she didn't face him. She couldn't.

Then the bedroom door flew open. "Mulder, what the hell's going on?"

There was no mistaking that voice. She turned slowly, knees dissolving to water.

At least Alex Krycek had the good grace to look as stunned as she felt. "Um...Dana. Hi." Apparently he hadn't heard Mulder calling after her -- but then, he'd been otherwise occupied at the time.

She wanted to say something, but her voice wouldn't work. All she could do was stare from Mulder to Alex and back again.

Maybe shooting him wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Mulder followed Alex back into the bedroom for a few moments, then re-emerged, the door swinging shut behind him. "I think you'd better sit down," he said.

"I'm fine," she replied tightly. "I just need to get out of here--"

"Bullshit. I'm not letting you drive home in this condition. You look like you just got hit by a truck."

She didn't protest as he steered her over to the couch and sat her down, waiting silently as she spent an inordinate amount of time examining her fingernails. "I'm sorry, Scully," he said finally. "Guess I should've told you before, but..."

"The opportunity never presented itself?"

"Something like that."

"Look, Mulder, what you do with your private life is your own business. I've got no right--"

"I still should've told you."

Suddenly the absurdity of the situation hit her, and she had to bite back a chortle. "I'm...actually a little surprised that I haven't heard anything about it at the Bureau. I mean, this isn't the kind of thing that's easy to keep quiet and...well, especially since you and Alex are..."

"You mean, especially since I'm fucking my partner?" All she could do was stare at him, his deliberate crudity having the desired effect of shocking her speechless again. "What's the matter, Scully? You jealous?"

"Mulder!"

"Sorry you didn't get first crack at me?"

"I don't have to sit here and listen to this," she snapped, jumping up from the couch--

But he grabbed her wrist, yanking her back down. "Why'd you come here, Scully?" he asked softly.

"Wh-what?"

"Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

She could feel the hot flush creeping into her cheeks, making her look away. Damn him and his uncanny insight. "All I wanted was to...well, it hardly matters now, does it?"

"I'm not gay, Scully."

This time she couldn't stifle her laugh.

"I'm bisexual, though usually I prefer women. Alex is the first guy I've been with in...God, five years, at least."

"So what're you telling me? That I had my chance and I blew it...um, so to speak?"

"Not necessarily," he replied with a smile.

That same lazy, lopsided smile that twisted her up in knots inside. That started an ache so deep inside her she thought she'd split in half.

She knew what he was going to do before he did it, but that didn't stop her from gasping when his mouth came down hard on hers, tongue darting inside, hot and wet, gentle yet probing, tasting, questioning--

She pulled back. She had to. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She hadn't been kissed like that since high school. "God, Mulder, what the hell are you doing to me--"

"Stay," he whispered, mouth close to her ear. The feel of his stubble on her throat, her cheek shot fresh waves of dizziness through her. "Be with us."

"Us?"

"Alex wants you too. He told me."

"What? When?"

"The first time we were together. He's had a hard-on for you since he took your pathology class at Quantico."

"Oh, God..." This was incredible. Almost too much for her mind to process. But she wanted it, wanted him, with a desperation that made her breathless. The thought of accepting another man at the same time gave her pause, but if it was what she had to do to have Mulder, so be it. This might be the only opportunity she would ever get. "Mulder, are you sure?"

"Very," he replied, standing up, holding his hand out to her. "But the real question is, are you?"

Her mouth went dry as her gaze dropped down, the physical evi-dence of his desire for her right there in front of her. Those gray sweatpants didn't lie. Smiling shakily, she let him help her get up from the couch -- more from a fear that she'd fall flat on her face if he didn't -- and slip off her coat, suit jacket and holster.

"Come on," he said then, leaning down to give her a quick kiss before leading her to the bedroom.

Alex lay sprawled on his stomach on the bed, lazily flicking channels with the TV remote, but he turned it off when they came in, smiling. "Jesus, Mulder, I was starting to think it was gonna take you all night to convince her."

Sliding off the bed, he came over to her, stroking her cheek. All he wore were a pair of jeans and a grin. She couldn't help noticing how snug the jeans were, how well they fit in all the right places. Drawing closer, he kissed her wetly, sweetly, thoroughly.

He had a great mouth. Not as full and sensual as Mulder's, but God, he sure knew what to do with it.

And those green eyes...sparkling and intense at the same time. Too much like Mulder's. All of a sudden she found herself suppressing a shudder. "Alex, I've never--"

"Shhh. It's okay, Dana. We'll go slow. We won't do anything you don't want. All you have to do is say the word. Promise."

But she barely heard him. Mulder had come up behind her, put his arms around her waist, softly kissing the side of her throat as he unbuttoned her blouse, pulling it from her skirt. She shivered at the first touch of his fingertips on her bare skin, so light she scarcely felt it. One hand reached up, flicking the front closure of her bra, peeling it away from one breast.

And in the next instant there was another hand there, slightly smaller, but no less insistent. "Hey, leave something for me to do, okay?" Alex said, stroking, rubbing his thumb over one rosy nipple, grinning as the firm flesh puckered, stiffened at his touch.

He lingered there just long enough to make her squirm, cupping and teasing, finally moving down to the side zipper on her skirt, sliding it down, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of her panties, taking them and her pantyhose along with it.

She stood there between them, stripped bare, trembling, nerve endings dangerously close to overload. It had been...God, she couldn't even remember how long since she'd last had sex, and now, here she was, about to do it with both of them--

With a cry, she turned in Mulder's arms, pressing her face to his chest. "I'm sorry, but I can't...it's too much..."

She felt Mulder's fingers tangling in her hair, his lips at her ear, murmuring, reassuring her, sensed movement behind her, realized it had to be Alex stepping back. "Um...maybe I'd better sit this one out..." she heard him say.

Mulder nodded, softly kissing her ear, her forehead, her hair, fingertips stroking her, calming her. "S'okay, Scully...everything's gonna be all right..." he said, tilting up her chin, forcing her to meet his intense hazel gaze. "Trust me?"

"Always."

"Love me?"

The question blazed through her like a lightning bolt, thrumming all the way to her core. How had he known? "Y-yes..."

"Then let me love you."

Her kiss was her reply, rising to meet his, tender, tentative, almost chaste.

It was going to happen. She clung to him, shivering, dizzy. It was really going to happen. That is, if she managed to live through all this foreplay...

He kissed her again, this time with greater intensity, taking her deeper, gently moving her back toward the bed, easing her down onto the mattress, then stretching out beside her.

They lay there together for what seemed like a century, tongues duelling, sliding, working hot and wet first in her mouth, then his, driving her slowly, thoroughly insane. She moaned in protest when he finally tore himself away, tracing a moist path down the line of her jaw to her throat.

She started whimpering in earnest when he bent down, covering her nipple with his mouth, taking the velvety peak between his teeth, gently at first, then with greater insistence as the sounds she made grew louder, more frenzied.

His fingers slipped gently between her thighs, into her soft folds, finding her core, rubbing, stroking, turning her to liquid fire.

Blissful torture. Heaven and hell combined...

He rolled on top of her, taking his weight on his elbows, mouth hovering a scant inch above hers, tasting her breath. She could feel his erection rubbing her belly through the thin cotton fleece of his sweatpants, and snaked one hand down, cupping, squeezing it, smiling when he gasped.

That was all it took. With a quick kiss he lifted himself up, half-standing to slip the pants off--

And she caught a glimpse of what was behind him. Alex, sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room, jeans unzipped, stroking himself off as he watched them.

The breath stopped, froze in her lungs, momentarily paralyzing her. "M-Mulder, I d-don't want him to--"

He knelt swiftly beside her on the mattress, blocking her view of Alex, cupping her face in one hand. "Don't look at him," he said, voice low and husky, breath feathering her skin like roughened silk. "Look at me. Concentrate on me. On us."

God, it was almost as if he was seeping under her skin, working on her like a drug, compelling her to obey, to concentrate on him. Then her gaze dipped below his waist, and she found it impossible to concentrate on anything else.

She'd seen him nearly naked before, but he'd always been sick or wounded or unconscious, a partner in need, not an object of desire. This was...different. Earth-shattering...

She lifted herself up on one elbow, reaching over to run a ten-tative hand up his bicep to his shoulder, down to the center of his lightly-furred chest, resting at last low on his belly, her gaze drifting lower still.

He was gorgeous, all over. Every inch of him was beautiful, a thick, rosy arrow jutting from a thicket of dark curls. She let one finger trail down the length of him, tracing a blue vein. It pulsated in time with the beat of his heart.

All else forgotten, she leaned down, blowing softly on the tip, startled -- and more than a little pleased -- when a tiny drop of pearlescence formed there. Her tongue darted out, tasting the essence of him, all musk and sea-salt. Cupping him with both hands, she sucked the tip into her mouth, her tongue sliding down the underside of his shaft, taking as much of him as she could without gagging.

He let out a ragged groan, hips jerking involuntarily, scalding her tongue, the roof of her mouth with his silken heat. She pulled back slightly but still held him in her mouth, flicking her tongue over him, accepting all he had to give her, craving more.

Then she felt his fingers weaving gently in her hair, lifting her away from him, easing her back on the bed, spreading her thighs with a nudge of his knee, settling between them once more.

Kissing her hungrily, he rubbed his erection over her belly, then lower, dipping into her warm slickness, teasing her clitoris, sliding down until he was barely inside her, his tongue mimicking the partial, maddeningly incomplete penetration.

She whimpered, clutching at him.

"Say you want me," he whispered.

"I...want you."

"Say my name."

"Mul--"

"No. My name."

"Fox," she breathed. "I want you, Fox."

"How do you want me?"

"Now. Please."

Sliding both hands under her, he pushed forward, making both of them gasp, stopping for a moment to give her body a chance to adjust to him. Even as wet as he'd made her, it was a tight fit, a delicious fullness straddling the knife's edge between pain and pleasure.

She wanted more, and she wanted it now. Drawing her legs back, she wrapped them around his waist, both hands on his ass, urging him on. He got the message and began slowly rocking her, burying himself deeper in her, picking up speed with each stroke. She pulled him down to her so their entire bodies touched, skin to skin.

Sweat sheened them both as he pounded into her, bucking and plunging, pushing her further up the mattress with each punishing thrust. She gasped, screamed, inner muscles contracting, rippling up and down the length of him, gripping, milking him as she climaxed--

Groaning into her shoulder, he gave one last, incredibly deep push into her, finishing it for both of them at once.

He rolled off her as soon as he'd caught his breath, pulling her close to him, kissing her softly on the forehead, stroking her moist skin. Neither of them said a word. They didn't have to, she realized. The moment was perfect as it was.

She drowsed, drifting, awash in afterglow, scarcely aware of the mattress dipping down slightly on the other side of her. But her eyes flew open when a hand touched her shoulder, moving slowly down to the small of her back. Not Mulder's hand.

Starting, she half-rolled over, meeting Alex's intense green gaze. Her breath caught when he reached over, running two fingers over her cheek, gently stroking it. "You're a beautiful lady," he whispered, bringing his mouth close to her ear, nipping the lobe, grinning at the hot jolt it sent sailing through her. "You looked even more beautiful with him..."

He shifted slightly, and something very stiff and warm prodded her hip. God, he was still hard. He'd watched them, but he hadn't brought himself off. The look in his eyes answered her unvoiced question. He'd been holding back, waiting for her.

"Let me..?" he asked, feathering her throat with kisses, trailing down to her shoulder. His hand stroked her hip, slipping between her thighs, eliciting a sharp intake of breath as his fingers brushed her still-sensitive folds. He'd almost made her come again. "I'll make it good, Dana. I promise..."

Her mind whirled, her body burned. She wanted it, and at the same time she didn't. She'd come here for Mulder, to tell him how she felt about him, to make love with him, not with Alex...

She glanced over at Mulder, lying on the other side of her, pleading him with her eyes. His only reply was to smile, roll onto his side, and kiss her softly.

Then he leaned over her, meeting Alex halfway, covering Alex's mouth with his own, tongue delving deep.

Fire shot along her nerve endings at the sight, making her breathless, light-headed. It was all right. Mulder was telling her that it was all right. That whatever made her happy made him happy.

The two men broke apart finally, and she kissed each of them in turn, then lay back, her back resting against Alex's chest, his erection brushing the cleavage of her ass, twitching in arousal. She sighed, eyes floating half-shut, relaxed. Waiting.

Alex's hands were strong and warm, caressing her skin, his lips at the nape of her neck, bestowing wet, gentle kisses even as she felt one of his thighs sliding between both of hers, lifting and positioning her--

His penetration was an orgasm in itself, hot and wet and deep, making her cry out with the joy of it. She let her head loll back against Alex's shoulder, felt his breath hot and rapid on her throat, both hands encircling her waist, holding her for even harder, deeper thrusts, fingertips teasing her nipples--

Not Alex's fingertips, she realized, eyes opening finally, seeing Mulder lying before her, touching her, leaning down to kiss her, deeply, thoroughly, the touch of his tongue spinning her toward oblivion again--

But that was nothing compared to what she felt when he shifted, moving lower, flicking his tongue over one painfully-erect nipple, sucking softly, then with greater force, pulling the rosy flesh into his mouth even as she felt one hand drifting lower--

Between her legs, touching her, rubbing her clitoris even as he moved up to claim her mouth again--

And the world cracked, shattered, flew apart as she went hurtling headlong over its blinding white edge--

She came back to herself slowly, dimly realizing she was still lying between them, cradled against Mulder, Alex on the other side of her, head resting on her shoulder, arm looped loosely around her waist.

Mulder pressed a kiss to her forehead as soon as he discovered she was awake. "You okay?"

"Mmmmm."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Mmmmm."

That made him laugh, and she couldn't help joining him. It was a wonderful, relaxed sound, one she didn't get to hear from him often enough. Or from herself, she realized with a pang.

Propping herself up on one elbow, she looked at him, traced his lower lip with one finger, heart alternately soaring and aching. Her lover. Her lover for a night.

One night. That's all she'd told herself she wanted.

It wasn't enough.

"What's wrong?" Mulder asked. "You've got a funny look on your face."

"Nothing," she answered a little too quickly, sitting up. "I'd better go."

"Why?"

She glanced down at Alex, who'd rolled over on his back, still slightly out of it. "I...um, don't want to overstay my welcome."

"Like you could. C'mere," he said, taking her arm, pulling her back down to lie beside him. "Stay. I want you to."

"But what about--"

"We want you to," Alex said, eyes finally fluttering open.

That floored her. "You mean you want to...go on like this? Both of you?"

"Why's that so hard for you to believe?" Alex asked. "I meant what I said, Dana. You're a beautiful woman. I've wanted you for a long time. This wasn't just a favor to Mulder."

Her gaze darted from Mulder to Alex and back again. "God," she breathed, "guess I should be careful what I wish for..."

"Does that mean you'll come back tomorrow night?" Mulder asked, reaching up, smoothing back an errant strand of red-gold hair.

Her hand flew up to her cheek, feeling the slow flush starting there. Why was she suddenly so embarrassed? After what had happened, such a feeling seemed vaguely ridiculous, out of place. They'd done nothing wrong, after all. They'd given each other pleasure, and affection. Both things had come rarely enough in her life; she wasn't about to throw them aside simply because some people wouldn't understand.

Given time, there might even be love. Where Mulder was concerned, that was already a guarantee.

She lay back down in between both of them again. "There was... um, something I was wondering, though..."

Mulder shot Alex a look, then nodded. "Sure. What?"

"Tomorrow night...could I watch the two of you?"

So there you have it, Red Shoes. Fantasy made reality. Reality surpassing fantasy by a country mile.

I don't think I need to worry about spending any more sleepless nights staring at the blank gray ceiling, do you?