Title: Keeping Your Boys on a Short Leash #51 - #52
Author: Lycanthrophile (lycanthrophile@imadethis.org) and KMS! (kmspider@aol.com)
Fandom: The X-Files
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Officially they belong to TenThirteen Productions and the Fox Network.
Rating: NC17 for male/male sex
Summary: These are the ongoing adventures of two chatroom admins and various and sundry residents. Names have been changed to protect the (not so) innocent.
Word Count: N/A
Archive: Please inform me


Keeping Your Boys On A Short Leash 51
by lycanthrophile
lycanthrophile@imadethis.org

"I'm sorry you all got hurt helping me move the archive. I didn't mean to store the stories here so long. How are you all doing?"

"Alex, what were you thinking of, trying to jump all those long stories at once? The Loup Garou series alone is over one meg. Let alone how many of Josan's stories there are!"

"I thought we got all of the stories moved out of here. What are all these books for then? I think we've got half the Library of Congress here"

"Ferretboy got a little carried away bringing in books for a 'sick' Jeffrey? How are we going to move them all?"

"No, Walter can't move them while you 'supervise,' Mulder That's how he threw his back out in the first place."

"So how have you been getting along with my grandmother?"

"The KBCs had a hard time learning to play strip poker?"

"Oh, I see. They had the stripping part down no problem, but couldn't get the hang of playing poker."

"So where is Grandma anyway?"

"She's reading a book to the KBCs? And the KBCs are acting it out? How sweet. But I don't recall an orgy scene in 'Pat the Bunny.'"

Welcome to the Rathole
Let the wild rumpus begin....


Keeping Your Boys on A Short Leash 52
By
KMS!
kmspider@aol.com

[Sam Spade, eat you heart out.]

He walked into the room, scanned once, and then again when his eyes had adjusted from bright sunlight to the dim bar. Nothing changed the second time, except he had been noticed.

He plucked the fedora off his head and dangled it negligently from long elegant fingers, sizing up the room.

A hand waved at him from the lung-clogging mists and he strolled toward it, stopping when he came within a yard of the poker table.

Granny was dealing. He didn't take his eyes off her. She was the kind of dame you kept one lid peeled for, and the other on your wallet.

A cigarette dangled precariously from her lip, smoke rising into a brown haze around her graying locks. The green see-through visor kept the salt and pepper bangs from Granny's blinkers, but tinted her glasses so her eyes were impossible to read.

"Come to play, Governor?" she drawled at him with a Mary Poppin's accent.

"Could save us all the trouble and just pass you my wallet, Granny," he muttered in reply.

She snorted and waved him to an empty seat across from her. "No fun in that, eh, boy?"

He sat and dropped his hat on the top knob of the highback chair. He'd come to find information and Granny's Strip Joint was sure to have just the inside line he needed.

She smoothly dealt him in, two cards down, and another face up. Another drag from the dangling cigarette and then she pinched it from her mouth, waved the burning cheroot in the air, signaling the waiter.

Mulder had to admire the boy when he appeared, but then, Granny did nothing by halves. Killer green eyes sparkled down at him, twinkling as Mulder gave his order. Single malt scotch. Neat.

The waiter grinned at him, flashing pearly whites before turning around and heading back to the bar.

Mulder suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Firmly attached to the waiter's backside sat a fluffy, white, rabbit's tail. As natural seeming as if he had been born with it. As alluringly exotic as though it had been delivered along with puberty.

"You gonna bet?" Granny demanded of him, and he had to drag his eyes back to the table. Force himself to focus on the cards.

He heard a snicker from the player next to him, and he looked up, catching Granny's amused gaze on him. Probably trying to calculate the size of his money roll.

"Distracting, aren't they?" said the player beside him, and he looked over, assessing the well-muscled, balding man. Skinner was a beat cop who worked the Lower East Side, helping to keep the dregs of society off the streets of his town. The gold buttons of his uniform gleamed dully in the dim light, catching a glow whenever Skinner breathed or shifted the dark blue material they were attached to.

"I think that's why Granny employs them, to keep our eyes off the cards coming from the bottom of the deck," Skinner continued.

Mulder nodded his agreement, even as Granny grinned wickedly at them.

"Ante up, boys. We've got an ace showing here, possible straight there and a pair of ten's showing there. You're top dog, Skinner. Willing to pay for the chance to look at another card?"

Skinner was. Mulder followed suit.

Jeffrey Spender, the slight young man to her right, pushed up the brim of his hat with one finger, chewed on the end of a cold cigar stub and scowled at his cards, then reached for and tossed another coin into the pot. "Just so you know, Mum, I intend to win this one."

"I'll consider myself duly warned, boy," Granny replied sarcastically. She deftly tossed out a card to each pile.

"Officer Skinner, you're up. What will it be?"

The waiter returned with Mulder's drink and settled it by his elbow.

"Fold!" Skinner cried and tossed his cards down, grabbing the Krycek Bunny Clone around the waist and pulling him down onto his lap.

Mulder wanted to protest, but the hare-tailed clone didn't seem to object as Skinner's mouth covered his own for a searing kiss.

"Another one like that and you'll have to pay for it, Skinner," Granny warned him.

"And worth every cent," Skinner said, coming up for air and chuckling.

"Every penny," Spender echoed, avid gaze glued to the two men.

"Are you here to play... or play?" Granny demanded of the table.

"Fold," said Mulder.

"Fold," said Jeffrey.

Granny sighed and scooped up the pot.

"Go ahead, children. Go have your fun."

Each man in turn stood, took the hand of a green-eyed, laughing clone and made his way upstairs.

"Oh well," Mulder thought. The information he wanted could wait, unlike the through investigation of the body before him. Some times information had to be allowed to flow at its own speed. And sometime it was time for in-depth probing.

Mulder smiled.