Copyright April 13-June 8, 2000 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairings: AJ Quartermaine/Nikolas Cassadine, Juan Santiago/Lucky Spencer, Mac Scorpio/Stefan Cassadine, Jason Morgan/Sonny Corinthos, Ned Ashton/Jasper Jacks, Marcus Taggert/Alex Garcia, Cesar Faison/you'll see

Disclaimer: "General Hospital," with its related characters and themes, does not belong to me.  I make no money from this venture.

Dedication: This slashfic is for Anders Hovre and Ewan McGregor.

Wherein Jax gets an earful,  Jax gets a knee in his groin, and Jax doesn't get what he wants.  Wherein Emily squeaks; Juan growls; and Nikolas purrs.  Wherein Mac can't find his gun; wealthy Europeans read Twain; and The Monkees turn out to be a hit in Puerto Rico.

Notice: I was in the middle of writing when Carly lost Sonny's baby in May of 2000.  This slashfic assumes that she never miscarried.  The Nikolas Cassadine of this fiction is Tyler Christopher's character.

        "You might as well," Stefan said, and Mac could see that someone was intending to be rigid and difficult.  Why did he have to fall for a Greco-Russian count?  He was an Australian, an American, and for all of their similarities - - they were both very conscious of their duties, both very protective of those that they loved, but absolutely rigid once they made up their minds - - he was very different from Stefan, at cross purposes too often.

        He should have kept his mouth shut.  "I'm not going," he repeated.

        "Won't your daughters miss you?"  Stefan wasn't mocking him now; Stefan had only respect and admiration for Maxie and Georgie, and for Mac's relationship with them.  From Mac, Stefan knew the girls intimately, though he hadn't spent more than five minutes with them in person.  Mac wanted Stefan to know the girls, but he didn't dare.  Under what pretense would Stefan Cassadine ever have anything to do with Felicia's daughters?  As long as his relationship with Stefan was a secret, the halves of Mac's heart could never meet.  He wished that they could; Mac had seen Stefan with Lesley Lu, saw Stefan with Nikolas, and knew that Stefan could be a wonderful parent, good with children despite all appearances to the contrary.

        Mac sat up, sheets pooling at his waist.  The sheets were colored a rich red.  Sometimes he couldn't believe how decadent the Cassadines could be.  "They understand.  They know how busy I am.  They'll give me a private performance beforehand, and they'll tell me all about it afterward."

        "You should be there for them.  Never mind about Felicia."

        "I do mind.  She comes on to me with her smiles and her hair, and then she gets that hurt look on her face, like she's going to cry, and she looks so sad, and then - - I won't put up with it!"

        "You can put your differences aside for one evening."

        "I can't."

        "If you want her back, take her.  If you don't want her back, put up with her for your daughters' sake.  If you can't put up with her, ignore her."

        "I don't want her back."

        Stefan sat on the edge of the bed, one hand on Mac's thigh through the sheet.  "You'd better not," he said with a trace of humor.

        Mac smiled.  "Why not?"

        "I'm tired of pretty blondes ruining my sex life, one way or another."  Stefan leaned in and kissed Mac, slow but possessive, staking his territory.  There was a knock on the door.  Stefan tugged his robe closer about himself, leaving Mac.  "Nikolas?"  He opened the door.

        "I'm sorry to disturb you," Nikolas said.

        "What's wrong?" Stefan asked, frowning, concerned, touching Nikolas' face.

        "I know that you're busy, and it's very late-"

        "Nikolas.  What is wrong?" Stefan asked, hand on Nikolas' nape.

        "I can't stop vomiting."

        Nikolas had shared AJ's chocolate pudding, but as soon as AJ was asleep he ran to the bathroom and threw up, and then he kept throwing up periodically, even though his stomach was empty, and finally he got scared.  It might have seemed ridiculous for a young man to run to his father figure, especially with his lover so close at hand, but Nikolas was used to going to Stefan, and he trusted Stefan.

        AJ rolled over.  Nikolas?  He woke up a little.  No Nikolas?  He woke up fully, left the Nikolas' bed, pulled on jeans, and went searching.  He found Nikolas lying in his bed, asleep.  He put a hand to Nikolas' cheek.  "Nikolas?  Nikolas?  Nikolas."

        Lush lashes fluttered but didn't get very far.

        "Nikolas?"  What was wrong?  Nikolas was acting...drugged.  Drugged?  Oh, please, god no, not drugs.  "Nikolas?  What happened?"

        "Let him sleep," and AJ whirled around to see Stefan.  Stefan not fully clothed was a new look.  "I gave him a sedative."

        "Why?  What's wrong?"  Of all people, he trusted that Stefan wouldn't hurt Nikolas, but if Stefan thought that it was for Nikolas' own good there was no telling what Stefan would do.

        "He's ill," Stefan said.  "He needs rest.  Once he's calmer, I'll speak with him."

        "I want to stay with him."

        "Don't expect him to be too responsive," Stefan said.  "The mildest of drugs always has a strong effect on Nikolas."  Stefan left.  AJ heard nothing sinister in Stefan's statement; he knew that Nikolas wouldn't even take Tylenol or cough medicine.  Not that the perfect prince got sick, anyway.  What was wrong now?  He sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Nikolas' forehead.

        Morning.  AJ rolled out of bed and tugged the curtains shut to block the sunlight.  He didn't want to disturb Nikolas.  Stefan had come by already; he'd feigned sleep.  Stefan had stroked Nikolas' hair, kissed Nikolas' forehead, and left again.  He knew that Stefan was very proud of the young man that Nikolas had become, but sensed also that another part of Stefan would always see Nikolas as a beautiful child to be protected.

        He laid down again and closed his eyes.  Nikolas was totally out, unmoving, dead asleep.  They were both in jeans and nothing else.  They weren't even wearing underwear.  Well, AJ knew that he wasn't, and he could tell that Nikolas wasn't either.

        It was disturbing when his mind briefly flickered over the fact that Stefan may have noticed, too, so he stopped thinking about it.

        He slept, then awoke, visited the bathroom, and returned to watch Nikolas sleep.  He settled on his side, just watching.  He didn't touch Nikolas, because Nikolas was in no condition to voice a protest.  Not that Nikolas would protest, but there was something criminal in touching someone who wasn't aware of it.  Well, to be honest, earlier in their relationship he might have found something erotic in stroking Nikolas' sleeping body, but considering the recent turns of events, he wasn't prepared to feel the accompanying guilt.

        Finally, Nikolas stirred.

        It was creepily good timing that Stefan returned just as Nikolas' eyes started to flutter again.  Did the man have some radar?  Stefan walked over and leaned down, hand on Nikolas' cheek.  "Nikolas?"

        Eyes opened halfway, blinked around a little, and focused.  "Father."

        "No, Nikolas," Stefan said.  "How do you feel?"

        "Tired," Nikolas murmured.  AJ felt very guilty for being turned on by warm and drowsy Nikolas.  He left the bed.

        "Are you ill?"

        Nikolas tried to think about it, for Stefan's sake, but couldn't.  "No."

        "Rest."  Stefan kissed Nikolas' forehead.  Nikolas' eyes closed obediently, and Stefan left.  Soon Nikolas was asleep again.  AJ crept back into bed.  At one point, Nikolas rolled over - - he hadn't been moving at all before - -, said, "AJ," without opening his eyes, and burrowed right into AJ's embrace.  AJ took that as permission to touch him, and stroked his naked back as he slept.

        When Nikolas started to make waking up signs again and Stefan walked in, AJ decided that this was more than eerie.  He couldn't imagine being that impossibly attuned to someone.  Maybe he had it backwards, and Nikolas subconsciously sensed Stefan's arrival and was waking for it?  He wasn't sure.  At any rate, Nikolas woke up and rolled over and sat up, looking more drugged than ever.

        "How do you feel?"

        "I'm fine, thank you," Nikolas said.  "It must be terribly late."

        "There's lunch waiting for you."

        "Thank you; I'll dress and be down to eat."  Stefan left.  Nikolas turned, gave AJ a sweet, lingering kiss, and left the room.

        AJ figured that maybe he should start work at some point, so he dressed and went downstairs.  He did remember to eat later; how fair was it to bother Nikolas about eating habits when he was skipping meals?  He heard Lucky and Juan stop by, and he heard Nikolas and Stefan talking, but he didn't see Nikolas himself.

        Until later.  When he was getting ready to go to bed, and Nikolas came into his room and steered him, half-undressed, back onto the bed and said, "Let me make love to you."  Well, like he was going to refuse that request?  AJ hadn't been penetrated since after the ill-fated poker night.  As much as he truly and fully enjoyed delivering the fuck himself, he also truly and fully enjoyed getting fucked, and it had been weeks since that had happened.  So he let Nikolas make love to him.

        Lucky was walking across the docks with Juan when he saw Mac and Felicia up ahead.  He slowed down a little.  Juan tugged him out of sight but within earshot.  Great, let's just spy on the police commissioner.

        "I'm busy, Felicia.  I'm not at home a lot."

        "At night?  I call you at home and you're never there.  Are you not answering your phone?"

        "I'm busy, Felicia."

        "What if something happened to the girls and I couldn't reach you?  Where are you at night?  Are you seeing someone?"

        "I check in with my answering service," Mac said.  "If it's important you can leave me a message there."

        "If you're seeing someone you can tell me, Mac.  Just tell me.  I need to be able to reach you-"

        "Call my cell phone."

        "You turn off your phone!  I know you do!  That's why I can never get through to you!"

        "I'll leave it on," Mac said.  "I have to go."

        Juan tugged Lucky around to him.  "She's a P.I., isn't she?" he whispered.  "She can track him down, follow him, figure out why he isn't at home, why he's turning off his phone."

        "Why is she calling him at night?" Lucky asked.

        "She thinks he's seeing someone," Juan said.  "You think she's jealous?  She's calling him to make sure he's there, and she finds out he's not?"

        "She wants him back," Lucky said.

        "I thought she wanted your dad," Juan said.

        Lucky shook his head.  "She can't have both, and neither wants her, but she wants to have Mac."

        "Does she know he's bisexual?" Juan asked.

        "They were really close for years," Lucky said.  "He might have told her.  When you're in love with someone, and you know her all of that time, you probably end up telling her everything."

        "So she might figure out he's with a guy."

        "What would she do?" Lucky asked.  "If she knew."

        "That's worse than someone finding out about us," Juan said.  "We're just kids; he's an important guy."

        AJ found a new way to have sex when Nikolas climbed on top of him.  Nikolas was an excellent equestrian and used some of those skills to ride AJ.  They also tried sixty-nining, which worked tremendously well once they stopped getting too excited to be effective.  He knew that people used these sexual techniques all of the time, but he hadn't done them himself, and he found them to be tremendously thrilling and erotic.

        Nikolas was eating again, and smiling again, and back to normal.  The knot in AJ's chest loosened, and life was easier, and he was absolutely in love with Nikolas Cassadine.  He got to keep Michael overnight, and a few days in a row even, and Nikolas and Michael got along famously, and Michael really liked Stefan.  AJ, Nikolas, Jason, and Sonny were their own little group of lovers and fathers.  Stefan didn't like Sonny, so Nikolas was careful not to get too close, but they all got along well and shared custody and spent time together by choice and necessity.

        Nikolas officially resigned from L&B.  He toyed with the idea of working for ELQ, which AJ encouraged.  Stefan didn't want him to get too involved in a situation where there might be a conflict of interests, which gave Nikolas pause.  Then he said, "Why don't I work for myself?"

        "Yourself?" AJ asked.

        "I'll take your job," Nikolas said, "and you can take Ned's job."

        That idea definitely appealed to AJ.  He went to see Edward and suggested it outright.    Edward considered it, smug now that he had both Ned and AJ wanting to work for him.  He loved to be able to manipulate his grandsons, making them compete with each other and vie for his attentions.  He weighed the pros and cons.  He tried to consider how he could keep both Ned and AJ working for him.  He could keep Ned as CEO and hire AJ as - - but no, AJ wouldn't work under Ned, wouldn't work for Ned.

        He handed them both an assignment to cut a deal with PearlTech Standard.  Ned had the advantage of the insider, and AJ was at a complete disadvantage, working entirely from the outside and not getting in to any meetings himself, getting information second- and thirdhand.  Ned handed in the official report and AJ handed in the theoretical one.

        Edward fired Ned and hired AJ.

        AJ was CEO of ELQ.  Not because Ned had quit.  Not as a reward for bringing Michael to the family.  Just because he was good, just because he was qualified, just because he deserved the position.  He'd beat Ned fair and square.

        He didn't move into the house.  He stayed at Windemere.  He saw Michael regularly, worked insanely the rest of the time, and managed to be with Nikolas all the same.  Nikolas, meanwhile, took up AJ's old job, handling his own estate under Stefan's guidance.

        Then Felicia walked into Windemere to see Stefan.

        Stefan played the rigid, intimidating, arrogant, dignified, superior, righteous aristocrat surrounded by incompetents.  Felicia grew increasingly frustrated.  Stefan gave no quarter.  Felicia, after playing it friendly, then hinting, then questioning, then insinuating, finally came right out and asked Stefan.  Stefan lied with perfect calm.  Felicia couldn't do anything in the face of Cassadine control, so she left.

        She went to Mac.  In his office.  She told him that she'd just come from Stefan.

        Mac didn't like to lie.  Especially not directly to the face of someone he'd loved.  He tried to misdirect, tried to bluff, tried to drive her away, but finally she asked him directly if he were having an affair with Stefan.

        He told her yes.

        She tried to talk him out of it.  She didn't understand why in the world her morally upright Mac would have anything to do with that manipulative scheming villain.  Stefan was one of the bad guys, Mac had accused and arrested Stefan numerous times, surely something was wrong.

        "I love him, Felicia."

        "You don't," she denied, shaking her head, looking wounded but stubborn.  "Mac, you don't."

        "I do," he said.

        "He's just using you.  He uses people, that's what he does.  You know that.  Look at Bobbie, look at Laura, look at Katherine!  You thought that he killed Katherine and now you're sleeping with him?"

        "I know him better now."

        "You don't.  You can't trust him.  You know what he's done!  Mac, you don't want that, you can't want that.  He's cruel and he's calculating and he's dangerous."

        "I know exactly who he is, Felicia."

        "You can't!  He turns on people in a second, he uses them and he-"

        "He'll never leave me for Luke Spencer."

        "That's not funny and it's not fair!" Felicia shouted.

        "I'm sorry, you're right," he said.  "Felicia, I love Stefan.  I know that he has secrets and I know that he has lies.  No one's ever spoken to me the way that he does.  You know the way he talks, he's so far above the world that he finds us all mildly amusing?  He's smug and condescending.  And when he gets mad, he's frustrated because the rest of the world is too stupid to understand what he sees clearly."

        "And you like it?!"

        "I love it.  Because when he talks to me, all that's gone.  He focuses on me like I'm the only person in the world.  All of that genius and attention and determination centered on me.  He doesn't condescend to me.  He sees me as an equal.  And, in Stefan's mind, being his equal - - that's pretty rare.  That's pretty special."

        "That's pretty insane!" Felicia exclaimed.  "You're letting him suck you right into a trap."

        "What trap?"

        "If he does something illegal, which he probably is, what can you do about it?  He can ruin you at a whim now.  He has you right where he wants you!  He can blackmail you, destroy your career, get you-"

        "When have I ever not taken care of myself?  Better yet, when have I not taken care of myself and at least three other people?  I know what I'm doing."

        "You're blind."

        "I'm in love."

        "With Stefan Cassadine.  Do you hear yourself?  I'm waiting for you to start spouting poetry - - Mac Scorpio, reciting love sonnets."

        "What are you going to do now?"

        "I'm going to stop you.  I'm going to stop him.  Mac, think of the girls.  Think of your job."

        "I will never let anything happen to Maxie and Georgie.  You know that."

        "I won't tell anyone.  I won't hurt you like that.  But I'm going to figure out what he's up to, and I'm going to put an end to it."

        "Can't you trust me to know what I'm doing?"

        "Mac, I've always trusted you.  I've trusted you for years.  You've always come through for me.  You've saved my life so many times...  But now you say that you're in love with Stefan Cassadine, and all I can think is that this time, it's my turn to save you."

        Lucky put his hand over Juan's eyes.  Juan shook Lucky off and stared.  Francis was pinning Johnny back against the wall, kissing Johnny deeply.  If Francis always kissed like that, Johnny would never need to see a dentist again.  Lucky turned Juan's back to them and said, "Hello."

        "Hello," Francis said, barely breaking the kiss, diving right back in.  Johnny reached into Francis' pocket and pulled out a key; without opening an eye he tossed the key toward Lucky.  Lucky snatched it out of the air, taking the hint, and pulled Juan past the men.  He let himself into Johnny and Francis' apartment and locked the door again.

        "That's what they do when they're both on break?" Juan asked.

        "When are they ever on break at the same time?" Lucky asked.  They dropped their jackets on the floor and sat on the sofa, kicking off their sneakers.  They'd figured out the sleeping situation: Francis slept on the sofa when Johnny was working, and in the bed when Johnny was home.  Francis didn't like sleeping in the bed alone, without Johnny.  It was terribly romantic.

        Juan and Lucky had been coming to this apartment to spend time together, alone, for a few weeks.  They came about twice a week, and they never wanted to leave.  It was simple and fun, just being together, not having to worry.  Juan could be as affectionate as he wanted, leaning in close to Lucky, touching Lucky, just as he'd been with Emily.  They'd managed to keep their hormone levels controlled, but they were teenaged boys, and it was getting harder and harder, pun most likely intended, not to make out with impunity.  Now they sat and talked, gradually moving closer together, Juan's hands crawling onto Lucky, Lucky's hands stroking Juan's hair.  What he really wanted was to be stroking Juan's - - well, that, too, but anything, really, even through clothes, or, yes, please, god, naked skin, just slide his hand under Juan's shirt and stroke Juan's abdomen.  Probably warm, and smooth, and silky, like his own body, but different, because it wasn't his.  He desperately wanted to stroke someone besides himself.  Masturbation was fun, of course, and it worked wonders, but he wanted to touch Juan, anywhere.

        When Sonny had spoken to him privately by the windows, he'd gotten one of the sternest lectures and threats of his life.  Sonny had communicated very clearly what he was to do with Juan, what he was not to do to Juan, and what Sonny would do if he disobeyed.  He didn't think that even Armand or Miguel or Lily would have been that clear, that firm, or that deadly.  His own father wouldn't have talked to Juan in that way, and his father loved him very much.

        So he knew how far he was allowed to go.  Basically, if he broke Juan's cherry or Juan's heart, he'd be dead within the hour.  If he made Juan come, in his mouth or in his hand or even in Juan's pants, he'd be dead.  If he came, he'd be dead.  If he touched Juan, naked in his hand or through Juan's pants, he'd be dead.  If Juan touched him, he'd be dead.

        So far they'd just done kissing.  Last time they been here on the sofa, he'd gone new places: Juan's neck, Juan's ears.  But when he started to lick Juan's collarbone he'd gotten the definite impression that if he didn't stop they'd get a little overexcited and he might just take down Juan's pants and - - well, never mind, he stopped.

        When they kissed, of course they became aroused.  Who could kiss Juan and not become aroused?  Newt Gingrich would get a hard-on.  He'd felt Juan's arousal against his hip, but he'd made a conscious - - as conscious as it could be when his mouth was occupied by someone else's tongue - - effort not to feel it.  He also didn't look down when they did break apart.  It didn't embarrass him, it turned him on even more to know that Juan was turned on, and the idea of Juan getting a hard-on was oh so arousing...  But he knew that if he felt it he'd look, and if he looked he'd touch, and if he touched he'd never stop touching, so he just pretended that it wasn't there.  Which meant that he didn't even know what size Juan was down there.

        Right now, on the sofa, they were kissing.  Apparently talking time was finished.  That was fine with Lucky.  Juan's mouth always opened for his tongue, Juan opening easily to him, and it always made him wonder if Juan's legs would part that easily for him, if he could gain entrance to another part of Juan's body.

        He knew that Juan hadn't been with anyone but Emily, which had been a great, healthy, supportive friendship and a lot of kissing, but nothing intensely sexual.  He knew that back in Puerto Rico Juan had had a good friend that might have turned into something more had Juan not come to Port Charles.  That friend's loss was most definitely Lucky's gain.

        He broke the kiss and looked at Juan.  "Juan."

        "Lucky," Juan said, a smile in those dark eyes.

        He didn't know how to say this eloquently, or how to ask without either sounding stupid or launching into an explanation of his question.  "Have you ever been on your back?"

        Juan frowned, thought a second, and said, "Oh, you mean for making out?  No.  So?"

        "Could you?"

        "Sure."  Juan apparently didn't think that this was any big deal, and laid down, Lucky resting on top of him.  Then Juan's eyes registered anxiety.  "Oh," he said softly.

        Lucky leaned down close, forehead resting against Juan's.  "This okay?"

        "Yeah," Juan said, working through it, relaxing bit by bit.  "I didn't think about this."

        "You want to switch places?"

        "I'm okay."

        God, Juan looked good beneath him, felt good beneath him.  Lucky was highly egalitarian and didn't have major domination issues, but was it his fault if Juan looked really cute and sexy looking up at him?  He kissed Juan, just a little, to test it.  Juan's mouth opened under his, so soft and trusting, inviting him inside.  Inside...  Yes, let's go inside Juan.  He intensified the kiss, went deeper, and at some point his hand worked itself between the cushion and Juan's butt.  His other hand found Juan's ribcage, and Juan was definitely wearing too many clothes.  So he pushed Juan's shirts out of his way and put his hand directly on Juan's naked skin, which was just as he'd imagined.  His hand drifted a little, caressing here, sliding over there.  He got lost in the kiss, lost in Juan's heat.

        Suddenly Juan twitched in his arms and sucked really hard on his tongue.  Lucky's cock just snapped to life in reaction.  Lucky's mind surfaced a moment later, and he realized what was happening.  He had his left hand still on Juan's butt, groping, and was lifting Juan off of the sofa up against him, and his left leg was trying to work itself between Juan's legs to get his cock closer to Juan's, and his right hand fingers had just found Juan's nipple, which apparently Juan really liked.

        "Sorry," he gasped, breaking the kiss.

        "Don't stop," Juan said.

        "I really should," Lucky said.  He sat up, tugging down Juan's shirts, running a hand through his hair and leaning against the arm at the other end of the sofa.  Juan followed him, pulling off one of the shirts and dropping it to the floor, kneeling up and reaching in for another kiss.  Right before their lips met Juan's body pressed against Lucky's, and Lucky had time to think, My god, he's hung like a- before their mouths met.  Juan's hands were dragging up and down his back, working around his side, and coming up beneath his shirt, caressing along his spine, passing across his navel - - oh, yeah, do that again - - and moving upward.  When Juan touched his nipples he figured out exactly why Juan had reacted to his touch.  Why didn't people ever tell him these things?  And wasn't Juan just a lovely person for returning the favor?  Juan broke away, arching from his grasp, and dropped the other shirt on the floor, naked to the waist now, coming back into his embrace before the shirt hit the carpet.  Naked.  God, naked, right under his hands, slender and tight and warm and alive, so alive, and responding to his touch.  Juan was a very responsive, what was the word, lover?  But they weren't lovers.

        Make love with me.

        Be in love with me.

        I want to make love to you.

        I want to love you.

        Let me.

        Juan was pretty much entirely in Lucky's lap, against Lucky, on Lucky.  Lucky had never, in his entire life, been more turned on.

        "What's wrong?" Juan asked, forehead to forehead, trying to breathe, hands gentling on Lucky's chest, still in Lucky's lap.

        "I love you."  He looked up into Juan's eyes, his own calm shining blue, fearless, direct, Lucky.

        Juan looked back at him.  "Good."

        Lucky smiled.  "It is good."

        "I love you, too."

        "Good."

        "You want to have sex with me, don't you?"

        "Don't you?"

        "I'm not allowed to have sex," Juan said.  "This apartment is for not-sex, remember?  So if I want to touch you," and his forefinger circled Lucky's navel, "I'm not allowed."

        "Touch me?" Lucky asked, swallowing, gazing into Juan's pleased dark eyes.

        "Touch you," Juan repeated, kissing him.

        Lucky's hands rubbed over Juan's rear, over Juan's thighs, up Juan's thighs, until Juan twisted away and fell on the floor.  Juan rolled over, onto his stomach, shoulders shaking with laughter.  "You okay?" Lucky asked.

        "If I hadn't just broken my tailbone, I would've co-" Juan said.  "Don't touch me like that again."

        "Sorry."  He was, but he also wasn't, and couldn't be.

        "We have to behave," Juan said.  "Sonny and Jason and Johnny and Francis are trusting us.  When those guys trust you, you don't let them down."

        "I know," Lucky said.  "I never want to break that trust.  Maybe if you'd stop being so damned sexy, it'd be easier."

        "I'm sexy?" Juan asked.  He rolled over, sitting up, looking  up at Lucky.  "I'm sexy?  Really?  I'm not sexy.  You're sexy."

        "We're both sexy," Lucky said, and leaned down, kissing him.

        Juan made a soft noise of acceptance and wrapped a hand around his neck, stroking up into his hair.  He briefly, with what was meager parts of his mind were still available, considered going to the bathroom and masturbating.  He had to jerk off, and soon, or his balls were going to explode.  Now that Juan was no longer in his lap he could actually breathe without coming, but his cock ached, cramped and ready inside his jeans.

        "We should stop," Juan said against his mouth.

        "We have to come back here tomorrow," Lucky said.

        "Yes," Juan said, kissing him.  Then Juan ducked away and pushed Lucky away, reaching for the shirts.  "I'm getting dressed, and then we're leaving before we do something."

        "Something?"

        "Something naked and sticky," Juan said.

        That sounded good.  That sounded really great.  He wanted to do something naked and sticky with Juan.

        Something was happening with Stefan.  Nikolas noticed it first, then Mac, then AJ.  He was hiding something, planning something, keeping something from them.  Anything that Stefan kept from Nikolas could not be good.  Anything that he kept from Mac couldn't be good.  AJ wasn't working for him anymore, and in a sense they were business rivals now, but he and AJ still lived together and shared Nikolas and kept in close contact.  Nikolas didn't know how far to push, whether he should ask questions or not.  Mac didn't know whether to worry or accept it.  AJ worried.  As far as Nikolas could tell it wasn't business related, but it could have been.  What else could it be?  Helena was no trouble any longer, Stefan had ended the war with the Spencers; who was left?

        Stefan called both Mac and Nikolas into his study.  He came around his desk and faced them.  "You both have noticed my distance of late.  You both deserve to know what I have been doing because both your lives have been affected.  I have been in close contact with someone.  In truth," and he looked at Mac, "I've been having an affair with him."

        "You're having an affair?" Nikolas repeated.

        "I kept it from you both.  He has caused you great emotional suffering.  I helped him once so that he would help me.  I used him as a source of information.  I entered into a personal relationship with him two weeks past."

        "Who is it?" Mac asked.

        "Cesar Faison."  Stefan gave it the rich accent that the name deserved, but Mac was too livid to be impressed.

        "He's dead!" Nikolas said.

        "I knew that she would kill him but I needed him alive.  He knew where Lucky was, he knew what was being done, what was planned.  I helped him to escape her."

        "Cesar Faison!" Mac shouted.  Where the !@# was his gun?!  "Faison - - he killed my brother, he killed Anna, he tried to kill Felicia, he-"

        "He stole my brother!  We all thought that Lucky was dead!" Nikolas shouted.

        "I know," Stefan said calmly.  "Now your brother is safe at home and Helena is in jail where she can never harm anyone again."

        "And you want me to thank him?" Nikolas demanded.  "You expect me to be grateful?!"

        "I expect you to be furious," Stefan said.  "I'm only telling you both because you deserve to hear the truth."

        "He's alive," Mac said.  "He's alive, and you knew it.  You helped him.  You're sleeping with him.  You knew that he was alive and you didn't tell me."

        "How could you do this?" Nikolas asked.  "How can you?"

        "How can you touch him?" Mac asked.  "I'd sooner kill myself than let him..."

        "Where is he?" Nikolas asked.  "I want to see him, I want to-"

        "I'll kill him," Mac said.

        "He's insane!" Nikolas said.

        "He's insane," Mac agreed, seething.  "He's an insane murdering villainous sociopath who-"

        "I've told you all that I plan to tell you," Stefan said.

        "Why?" Nikolas asked.

        "Yes, Stefan, why?" Mac asked.

        "Why what?" Stefan asked.  "Why tell you?  Why associate with him?"

        "Why didn't you turn on him?" Nikolas asked.  "Once you got Lucky, why not kill him, send him to the police, give him to Mac?"

        "Why did you let him into your bed?" Mac asked.

        "Our bed," Stefan said.

        "He's been in our home?" Nikolas shouted.

        "He's here now," Stefan said.

        "Where?" Mac asked.  "Where is he?"

        "Where?" Nikolas asked.

        "I won't hand him over to you," Stefan said.  "You'll have him arrested."

        "I'll have you arrested," Mac said.

        "That's your idea of love," Stefan said, "not mine."

        "You love him?" Mac asked.

        "You don't," Nikolas said.

        "In my life," Stefan said, "I have loved three people, and three people only."

        "Nikolas, Laura, and Katherine," Mac guessed.

        "Nikolas," Stefan said.  "You," he told Mac.  "And Cesar."

        "You don't know what love is," Mac said.

        "In my own way, I love more fiercely than anyone," Stefan said.  "I will not turn Cesar in to the police.  If you arrest me, you will get nothing from me but my time."

        "That's how you show your love to us?" Nikolas asked.  "By aiding the person who's hurt the people we love?"

        "How can you compare me with Nikolas and with Faison in the same breath?" Mac asked.  "I know what you feel for Nikolas, I see it on your face, I hear it in your voice, it's in your every gesture, your every motivation.  How can you compare that to your feelings for Faison?"  He paused, broken.  "How can you compare that to your feelings for me?"

        "I love you," Stefan said.

        "And Faison?" Nikolas asked.

        "I love him as well."

        "He's evil," Nikolas said.  "He's pure evil."

        "People have believed the same of me," Stefan said.

        "Were they wrong?" Mac asked.

        "Are you going to arrest me?" Stefan asked.

        "He should," Nikolas said, and hugged Stefan.  "How can you?" he asked, holding Stefan tight.

        "I won't leave this house until I find him," Mac said, and left the room.

        Cesar Faison wasn't very young, and he didn't dress particularly well.  He had an arrogant attitude and a speech impediment that, combined with his Swiss accent, made him delicious to hear.  Under his clothes, he had a stunningly tight body that moved well against Stefan.  When they were in bed together that night, Stefan told Faison about Mac and Nikolas.  Faison flipped his hair behind his shoulder and pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes.  "I wondered how long you'd keep me from Scorpio."

        "He's going to arrest me," Stefan said.

        "That's no way to treat a lover."

        "I don't think that he considers me his lover any longer."

        "His loss," Faison said.  "He never was very bright."

        "He arrested you, didn't he?"

        "He never could keep me."

        "I can."

        "Because I choose to stay."

        Too many egos in one bed made for an interesting time.  They were both powerful men in their own ways, and just as Mac and Stefan had faced each other as equals, so did Stefan and Faison.  It had struck Stefan as interesting that he'd been making love with two men (sometimes within hours of each other), one of whom had slept with Katherine, his twice-dead fiancee (who'd also been with his son), the other who'd been twice-dead himself and had slept with Stefan's mother, not to mention Faison's crimes against Stefan's nephew and other lover.  It was all very twisted.  But he was a Cassadine, after all, and these intricacies struck him as interesting, even amusing, but not necessarily deterrents.

        He'd gotten Faison to stop smoking cigars.  They reminded him too much of Luke Spencer, and he did not need any reminders of Luke Spencer in his home.

        Nikolas kept Stefan's secret from Lucky and from AJ, which killed him.  They knew that he was keeping something from them, and they knew that it made him miserable.  They wondered what it was, but they didn't wonder long.  Mac arrested Stefan and had Windemere searched top to bottom, inside and out, with the housekeeper leading the way through the secret passages.  Of course there were secret passages that she didn't know about, but Stefan refused to reveal them, and Nikolas and AJ weren't much help.

        Felicia was furious and terrified.  Luke and Laura were no better.  Maxie and Georgie were sent to Texas.  Mac worked incessantly.

        Lucky barely blinked.  So, Faison was alive.  Interesting, but he wasn't afraid.  It crossed his mind that maybe he should be afraid.  He was more worried for Nikolas, who was very upset about Stefan being in prison.

        It wasn't the first time Stefan had been arrested or imprisoned.

        Nikolas went through the house himself, alone, searching through the darkness with a flashlight, looking for Cesar Faison.  He went through every room, tapping walls, waiting for a bookshelf to swing open, wondering how many secrets Windemere kept.  He knew that Faison had lived here before, so the man probably knew all about the passageways and tunnels.  Finally, he went through Stefan's room.  He discovered a hook under the carpet.  He pulled, and the floor swung upward.  There were stairs.  Stairs to Stefan's room.  He shone the flashlight down there, into the darkness.  Okay, what could happen?  Faison could be down there to kill him.  He could get trapped and die.  He could scare himself to death.

        "I will not die I will not die I will not die," he breathed, and moved down inside the hole.

        He bumped against something, scraped himself, and reached up.  Along the edge, by his head, was a switch.  He switched it, experimentally, and lights came on.

        Wow.

        There was a bedroom.  A suite, fully furnished, looking like any bedroom suite in the house.  Luxurious, spacious, a little too nineteenth-century.

        He came down the stairs and walked around some.  He didn't see any signs of habitation, until he found a note.  He looked around, peeked inside drawers, checked the bathroom, but there were no clues, no stray hairs, no-

        No stray hairs?  Who'd cleaned up in here?  He was sure that these had been Faison's chambers, and surely there had been some dust, some stain, some fingerprints.  He couldn't imagine Stefan cleaning up down here.  Had it been Faison, or one of the servants who claimed to have no idea that any strange man had been in the house?  Nikolas had learned something early in life: servants were not, on the whole, to be trusted explicitly.

        As for the note:

        Nikolas-  Tell Stefan: #2 under the cross.  -C. F.

        Oh, and now he was Faison's errand boy? Running messages between his uncle and the man who'd kidnapped his brother?  What absolute hubris!

        Nikolas went to see Stefan as often as Mac would let him.  Mac was trying to discourage visitors, but Nikolas managed to see Stefan anyway.  They discussed business and when Stefan would get out - - which was soon, because Mac had no proof or evidence that Faison was alive at all, much less had been anywhere near Windemere.  All Mac had was Stefan's word, and Nikolas' witness, and Stefan and Nikolas weren't talking.  Mac, frankly, looked insane.  But everyone believed him, everyone who knew Faison: Felicia, Luke, Lucky.  This day, Nikolas said, before he left, "AJ's thinking of switching rooms.  Would it be all right if he used the one under yours?"

        Stefan looked right into his eyes, tense.  Waiting.

        Nikolas said softly, "Or else he could move into that other room, number two.  The one under the cross."  Now he was just talking nonsense, and he knew it, and Stefan's eyes were filled with some odd light.  Like love.  For him.  And for Faison.  At the same time.  Which revolted Nikolas.  Stefan was proud of them, proud of them both.

        "You put AJ wherever makes you happy," Stefan said.  "Don't concern yourself with the rest."

        "What does it mean?" Nikolas asked softly.  Softer yet, "How can I help you?"

        "You don't want to ask," Stefan said.

        "Is there anything that I can...tell him for you?"

        "Don't involve yourself," Stefan said.

        "I want to help you."

        "I won't put you in that position, Nikolas."

        And that was the end of it.  Except that Nikolas went to Lucky, whom he figured knew the town better than anyone even though Lucky had only lived there a few years.  "I need you to tell me a place."

        "Tell you a place," Lucky said.  He had one finger through the belt loop at the back of Juan's jeans; they were sitting on Lucky's front porch.

        "Number two under the cross."

        "That doesn't mean anything to me," Lucky said.

        "Hunh," Juan said.  "That movie."

        "What movie?" Nikolas asked.  Stefan didn't watch movies.

        "It's a Disney movie, not animated, it has that kid in it - - Tom and Huck."

        "Like Mark Twain?" Lucky asked.

        "Yeah.  Injun Joe has the gold buried at number two under the cross."

        "You're going looking for gold?" Lucky asked Nikolas.

        "Mark Twain," Nikolas said.  "Mark Twain."  He tried to think.  "What in the world does that mean?"

        "Beats me," Lucky said.  "Why?"

        "Nothing.  Thanks, guys."

        "You get weirder every day," Juan said.

        Nikolas went to Windemere's library and searched the shelves.  He knew that the reference came from Twain's book on Tom Sawyer, but he found on the shelves only Pudd'nhead Wilson and Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.  He'd always preferred Huck to Tom, anyway.  He opened the novel and flipped through it.  He found a note.

Stefan-
        I love you.  Especially when you lick the base of my spine.  Your mother will be locked up for the rest of her life.  Should anyone else come out of the woodwork, do not worry; no matter where you are, your Nikolas will be safe.  I will die to protect him, as you would and for your sake.  Not one harm shall come to him except the loss of you which is the greatest loss of all.
                -Cesar

        Nikolas sat down and cried.

        Who was this man?  How could Faison make these promises?  To keep him safe while Stefan was in jail?  How did Faison know them so well, know that losing Stefan would, to Nikolas, be the greatest loss of all?  Who was this man?  Had Stefan and Faison made an agreement of some sort?  Had Stefan told Faison to watch him should anything befall Stefan?  If Stefan was entrusting him to Faison's care, what did that say about Stefan's trust in Faison?

        Stefan was released the next day.  Nikolas kissed his cheek and handed him Cesar's note.

        "This means that he's still close by?" Nikolas asked.

        "He would not be far from you," Stefan said.  "Or from me."

        "He'll come to see you?" Nikolas asked.

        "Undoubtedly."

        "It isn't safe," Nikolas said.  "Mac will be watching too closely."

        "You aren't angry with me?"

        "For which part?" Nikolas asked.

        "For telling Cesar that if anything happens to me I want him to take care of you."

        "I decided not to be," Nikolas said.  "You're a grown man; you make your choices.  You always do what's best for me, in your own way.  I'm not happy, but I can't stop loving you."

        "Decided to grow up, have you?"

        "May I ask you for one favor?"

        "Yes," Stefan said warily.

        "Do you have to keep calling him by his first name?"

        "Too intimate for you?"

        "Yes.  Very."  Not to mention that he knew that Stefan licked Faison in a place where he licked AJ, which probably also meant that Stefan licked Faison in other places that he licked AJ, such as right down the divide and inside the body.  He liked the small of AJ's back; it was sensitive there, and smooth, seemingly vulnerable; plus it led naturally down to AJ's tight round bottom and then to AJ's asshole.

        If Stefan actually licked Faison's ass, Nikolas would vomit.  So he pretended that he hadn't read the first part of Faison's note.

        "The guy who kidnapped you and brainwashed you and made everyone think that you were dead is wandering around town and you're okay?" Juan asked Lucky.

        Lucky settled comfortably onto Francis' sofa beside Juan, easing out of his sneakers.  "I'm okay," he said.

        "Are you legally insane?" Juan asked, shifting to face him.

        "No, but I'll bet Faison is," Lucky said.

        "Your parents are flipping out," Juan said.  "But your brother is, what, harboring him?"

        "I don't think that Nikolas knows where Faison is," Lucky said.  "And with Mac around, Faison can't make a move.  But my folks - - I'm sure my dad's trying to have me followed.  When he heard that I went to Windemere, he threw a fit."  Lucky rolled his eyes.

        "Lucky, they thought you were dead for a year.  I don't think they want to go through that again."

        "Well, I don't either," Lucky said.  "It totally sucked.  And I wouldn't be able to visit you."

        "As flattering as your one-track mind is," Juan said, "you aren't worried at all?  That Faison could hurt Nikolas, or your father?"

        "Stefan wouldn't let Faison hurt Nikolas.  My dad can take care of himself."

        "You know, if people keep popping up from the dead, when someone actually really does die, no one's going to believe it anymore.  Mrs. Quartermaine's a different story, but if something happens and, I don't know, Emily dies, we're all going to think that she'll walk back into Kelly's a couple months later."

        "Yeah," Lucky said.  "I was dead, Faison was dead twice, Katherine was dead, my grandmother - - my mom was dead once.  My dad and Sonny planned it to trick Stefan, only Nikolas believed it too.  That was cruel.  That was really - - I mean, letting your son, who only just got back to you after all of those years, think that you're dead.  I don't know how she did it.  My aunt Bobbie was so mad."  He put his hand on Juan's knee, which was between them on the sofa.  "I wish you'd met your mom."

        "So do I."

        "I'm glad you have Sonny, though."

        "I don't have Sonny.  He just doesn't kick me out when I come over."

        "You're not very smart, are you?"

        "Why?" Juan asked, leaning forward, half frowning and half smiling.

        "You're Lily's son, the kid Sonny never had.  You're like his son.  He wishes you were.  He loves you, or wishes that he were allowed to."

        "Sonny doesn't love me," Juan said.

        "I do," Lucky said.

        "That's different."

        "No kidding."  Lucky was amused.

        "You really think he likes me?" Juan asked.  "I think he sort of likes me, you know, for Sonny."

        "I think he sort of loves you, you know, for Sonny," Lucky said.  "Really, Juan, just ask him."

        "Ask him," Juan repeated, clearly unconvinced.

        "Ask Jason."

        "Maybe."  Juan peeled off his socks, then Lucky's, and pulled off his shirts, too.  "You don't really need all of those clothes, do you?"

        "What would you like to do with them?" Lucky asked.

        "Take them off of you," Juan said.  "And this time, I get to be on top."

        "This sounds interesting."

        "You know, you're totally gorgeous."

        "Thanks.  You too."  Lucky pulled his shirt over his head.  "Stop staring."

        "Stop staring," Juan said, "and start touching.  On your back, sweetheart."  Lucky smiled and shimmied down to lie on his back.  Juan came over him, kneeling astride him, and he expected a kiss, but Juan's mouth instead met his neck.  Oh, how nice.  Oh, how very, very nice.  Aahhh.  His back arched a little.  Juan's soft, hot, wet mouth moved across his jaw, down his neck, visited his earlobe, trailed over his collarbone.  Lucky's eyes rolled back in his head, but he kept his mouth shut to keep quiet.  Then Juan's hands slid down his sides and he made the funniest aching breathy sound, he couldn't help it, and then another noise escaped.  Fingers stroked up his chest as Juan moved south a little, and the fingers stroked up more until they feathered across his lips.  Lucky snaked out his tongue, capturing a finger, and drew it into his mouth.  Juan grunted and licked his nipple.  Lucky moaned, lashes fluttering, sucking on Juan's fingers.  Juan's other hand was on his other nipple, and then Juan's tongue flirted across his chest in that direction, and teeth nipped just a little, those even little white teeth, and Lucky's back arched to offer more to Juan's mouth, and Juan sucked on Lucky's nipple.  Lucky ached.  Juan moved down, kissing and licking down Lucky's sternum to Lucky's navel.  Juan's fingers left Lucky's mouth and drew a wet line beneath Lucky's navel, flitting across the patch of skin just above Lucky's waistband.  Juan's hot, wet mouth sucked there, and Lucky raised his knees and tilted his hips instinctively in invitation.  All of this time his mouth was begging to be kissed, lips forsaken. At least bring back the fingers.  Please.  But Juan's fingers were busy elsewhere, stroking Lucky's thighs while Juan's tongue fucked Lucky's navel.  Juan started to move up again, hands stroking along Lucky's shoulders and biceps, mouth working over Lucky's smooth skin.  Their bodies touched, naked flesh to naked flesh, and Juan rubbed against Lucky a little, just to enjoy the feel of it.  Lucky arched against Juan, his arms coming around Juan to keep the boy close.

        Juan's mouth was on Lucky's neck again.  "Lucky?"

        Oh, he was supposed to be able to talk now?

        "What aren't we allowed to do?"

        "Anything else."

        "Then we're going to have to find somewhere else to do this," Juan said, and darted down to lick a nipple.

        Okay, words were registering meaning now.  "You want more?"

        "Don't you?" Juan asked.

        "Kiss me," Lucky said.

        "No," Juan said.

        "No?"

        "When I kiss you you stop paying attention to what you're doing," Juan explained, kissing Lucky's cheek and temple, evading Lucky's hungry mouth.  "That'll get us in trouble."

        "Not my fault," Lucky accused.

        "Blame me," Juan muttered, licking his jaw.

        Juan kept torturing Lucky, kissing and caressing everything from navel to forehead, bypassing the lips.  Juan licked and sucked on Lucky's fingers, which drove Lucky crazy anew.  He liked that when he did something that Juan liked, Juan did it back to him - - touching nipples, sucking fingers.  Juan was a generous lover, and a responsive one.  Perfect, in other words.

        Juan stopped, finally, leaving the sofa and redressing.  Lucky remained for a moment, basking in the glow.  He was going to have such fun jerking off tonight.

        The words reverberated in Mac's brain, echoing and reechoing, circling every thought: "Now do you see?"  Felicia hadn't been triumphant, had been sad and angry, but it hurt nonetheless.  It was an accusation.  It was a conviction.  "Now do you see?"  He'd fallen in love with Stefan, and it had been wrong, and now, now he saw.  Now he saw.

        Dominique.  Katherine.  Felicia.  He left them, they left him.  Felicia was the only one still alive.  He had happier thoughts of Dominique than of Katherine.  But Stefan, Stefan wouldn't leave him alone.  Stefan had done things to him, said things to him, made him feel things, that no one ever had.  It wasn't just the sex.  Although certainly there were a lot of new things there, weren't there.  No, it was more.  It was the acceptance, the validation, the elevation.  When Stefan Cassadine loved you, you were somebody.  You were important.  You were loved so truly, so deeply, that it changed your world.  It changed you.  He was different now, and he couldn't get back to where he'd been.  Stefan, the condescending count, was so above everyone, so superior, that being accepted as Stefan's equal made Mac above everyone, too.  He'd lain in Stefan's bed, he'd slept with the Cassadine pendant seal cold against his skin, he'd heard Stefan's cultured voice come from those lips telling him things - - not grand declarations, not prosy promises, only statements like truth, words like facts.  It felt as though he were being given everything, granted...granted something, something important, something...

        As long as he had Stefan, as long as Stefan loved him, Mac Scorpio was happy.  It was like a present he carried around all of the time, a secret, and he kept it inside himself, and when he was sitting at his desk or working on a case or driving home, he could open it, and it kept him warm, and it was delicious and soothing and exciting all at once.  Every day, all day long, since Stefan had first kissed him, had been constantly like the seconds right before opening your first Christmas present, excited and happy, knowing that everything was good and from now on life would be great.

        Then he opened the box and found breeding snakes.

        Rebecca showed Mac in to Stefan's study.  "Commissioner Scorpio," Stefan said, rising, removing his glasses.  "What can I do for you today?"

        "Where's Faison, Stefan?"

        "I don't know.  Is that all?"

        "No, that's not all."  Mac came closer, came around the desk.  "I want to know what you were doing.  What were you thinking?  Did you think that if I slept with you I'd be too ashamed or too afraid to arrest you?  That you could blackmail me and I'd back off your boyfriend?"

        "If you recall, I entered into a relationship with you before I ever slept with Cesar.  I did know that he was alive, but I had to keep him alive for my own purposes."

        "And what would those purposes be?"

        "To bring Lucky back to Nikolas.  To keep Helena where she was no longer a threat."

        "Always the humanitarian."

        "I do my best.  Will you go?"

        "No.  I will not go.  Where's Faison?"

        "We've been over this.  I...don't...know.  If you won't leave, perhaps you'll stay for dinner?  I believe that we're having guests, but you're always welcome."

        "You have no conscience.  You have no heart."

        "That's right," Stefan said.  "I've given it away."

        Mac wanted to hit him, hurt him, make him suffer, make him feel pain too.  But there was no way to hurt Stefan.  All Mac could do was kiss him.

        When Stefan went down for dinner, Mac stayed in Stefan's bed, silent, eyes closed.  Loathing himself.  Hating himself for having touched the body that had touched Faison.  For fucking the man Faison had fucked.  Kissing the mouth that kissed Faison.

        "Commissioner Scorpio."

        He jerked upright, staring.  He'd know that voice anywhere.  (Well, it was rather distinctive.)  "Faison."  Where the !@# was his gun?!

        "I thought you'd left Stefan.  Yet here you are in his bed."

        Surely Stefan had a gun somewhere in this room.  Cassadines wouldn't sleep unarmed.  Shit.  Where could it be?

        "We're all alone here.  Isn't there anything you'd like to say to me?" Faison asked, coming closer to the bed.  "Something about your pretty wife?  Oh, your ex-wife now.  You left Felicia."  He came closer.  "You always were too good for her."

        Sure, he had a lot he wanted to say to Faison.  About Robert, Anna, Felicia, himself.  About how he was going to convict and kill Faison.  But all that came out of his mouth was, "Stefan is mine."  Which was just about the most ludicrous sentence ever.

        "Is he?" Faison asked.  "I don't think so, Scorpio.  He's ours."

        "I won't share him with you."

        "You don't have a choice!"

        Pants, he had to have pants somewhere.  Oh, nice, across the room where he couldn't reach them.  "Once you're behind bars, it's over."

        "I'm not behind bars, am I?  I'm where I belong, in his bedroom."

        "I'm in his bed."  Oh god, he was arguing with Faison over Stefan like two sixth graders over a pretty girl.  Nothing like a petty squabble "I saw him first!" with a psychopath while naked.  Well, fine, they'd argue.  It always was easy to get Faison mad.  "Stefan is mine, Faison.  You belong in prison, or six feet under.  Pick one and go; I'll help you there."

        "And once you've killed me, you think that he'll come to you?" Faison asked.  "No!  He won't take you without me."

        "We were fine before you."

        "He was in love with me before he fucked me," Faison said, "as long as he's been in love with you.  To Stefan, we're a package deal, one doesn't come without the other.  Well, not literally; it looks like he's been having fun with you without me."

        The door opened.  Stefan entered, locking the door again.  "Cesar."

        "Stefan."

        Somebody give me my pants.  And my gun.

        Stefan walked across the room to stand between Mac and Faison.  Then he did something that made Mac's eyes widen in shock and disgust: he kissed that evil twisted psychopath right on the mouth.  Of all of the most hideously unpleasant people to kiss, Mac couldn't think of anyone worse.

        "Scorpio still doesn't like me," Faison said.

        "Don't," Stefan said, looking from Faison to Mac and back again, "kill each other."

        "Why not?" Mac asked.

        "You're jealous," Faison said smugly.  "You're jealous, Scorpio.  Because he likes to fuck me."  He smirked.  "I'm a very good fuck."

        "Where the fuck is my gun!" Mac shouted.

        Stefan gave him his pants instead.  He managed to pull them on, then lunged from the bed to attack Faison.  It was actually pretty easy to choke someone to death; it was usually quick and fatal.  Unfortunately, Faison never made anything easy, and Stefan managed to separate them, shoving Faison across the bed and grabbing Mac.  "Don't kill each other!" Stefan shouted.  "Cesar, stay there," he warned.  Faison shifted, rolling to his stomach, propping his chin on his hands, winking at Mac.  Mac growled and tried to attack again, but Stefan intervened.

        "You are the most offensive, insane, obnoxious, egomaniacal, evil, psychotic-"

        "You flatter me, Scorpio," Faison said.

        "You shouldn't have come here, Cesar," Stefan said, one hand on Mac's arm to keep Mac in place, turning to the bed.

        "You aren't calling the police, Scorpio," Faison said.  "The phone's on the table.  The gun's in the second drawer on the right.  The handcuffs-"

        "Enough," Stefan said firmly.

        Handcuffs?

        "No," Stefan said to Mac shortly.  "I don't have handcuffs.  Neither does he."

        Thank god.

        Faison smirked.

        "Cesar.  Be quiet," Stefan said.

        "He's trying to have me arrested and killed and I'm supposed to be quiet?" Faison asked.  "No!  I didn't kill Robert or Anna, I didn't kill Felicia, I didn't kill Lucky - - is it my fault that Felicia prefers Spencer?  Maybe it's something in the peroxide fumes that makes women's brains mutate and want that man: Felicia, Laura, Helena."

        "My mother's psychological impairments go far deeper than that," Stefan said.  He turned to Mac.  "What do you want?"

        "I want him behind bars, locked away forever."

        "What can I do to stop you?" Stefan asked.

        "Nothing."

        "I know that it won't be money.  I won't threaten your daughters."  It was funny how Stefan automatically considered Maxie and Georgie to be Mac's daughters but insisted that Nikolas was his nephew.  "Surely there's something that you want that I can give to you."

        "He wants you," Faison said.  "He wants you."

        That bastard always did have a way of getting inside people's heads, going right inside them and seeing how they worked and then manipulating them until they couldn't get away.  He would have made a wonderful psychiatrist if he weren't insane himself.  Really, he was brilliant.

        "Cesar won't hurt Maxie or Georgie," Stefan said.  "He won't hurt Felicia.  I'm working on other outlets for his talents, something a little less lethal.  You'll be safe."

        That was what Stefan did with the people he loved: kept them safe.

        "You can have him, Scorpio," Faison said generously.  "But I get him too."

        "Did I tell you to be quiet!" Stefan snapped.

        Faison flipped his hair over his shoulder.  "He has to learn to share!"

        Mac jerked away from Stefan's hand.

        "He loves me for my mind, Scorpio," Faison said.  "He loves you for your morals and your principles, all those things that make you a husband, a father, a police commissioner.  You and I are opposed in every way.  Evil is very seductive; you know that.  I know how you think.  I know how you feel.  I know that right now you want to kill me, and you want to fuck Stefan.  It's the same impulse, Scorpio."  He held out his hand.  "Come here and I'll let you fuck me."

        Fuck Faison.

        Fuck Faison.

        Fuck...Faison?

        "No!" Mac roared.  He reached for the phone.  Stefan jerked it from his grasp and said, "No!  It serves no purpose."

        "He deserves to be behind bars!  He's a menace to society!"

        "He's a menace to you," Stefan said.

        "I'm not a menace, Scorpio," Faison said.  "I wouldn't hurt a fly."  He rolled onto his back as though offering his belly for a petting.  Mac had the weird, fleeting impulse to scratch Faison under the chin.  "You love Stefan, and Stefan loves you.  Isn't that cosy?  But Stefan loves me, too.  And if you love him, you won't hurt me."

        "I will not live my life according to Stefan's whims," Mac said.

        "I'm not a whim!" Faison objected, angry.

        "If Cesar were dangerous," Stefan said, "he would not be in the same house as Nikolas."

        "He could be deluding you just like you deluded me," Mac said.

        "Name one person who's deluded Stefan Cassadine for longer than five minutes," Faison said.  "Especially when his guard was up."

        "Could you stop calling him Cesar?" Mac demanded.

        "No," Stefan said.

        "What do you want?" Mac asked Stefan.  "You want the three of us to live happily together, you and me and the egomaniacal psycho?"

        "Yes," Stefan said.

        "And I'm not supposed to arrest him, kill him, or even tell anyone that I've seen him."

        "Yes."

        "Why would I possibly want to do that?" Mac asked.  "And don't tell me because you love him.  I loved you and it did nothing for me."

        "Nothing?" Stefan asked.

        "Give me one good reason I shouldn't call Taggert right now."

        "Do one thing for me," Stefan said.  "Grant me one request."

        "Just one," Mac clarified.

        "One," Stefan said.  "That is all that I ask.  Once it's over, do as you please."

        "What is it?"

        "Fuck Cesar."

        "No!"  He was horrified.

        "Yes."

        It was unthinkable.  He couldn't look at the man without his flesh crawling.  He'd never be able to touch Faison.  And to imagine, just to imagine, that he would ever get an erection, or could ever manage to put his hand on Faison's flesh, was...  Mac closed his eyes and shuddered, repulsed.  Vile.  Faison was vile.

        "Fuck," Stefan said clearly, "Cesar."

        "Pretend it's rape," Faison said.  "Pretend it's violence.  Pretend you're hating me and hurting me."

        Mac was not a rapist.  He'd never considered rape in his life.  He'd never sexually harassed anyone.  Sex, to him, was not about power or violence.  He abhorred rape.  It made him furious to think that Faison could imagine him capable of rape.  Which, of course, was Faison's intention: to rile him.

        Stefan said, "Cesar, hold still."

        "No," Faison said.

        Stefan's fingers threaded through Faison's hair.  "Hold still or I'll hold you down myself."

        "I don't want him fucking me!"

        "You invited him yourself."

        "I changed my mind.  I rescinded the invitation."

        God how Mac hated that voice, that accent, the mutated pronunciation, the arrogance.

        "Take off your clothes," Stefan said.

        Faison did, so Mac moved his eyes to the carpet by Stefan's feet.  Stefan unfastened Mac's pants; Mac closed his eyes.  This was not happening.  Stefan guided him up to kneel on the mattress.  He kept his eyes closed.  He didn't want to see, didn't want to know.  Stefan's hand came around from behind him, stroked his penis idly, more affection than sex.  Stefan's free hand took his hand, smeared lubricant on it.  Stefan guided his hand forward.  Don't make me touch him.  His fingers met skin, skittered up an inch and to a puckered opening.  Stefan's fingers guided his fingers forward.  It was tight, way too tight.  "Relax, Cesar."  Mac heard a slow, steady, very long inhalation, then an exhalation, and he was inside.  Inside where it was very hot and very tight.  "Relax, Cesar."  Another slow deep breath, and his way was easier.  He began to oil and massage as Stefan stroked his penis.

        He fucked Faison.

        When he'd come, he moved away quickly, turned his back, finally opened his eyes.  There was blood on his penis.  He looked to Stefan, panicked.

        Stefan kissed Mac gently, just for a moment.  "Thank you, Cesar."

        "What..."  Mac swallowed.  "What did I do?"

        "You took my virginity, Scorpio," Faison said.  "You stole my innocence.  And you didn't even let me come!"  Faison kicked Mac from behind, but not hard, more from irritation than violence or even anger.

        "You never fucked him?" Mac asked Stefan.

        "He wouldn't let me," Stefan said.  "He'd never been penetrated.  He let me lick him, but I couldn't use my fingers."

        "I'm a rapist."

        "No you're not!" Faison snapped.  "If I didn't want you to fuck me, I would have killed you."

        "You let me fuck him," Mac said.

        "He let you fuck him," Stefan corrected.

        "Didn't kiss me, didn't give me an orgasm - - why are you with Scorpio, Stefan?  He's a lousy fuck."

        Mac jerked around and smacked Faison across the face.  Faison kicked him, hard this time.  They tussled across the bed until Mac was on his back beneath Faison, and they were both naked, and Faison was hard.  Mac looked right into Faison's eyes and spread his legs.  Faison sank into his heat.

        Faison didn't just use his body but manipulated it, found his pleasure and exploited it, turned him traitor against himself.  Faison fucked him and made him like it, the ultimate punishment for his abuse of Faison's body.

        Stefan had not entered Faison.

        Stefan hadn't been allowed.

        He had entered.  He had taken Faison's virginity.  What a peculiar thing even to occur to someone as twisted as Faison, to be deflowered.  And he'd done it.  He'd made use of Faison's body, had taken it, claimed and possessed it.  Stolen Faison's innocence - - was such a thing possible?  He stood accused.  He made Faison bleed.

        Faison made him come.  There wasn't much left in him, after fucking first Stefan and then Faison, but Faison made him come nonetheless, long fingers working their expert manipulation.  Faison was too clever by far.

        Faison left Mac' body.  Now he had Faison's semen in his ass, Faison's seed and potency in his body.

        Mac sat up.  Faison was crouching at the foot of the bed, hair hanging down to obscure his face.  Stefan was standing by the bed impassively.  Mac reached for the phone on the bedside table and dialed the precinct.  "Shanaysha, hi, it's Mac.  I'm going to be taking off for the next few days..."

        When he hung up the phone he sat very still at his end of the bed, a statue of himself, Faison opposite him a gargoyle.

        Eventually they moved, finding underwear, brushing teeth.  The three of them, Stefan stripped to black silk boxers, settled into the bed.  Mac laid on his side, facing the bathroom, Stefan spooned up behind him, Faison at Stefan's back.

        Mac awoke long hours later as Stefan was leaving the bed.  Mac kept very still, eyes open.  He was alone in the bed with Faison.  Stefan showered briefly, dressed, and left the room.  As soon as the door closed Mac bolted for the bathroom.

        He'd been fucked twice last night, and his muscles were sore from it.  What must Faison feel?  He wasn't by nature a crude or careless lover, but he'd fucked Faison hard, harder than he'd ever done anyone else.  How was he to know that one had to be careful with Faison?  And why should he be?

        He leaned against the cold shower wall.  It wasn't rape.  It wasn't rape.

        But if it wasn't rape, then it had to be sex.  Sex with Faison.  Cruel rough sex, making his partner bleed.  Using Faison's body carelessly, crudely, like a toilet, emptying his waste and leaving.

        Mac didn't like that picture of himself.

        It doesn't matter.  It was only Faison.

        It did matter.  It was about more than one  ugly, unpleasant villain.  It was about himself, too.  His guilt and his anger and his fear.

        Faison gave me his virginity.  Faison had given him something.  Not just a headache, a heartache, and a hard time, not just a videotape of his then-wife with Luke Spencer and a bed.  Virginity.  Body.  Self.  Something irreplaceable, something that no one else could have now.  Something treasured, something kept protected and cherished.  Something that Faison had not seen fit to give to Stefan.  Something that most people, many cultures, kept sacred.  And especially in a man, in this world at this time, to be taken, to be possessed, to be the submissive one, to allow someone else to dominate - - men's upbringings worked against that, taught them to be the dominant one, taught them to possess.  And Faison, well, Mac doubted that Stefan was Faison's first male lover; that seemed highly unlikely if Faison was bisexual, given Faison's personality.  But if Faison had had male lovers and still remained a virgin, then Faison must have felt great pressure not to be fucked, must have some deep conviction or fear, and had surrendered to Mac - - Mac couldn't keep a handle on these thoughts, couldn't find a conclusion, only circled and grasped, desperate, frustrated.

        He left the bathroom and dressed quickly in yesterday's clothes.  Stefan returned, closing the door again.  "I have informed Nikolas of your presence," Stefan told Faison.  "How do you feel?"

        Faison was still lounging on the bed.  Whether it was from hedonistic, decadent tendencies or because he felt sore, Mac couldn't tell.  He didn't answer Stefan, who came over and sat on the edge of the bed.  Mac, standing off to one side by the foot of the bed, watched as Stefan stroked Faison's naked shoulder.

        "Is his short boyfriend still here?" Faison asked.

        "AJ lives here," Stefan said patiently.

        "I saw Lucky Spencer yesterday," Faison said.  Mac tensed.  "He looks...happy."

        "Lucky's recovered well from your interference," Stefan said.

        "Interference," Faison repeated, clearly finding the word to be as inappropriate as Mac did.

        "He didn't see you?" Stefan asked.

        "There were people with him," Faison said.  "I didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea and call the police.  Scorpio and that tall, bald, black man can make life so unpleasant."

        "Lieutenant Taggert does have decided opinions," Stefan said.  "He likes me no more than he likes you."

        "How was your incarceration?" Faison asked.  "Does jail agree with you?"

        "The food was bad, the accomodations were worse, and the attitudes I faced were intolerable and intolerant," Stefan said.  "Of course I was guilty, so I expected nothing less.  Had I been innocent, the situation would have been unjustified."

        "You should have turned me in," Faison said.  "Let me suffer."

        "No doubt," Stefan said with a smile.  "Roll over."

        "You want to look up my ass," Faison accused.

        "I want to ensure that you do not need medical attention."

        Faison grumbled and rolled over, grimacing.  He leaned up on his elbows, hair falling forward.  Stefan tugged the covers down to expose him.  Mac got his first good look at Faison's body.  Pale.  Slender.  Skin like satin.  Stefan nudged apart Faison's thighs.  Stefan got the tube of lubricant and slickened one finger, then very gently and slowly entered.  Faison was tense and still.  Mac saw that the site of penetration, of violation, was very sore from the violence.  I did that.  Stefan's finger eased free carefully.  "Spend the day here," Stefan said, "and rest."  Stefan's clean hand gathered back Faison's hair, stroked Faison's side.  "You'll be fine."

        "Fuck," Faison said, and his accent was thick.

        Stefan left the bed, wiping his hand clean, turning to Mac.  "How shall we spend the first day of your vacation?"

        Lucky followed Juan into Juan's bedroom.  Juan stepped back and locked the door.  Taggert was at work, Bobbie was at work, and Lucas was with Tony.  Lucky and Juan dropped their jackets and bared their feet.  Juan pulled off his shirt, dropping back onto his bed, laying on his back.  Lucky's shirt hit the floor as Lucky settled over Juan, climbing onto Juan's body, kissing Juan's mouth.  Juan's arms came around Lucky's neck, stroked across Lucky's broad shoulders and down Lucky's back.  They kissed slowly, deeply.

        Lucky was hard, it felt so good, he wanted this so badly.  This what?  This lying here, kissing Juan, holding Juan.  "I love you," he said, and licked the insides of Juan's mouth.

        "Good," Juan said, rolling them over to put himself on top of Lucky, changing the angle of their kiss to delve deeper.  Then he licked Lucky's nipples quickly and sat up.  Lucky followed, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him close, devouring Juan's mouth.  Juan's hips pressed against Lucky and Juan's hands came back to keep him from falling to the mattress again, back arched.  Juan was kneeling, thighs spread, and Lucky came between Juan's thighs, mouth on Juan's neck.

        Lucky's free hand skimmed Juan's side and came to the waistband of Juan's jeans.  His fingers slid along the waistband briefly to find the front, tracing a path on Juan's skin.  "Let me," he said.

        "Let you what?" Juan asked.

        Let me love you let me make love to you let me love you  "Let me touch you.  Let me look at you."  Lucky kissed Juan's mouth and brought two hands to Juan's fly.  He unbuttoned and slowly unzipped.  Juan's hips raised; Lucky tugged down Juan's jeans and boxers.  He slid one hand down, over Juan's side, hip, thigh, all naked.  Skin.  He raised his head and looked into Juan's eyes.  Juan looked down, blushed, and looked back up at Lucky.

        "It's not that great," Juan said.

        Lucky looked down, too.  His own erection ached with his want.  His hands stroked Juan's thighs, rubbing eagerly, wanting to touch.  His hands slid over to the inside of Juan's thighs, gradually moving upwards, stroking over Juan's flesh.  One hand reached for Juan's balls.

        Juan grabbed him and kissed him fervently, hungrily, unable to stand the torture, wanting release, seeking relief.

        Lucky's hand closed around the base of Juan's cock.  Hard, and hot, and alive, most definitely alive, responding to his touch.  He moved his grip up the shaft, up to the head, and it was starting to drool on him, which made him incredibly turned on, to know that Juan was about to come, that Juan's pre-ejaculate was on his fingers.  His own aching cock throbbed, wanting Juan, wanting more.  "Let me," he said, and started to stroke, to fist, to do to Juan what he did to himself every day, finally getting to do to Juan what he'd wanted, finally having Juan in his arms, under his hands, in his hand.

        Juan broke the kiss, panting, and they stared into each other's eyes, lips parted, eyes shining and hot, Lucky's hand fisting over Juan's cock.  Juan's breath hitched once, twice, then Juan stopped breathing and came.  Lucky felt the hot splash of release.

        "Breathe," Lucky said.

        Juan squeezed him hard.  He held Juan, stroking Juan's back.  "Uh-oh," Juan said.  The cooling, sticky slide of their bodies made Lucky wince, then grin as he thought more about it.  Juan moved back, grimacing.  "Sorry," Juan said.

        Lucky looked down at himself.  "Thanks."

        "I'll go get a washcloth or something," Juan said.  "Or...do you..."  He kissed Lucky very sweetly.  Lucky kissed him back, eyes closed, moaning a little, just a little, because it felt good, because Juan kissed well.

        Then there was a hand in Lucky's crotch, and it wasn't Lucky's.  It stroked him and lightly groped him.  Then it deftly opened his jeans and reached inside his boxers.  He groaned, hips coming forward.  This was so erotic, having a hand on him, feeling a foreign touch, knowing that Juan was touching and learning.  "Come," Juan said into his mouth, kissing him, stroking him.  Juan's caress turned harder, less torture and more action, giving him the friction that he needed to come.  He didn't know which he preferred, the gentle loving touch or the one that prompted him to orgasm.  He came, groaning into Juan's mouth.  Juan's hand kept toying with his sensitive cock, stroking his balls, while Juan licked his mouth.

        Faison had been in Stefan's bed all day: sleeping, reading, talking on his cell phone.

        Mac's own cell phone had rung, but he hadn't answered.  He couldn't talk to anyone who'd ask where he was.  His leave of absence coming immediately on the heels of his accusations relating to Faison would make people think that he was out looking for Faison, or had a lead and was tracking down the man.  He didn't want to answer anyone's questions.  Because he knew exactly where Faison was: lying naked two yards away from him, talking on the phone.  Faison knew, besides English, French and German and Italian.  That was actually pretty impressive to Mac's mind.  Mac knew only Australian and American.  He was sure that Stefan knew several languages: Greek, ancient Greek, Latin, Russian, English, plus probably more besides: Spanish, Japanese, Faison's languages.  Mac wondered what Faison's native tongue was.  English was most likely a second language.  It bothered him that he didn't understand a word of Faison's phone conversations.  Was Faison chatting with a friend or planning a smuggling operation or plotting an assassination?  Did Faison have friends?

        Mac walked over to the bed and sat.  Faison, lying facedown propped on elbows, tossed his hair over one shoulder and looked at Mac.  Funny how someone prone and naked could seem to have the upper hand.  "Do you have any friends?"

        "Do I have any friends," Faison repeated.  "Do you have friends, Scorpio?  Lieutenant Taggert, Detective Garcia, Dr. Collins - - the lovely Miss Jensen - - they are your friends?"

        Protective, angry feelings welled up in Mac, but he cut them off at the last moment.  "Do you have friends?"

        "I have friends," Faison said.  "I have friends, Scorpio."

        "Are they all criminals?  Are they friends or just business associates?"

        "We keep in touch," Faison said.  "Some of them work with me, some of them refuse to work with me.  Some of them are in jail, some of them have never been caught.  They don't tend to spend much time in America."

        "Is one of them Helena?"

        "Helena is no one's friend but her own," Faison said.  "We worked together, we worked against each other.  I tried to save her but..."  He made a face and shrugged.

        "And then she tried to kill you, she took Lucky from you, and you turned on her."

        "Some people, I will remain loyal to them no matter what they do.  Most people, as soon as I have what I need, what happens to them is none of my concern.  Some people, like Helena, I get great satisfaction from ruining them.  I would get great satisfaction from ruining Luke Spencer."

        "What are you going to do to him?"

        "Stefan has tried to discourage me from taking action," Faison said.  "I'll wait, to please him."

        "What are you going to do to me?"

        "Nothing," Faison said.  "Stefan has told me not to hurt you."

        "And you listen to whatever Stefan says?"

        Faison made another face.  "No.  I do what I want, Scorpio.  Sometimes I want to do what he wants, and sometimes...I don't."

        "Are you in pain?"

        "Would it please you if I were?  Big strong tough guy, showing his masculine prowess by fucking little old me.  Make me feel it.  Leave your mark in blood."

        "I didn't know that it would hurt you."

        "You didn't think that I could be hurt."

        The accusation was true.  Mac hadn't thought that Faison could be hurt.  The man couldn't even die!

        "Did you like it?" Faison asked.  "Did you like fucking me?"

        "Like" wasn't the word for it.  It had been an intense physical and psychological event.  It was too complex and twisted and contradictory to examine, much less explain.  Mac gripped the scarlet sheet with one hand and pulled; the silk slipped down over the planes and curves of Faison's body, finally leaving the man bared.  Faison's head turned, facing the pillows, not looking at Mac.  Mac released the sheet, raising his hand, resting his palm on the back of Faison's knee.  He moved his hand upward, along Faison's thigh, fingers skimming over Faison's inner thigh.  Up the curve of Faison's buttock, satiny smooth skin, Faison's back, to Faison's shoulder.  He tangled the strands of Faison's hair around his fingers.  Faison had showered only an hour before, and the hair in his fingers was silky and slippery.  "I want," Mac said, low, threatening, "to fuck you again."

        Faison's head lowered, exposing his nape.  Mac climbed over him, straddling him, pressing lips to the uppermost vertebrae.  Faison twisted, turning to lie on his back; Mac, eyes closed, kissed Faison's neck, fingers twisting in the long hair.  Mac's other hand went down into Faison's groin.

        Fifteen minutes later, Mac backed away from the bed.  How did he get from "I want to fuck you again" to swallowing the man's semen?  He swallowed again, still tasting it, still having the sensation of Faison's cock in his mouth.  Faison hadn't spoken, had remained in fact quite still and quiet, which was totally unlike Faison.  Mac's self-loathing and disgust, not to mention his disbelief, had not managed to quell his own erection.  How could he be aroused over this hideous inhuman being?

        Faison shifted comfortably.  "Thank you, Scorpio."  He scratched his navel absently.  "I didn't expect you to know how to suck cock."  He looked up at Mac through slitted, calculating eyes.  "You aren't quite the traditional hero that you seem.  You've been with men."

        "Before I came to Port Charles."

        "Does Felicia know?"

        "Felicia knows."

        "Does she know that you're with Stefan?"

        "She knew that I was.  She doesn't know where I am now."

        "Are you going to tell your lovely ex-wife that you fucked me?"

        "No.  I won't even tell her that I saw you."  He reached over and tugged the covers back over Faison's hips, covering what he'd exposed.