notes: Roland (Rollie) Tyler is the special effects wizard from F/X and F/X2, played by Bryan Brown. Lovely Australian accent. I got the trick Rollie uses on Fox from the great make up effects artist, Tom Savini. His book, Grande Illusions, is highly recommended. I actually used this in a demonstration on make up in a college class. Pretty effective. The technique for making foam latex appliances is as accurate as my memory could make it, since I don't have the book any more and didn't have any luck locating explicit instructions on the net. But the 'wear-ever' fixative is, to my best knowledge, my own invention.

There was less than a week left of preparation before the mission proper started. Fox wasn't exactly nervosa. Not exactly. But as it got closer, he realized more and more exactly what it was he was taking on.

He was learning about Olivero de la Montana. Olivero was in his mid to late thirties, no one was entirely sure exactly. Official records were not a priority among his people in Columbia. He was a mestizo, of mixed European and American Indian ancestry, but there was much more Indian in his blood. Olivero's family had worked on a coffee plantation for generations, and he had been expected to do the same.

But young Olivero was ambitious. He looked around, and saw where the real money lay. He began cultivating small plots of cannabis in the jungle when he was in his mid teens, harvesting and selling the crop himself. With the money he made, he bought a little land, and was able to grow even more, and make even more money, and buy more land.

Then he graduated to growing poppies instead of grass, and manufacturing the white powder that brought dreams, and great wealth. Other small entrepreneur disappeared. And Olivero always seemed to acquire their holdings.

Before he was twenty, he didn't have to do the actual physical labor himself, but he still kept active in the bottom level running of his business. Now people worked for him. Mestizos left the coffee plantations owned by the pale men of European descent. The men who treated them as fools, or children. Olivero was one of their own, and did not treat anyone like a fool or a child unless they were one. It sickened Mulder when he learned that children as young as six or seven worked for the drug lord. They toiled in the fields beside their parents, as poor rural children had since the beginning of time. The only difference now was that instead of coffee, bananas, or sugar, they helped produce cocaine.

Mulder slouched on the leather couch, leafing through photographs of Olivero. As usual, the M:I observation operatives had done an outstanding job. Most of the photos had obviously been taken with zoom lenses, but they were remarkably sharp.

Fox chose one photograph, and studied it. Olivero was a good looking man. His complexion was dark olive, and he was smooth skinned, as were most mestizos. His hair was even darker than Ethan's, a little coarse, and kept chopped off short. A marine drill sergeant would have found nothing to complain about in either his haircut, his posture, or his attitude. He looked seriously 'don't-fuck-with-me'.

The nose was a little long, with that straight from the brow look that reminded Mulder of Aztec temple carvings. It was balanced by a wide mouth, but thin lipped mouth. His high cheekbones seemed to lift up large eyes that were so black they looked almost purple.

He was a big man, too. The photo showed him standing in a doorway, and it didn't clear his head by much. Plus he nearly filled it, side to side. But even with his mass, there was something graceful about the man. Mulder had the feeling that Olivero wasn't one of those big men who were slow and awkward. He remembered his nickname: The Jaguar. Yeah, he probably moved like a jungle cat.

The other photos were a lot more disturbing. As an FBI agent, and especially working on the X Files, Mulder had seen more than his share of grisly crime scenes. It took a lot to turn his stomach. The photos did it.

There were ten of them. The victims were both male and female, and ranged in age from late teens to, well, old. It was hard to tell. Death did that to people. Especially violent death. Not all had been bloody, but all were violent. None of these people had died easily.

Mulder remembered Ethan telling him of how Olivero had acquired his nickname. He disposed of his enemies like the big cat killed it's prey. The jaguar, if the prey was small enough, would clamp it's massive jaws on the animal's throat and either suffocate it, or snap it's neck with a brisk shake of it's head. Montanta used his massive arms instead of his jaws, but achieved the same effect. One picture showed a young woman who might once have been pretty. Her head was lying over on her shoulder at an angle God had never intended for one of his higher creations to manage.

The second favored method of the jaguar was this: to hold the prey immobile, and kick with powerful hind legs, using razor sharp claws to disembowel the unfortunate beast. Olivero favored a large single blade knife for this task. He usually opened up his victims from side to side AND from crotch to sternum.

Mulder covered his mouth as he looked at the photos. Thank god they were in black and white. It made them almost abstract. Color, and he would have been rushing for the bathroom.

Ethan came back from checking the mail (nothing today, for a wonder). He paused near the doorway, watching Mulder as he studied Montana's handiwork. The FBI agent's smooth forehead was creased, and he was worrying at that full lower lip. Ethan had seen the photos himself, and could imagine Mulder's reaction to them. He almost hated exposing Fox to such things and precisely where the hell had that little piece of protectiveness popped up from?, but Mulder had to be aware of what the man they would be dealing with was capable of. Pictures said more than the written or spoken word could, in this case.

"Nasty."

Fox looked over at him. "Very."

He was holding the photographs so hard that he was bending them. Ethan walked over, took the photos from Mulder's hand, and ran them through the shredder. He watched as they were reduced to glossy strips, and behind him Mulder said, "I wish it was going to be that easy to get those images out of my head."

Hunt went and sat beside Mulder, waiting for his lover to say what was really on his mind. They hadn't been together long, but things developed quickly in this sort of tense environment. He could tell that Mulder had something he needed to say. At last, not looking at Hunt, he said quietly, "How many?"

"We don't know for sure. Those, and at least ten more. It may be as many as forty, forty-five, by his own hand. That's not counting the one's he's ordered, or the ones that were just a natural offshoot of his expansion."

Fox's hands were twisting in his lap, and he stared at them. "I know you said we were just going in to stop the partnership, and make sure Galbraith couldn't hook up with anyone else. But..." He trailed off.

"But?"

"I'm not feeling real politically correct right now, Hunt." He wasn't going to come out and say it, probably couldn't say it, and Ethan liked that. It was too easy for some people to say that someone else just needed to die.

Ethan said slowly, "I never go into my mission intending to kill someone. Like I told you, I'm not an assassin. But sometimes things happen. Sometimes people die. We always try to be sure it's not one of us."

Fox digested this. So, Hunt would not seek to kill Montana, but... But there would be no extraordinary efforts to avoid killing him, either. Fox found he could live with that.

"We need to get your mind off that stuff. Unfortunately, what we're going to have to do today might not be the best way to do that."

"What are we doing today?"

"Well, I'm getting tattooed, and you..." he ran a finger lightly across Mulder's shoulder. "are getting scarred."

The place was right on the edge, where gentrification was beginning to renew a seedier section of town. Lofts and warehouses were being converted into prime apartment space. The building they went to, though, looked as if it hadn't been given 'the treatment' yet. It was ragged.

Ethan pushed a buzzer at the front door. Almost immediately a window on the second floor flew open. A lean man with a craggy, handsome face leaned out. He was clad only in a towel wrapped around his hips. A small towel, at that. When he saw Ethan, his face lit up with a wide grin. "Bugger me! Look who's here!" He had a thick Australian accent. A key hurtled down to them, and Hunt caught it neatly. "Get yer arse up here while I get dressed."

"No need to on our account." Ethan was answered by raucous laughter, as the man pulled back in and shut the window. As he unlocked the door, he explained, "We've worked together several times. These missions often call for drastic changes of appearance. And, he's my friend."

They entered a dim hallway, and went to a lift. As Fox reached to open the door, which had to be raised, Ethan said, "Maybe I should warn you about..."

Something large, hairy, and as ugly as a madman's nightmare leaped at Mulder from the elevator, roaring. Mulder didn't scare easily, but the sheer shock drove him back into Ethan with a yell. He instinctively tried to sweep his lover behind him while he jerked his gun from it's shoulder holster. "No! Mulder, wait!"

He'd fired three shots before he realized that the thing wasn't advancing. It wasn't falling either. It was just sort of hanging there. "Fox, it's okay. Let me move."

Mulder found that he had Ethan behind his back, pinned between his own body and the wall. Eyeing the quiescent beast suspiciously, he moved enough to allow Hunt to slip free. "I wasn't fast enough to warn you. Rollie always has a little surprise tucked around the entrance, to discouraged unannounced visitors."

"Well, I gotta say that it's a damn sight more effective than a fucking 'No Solicitors' sign." Mulder reholstered his gun, and edged toward the hulking figure. "What the fuck is that?"

Hunt looked at the creature. "That's Fluffy."

"Fluffy."

"Yeah, from 'Campus After Dark'. Last time I was here it was the Gatorman from 'Bayou Beyond'."

Mulder peered more closely at it. He reached out gingerly and touched the snarling mouth. The gums exposed by black, wrinkled lips were plastic. The squinty red eyes were glass. "Son of a bitch. Yeah, I recognize 'im now. That movie bit the big one, but the special effects were good."

A voice floated down from above. "Thank you. Now get the hell up here."

The creature slowly moved back into the elevator, and Mulder saw now that it was mounted on a wheeled platform that ran along a short length of track. As they rode up, Fox said, "I'm not gonna have Frankenstein come after me when this thing opens up again, am I?"

"Probably not." Pause. "But I couldn't guarantee."

The other man was waiting for them in front of the elevator when it arrived. The second Ethan stepped out he was enveloped in a bear hug. "You bloody bastard! Months, it's been!"

Ethan slapped Rollie on the back before pulling away. "You know how it is. Things get hectic. Rollie, this is my partner in my latest venture: Fox Mulder. Fox, Roland Tyler, special effects maven."

They shook hands, "It's Rollie, mate, as this git bloody well knows. C'mon in and have a beer."

He led them deeper into the loft. Fox stared about in wonder. There were... things... everywhere. What he prayed to God had to be a fake severed head was resting on a plate on a table. He was relieved when he recognized it as the blonde starlet who'd come to a grisly end in 'Cannibal Cafe'.

A disembodied arm that looked something like it belonged to a hairy crab was on a work bench, it's end sprouting a nest of wires that was attached to an electronics board. As he watched, there was a click, a light flickered on the board, and the pincers slowly closed, then opened. Tyler, reaching into the refrigerator, saw where his gaze was directed. "Just a little remote control time delay I'm playin' around with. Workin' nicely so far."

He strolled back to Ethan and Fox with three beers, two of the bottles gripped comfortably in one large, capable looking hand. Passing them out, he cracked open his own, and lifted it to them. "Cheers."

Fox wandered over to look at a wall display of various life masks, sipping his beer. Ethan said, "You got the information on what we need?"

"Course I did. Last week. Been studyin' the bleedin' photos off and on the whole time. The tattoo won't be too hard. They traced down where he got it, an' sent examples of the artists work. I'll ve able to fake it with no problem." He grinned at Ethan. "Sure ya don't want to make it permanent? Y'd look sexier than ever with a tattoo."

"Not in my line, Rollie. It's easier to fake one on for awhile than to cover one up when it's not supposed to be there. How about what you need to do to Mulder?"

Rollie was eyeing Fox with open admiration. "Yeah, what about what I need to do to him?" Ethan poked him in the side, and he grinned. "Don't worry, mate. They sent along the photo they took of the lad when he got sliced up in the nick. Bleedin' shame, that was. How anyone could stand to mark somethin' that pretty I'll never know."

"Some people have no consideration for the rest of us. You'll be able to do it?" Tyler lowered the beer and gave Hunt a wounded look. "Sorry. Forget I said that. Force of habit. I know you can do it."

"I should bleedin' well hope so."

Fox felt a presence behind him, and turned to find the tall Australian standing close. "These are fantastic. You've worked with a lot of famous people."

"Yeah, once I did my time on the crap productions. Some of 'em are real nits when it comes to co-operating, though. How about you, Mulder? Are you co-operative?"

Fox raised his eyebrows. There had been a definite suggestive hint in that tone. He glanced at Ethan, but the spy was just smiling at him. Apparently he was familiar with Rollie's style, and it didn't bother him to see his friend coming on to his lover. Fox wasn't sure if he was relieved, or disappointed. Rollie Tyler really WAS a sexy man. And Mulder was rather curious as to whether this thing with Ethan was unique, or an indicator of a leaning he hadn't recognized in himself. It would be interesting to find out. "That depends on who you talk to. My partner Dana, and my boss might not think so. Hunt hasn't had any complaints so far."

"Mm. Good to know." Rollie had set his beer down on the littered work table, and was idly sifting through the various items that littered it. There was an open box of single edged razor blades, probably used to trim ragged edges off of make up appliances.

Fox watched as he extracted one and turned it over, flipping and rolling it through his fingers, as some magicians did with a coin. It was an oddly entrancing sight. "I like someone who knows when to be still so I can do my job properly."

Rollie stripped off the blade's protective cardboard band. Again he flipped it back and forth across his knuckles. Fox could feel the hair beginning to stand up on the back of his neck. What the fuck was he doing? He was going to slice the hell out of himself.

The blade ended up pinched firmly between thumb and forefinger in his right hand. Rollie pointed at Hunt, and Fox glanced at him briefly. "That one there. Good as gold. Sat for three hours once when I had to do a full mask."

Fox looked back at Rollie, and felt his insides clench as the saw the tip of the blade pressing down firmly against Rollie's left wrist. As he watched, the skin dimpled under the pressure. A bright bead of blood oozed up at the contact point. Then Tyler was slicing up the inside of his forearm, leaving a gory trail all the way up to the crook of his elbow.

Fox gaped in horror. He knew from his studies that this was the most effective way to commit suicide, if one was doing it by razor. Slashes across the wrists tended to clot. UP the forearm, and you could open up a vein so well that it would be difficult even for paramedic help to stop the flow. "Tyler...what the fuck...?"

Grinning maniacally, the man lifted the dripping razor to his throat. "NO!"

Too late. He slashed, straight across. Blood sprayed, splattering a startled Ethan in the face. Reacting on instinct, like he had downstairs, Mulder quickly knocked the blade from Tyler's hand, and grabbed him, pressing his hands to the throat wound to try and staunch the flow, and Tyler was laughing laughing. So was Ethan.

And that blood felt way too cool. The special effects wizard's eyes sparkled. "Gotcha."

"You...you..."

Ethan had gotten a paper towel off a roll on the table and was wiping his face. "I usually say bastard."

"Yeah, that'll do. That was a fucking gag?"

"One of my best." He turned his palm toward Mulder. Now Fox saw the rubber squeeze syringe, rather like the kind used to give babies enemas, he held. The snout was still oozing red fluid.

"You found a way to improve the projection on that since the last time I saw you," Ethan said, tossing away the red smeared paper. "Before all you could manage was a drip effect."

Tyler nodded. "And I'm using a glycerine base on the blood instead of the old Karo type. You won't be all over sticky from it. When I was working on Alpine Attack, the bloody cold kept thickening it, so it wouldn't ooze properly. I mixed it with vodka, to keep is liquid. The actors who had to hold it in their mouths for the dribble out effects kept swallowing it instead of spitting it out like they were supposed to. Half the cast was pissed most of the shoot." He smiled at Mulder. "Not that I mind, mate, but can I have me throat back?"

Fox realized that he still had his hands on the other man's throat. "I'm not sure. I think maybe I should wring your neck."

"Oh, got ya a feisty one this time, Ethan. Just a joke, lad."

"He wouldn't tease you if he didn't like you, Fox. I knew him a week before he made me think he'd blown his brains out."

Tyler indicated a dark splotch on the wall. "Never have been able to get rid of that stain. Damn good thing I own this shack. I'd never get the deposit back, otherwise. Now," He gently disengaged Mulder's hands, but held on to his wrists.

"How did you do that?"

Tyler's thumbs were stroking across the back of Fox's wrists. It was very distracting. Rollie let him go, and picked up the razor blade from where it lay in a pool of 'gore'. He stroked it across Fox's hand. Fox could feel the cool pressure of metal, but it was dull.

Tyler held the blade up for his inspection. "Look closely." Fox did. The tip was rounded, blunt. "I grind the edge off with a wetstone and sandpaper. Then I just glue it back in the cardboard safety strip, and it's good to go."

"Diabolical."

A wide smile. "Ain't I though? And well paid for it, too." He handed Mulder paper towels so he could clean his hands, and swabbed the red mess off his own throat.

"Your shirt is a mess."

Rollie plucked at it, peering down. "Yeah, well. I changed the coloring I use in it since then. It'll wash out, now. But it is a bit groddy." He casually skinned the shirt off, dropping it on the table and exposing a seriously buff torso. "Right. I'd best get the latex mixing for your appliance."

Fox watched raptly as he set about mixing up the stuff he would use to form the scar appliance. He stirred together a powder base, and various liquids that were used to stabalize, gel, tint, and increase the flow of the finished liquid. Then the concoction went into a very large commercial blender to 'cream'. "Right. Let's get the molds done while that finishes. Shirt off, Mulder." Fox looked to Ethan. Tyler sighed. "Don't be difficult, mate. I have to have a mold of the part I'm going to be working on to make a proper appliance. I COULD do it on Clyde," he gestured to a lifelike torso, "But it never looks as good, and you need the best."

Fox got out of his shirt, but held it up in front of him when Rollie approached with a cordless electric shaver. "What do you think you're going to do with that?"

Tyler grinned. "Well, mate, I didn't take you for the type who's into pain, but if you really want to have your body hair ripped out when I remove the plaster..." Fox scowled. "Just the area needed. If you're to have the full shave, I'll leave that to Ethan."

"Just around the shoulder, where you need it, Rollie." Ethan said. "I kinda like that little pelt he has."

Mulder blushed at the teasing, just a little uncomfortable that Ethan was being so open about their...well, he supposed it was a relationship. Of sorts.

Rollie clicked the shaver on with his thumb, and gripped Fox's left shoulder. "Let's see. It was the right one the poor boy got marked up." He touched the shaver to Mulder's skin, and began moving it, slowly mowing down the very few, light hairs that had crept up to that area, then stroking down his chest a few inches. Mulder shivered a little as the vibration of the shaver moved through his body. "Easy, boy. I won't be takin' off anythin' important."

Tyler clicked off the shaver and set it aside. "Let's see now." He passed a hand lingeringly over the shaved area. "Right. Smooth as a baby's bottom. Have a seat."

Fox sat, and watched as, this time, he mixed up molding plaster. Flirtatiousness gone now, Rollie smoothed a thick coating of petroleum jelly on the shaved spot, and laid a piece of fine cloth over it, taping down the edges. He then layered the plaster mixture on evenly. "Now. You just sit quiet like a good boy while that hardens. I'll start on Ethan's little decoration. Ethan, guess what articles of clothing you get to remove."

Hunt was already unbuckling his pants. "Yeah, right. Voyeur."

"Comes in handy in my line o' work." As Ethan stood there in his briefs, Rollie showed him a sketch. "That's what it will look like. Pretty tasteful, considering." The capital D and B were slightly gothic, but not overyly ornate. The entire tattoo was about three inches square.

Rollie had a special make-up chair, a padded contraption that could be folded into chair position, or stretched flat, like a massage table. It could also be raised or lowered, so the artist could work either standing or sitting. Ethan pulled off his briefs and stretched out on it, on his back. Rollie pulled a chair and small work stand up beside him, sitting down. He picked up an unlabled aluminum spray can and began shaking it. "You might want to shield John Thomas while I put the base on, Ethan."

Ethan covered his genitalia with his hands, and Rollie sprayed a fine, even mist on his hip. The spy grimaced, hissing, "Shit! That stuff is still frigid."

"Sorry, but I just haven't figured out a way to heat it yet, you baby. What would you do if I actually had to use a needle on you?"

"Probably break your neck if you tried." But Ethan lay still as Rollie taped a stencil to his hip, and mixed pigments on a pallette.

Tyler began to fill in the stencil, working the blue-black color on with a tiny brush. Ethan craned his head to watch him work. Rollie was meticulous, stroking the color on in swatches no bigger than a matchhead. He had his left elbow on Ethan's thigh, holding his 'work surface' steady.

As Mulder watched, Hunt's cock slowly began to thicken, without either man touching it. But Mulder could imagine the feathery, tickling touch on Ethan's hip, the warm weight of the Austrailian's arm across his leg, the complete concentration Rollie had on the younger man.

When the stencil was filled, Tyler sprayed it again. "There. That can settle while I get on to the next phase with your friend." The plaster was carefully loosened, and pried away from Mulder. He winced, losing a hair or two despite the precautions. Tyler gave him a towel and some sort of cleaning solution. "Get all that off. I'll need a clean surface to work on when the appliance is done."

Fox cleaned up, watching as Rollie used the negative mold to make a positive one: one that would be a 3D representation of the area. That was set to dry also. Rollie turned off the mixer and dipped up a tiny bit of the latex, matching it against Fox's skin tone. "I can't get it exact without painting it. You can never get a realistic look if it's just all over one color. But I can do a little better than that. Needs a bit more pink." He added a couple of drops of pigment, and started the mixer again, then went back to work on Ethan.

He's working on Ethan in more ways than one. That is growing into a really respectable boner. Enough to make Mulder's mouth water, in fact. Rollie began to whistle softly as he worked the tiny brush against Ethan's skin. The tune was familiar, but Fox didn't recognize it till the special effects man started to sing under his breath. "Tie me kangaroo down, sport. Tie me kangaroo down. Don' let him go runnin' round, sport. Tie me kangaroo down."

Ethan's voice was husky. "I got your kangaroo, right here, Aussie." Rollie grinned, and wiggled the brush at him. "You tickle me where you shouldn't with that damn brush, and I go upside your head."

"Nah. I'm finished, with the brush, anyway." He dropped it on the table. "But what about..." Still grinning, he reached out and ran one fingertip the length of Ethan's cock, root to tip, and slowly spread the first drizzle of pre-cum over the glans. "this?"

Ethan's eyes half closed. "I'm all right with that."

Rollie continued the gentle, circling touch, and Hunt sighed. His cock was stiffening quickly, almost fully erect now, and the crystal liquid dribbled slowly down the side. Tyler looked over at Fox, gaugeing his expression. "You all right with this, mate?"

"Should I leave the room?"

Ethan leaned up on one elbow, fixing him with his eyes. "No. Stay."

Fox hesitated. "Yeah. I'm okay with it." It's not as if we've sworn eternal devotion to each other, is it? We're not Connor and Daniel, no matter how much we resemble them. Why should it bother me if Ethan has a good time with him? But it did bother him, at least a little.

Either he wasn't as good at hiding his emotions as he thought, or Rollie Tyler was a keenly observant man. Still stoking Ethan with one hand, he beckoned to Fox with the other. "Come here."

Fox hesitated. But Ethan was watching him with that hot gaze. He got up and walked over to the table, standing next to it. Rollie turned a little, so that he was facing Fox. Stopping his petting of Ethan for a moment, he took hold of Mulder's hips.

His grib was undemanding, but firm. "I think your boy is feeling a bit neglected, Ethan. I don't blame him. Mind if I unruffle his feathers a bit?"

"Not if he doesn't have any objections." Ethan began to stroke himself lazily.

"Let's see if he does." Rollie pulled Mulder toward him, and nuzzled his crotch.

Mulder could feel his hot, damp breath through the layers of his clothing, and shivered. What is it with me? A couple of weeks ago, to the best of my knowledge, I hadn't thought twice about sex with another man. Now I seem to be turning into a slut. I didn't DO anything until after the first time I 'was' Daniel. Did that make it easier, if it wasn't really me doing it?

But as Rollie Tyler started to unbuckle his belt, he knew that he was grasping at reasons. It hadn't been because he was 'being' Daniel. Hell, he'd asked Hunt if it was Fox or Daniel he was seducing, and Hunt had answered without hesitation that it was Mulder he wanted. But this was the sort of thing Daniel Ballard would do. Was it the sort of thing Fox Mulder would do?

Rollie had lowered Mulder's zipper, and eased his prick out. It was hard. "Ah, that's lovely," Rollie breathed. He licked the tip, then slowly took it into his mouth, sucking, as he opened his own pants. Fox closed his eyes, surrendering to the wet heat. It wasn't as good as it had been with Ethan that first time. He was realistic enough to admit that he'd been unconsciously looking forward to that incident for so long that most others were going to pale beside it. But still, this was good.

He felt a tug on his arm, and opened his eyes. Ethan was half sitting up. He held Mulder's arm with one hand, and his own cock with the other. "Baby?" He began to pull him down. "Please."

Mulder bent, and took Ethan Hunt's cock between his lips. Ethan slumped back, sighing, and began to thrust lightly up into his mouth. He ran his hands caressingly through Mulder's hair as his head bobbed up and down. Then he reached out and stroked Rollie's head, in thanks for what he was doing for his lover.

By lifting a little, Ethan managed to reach Mulder's chest, and he played with the older man's nipples while he gave him head. Ethan worked until the little buds were swollen to aching perfection and his lover was groaning around Ethan's swollen flesh.

Fox was feeling overwhelmed by pleasure. A mouth on his cock, a cock in his mouth... What else could there possibly be? In answer to himself, he reached around behind, and began to run his fingers up and down the crease of his ass.

Ethan saw, and felt his pulse quicken. Mulder could fuck, he had no doubt of that, but he had strong bottoming instincts. He was instinctively craving a cock in his ass. "Do yourself." It wasn't quite a command, but it wasn't merely a suggestion, either. "Do it. Finger yourself. You want it, Fox. You know you do."

With another muffled groan, Mulder worked a finger up his tight back passage. He winced a little, but didn't stop. He began to move it in and out. Immediately his cock felt even harder. Rollie had pulled back, and was flicking the head with his tongue. Mulder sucked hard at Ethan, and rammed a second finger into himself. Almost, almost...

Rollie grunted, coming in a great white burst. The second his hand was coated with spunk, he smeared it over Mulder's quivering prick, and took it into his mouth again. Fox jerked off of Ethan's hard on, crying out as his balls clenched, and he orgasmed, spilling his seed down Rollie Tyler's throat.

Ethan clutched himself, and came with two almost vicious, efficient strokes, his handsome face contorting. All three men were quiet, panting. Fox leaned heavily against the table, half lying across Ethan. When he got his breath back, Rollie said, "Well, not quite a triple simultaneous orgasm, but fucking close enough for government work."

He had plenty of clean cloths around for his work, and hands some off to the two other men. After cleaning himself, he checked the latex, and decided that it was ready. He carefully scraped, carved, and sanded the plaster of the positive mold till there was a long, narrow, shallow jagged groove, no more than an eight of an inch wide, that ran on the lower part of the shoulder from the collarbone to the arm. "The latex will settle into that, and it will be slightly sunken on the appliance, like an old scar would. I'll attach the section, then paint it to match your skin tone, then fix it in place. The stuff we use will hold through sweat, water, heat, and cold. It won't come off till you remove it with a special solvent. My own invention."

"That should make you rich."

Rollie barked with laughter. "Are you kiddin' mate? They don't want stuff to stay on too firm in the movie business. The union would never have it. They do too much business doing repairs." He injected the latex into the mold, using what looked like a very large caulking gun. "You can take off that stencil, mate. Give y'self a last squirt of the fixer. And no skimping!"

Ethan grumbled, but did as he was told, again wincing at the cold. "And that's all we can do for now. It'll need to set, then cure for a few hours in a low oven. I'll want to do several of them. I don't anticipate any trouble with it, but...Well, never hurts to be sure, does it? You two can come back t'morrow, and I'll do the final fitting."

As they were getting ready to leave, Rollie handed Mulder a couple of large, dark red capsules. "What are these?" "Souveniers. You remember the vodka blood I was talking about? That's some of the dribble capsules I saved. Hang on to 'em. Terrific for practicle jokes. Or..." he smiled. "Well, if ya ever really need a bloody drink..."