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A Night to Remember by perfectlyrose

Rose let out a moan as the Doctor latched onto the join between her neck and shoulder after moving the strap of her dress out of his way. He lavished attention on the spot, applying suction and nipping until he was certain there would be a mark there later to attest to his presence. He released her with a pop and one last scrape of his teeth over the darkening bruise. The Doctor grinned down at her, eyes dark as he looked at her with satisfaction. Her hair was mussed from his hands and his lips swollen and glistening from his kisses. His eyes drifted down to her heaving chest, on display in the brilliantly low neckline of the dress she’d worn to dinner. She was pretty as a picture against the doors of the TARDIS, he thought. It was a decidedly raunchy picture, one that belonged in the collection of erotic postcards that lived in the corner of his small private library, but a picture all the same. “Doctor,” she panted, rubbing her thighs together, trying to find some friction. “Please.” He chuckled darkly and ran a finger down the side of her face before trailing it down to the valley between her breasts. “Feeling needy, are we, love?” Rose nodded. “Suppose I can help you with that,” he said nonchalantly, backing away from her and tugging at the knot in his tie. “You did help me with my problem in the loo earlier.” He felt himself twitch as Rose licked her lips and dropped her eyes down to the bulge in his trousers, apparently reliving the memory of “helping” him. “Come here,” he ordered with a crooked finger as he neared the console. Rose sauntered towards him slowly as he fingered the silk of his tie, running it through his fingers as he contemplated his options. As soon as she was in range, the Doctor pulled her in and hungrily pressed his lips to hers. His tongue demanded immediate entrance as he backed her into the console. He pressed her against it, his hips driving hers into the edge. The Doctor pulled away again, just enough to use his grip on her hips to turn her around to face the console. He pressed his whole body against her, leaning down to lavish attention on her neck while one hand snuck around to palm one of her breasts. Rose pushed her arse against him harder, rubbing herself against his prominent erection and he leaned back with a growl, moving both hands to her hips once more to keep her in place. His fingertips dug into her skin through the thin fabric of her dress hard enough that there would probably be small bruises there come morning and it took almost every ounce of his self control to stop rutting against her and take the smallest of steps back. Rose didn’t move from her position braced against the console but she let out a whine at the loss of contact. He chuckled and ran a light finger down her spine. “Patience, love.” “I’ve been patient,” she protested. He hummed, conceding that she had indeed been patient before stepping up next to her, tie now pulled taut between his hands. “Grab hold of the handle,” he ordered, nodding at the brass handle a few inches above her head on the console. It had appeared after Rose’s first few trips in the TARDIS and more than one rough landing had sent her sprawling to the grating because she had nothing to hold on to. She’d gotten her sea legs, so to speak, since then and rarely used it anymore but it had remained in a prominent place on the console. The Doctor had plans for it to be extremely useful once more. As soon as she gripped the handle, shooting him a speculative look in the process, he reached out and started slowly wrapping his tie around her wrists. “This okay?” he asked as he tied the fabric to the handle, securing her in place. “More than,” Rose breathed, voice husky and pupils blown wide as she glanced over at him. “Brilliant!” the Doctor exclaimed. He leaned down and kissed her, quick and dirty, before moving back behind her. “Now, where was I?” he asked, dark promise in his tone. He pressed himself against her once more, reaching around to palm her breast with one hand again, bracing the other against the console. “Right here, I believe,” he said, hot breath hitting the shell of her ear and making her shiver. This time he wasn’t content with kneading her tit with the fabric of her dress separating their skin. He tugged her neckline down until it hooked under her breasts then immediately filled his hand with the soft mound of flesh, rolling her already erect nipple between his fingers. He smiled at the litany of sounds emanating from his lover at the sensations. The Doctor straightened slightly, taking his hand off the console and moving it to her arse. He fondled her for a moment, enjoying the sensation briefly before he began rucking up the hem of her dress. Once it was up around her hips he stopped and stared, stopping the motion of his hand on her breast. “You know, if I’d known you weren’t wearing any knickers, we wouldn’t have made it out of the restaurant tonight.” Rose huffed out a laugh and tried to catch a glimpse of him by moving her head to the side. “So, they would have kicked us out instead of us leaving quickly after getting some scandalized looks?.” The Doctor pressed a kiss to the mark he’d sucked into her earlier. “Would’ve been worth it.” She looked like she was about to argue with that assertion so the Doctor swiped a finger through her wetness, glancing off her clit in the process. Her argument died on her lips, a keening noise escaping her instead. “Doctor, please,” she begged, thrusting her hips back towards him. He brought his hand up to his mouth and licked her wetness off his fingers with relish. “Have I ever mentioned how delightful you taste?” Rose made a frustrated noise in response. The Doctor pressed himself against her once more, putting on hand on the breast he had neglected earlier and running the other down until he was cupping her mons. “How long have you been wet, Rose?” he asked, lips moving against her ear. “Oh god,” she whispered shakily, all attention focused on the finger hovering just over her clit. “Answer me, Rose.” “God, since we left for dinner,” she admitted. “Got like this when I sucked you off though.” He hummed happily and pressed his finger down, rubbing a series of quick, hard circles on her sensitive, little nub. “I love how wet you are for me,” he said, drinking in the sounds of her breathy little pants. “Always,” she said, fingers clenching around the handle, “always wet for you.” He bit down on her earlobe then sucked it into his mouth, adding another layer of sensation for her before sliding his fingers down from her clit to tease her opening. He slipped one finger inside of her and then another. He moved his mouth to grin into her neck as she tightened around his unmoving fingers, trying to create friction. “Doctor, please!” “Please what?” She started moving her hips and lust spiked through the Doctor’s system as he felt Rose fuck herself with his fingers. If she kept this up he wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer and he had plans. He briefly considered changing them and letting her get herself off with his hand but dismissed it just as fast. The Doctor shifted his hand, letting his fingers go deeper as they curled to hit that one, beautifully sensitive and textured spot inside of her at the same time he brought the heel of his hand down to put pressure on her clit. Rose’s hips shot forward trapping his wrist against the console as a moan filled the cavernous room. The Doctor started pumping his fingers in and out, grinding down on her clit with every motion. “Are you close, Rose?” She nodded her head quickly, not able to get words out. “I want you to come for me, Rose,” he whispered, mouth against her ear. “I want you to come so hard you see stars, so the whole universe can hear you screaming your pleasure.” He pushed his hips into her arse, letting her feel how turned on he was. Her pants were getting louder and the Doctor ground his hand down harder, pistoning his fingers faster as he drove her towards the edge. A few pumps more and Rose’s back arched and she went taut, each muscle tightening. A cry of his name tore out of her throat as her walls clenched around his fingers. The Doctor kept moving until she collapsed forward onto the console, completely boneless and breathing hard. He slipped his fingers out of her and immediately brought them to his lips. The musk coated his tongue and he seriously considered dropping to his knees and bringing her to the edge again with his mouth this time. It was one of his favorite pastimes these days, after all. He was still deciding when Rose stirred beneath him, pushing back against the erection that was pressing into her. The Doctor set aside his oral plans, deciding they would be better carried out on a bed where he could feel her thighs tighten around his ears and his knees wouldn’t complain so much. He might even put a tie or two to use again to recreate this atmosphere. Smirk playing over his face, he started thrusting lightly against her, reaching around to play with her breast once more. “You ready again?” “Always,” she breathed. “Want you to fuck me, Doctor. Been waiting all night.” “And you’ve been more than patient,” he praised, tweaking her nipple. “I think it’s time to give you what you want.” “Yes.” He stepped back from Rose, ignoring her noise of protest and instead enjoying the view of her all mussed and exposed and on display for him. Now this , he thought as he struggled with the button of his trousers, was a picture that would be right at home in his postcard collection. He burned the image into his mind instead as the button popped free and he started easing down his zipper. He heard Rose’s breath catch at the metallic sound and smiled. She was already on edge and he hadn’t even started yet. The Doctor pushed his trousers and pants down together, letting them stall around his knees and then his ankles as he pressed himself back against Rose, finally skin on skin. He clutched at her hips as he rutted against her, looking for whatever friction he could get. His name fell from her lips as a plea when he dropped his head to her shoulder and bit down. She jerked her shoulders like she was trying to move her arms, temporarily forgetting about the tie binding her wrists. He laughed lightly. “Okay there, love?” “Be better if you’d stop teasing.” He scraped his teeth over the light mark he’d made before pulling back. “Your wish is my command,” he said. The Doctor coaxed her to lift one knee to rest on the edge of the console to give him more space to work. “You look gorgeous like this, Rose,” he whispered as he plastered himself against her, maneuvering so his erection slid between her thighs without actually entering her. Her only answer was a moan and her hips rocking harder. He thrust a couple of times, coating himself in her wetness. Without giving her warning, he lined himself up and plunged inside her tight heat. Rose shouted and gripped the handle she was bound to tighter. “Fuck,” he whispered, trying to get a hold of himself. She was so fucking hot and tight around him and it never failed to bring him right to the edge even when he wasn’t as wound up as he was tonight. “That’s the idea,” she retorted, clenching around him. His hands spasmed on her hips and he drew almost completely out of her before slamming home once again. He repeated the motion a few times, giving her force and friction but withholding the speed they were both craving. “And you should remember, Rose,” he said, voice low and rasping, “that it’s me doing the fucking tonight.” He didn’t give her the chance to come up with another witty reply, driving both breath and thought from her as he buried himself in her fast and hard. It was almost too much, the drag of his cock against the tight walls of her core, the sounds she was making, the visual of her tied to the console… it was all straight out of some of his favorite fantasies and infinitely better than anything his imagination had ever conjured up. The Doctor reached around and jammed a finger against her clit, rubbing in hard fast circles and making the volume of Rose’s cries increase exponentially. “I want you to come for me again, Rose. I want to feel you come apart around my cock this time.” “Yes, Doctor,” she panted, voice oddly demure compared to how she’d been teasing him just a few minutes ago. He thrust into her harder at the words. Little minx, she knew that playing submissive always got him going. But if that’s the game she wanted to play, he wasn’t going to deny her. He pinched her clit making her hips snap forward. “I gave you an order, Rose,” he growled before scraping his teeth over the back of her neck. “Come for me. Now.” It took a couple more hard thrusts and working her clit furiously but she shattered around him with a scream, muscles clamping down almost painfully around his cock. He thrust shallowly, extending her orgasm and relishing the exquisite friction. The Doctor didn’t let her relax when she came down, continuing to pound into her, chasing his own release. His fingers resumed their assault on her now over-sensitized clit. “Again,” he growled. “Can’t,” she panted. “You can.” Rose shook her head but he could feel her walls spasming slightly around him and her hips were still rocking, belying her words. “Tell me how it feels, Rose,” he demanded. She shuddered. “Oh god.” “Rose.” The single word was a warning. “You feel so good,” she stuttered out, wrists pulling against his tie again. “Filling me, stretching me good. I love the way you stretch me out and I can feel it for hours afterwards.” His hips snapped forward. He could feel heat pooling at the base of his spine, could feel the tightening that signalled he was about to come. “Keep going.” “Love the way you’re fucking me, making me yours.” He slammed into her over and over, still working on her clit as he did. With one more hard thrust he buried himself as deep as he could go and gave into his release. The feeling of him shooting off inside of her sent Rose hurtling over the edge with him. When he was recovered enough to move, the Doctor pressed a light kiss to Rose’s neck and stepped back. They both hissed as he slipped out of her. The Doctor pulled his pants and trousers back up, not bothering to fasten the latter. He stepped up next to Rose and made quick work of the knots he’d made in his tie, releasing her hands. He gently massaged her wrists as she straightened, standing fully upright for the first time in a while. She took her hands back from him to quickly put her dress back to rights before letting him take them again. “You okay?” He asked as his thumbs slid over the red marks. “Mmm, more than,” she answered, swaying closer and tilting her face up towards his. He leaned down and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. “Bed?” he asked when they parted. “Shower first, then bed,” she countered. “Sounds like a plan.” She leaned up and brushed another kiss across his lips. “Thanks for a brilliant night, Doctor.” He grinned down at her. “Anytime.”

[thisis4fanfiction]

Meant to be Exemption (chapter 14 excerpt) by roadtripwithlucifer

Greg is shampooing his hair, picking up some of Josh’s hair products and scrutinizing them, when someone enters the bathroom. He stops and instinctively covers his junk. “Hello? Josh, if that’s you – “ “Its me.” He hears Rebecca say in a tiny voice. The bathroom door locks. “Oh. Great. Okay. You need to brush your teeth or something?” Greg responds, still cautious but now returning to shampooing his hair. She doesn’t respond for a while on the other side of the shower curtain. “…Do you mind if I join you?” she finally asks, trepidation in her voice. Greg’s pulse immediately shoots up and he feels his dick twitch in excitement. “Join me? Like in the shower?” “Yeah.” Greg steadies his voice. “Um – yeah. Yeah. Sure. Its your shower. You can – uhm. Do whatever you’d like.” He hears rustling before she pulls the shower curtain back, stepping cautiously. He’s never seen Rebecca like this and turns away impulsively. “S… so can I hand you the… the shampoo, or body wash –“ Before he can finish his sentence, her mouth is on his, her hands in his hair, breasts rubbing against his chest. He takes a second to process but his hands do the thinking for him and he grabs her by the waist, pressing her towards him until both of them are getting sprinkled by the warm show water. Wordlessly and with lidded eyes, Rebecca looks up at him, licks her lips and gets on her knees. He tries to pull her back up, shaking his head but she’s a woman with a purpose and her hands are wrapped around her dick in seconds, sending bolts up lightning up his back. He’s instantaneously hard and he looks away from her, almost embarrassed at her assertiveness. She, however, doesn’t shy away. She’s looking straight up at him, first stroking him with just her hand, eliciting whimpers from him. As soon as his legs start to shake and Greg doesn’t think he can take it anymore, she wraps her beautiful pink lips around his cock and takes him in deep. She works her tongue around the head expertly, finding a regular rhythm, making his brain go completely blank and setting his entire body on fire. He’s lightheaded, shaking, almost heady to cum when he hears a small – pop – and she stops sucking on him, instead just looks straight up at him, mischievously. It’s the dirtiest goddamn thing Greg has every seen and he’s dying to touch her. He pulls her up and her eyes pupils are blows, hungry, and she licks her lips and she traces a finger down his chest. She grins as he takes her by the hips and turns her around, until he’s behind her and she’s against a wall. She places her foot on the bathtub rim and pushes her bottom towards him. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He places one hand over hers, for balance, and guides his cock into her warm, inviting pussy, almost collapsing at the sensation. He groans a little, drags his teeth across her shoulder and stars thrusting into her, her breathing out heavily. “I can tell you’ve been with someone else,” she whispers as he thrusts into her, moving back into him, taking her own hand and touching her clit. “You jealous?” He growls in her ear and she arches her neck back, breathing out deeply. He thrusts a little harder now, feeling her body shake under his hands. “If it makes you feel better,” he grips her hand tighter, thrusting deeper, “I thought about you,” he takes his spare hand and squeezes on of her nipples between his fingers, eliciting a small gasp, “A lot.” Her legs are shaking and she bites into her own hand to stifle her moans. He can’t stop himself after seeing her so wrecked so he comes too. She slips onto the floor, puddle like, satisfied smile on her face. “Hmm, okay, now that we did that… Can you hand me the body wash?”

[thisis4fanfiction]

Meant to be Exemption (expert chapter 13 & 14) by roadtripwithlucifer

When Rebecca opens the door for him, Hebecca wailing in her arms, Greg isn’t necessarily sure what to do. She looks absolutely wrecked and on the edge of tears and he comes inside, standing next to her as she puts Hebby into her rocker. “Don’t worry, this is gonna stop soon,” Rebecca starts, and her pressured speech and high voice send alarm bells into Greg’s head, “Because Darryl says she barely cries, so she’ll stop soon, and then you can finally tell me what you want to tell me!” Greg leans in closely and puts a hand over Hebby, shushing her, repeatedly and calmly. She stops crying and Rebecca looks at him, incredulous. Rebecca is starting to talk rapidly and Greg can only watch her, gears spinning in her head to quickly to catch up. “What do I do about the fact that this baby hates me? I knew this would happen. I knew that she would know that I’m – I’m dangerous. And destructive. I bring out the worst in her because I bring out the worst in everybody, even babies.” Rebecca looks at him, eyes hard, pleading and motions towards him standing next to Hebecca, “You left West Covina just to get away from me and look how well you’re doing!” There it is. Greg has been waiting for her to say it. Knew in his heart of hearts she thinks it. But here she is, vulnerable, tearful, frustrated and honest. That thing between them is now out in the open. Greg is almost grateful for it. But he doesn’t have a speech or an explanation prepared. Words are bubbling inside him… “So clearly, everyone is better off without me! Just face it!” She exclaims, looking at him like that is the most obvious fact in the world. Greg can’t take her talking like this about herself anymore. Knows this Rebecca. Has seen it. And has seen it in himself. “Rebecca, stop. If everyone was better off without you, then why did I come here to tell you that I can’t stop thinking about you, that I miss you, and that I clearly still have feelings for you?” She looks shocked. He shakes his head. Come on, Harvard. You can’t be that stupid. “You still have feelings for me?” “Look – um. I realized how I felt about you,” a while ago, years ago, but lets not go into that, maybe not yet, “came over to tell you, and all those guys were there, and that was not enjoyable. But you know what? But I don’t care.” She looks at him, pleadingly. Heart on her sleeve. “I can’t stop thinking about you. So, What do you think?” Last call. What will it be? The words echo in the back of Rebecca’s head and fireworks are threatening to make their way out of her mouth, her chest, sparks in her fingers. So much has changed. And yet, her looking up at Greg in this moment, absolutely nothing has. “I think... that I feel the exact same way.” They lean in at the same time this time. He takes her face into the palms of his hands, like he always did before. Her hair is longer now, but that familiar tangle of her curls is the same. Her lips, soft, mouth inviting. He feels like dissolving into her, that he physically cannot get enough closeness with her. There’s only so much he can put into a kiss. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you for two years. I never stopped thinking about you. Or caring about you. I never will. She breaks, laughter in her eyes. “We should really get the baby out of this room.” Greg suppresses a chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah, we should.” “Something feels weird…” Rebecca starts. Greg nods expectantly, opening his eyes wide. Does it? “So, listen, you know me. I’m the first person to impulsively throw myself into into any really romantic moment but I think I gotta just take a beat and deal with the fact that that right before you so sweetly kissed me I was in the middle of a shame spiral. I need to know that I’m not relying on your feelings for my own sense of self worth.” “Hmm, yes, I agree. And you are very wise. And also? Samesies.” Rebecca smiles, “Samesies?” “Yeah. You know. Samesies. Other things going for my self-esteem other than your attention.” “Really?” Rebecca quirks up an eyebrow. “Like what?” He leans in to kiss her again, whispering just before getting to her mouth, “I can show you.” Rebecca grins and leans in hard into him. He’s softer this time, but still him. Soft lips. A tiny nibble of her lower lip that makes her moan lightly against him. His hands against her, training up her spine. She places her hands on the back of his neck, gripping on to him as tight as she can. They’re on the floor before she knows it and he’s kissing her neck, the way he used to and Rebecca’s on fire. Like her body completing the puzzle after years of missing a piece. Yes. This feels right. They’re rolling over and both of them can’t stop laughing, each movement on the floor causing a toy to squeak or light up. Rebecca is laughing as Greg starts to move “There’s a toy halfway up my ass,” she chokes out. “That’s not the last time you’ll be saying that tonight,” Greg jokes and Rebecca laughs into his mouth. Its different this time. They don’t have much time – Darryl would be back from his date any minute now – but Greg refuses to rush it. As he takes her clothes off, she seems embarrassed, almost apologetic ‘I didn’t know and its laundry day sorry these aren’t cute’ but he cuts her off, kissing every part of her. Starting with her earlobes. Her neck, which she always liked, and clearly still does by the way she arches her back. Her breasts, somehow more voluptuous than last time. Her beautiful, soft belly. Every stretch mark, bruise, everything he can find. He pulls of her panties and she, blushing, pulls him back up, but he shakes his head and kisses her pussy, sucks on her clit for a spare moment causing her a moan, and moved on to her thighs, her legs, her knees. Every inch perfect and beautiful. When he comes back to kiss her lips, she’s looking at him with such soft eyes, searching his face, almost tearful. Its her. Its her. Its gentle. Maybe not as acrobatic as it was before. But he’s flush with her body, every movement synched between them. Her intertwines his hands with hers and she almost looks shocked before pleasure takes over and she closes her eyes tight and he quickens the pace. He looks her in the eyes the whole time, trying to say things, apologize for thinks, let her know things in each movement that he didn’t have the words for yet. She responds appropriately, gripping on to his back, wrapping her legs around the small of his back. Calling out his name.

[thisis4fanfiction]

Meant to be Exemption (Chapter 5) by roadtripwithluciee

She bangs on the front door as Greg is stacking chairs. Urgent and worried, as always, Greg answers the door with an, “Are you okay?” As soon as she gets inside, she tosses her jacket and purse on the floor, grabs him by the face and finally, finally kisses him. With her urgency it felt a little bit more like smashing her face against his. But. It’s the thought that counts. She feels him place his arms around her before pulling away and pushing her from him. He looks sincerely sorry as he softly says, “No, no – no, I can’t do this. I can’t eat a dusty potato.” She’s diving head-first into another kiss and he has to push her away again. Greg is now simply incredulous. What has gotten in to her? What did Josh do now? “Good god, stop, woman!” “Greg – listen to me. This isn’t about anyone else but you. You’re not second choice. I promise.” She holds his face in her hands and goes in for the kiss again, but he doesn’t stop her. He kisses back, soft, imploring – before pulling back, shooting her pulse through the roof with the look he’s giving her right now. “Listen – if this is gonna happen, you need to know something. This isn’t just going to be a roll in the hay and you go home. This is going to be three days of you and me ruining each other. Is that what you want?” “When do we start?” The first time is a little… urgent. She’s already half naked by the time he’s carried her to the stock room He’s hungry for her, clearly, and his tongue is in her mouth before she even knows it. He’s stumbling a little on the way into the pantry and they giggle into each other’s mouths as he maneuvers past the door, setting her down on the break room table. He releases her from the kiss and as she catches her breath, he goes straight to her neck, wet kisses transforming into soft bites. Her hands are inpatient and roaming, too, digging underneath his shirt and lightly scratching his back, grabbing his butt and thrusting his hips into her, eliciting a sharp inhale from him. He’s already completely hard and she arches her hips towards him, craving more contact. He doesn’t undress her fully – no time – but reaches one hand in her bra, rubbing a nipple gently between his fingers while she struggles with his belt. She arches her back as he leans down, taking her other nipple in to his mouth, biting gently, eliciting a soft groan from Rebecca while his hands fumble with the zipper of her pants. He kisses down the bosom, over her belly, her hips, and as he pulls her pants off, over her panties as well. Rebecca pulls him back up to face level and he looks at her, drowsy, eyes glazed, drunk on this moment. “Hey – later. Somewhere a little more hygienic.” “Yes ma’am,” he growls as he picks her up by the hips and positions her closer towards the edge of the table. “You sure you want this, Bunch?” he whispers against Rebecca’s ear as she grapples with the zipper of his jeans. She’s out of her mind right now, not being able to find the words to use in this situation, looks him right in the eyes and nods while her hands reach below his belt line and – He inhales sharply again, looking up with his mouth open and smile on his face like he can’t believe that this is happening. Rebecca grins at the reaction and starts to maneuver her palms over his – jesus Christ, wow, she only imagined what he was packing but this definitely exceeds all expectations – and he whimpers into her neck before gently pulling her panties to the side with one hand and letting one finger trail along her slit. “Jesus Christ, Rebecca – “ he groans. “Do you have – “ she starts. “Uh – yeah. Yeah.” He stops kissing her for a second and reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out his wallet, then a condom, tossing the former to the side. The action makes him pause again, and he looks at her, panting heavily, one breast hanging out of her bra, panties slid to the side, cheeks pink and eyes ravenous. “Are you sure?” She grabs the condom from his hands, rips it open, and before he even knows it, his dick is out, sheathed up, and ready for action. “Stop talking,” Rebecca orders and he’s more than willing to comply. It takes a second for them to find their rhythm but Rebecca’s head goes blank for a hot second at the feel of him. She bites into his shoulder, holds on to him with one hand. She sticks one finger in her mouth and gets to work rubbing her clitoris to his rhythm. Its out of control hot and she’s feeling it bubble in her stomach mere minutes into starting and he seems to be overcome with it, thrusting harder and faster, rhythm starting to dissipate as his face contorts into something part pain, part pleasure and Rebecca takes that as a sign to wrap her legs around him, pull his head to her mouth and kiss him, long and deep. He comes almost immediately and the sensation of him moaning into her mouth sends lightning bolts all up and down Rebecca’s spine. He almost crashes his car as she leans over the passenger seat, nibbling on his ear and using one hand to stroke his rapidly recovering erection. They make it to her place in record time. Rebecca sits up in bed, squinting at the light of the sun coming through her blinds. “Oh, man, its Monday? I gotta – I gotta go to work.” Greg isn’t really paying attention. He’s painting kisses against her stomach, thumbs pressing deeply into her hipbones. “Do you?” he whispers, voice low, dragging his teeth against her right hip and continuing his barrage of kisses down her thigh. Rebecca moans quietly. He’s caressing her legs, feather light, as he’s kissing her, making his way back, tantalizingly slow, to between her legs. Rebecca feels her chest grow tighter and she licks her lips. “Maybe… maybe I have a family emergency. And I have to fly back to Scarsdale.” “Mm,” Greg moans, kissing on top of her mound, narrowly missing her clitoris. “Sounds like something that will take a few days.” Wet breath against her pussy and Rebecca quick dials Darryl, who picks up within a few rings. Greg’s warm breath and lips are continuing to make their rounds, kissing just to the right, then just to the left of her clitoris. He works his pecks down, laughing slightly as Rebecca’s breath hitches at the anticipation. “Yes! Darryl! Hi! I – um…” Rebecca feels one finger slip in to her pussy and she shudders at the sensation, voice barely controlled, quivering. “Yes, I um – had a family emergency, and have to go to New York…” she whispers. “Oh! Rebecca I’m sorry! You sound so upset, are you okay?” He sticks in a second finger, starting a nice, gentle rhythm, kissing right below her clitoris, lapping up her wetness with his tongue. “Oh – oh yes, I’m… just, gotta have a few…” she says in a shaky voice, eyes closing unintentionally. Greg finally, finally, lands a chaste kiss over her clit and and suddenly all her nerve endings stand on end as his wet tongue strokes her clit, gently, repeatedly, knowingly, setting every inch of her body ablaze - “Jesus Christ!” Rebecca almost shouts. Greg looks up from in between her legs and casts her a mischievous grin, mouth getting back to work. “Rebecca – is everything okay there?” “Yesss… yes. Its, we’re, you know. In this church! Like, you know! Jesus Christ! Please help grandma.” “… I thought you were Jewish…” Darryl trails off on the phone, confused. “Yes okay bye!” Rebecca ends the call and throws her phone across the room, moaning loudly, digging her finger’s into Greg’s dark curls. “You’re playing dirty, Serrano,” Rebecca groans. Greg beams up at her. “You have no idea.” He’s already asleep by the time she’s out of the shower, spread eagle on the bed, sheets barely covering him. He looks so ridiculous Rebecca has to stop herself from giggling. Unbelievable. She can’t believe it. She’s not even sure this is the time to process it. She stands next to him, hair wet, wearing only a towel. She could put on some underwear. Wear her pajamas. Sleep on the couch, or, better yet, usher him onto the couch. She briefly considers this before dropping the towel to the floor – clean that up later, along with all these pizza boxes and empty bottles of wine – and climbs under the covers. She buries herself in the crook of his neck and places her hands along his chest, thighs flush with his leg. She watches the rise and fall of his chest, drifting into the warmth of his body, takes in the scent of her own shampoo that he’s been using since he’s been here. On him, the coconut scent is kind of sexy. She gently kisses him below his ear, then down his jaw, hands making slow circles in his chest. She feels herself spreading her thighs and covering his legs with hers, allowing for a little more friction between of them. Jesus, Rebecca. What are you, sixteen? “…Hey…” Greg whispers, jolting Rebecca out of her daze. His eyes are still closed but his mouth is moving. She stops moving but he uses the hand she’s laying on to make a paint a few absentminded circles with his fingers on her shoulder. “Hey yourself,” Rebecca whispers at him. Hey, yourself? Becky what are you doing. He lowers his chin to his chest and takes a tiny huff of her hair. “You smell nice,” he whispers out. Rebecca resumes running her finger along his chest, up and down, making her way underneath the sheets. “I remember it from hugging you… I like it.” His fingers are trailing down her arm and Rebecca nudges her whole body forward, gently moving her hips against him. “Mhhm…” she whispers, heart suddenly racing, each of her nerves standing on end. If Serrano keeps talking to her in that sleepy voice and touching her lightly like this with his fingertips she’s going to explode. Her fingers flutter over his belly, over his hips. To her surprise, he’s completely hard and she tentatively runs her fingers over the head of his penis, feeling a tiny bit of pre-cum. Greg sighs dreamily and opens his eyes, turning his head to look at her. Rebecca’s pupils are blows, she knows, and she’s breathing hot air against his collarbone. He’s looking at her as she brings the same finger with his pre-cum and puts it in her mouth, never breaking eye contact. He chuckles, looking up to the ceiling in utter disbelief. He turns to face her and leans in for a kiss. Soft and chaste at first, he deepens it. She feels his tongue slide into her mouth, deep and imploring and she tightens her grip around his shoulders, balancing as her world tilts on its axis. His hips start to move and glide against her pelvis, expectantly slick. With each movement he hits her clit for a brief second, sending lightningbolt after lightningbolt through her spine. Tongue intertwined with hers she digs her fingernails lazily into this back while he continues to trace little patterns on her back. She doesn’t break the kiss, just reaches blindly over to her nightstand, knocking over an empty box of takeout and grabbing a condom. She doesn’t even need to open her eyes for this. She’s done this enough to do it in her sleep. When she’s a panting mess against his mouth, he smiles sleepily and tracks one hand to her pussy, guiding his dick inside. He thrusts lazily, the two of them rocking together. His eyes are still closed but his lips part in a few quiet sighs. He keeps landing fluttery, gentle kisses along her chest simultaneously, tongue teasing her nipples and she holds on to his neck for dear life. In a moment of daring, Rebecca intertwines her hand into Greg’s hair, pulling gently, eliciting a loud moan and him opening his eyes, almost shocked but bleary. Very interesting, Serrano. Should have had you pegged for someone who likes pain Rebecca thinks. He licks his fingers and shoves them under the covers, fingertips now wetly trailing over her clit in small circles. Its awkward and the rhythms don’t match up but the hot light builds up behind her eyes quickly and she grabs his hand to stop, biting weakly into his shoulders. She only moans out after the afterglow of her orgasm for a second or two before she feels the pulsation of him also being done, satisfied sigh escaping his sleepy lips. Sweaty and drained, they’re wrapped in each other’s arms, but Greg keeps kissing her softly, against the corners of her lips, over her cheeks, over her nose, over her eyes. He draws his arms around her tightly, drawing her closer to his chest. “Rebecca… I…” Rebecca’s pulse speeds up and she looks up at him. His eyes are open but he looks far away and he knits hit eyebrows in concern before looking back down at her and smiling gently. “I think we should get some sleep.” Rebecca’s hopes fall. She turns around and settles into the crook of him. He snakes a hand around her and rests his face against her hair. Greg feels Rebecca’s breathing even out before he even lets himself think it. Idiot, Serrano. You almost let something slip. You want to ruin all of this? Greg grits his teeth, buries his face in Rebecca’s hair, and lets himself drift off to sleep.

[thisis4fanfiction]

True Love (Chapter 5) by roadtripwithlucifer

WhiJo sips on his beer as Greg recounts the date to him, smile spread wide across his face. “I thought you only did karaoke when you’re drunk, dude.” “I can like… whimsical things when I’m sober.” “You remember on Josh’s 21st we did Don’t Stop Me Now until someone threw something at us? And then you belted out that Celine Dion song… from Titanic… “My Heart Will Go On? No. I – no. That didn’t happen.” “Really glad you stopped drinking, dude. Did Celine Dion a favor.” “And my car,” Hector adds from the bar, sitting across from Heather, who shoots Greg a knowing wink. He did good. Now the ball is in Rebecca’s court. “A…cooking class?” “A cooking class! A couples cooking class. What do you think? Do you love it?” “Rebecca – I’ve never seen you cook anything. In my life.” Greg takes a brief look around. There’s six different counters, each with a sink and a stove and just a bit of counter space, and six pairs of couples, themselves included, some laughing and drinking wine. Some clearly getting to know each other for the first time. “Oh, yeah, no, I don’t cook. But. This class is called Italian Masterpieces. How could I not? Plus, you always tell me how much you miss cooking now that you’re always running things at the restaurant.” Greg gives Rebecca and inquisitive look and she curls her lips and shrugs innocently. The chef, a young woman who couldn’t be any older than the two of them in a crisp white uniform and chef hat, which Greg Serrano, being a restaurant owner, knows is not how real cooks dress, you could never keep your uniform that white, come on - but he digresses - is making her rounds, introducing herself to each couple before she stops in front of them. “Hi you two! I’m Chef Sarah. Welcome to our couples cooking class. “ “Hello, Chef Sarah. I would like to introduce you to another Italian masterpiece,” Rebecca makes presenting hands at Greg and he closes his eyes, shakes his head and covers his face with one of his hands, though there’s an undeniable smile on his face. “Greg Serrano! And I – I am Rebecca Nora Bunch! And I’d like to ask – what’s, like, the reward system here? Do you give grades or do you announce which couple made the best dish… is this like Chopped?” Chef Sarah gives them an uncomfortable laugh and brushes off Rebecca’s questions. “Well – I’m happy to have a long term couple here. This is always so awkward as a place for first dates… How long have you two been together?” “Oh – this is our second date!” Rebecca bolts out, holding on to Greg’s arm. Chef Sarah looks between the two of them, squints her eyes and pretends to be doing something with her apron. “……………Okay. Great. Well. Enjoy the class.” Rebecca’s pulling out a bottle that looks like champagne from her giant purse – but its just sparkling apple juice, who’da thunk it - and is grabbing them two wine glasses from beneath the cooking station. “You booked this class exclusively for that joke, huh?” “Best 200 dollars I ever spent.” Rebecca makes ridiculous faces as he’s boiling the mussels for the appetizer, grabbing one of the opened shells and using it as a marionette, making ridiculous jokes about seafood. Greg is in the zone at first, reducing causes, adding herbs – but Rebecca is distracting in all the best ways and it doesn’t take long for Greg to stop caring so much about the perfection of the meal and to focus on what really matters. The woman standing next to him. Greg elbows her. “Wow, its so interesting, getting to know you for the first time, on this, our second date.” “This doing anything for you?” Rebecca asks, wiggling her eyebrows and bringing the small ball of gnudi mixture in front of her face, rolling it into a ball between her two palms and sticking her tongue out the side of her mouth, like she’s concentrating deeply. Greg almost burst out laughing, the other couples, much quieter than the two of them, shooting them inquiring looks. They’re having a much harder time than Greg and Rebecca – there’s a benefit to having an actual well-versed cook in the kitchen. And not like any of these techniques are new to Greg – but he sure is getting a kick out of Rebecca trying them and stumbling her way through reducing a sauce, or throwing in too many pine nuts for the pesto… It’s the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen and the butterflies in his stomach are alive and well. That said, he sure as hell isn’t going to let that woman zest that lemon like that for the sorbet! Who does that?! She’s getting the rind… No, no, don’t do it like that, hold on.” Greg stands behind Rebecca and gently takes her hand. She leans back into him, bodies making contact. He leans down next to her ears and whispers, “Pay attention,” but he knows damn well she’s not gonna pay attention. He guides her on how to zest a lemon correctly. Just the aromatic surface part. His fingers find their way under her shirt and he quickly looks around, nobody else paying attention, to her naval, and a sneaky little finger down the side of her pants. She almost gasps at the sensation and closes her eyes hard. “Woop! Watch out for that lemon juice! It’ll sting your eyes!” Chef Sarah pipes up and Greg hurriedly removes his hand from under Rebecca’s shirt and looks up to the ceiling, innocently, as Rebecca, shaking hands, continues to zest. Greg’s apartment is almost laughably small, a 600 sq foot one bedroom which happened to be mostly kitchen. Its not entirely furnished, either, with a couch, a TV, and a TV stand without a coffee table, or a dining room table, or really much else. No art on the walls. Rebecca muses that Greg is sorely missing a giant fish. At least his kitchen is fairly large, with an island counter and upgraded appliances. Probably the reason Greg would choose one of these new complexes rather than something a little older but more homey. He doesn’t really invite Rebecca in, she just scoots in after him. He’s barely paying attention, throwing his jacket onto the couch and going towards the refrigerator before he stops and looks at Rebecca, like he’s processing what’s happening for the first time. Rebecca is standing in front of the door, holding her purse in her hand innocently, looking around. “Rebecca – I. Please. Come in. Sit down.” He motions absently to the couch and Rebecca hops up, throwing her coat off and her purse somewhere into the corner, sitting down innocently on the couch. Comfy. “Can I make you a cup of coffee? Or tea?” Greg’s already working as he’s talking, getting some coffee beans into the grinder and heating up his electric kettle. He almost doesn’t notice it as she’s standing next to him, examining the counter space. “A French press? I didn’t realize you were so fancy.” “Surprisingly, when you go back to school in your late 20s, the cheap shit doesn’t cut it anymore.” Rebecca steps behind him and wraps her arms around his waist, head resting against his shoulder blades. He pauses for a few seconds, running a thumb over her hands, before continuing to make them coffee. Rebecca takes a deep inhale of him, fingers working between the buttons of his shirt. “What can I do to help?” Greg chuckles. He turns around, dislodging her wandering hands. In one quick movement, he lifts her up, her instinctively wrapping her legs around him for balance, and walks her a few feet to sit her on top of the island counter. Her legs are still wrapped around him as he sets her down, but now she’s looking down at him. Rebecca leans in close, capturing Greg’s lips in a long, chaste kiss. “I’ve missed you….” She whispers against his lips as she leans her forehead against his. His hands are still wrapped around her back and he paints small circles between her shoulder blades with his fingers. She can feel his breathing quicken as she leans in again, kissing him on the corner of his mouth, just barely. He slots himself a little closer, body pressed against the counter, centered between her legs. He moves straight in for her neck, pressing his lips lightly against her pulse, sending goosebumps up and down her body. Rebecca is almost embarrassed at the realization that her nipples immediately get hard in anticipation. His voice is lower, husky when he speaks again, doing unspeakable things to Rebecca’s nether regions. “Tell me how much.” Rebecca feels her mouth start to water – at which moment, the kettle dings that its finished heating up the water and Greg pulls away, leaving her, slack mouthed and legs open, on the kitchen counter. “You take cream and sugar, right?” Greg asks, voice suddenly calmer and back to normal. “… I definitely take cream.” Rebecca replies, sultry. Greg brushes off the comment and brings the tiny carton of half-and-half and a coffee cup to her. Rebecca gives him a playful glare, but pours the creamer into the coffee anyway, blows on it, and takes a large, slurpy sip. He’s leaning against the opposite counter, them looking at each other, wordless. Rebecca finishes her cup uncharacteristically quickly, and, not looking away, picks up the carton of half-and-half. Opens it. And pours a tiny amount down her collarbone. Greg watches, wide eyed, as the milky-white drops slowly trail down her collarbone and disappear in her cleavage. “Whoops. So clumsy.” Rebecca says, arching her eyebrows and licking her lips. “You’re obscene…” Greg murmurs, but its spare seconds before he’s rushing to her, between her legs and his tongue in on her collarbone. She arches her neck back, giving him easier access. Greg’s tongue follows the line of the creamer into her breasts, fingers working on the buttons of her blouse. She’s wearing a lacy, black bra, push up, as if she even needed it, and Greg makes quick work of making his way, smoothly, under her shirt and unhooking her bra. He doesn’t take the bra off, not yet, just pulls at the cups until her nipples are exposed, just a sliver. Rebecca feels herself breathing heavier, keeping her eyes on Greg. As soon as he puts his mouth around her nipple, teeth mildly grazing the tender nubs, he looks up at her and smirks, making her go lightheaded. Jesus Christ. “This what you want?” He whispers, putting his mouth of her breast, using his spare hand to tweak her other nipple. Rebecca gasps. “… Please,” she groans out. Greg is back at her neck, hands working on the zipper of her pants, tongue slick against her collarbone. “Tell me how much.” He all but growls into her ear, husky and sweet like molasses. Rebecca’s pulse skyrockets. Her panties might as well be a waterslide. Greg isn’t stopping, though, and he slides his hands into her now unbuttoned pants, touching her tentatively over her underwear. A few circles around her clit. A light finger over her pussy. She’s quivering now, mouth watering, almost in tears. “Please… please… I want you to fuck me.” Rebecca moans, words quiet. She feels Greg smile into her neck and he slides one finger right past her panties into her. She gasps at the sensation, wrapping both arms around Greg. “Is that so?” he asks, finger slipping out of her pussy and traveling back to her clit, the wetness smoothing his passage, making Rebecca almost jump off the counter. “Please. Fuck me like I’m your dirty little slut. I want you…” She reaches for his pants, making quick work of the buttons, gripping his cock hard with her hand. His breath hitches, but the words are coming out quickly now, a little more frantic as he makes his way back to her pussy and gently inserts two fingers, arching them, pushing in and out. Rebecca moans, digging her nails into his shoulder while the other works his erection in eager, jerky motions. “Fuck me so hard I can’t walk for a week… Fuck me so hard that everyone knows I’m yours.” The last few words seems to set something off in Greg, and he pulls his fingers out. He looks her in the eyes, cheeks flushed, mouth pink and needy, breathing erratic. He kisses her, lips over hers, tongue searching her mouth. Greg grabs her belt loops and she complies, lifting her ass up and letting him slide her pants and her panties right onto the floor. He kneels down immediately, tongue on her clit and fingers in her pussy, and her chest feels like its about to explode. How he still knows her body so well after all these years is unreal – but he’s hitting all the right points, just slow enough that Rebecca’s legs are shaking and the wetness of his fingers sliding in and out of her the only sound filling the kitchen. The white hot lights starts to build up behind her eyes in another minute and she grabs onto his hair and gently wills him up. His fingers don’t stop the work but he comes in for another kiss, and the taste of herself in his mouth is driving Rebecca crazy. “Bed,” she all but whispers against his lips and he doesn’t need to be told twice. He kicks his pants that are wrapped around his ankles to the corner, grabs Rebecca and somehow carries her into the bedroom, dropping her on the bed, her hair splayed around her like some fucking Grecian painting. Rebecca’s hands are on his dick before he’s even fully on the bed and she’s impatiently trying to guide him inside her, but he pulls away, wagging his finger. Rebecca looks at him, exasperated. He shakes his head at her, reaches towards his nightstand and pulls out a condom. Rebecca groans in agreement. He uses his teeth to rip open the condom, fingers working Rebecca’s pussy. Rebecca is already putting her legs on his shoulders, making a show of tweaking her nipples in front of him and licking her lips. “Come on, Serrano. Fuck me stupid.” Greg snorts and shakes his head. He grabs his dick and slides It against her, hitting her clit, a few times before he gently glides himself inside. Rebecca’s breath hitches and Greg has to stop for a moment, his entire body pulsating with want. He turns to kiss her calf draped over his legs, grips her thighs, and starts to rock into her. Rebecca seems to be loving it and the look on her face makes him increase the speed of his rhythm until he feels himself consistently hit her walls, each thrust causing a sharp exhale of air. As the pressure starts to build up, Greg takes her legs and puts them back down on the bed, laying himself more flat, and capturing her panting mouth in a kiss. Her moaning with each thrust, deep and wet, is the best goddamn thing he’s ever heard. She wraps her legs around his back and suddenly she’s forcing him to roll over, her on top. The view is stupendous. He devours her with his eyes, Rebecca flushes, needy, grinding against him desperately, breath hitching, only tiny gasps escaping her pink lips every few seconds, her eyes closing involuntarily. Greg generally likes to close his eyes but this – this he is not going to miss. Greg sits up, gripping Rebecca’s hips, and kisses her hard on the mouth. She’s rolling her hips rhythmically, perfectly, and God, Greg is not going to last long. “Oh shit!” Rebecca exclaims, legs starting to shake. She keeps grinding against him, him sitting up, nipple in his mouth. His body, slick from her, was giving her just the right amount of friction and holy shit – she’s gonna cum. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum…” she moans hurriedly, fingernails digging into his back, making him completely lose control, start to rock his own hips, faster and faster until they’re both sweating, breathless messes. Rebecca is first, deep inhale and gasp, her legs shaking on top of him and him next, moaning her name. The two of them collapse in the afterglow, bodies slick with sweat. Rebecca is laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, a huge smile on her face as Greg runs off to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. That’s the first time she’s had sex in almost two years. Well worth the wait. “I think the standard is three dates before sleeping with someone.” Greg says, butt naked, walking back towards the bed. She taps the sheets next to her and he climbs under the covers until their naked bodies are slotted next to each other, face to face. Rebecca leans in to kiss him, and Greg complies, gentle, fluttery, eliciting an almost embarrassing sigh from his mouth. “Greg?” “Yeah?” “I love you.” Greg meets Rebecca’s eyes, but she doesn’t flinch away. She’s smiling gently, hair a mess and makeup smeared. He wraps his arms tighter around her, until her face is pressed against his chest so she could her the beating of his heart. “I love you too.” “Rebecca… why are you walking like that?” Heather takes less than five seconds to comment as Rebecca walks into Home Base. She gives her a curt look and sits down next to Hector at the bar. “Oh – that’s the signature Greg Serrano limp.” Heather nods knowingly and Rebecca covers her own mouth with her hand, trying to hide her smile. Hector looks horrified, looking back and forth from Rebecca to Heather frantically. “Is his… babe, is his… hmmm… huge? Is Greg’s penis huge? You have to tell me. I’ll never sleep again. Is it bigger than mine? God - ” Hector grips his head in his hands and scoots away from the bar, making his way to the bathroom, muttering something to himself. Heather laughs out loud and fist-bumps a suddenly very bashful Rebecca. “Is – does everyone know?” Chris pops up from behind the bar and Rebecca darts her head over to Heather, who shrugs. “He needed a summer job.” “Yeah, I already tweeted it, it’s the number 1 locally tending hashtag.” Chris points his phone towards Rebecca and indeed, #Grebecca, #sixlongyears both trending. Greg is going to fucking hate that. It’s the funniest thing she’s ever seen.

[thisis4fanfiction]

First Times by Lara Means

"I don't imagine you need to be told this, Mulder, but... you're not a loser." "Yeah, but I'm no Eddie Van Blundht, either." A slight pause. "Am I." A statement. Not open for discussion. (Shit. Did I say the wrong thing?) He walked on, picked up the pace a bit. He didn't hold the door for her, but he did wait by the car for her to catch up. He didn't speak on the drive back to the office. Neither did she. She didn't know what to say. (It's been a month. We've got to talk about this.) Back in their basement office, he busied himself with paperwork while she thumbed through the latest issue of the Journal of Clinical Oncology. Neither of them acknowledged the elephant in the room. After a long while she glanced over at him -- he was staring off into space, a pencil in his mouth. "Mulder?" He seemed a little startled. "What?" "You've never asked me about what happened." His eyes flicked to hers, then flicked away. "I read your report." Ah, yes. Her report. Wherein she had to explain -- for the record, for their boss -- that she'd shared a bottle of wine and intimate conversation with a suspect who somehow looked exactly like her partner. She didn't bother to mention that the man she thought was her partner was about to kiss her when the *real* Mulder kicked her door in. Besides, the AD himself had sat across the desk from him earlier -- and apart from two unfortunate spelling errors, *he* couldn't tell them apart either. Even so, Skinner had fixed her with a long, hard, intense stare after he read her report, and she had turned several colorful shades of red waiting for his reply -- which was simply, "Thank you, Agent Scully, that'll be all." Scully blushed anew at the mention of it. "Mulder, you know there was more to it than that." He looked at her now, something unreadable in his eyes. Something hard, and a little hurt. "Don't tell me you turned in an incomplete report, Agent Scully." "Mulder..." "Look." He stood abruptly and strode to the filing cabinet. "The case is closed." A file drawer yanked open. A folder pulled. "I don't want to discuss it." Slam. Stride. Sit. Open. (Fine. You don't want to deal with it, I'm certainly not going to force you.) They passed the rest of the afternoon in silence. The next day wasn't much better. They exchanged good mornings, briefly discussed a case Skinner wanted them to consult on, asked each other questions about their expense reports. At 4:53 p.m., he started making packing-up noises. She knew she had to say something. Anything. "So Mulder. You have plans for tonight?" His eyes narrowed a little. "Probably what I do most Friday nights -- order Chinese, watch a couple movies, fall asleep on the couch." "How's that different from the rest of the week?" She smiled a bit, teasing, waited for him to tease back. He didn't. "The rest of the week I order pizza." And he was gone. (Damn. Why is he making this so hard?) Parking the car outside his apartment building, she felt a little flutter of nervousness. She'd made sure *not* to wear the same sweater she'd worn that night, instead choosing a deep shade of blue. She knew he liked her in blue. (What if this backfires? How can we hope to get past Eddie Van Blundht then?) She almost didn't get off the elevator on the fourth floor, but the old lady going up to six had seen her push the button. She slowed as she neared his apartment, the butterfly wings in her stomach flapping like crazy. She took a deep breath and knocked. "Scully. What's up?" He was barefoot, wearing those soft well- worn jeans she loved, and a dark brown brushed cotton shirt that brought out the gold flecks in his eyes. Those eyes that looked at her now with suspicion and mistrust. She smiled a little, not-so-suddenly hesitant. "Nothing. I just... thought I'd drop by. Is this a bad time?" He just looked at her, evaluating her. Then he stepped back and held the door open. As she came in, he spied the bottle of wine she had tucked behind her. "What's this?" She held it out to him. "It's called wine, Mulder. Made from grapes, fermented a little..." He took the bottle as he closed the door behind her. "Chardonnay. That should've been your first clue." He walked into the kitchen without looking at her. She blinked at him, realization dawning. Van Blundht had brought a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. Mulder didn't like Cabernet -- in fact, they were both partial to Merlot when they drank red wine. She'd missed that detail that night -- and the thousand times she replayed it since. She'd grabbed the bottle of Chardonnay tonight because she knew it was his favorite. She followed him to the kitchen, leaned in the doorway as he searched for a corkscrew, his back to her. "You're right. I should've noticed." He paused as she said it, then found the corkscrew. He opened the wine without a word, grabbed some glasses -- then he finally looked at her. "After you." He waited for her to go into the living room ahead of him. He sat next to her on the couch and poured wine for them both. She took a sip -- it was chilled and crisp, and it warmed her throat going down. Mulder gulped his as if it were a shot of whiskey. He was back to avoiding her gaze. "What are you doing here, Scully?" "I thought we could talk." He refilled his glass. "If I say 'about what,' are you gonna say 'Eddie Van Blundht'?" "No." She hoped that came out as firmly as she intended. "Okay then." He raised his glass to his lips, sipping more slowly this time. "About what?" She let out the breath she'd been holding. "You. Me." She looked over at him. "Us." He steadfastly avoided looking at her. He just sipped his wine and said, "That's what you talked about with him? Us?" (What, you can talk about him but I can't? Screw that.) "How long are you going to punish me for this?" "How exactly am I punishing you, Scully?" Innocence dripping with sarcasm. But she'd had enough. "Fuck you, Mulder." She stalked toward the door. "If this is how you want to play it, fine. You'll have my request for transfer on your desk first thing Monday." "Scully." Her hand was on the doorknob. "Don't." There was a different quality to his voice now. "Please." She waited, not moving, not looking at him. After a moment he spoke again, his voice thick. "You were sitting there, about to kiss him. How was I supposed to react?" (*Finally*.) She leaned into the door and sighed. She turned slowly -- he still wouldn't look at her. "From where I was sitting, Mulder... I was about to kiss *you*." He looked up at that, his eyes narrow, his voice hurt. "That why you jumped a mile when I came in?" "When you kicked my door in, you mean?" She sounded more harsh than she intended. She took a deep breath, tried to calm down. "No, Mulder. I jumped... I jumped because you were in two places at once and my brain couldn't process that right away." He didn't say anything for a moment, looked away from her again. "Besides, you'd been drinking, right?" His voice had an accusatory tone now. "Yes, Mulder, I'd been drinking. But later..." "Later what, Scully?" Softer now, but still not the Mulder she knew. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Later..." She sighed, frustrated. "I let him fool me, Mulder. I'm an intelligent, educated woman, and I was no different than Amanda Nelligan thinking that Luke Skywalker was the father of her baby. I felt so... stupid. Ashamed. And..." (And what, Dana? Go ahead, tell him.) "Disappointed." She opened her eyes and looked at him, to find him watching her intently. "Because it wasn't you." He blinked at her, opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. After a bit he found the words. "You *wanted* it to be me?" "Why else would I have been sitting there talking to you -- *him*?" He looked away, didn't say anything for a moment. Then... "What did you tell him?" There was an almost sad vulnerability in his voice now. Scully's heart was tight in her chest. (Mulder, you precious idiot, it's not about him. Can't you see that?) She shook her head, took a few steps into the room. "I don't want to go there, Mulder. I'd rather start fresh -- with the real thing." That got a trace of a lopsided grin from him. She joined him on the couch, held out her glass for him to refill. Some time later they'd finished half the bottle of wine and learned that... ...Mulder was sort of a jock in high school, lettering in both baseball and basketball. Scully wondered idly if his basketball team had worn the same tight shorts the boys on her high school teams had worn -- then she shivered at the thought of him in a snug-fitting baseball uniform. Even in his mid-thirties, Mulder still had an athlete's body. She loved to watch him move, to imagine his muscles rippling beneath the wool blend of his Armani trousers... Scully shook off the image with difficulty and made Mulder promise to find his yearbook, which was in storage somewhere in the basement of his mother's house. ...Scully was something of a wild woman in college, partying and sometimes running with a dangerous crowd. Having grown up a Navy Brat, not to mention a Good Catholic Girl, college provided her with an opportunity to rebel that she grabbed with gusto. Mulder was stunned to learn that, as a freshman, she'd been in a college production of "Hair" -- nude scene and all. His eyes traveled up and down her body, and she had the distinct feeling he was trying to see through her clothes. She smiled and tossed an innuendo his way -- that seemed to stun him almost as much as the image of her naked at nineteen. ...Mulder was very lonely after his sister was taken. This revelation didn't come out in anything specific he told her, more in the way he talked about his childhood, both before and after Samantha. She knew his parents had divorced shortly after it happened, but she hadn't known the depth of his pain and isolation. That's when it started, she realized. The guilt. His parents cut him off emotionally, so his twelve-year-old mind decided it was because he was responsible for Samantha's disappearance. Knowing this made her heart ache for him. ...Scully had almost married Jack Willis. She met him while still at the Academy, where he was one of her instructors. He was older, her first post-college, post-med school boyfriend, and she was mesmerized. "It wasn't until after I graduated from the Academy and was no longer his student that I realized how controlling he was." "I can't imagine anyone controlling you, Scully." "Jack certainly tried. He had a very specific vision of what our life together would be like -- the white picket fence, four or five kids, and me as a stay-at-home mom." Something flickered across his face that she couldn't read, but he quickly shook it off. "He met you at the Academy. He didn't realize you were serious about your career?" She shook her head. "It got to the point where he threatened to give me a bad performance review if I didn't quit. That's when I ended it." She was silent for a moment. "That case we worked together a few years ago -- that was the first time I'd seen him in nearly a year." Willis had died on that case. Mulder put a hand on her arm to comfort her, but she just shook her head again. "It's not like that anymore, Mulder. I mean, I'm sad that he's gone, but... Now I just file Jack Willis under Dana's Stupid Mistakes." "Can't be much in that file." "One or two things." He took a sip of wine. "I've got you beat, then." She looked at him, questioning. "Mulder's Stupid Mistakes file is subdivided - - People, Places, Things. There's even a hierarchy in the People category." "Bet I know who's number one." He waited, a slight smile on his lips. "Phoebe Green." Mulder laughed softly. "Phoebe's right up there -- number two, in fact." He grew quiet. "Did I ever tell you why I broke up with her?" She shook her head. "She cheated on me -- often. But the proverbial last straw was catching her in bed with my best friend." "Oh, Mulder..." "Then she told me she'd only been with me to get to him." Scully took his hand, and he held it tightly. He consciously lightened his tone. "That's when I saw her for the manipulative bitch that she was and dumped her ass." "Smart move." She gave his hand a squeeze, and he held on. After a moment... "Who's number one?" He let go of her hand, leaned forward to refill their glasses. "Now *that's* a story." Then, softly, "You sure you want to hear it?" "If you want to tell it, Mulder." He looked at her and nodded, sipped his wine. He stared into the glass and grew very quiet. "You almost got married. I actually did it." If he'd been looking at her, he'd have seen the stunned surprise on Scully's face. She didn't say anything, just waited for him to continue. "It was right before I found the X-files, when I was with Violent Crimes. I had just started to remember things... about Samantha. But it was before the regression hypnosis." She'd heard the tapes, knew how vulnerable he was then. But she wasn't prepared for what he said next. "She was with the Bureau. She was my partner." (Wow. That explains so much, Mulder. Why you flirt but won't cross your own imaginary line. Why you won't let either of us get close.) "She seemed really interested in what I was uncovering. All those unsolvable cases. She was a believer." (And I was a skeptic they sent to spy on you.) "So we got married." He laughed softly. "Seemed like a good idea at the time." He didn't say anything for a long moment, so Scully did. "What happened?" "She was reassigned. Europe, international terrorism. We didn't know for how long. So, rather than try to maintain a long- distance marriage that didn't have any real basis other than the work, we ended it. The whole thing lasted less than six months." He was still leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Scully reached out and rubbed his back lightly, then laid her head on his shoulder. "Later on I figured out that her transfer was because of me. We worked well together. They wanted to slow me down, so they got rid of her. I worked alone for awhile -- then they sent you." Her hand was on his arm and he laced his fingers with hers. They'd been touching each other more in the past year, since the Modell case. Since he'd put his weapon -- her life, and his -- in her hands. "You were a surprise, after her. Her polar opposite. And mine, really." He glanced at her then. "I knew why you were sent, even if you didn't at the time." She cocked an eyebrow, and a faint smile played at his lips. "To rein me in. To prove me wrong. But they didn't expect us to be so good together." He turned to look at her, stared into her eyes. "Yes, Agent Scully... you were quite a surprise. To everyone." She gave him a little smile, then brought the subject back around to him. "Was she your first love?" He gave out another soft laugh. "I don't think she qualifies as a love, first or otherwise." "You married her, Mulder. You must've felt something." He seemed to think about it a moment, then shook his head. "No." His eyes locked with hers and his voice went serious. "In retrospect, Scully... I didn't feel anything." The intensity of his gaze unnerved her. She shook herself mentally, tried to lighten things again. "Then who was your first love? Phoebe?" He got the message, and his eyes released her. He leaned back on the couch and grinned. "Cindy McKenna. Eighth grade." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "There's just something about Catholic girls..." She smiled, blushed a little. "How 'bout you, Scully, who was your first love?" She leaned back too, sipped her wine. "Mr. Noble. My seventh- grade art teacher." He raised an eyebrow, a bemused smirk on his face. "Never pictured you as Lolita, Scully." "It was a harmless schoolgirl crush. He was gorgeous, though." (Looked a lot like you.) She glanced at him, a wicked grin on her face. "So... who was your first lover?" He choked on his wine. "What?" "Was it Cindy McKenna in the eighth grade?" A slow grin played at his lips. "I was precocious, but eighth grade's a little young, don't you think?" "You're avoiding the question, Agent Mulder." "No, it wasn't Cindy McKenna." He didn't continue. He just looked at her, amused. "Come on, Mulder..." Scully picked up the bottle of wine, leaned toward him to refill his glass. Her lips close to his ear, her voice dropped to a near whisper. "Tell me about your first time." She thought she felt a shiver run through him as she pulled away. She looked into his eyes, and she could've sworn they'd gone a little darker. "Her name was Allison. Allison Cavanaugh. I was fifteen, she was seventeen." "An older woman." "In the very best sense of the word." He paused, letting the memory play out in his mind. "After my parents divorced I spent summers with my father, usually at the house in Rhode Island. He was never there, of course, so I was on my own a lot." While he talked, Scully shifted on the couch, facing him, leaning in to him. He unconsciously shifted too after a bit, their knees touching. "Allison lived next door -- I was a lost cause the moment I saw her." "Beautiful, huh?" He nodded. "Tall, willowy, blonde..." "Not your type at all." A hint of teasing in her voice. He grinned. "Well, these days I'm partial to height-challenged redheads who carry big guns. But back then..." He sighed an exaggerated sigh, bringing a laugh from her. "So you were a complete idiot for this girl -- how did she feel?" "She didn't even know I was alive. It may be hard for you to believe now, Scully -- especially after hearing about my jock days -- but at fifteen I was pretty much a dork." She gasped playfully, and he smiled. "But Allison had a brother, he was fourteen -- I don't even remember his name now, but he became my new best friend." "So you could be near her." He nodded, lost himself in the memory again. "Allison used to sunbathe on their deck every day. She wore the tiniest bikini I've ever seen. I used to drag her brother outside all the time, just so I could look at her." Scully could almost feel his breath as he sighed, they were so close. She idly stroked his arm, her eyes glued to his face. "I was on major hormone overload the whole time. Just looking at her... I got so..." "Hard?" She said it lightly, but he didn't respond right away and she wondered if her teasing had gone too far. Mulder just smiled, a barely disguised hint of sensuality there. "I was gonna say aroused, but that works too." She grinned, and he continued. "Finally her brother got tired of fronting for me, so I lost my excuse to go over there. A few days later I'm sitting on my porch, reading or something equally dorky, when suddenly a shadow falls over me. And there was Allison. In these little short-shorts and a halter top and those long legs... I looked up at her and said hi, I think my voice cracked. And she said, 'Hi. Wanna fuck?'" Scully burst out laughing, and a hand flew to her mouth. "You're kidding!" He laughed too, shook his head. "It was so unexpected, that word from those lips. Somehow I croaked out a yes, she took me by the hand, led me to my bedroom, and she..." "Initiated you?" He glanced up, smirked. "Fucked me six ways from Sunday." And they both dissolved into a fit of laughter. "From that moment on, whenever our folks were away, we did it. Her bedroom, mine -- once in my dad's study. I'm sure that was me acting out. Her brother must have found a new friend, 'cause I don't remember seeing him again the rest of the summer." "What happened in September?" "I went back to my mom's, I think Allison went off to college... I never saw her again." He paused, smiled. "God, she taught me so much..." He looked up at Scully with a seductive grin. "Of course, I've added to that knowledge over the years." "I'm sure you have." "Care for a demonstration?" She smiled demurely. "Maybe later." Mulder looked pleasantly surprised. He leaned over to refill her wine glass. "Your turn." She raised an eyebrow. "I showed you mine, now you show me yours." "Mulder, are you coming on to me?" "Well, yeah... but I still want to hear about your first time." She smiled, took a sip of her wine. Stared into the glass for a long while. When she finally spoke, her voice had a trace of bitterness to it. "Mine wasn't anywhere near as pleasant as yours." She was silent again. "Scully?" Concerned, Mulder reached out and turned her face to him. There were a few tears in her eyes, and she willed them not to fall. "Hey... It's okay, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." She shook her head. "No, I started this game." "Doesn't matter, if you don't want to..." She turned and pressed her lips to the hand that cupped her cheek, then took a deep breath. "Paul Manning. I was seventeen, he was eighteen." Mulder's hand dropped to rest on her thigh, and he caressed her arm with the other. "My junior prom, his senior. The prom was at this hotel, and Paul and his friends had chipped in for a room -- they told all the parents it was because they didn't want to drive home late, but..." "Paul had a plan." Scully nodded, sipped her wine, went on. "We'd done some things already -- or rather, *I'd* done some things..." "High school boys. They give the rest of us guys a bad name." She glanced at him, saw his small, gentle grin, went on. "Nobody told me what happens the first time a woman has sex. Apparently nobody told Paul, either." "Oh, man..." "He kept asking me if I was ready -- how the hell did I know, I'd never done it before. He just... pushed inside me, and he kept doing it, and it really *hurt*. And when he was finished and he saw... he... he was livid. He yelled at me, accused me of, of lying to him..." She broke off, suddenly embarrassed to be telling Mulder all this. He took her hand, and she knew it was okay. "He stormed out, I just lay there crying. I took a cab home, told Ahab that Paul got drunk -- if he'd known the truth, he'd have had him keel-hauled." "I'd have helped." Scully looked into his eyes. He meant it. Mulder's sense of righteous indignation had been sparked. She smiled at him, squeezed his hand. "Ahab would've liked you, Mulder." "You think?" She nodded. "Not as much as Mom does, of course." "Your mom likes me?" "My mom adores you." He looked a little awed. "Wow. I've never been adored by anybody's mom before." "Mulder, you are definitely adored by Maggie Scully." She paused a bit. "She's... she's really grateful for all the times you've been there for me. Especially now." (Since the cancer.) They just sat there awhile, leaning close, fingers entwined, his hand idly caressing her thigh. Finally... "I wish I'd been your first, Scully." She glanced at him, wondering where that came from. His eyes were soft and he smiled gently. His hand came up to touch her face. "I wouldn't have forced you to do something you weren't ready for. I wouldn't have yelled at you, or walked out on you. Scully, you... you deserve to be held... caressed... loved." His thumb smoothed across her cheek, his fingers traced her ears. They drew closer, and their lips came together in a soft, tender first kiss. She laid her forehead against his, felt his breath on her face. She unconsciously, nervously licked her lips, as did he. "Mulder..." "It's just a kiss, Scully." (No, Mulder. It could never be 'just' anything with you.) "I should go..." But she didn't move. His hands still cupped her face, and he drew her to him again. This second kiss was more charged than the first, and his tongue teased at her lips. Her own tongue darted out to meet his, and the effect on her was electric. She opened her mouth and drew him in to her, sucking on his full lower lip. He traced his tongue along the roof of her mouth and she moaned. His hands slipped into her hair, fingertips kneading her scalp. She brought her own hands up to his face, felt the stubble of his beard, the outline of his jaw. Finally they ended the kiss, both of them breathing heavily. Again, they stayed very close, still touching. "You should go, Scully..." She opened her eyes, stroked her fingers at his temples until he opened his too. "Don't want to." "No?" She gave her head a little shake. He smiled softly. "Good. 'Cause I don't want you to either." His smile faded a bit. "But I don't want you to do anything you're not ready for." "I want this, Mulder." She reached up and smoothed his hair. "I want you." He pulled her closer, covered her mouth with his. Their tongues danced, swirled. (God, the taste of him... he tastes like wine, and kung pao, and something else, something... Mulder. I could do this for hours... days...) His mouth left hers and she whimpered a bit, but the whimpers turned to moans as he trailed kisses down her neck. He nipped at her earlobe, tongued her ear, sucked at her throat. "Oh god Mulder... oh..." She felt him smile as he nibbled, felt his lips move as he spoke. "You like that?" "Can't you tell?" "I think I need a little more convincing." He shifted, headed toward the other side of her neck -- grazing her collarbones and the notch where they met her breastbone along the way. Scully groaned and arched a little, and she felt him smile again. "Yeah, I guess you do like that." He slipped his fingers under the neckline of her sweater and gently massaged her shoulders as his lips trailed back up to her face. Her hands roamed over his neck, his shoulders, his arms. But she needed to taste him again. She turned her face toward his, nudged his lips toward hers, plunged her tongue into his mouth. Then she began kissing his neck as she had been kissed -- and she heard him moan a little. "Scully, that... oh... umm..." "What's the matter, Mulder?" She smiled. "Cat got your tongue?" A husky laugh escaped him. "You had it a minute ago." She tore herself away from his throat, looked him in the eyes. "Can I have it back?" "Come and get it." His voice was rough, filled with barely concealed passion. They came together again, devouring each other. Her hands found the collar of his shirt -- the top buttons were open, revealing a nice expanse of his throat. But she wanted more, *needed* more. She needed to touch him, to feel his skin under her fingers. She fumbled with the remaining buttons while their mouths stayed joined. He brought his hands up to help her and they pulled apart. Together they finally got his shirt unbuttoned, and he moved to do the same with her sweater -- she nudged his hands away. "No. Not yet." She tugged at his shirt, pushed it off his shoulders and tossed it aside. They sat there facing each other on the couch, breathing hard. Her eyes took in his chest, and she sighed. "What?" He sounded a little nervous. "Too hairy, not hairy enough, what?" She smiled, not taking her eyes off his torso. "Mulder, I've seen your bare chest before. I shot you once, remember? Nursed you back to health?" "Yeah, but... that was Doctor Special Agent Scully. My partner." He swallowed hard. "This time... now it's different." (It *is* different now. I've kissed him, tasted him. Told him I want him. Everything changes from here on out.) She nodded. Took a deep breath. "It's different. But it isn't." He looked puzzled. "Mulder, you're the most beautiful man... You just don't know what you do to me." "What I do to..." "*Years*, Mulder... I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to lay my hands on those crisp white shirts... tear off those hideous ties... just let the buttons fly." "Scully, I had no idea... You don't like my ties?" She felt a laugh bubble up in her throat and he smiled. Then he took her hand in his and laid it on his chest. She could feel his heart beating, strong and powerful. She stretched her fingers up to touch the scar from her bullet. She moved toward him, gently placed her lips there. She felt rather than heard him sigh as she slid her lips across his chest, ran her fingers through the light dusting of hair. Her nails found his nipples and he groaned. She hummed a little and her mouth replaced her nails. "God... oh... Scully..." She smiled against him, thrilled that she could elicit such a response from him. She kept nipping and licking and sucking until he hissed and arched his back, buried his hands in her hair. "Christ, Scully..." "Didn't think you were a religious man, Mulder." "You'll make a believer out of me yet..." She pulled her lips away from his chest, ran her hands over his toned abdomen. He kissed her again -- a deep, soul-searing kiss -- then stared into her clear blue eyes. "My turn." A tiny grin played at her lips and she started to unbutton her sweater. He covered her hands with his, then pushed hers away and took over the task. Her sweater unbuttoned, she shrugged out of it and dropped it on the floor near his shirt. She sat before him, naked from the waist up except for her bra, a wisp of blue lace and satin. She reached around behind her to unhook it. "No." Mulder's voice was rough. He swallowed, licked his lips. Then, in a near-whisper, "No." She stopped and smiled a bit, thinking he wanted to take it off himself. But he simply reached out almost shyly and touched her breasts through the satin and lace. His touch was so tentative and gentle that she shivered under his fingers. "God, you're beautiful." She smiled again as he traced along the top of her bra with his thumbs, both of them meeting in the center. Then his fingers splayed out over her breasts, palms covering her nipples. He squeezed a little and they both felt her harden beneath his touch. "Mulder... that's..." His hands moved to her back and he unhooked the bra, slipping the straps off her arms and dropping it to the floor. Then he returned to caressing and fondling her breasts, lightly tracing her nipples. "That feels so nice..." "Just nice?" "Better than nice..." "How much better?" "I don't know, Mulder, I can't think with you doing that." "You think too much anyway, Scully." He kissed her lightly on the lips, then moved down her throat until his lips grazed the top of her breast. She moaned and arched under him as his tongue swirled around her nipple. Her fingers were in his hair and she held him to her, his fingers doing to one breast what his tongue and lips were doing to the other. Her head fell back and he slipped an arm around her waist to steady her. She was breathing deeply now, her breasts rising and falling, his mouth moving with her. He took her nipple between his teeth and she cried out -- he lapped at her with his tongue, then sucked her into his mouth. He shifted, and lavished the same attention to her other breast. (My god, Mulder... I knew you had an oral fixation, but *damn*...) He released her breast and began working his way up her throat to her lips. Her hands found his jeans -- she tugged at the waistband, got the top button undone. "Up. Stand up." Her voice was husky. "My, my. Aren't we demanding." "Yes. Stand up." He got to his feet, and she joined him a split second later. He started to unbutton his jeans but, as he had done with her sweater, she pushed his hands aside. "My turn." She had a wanton look in her eyes that matched his own. Scully's hand slid along the bulge in his jeans, feeling him grow harder at her touch. A groan escaped his lips and his breathing deepened as her nimble fingers took their time with the button fly, his cock twitching as each button was unfastened. "Scully, are you trying to kill me?" "'Course not. That wouldn't be any fun." His groan became a growl as she undid the last button, giving his erection some relief from the tightness that had confined it. She touched him through the silk of his boxers and he hissed out a word. "Fuck!" Scully smiled. "All in good time, Mulder." He shook his head as she shoved his jeans off his hips, revealing... "Mulder... are those... little green alien heads?" He nodded, eyes closed. A tiny laugh escaped her lips. "Scully, laughter at this point generally isn't conducive to a guy's ego." She caressed his ass, squeezed him a little -- he shivered at her touch. She still had a smile in her voice. "Can't help it. I think they're cute." "My ties are hideous, but my boxers are cute?" Her fingers encircled his cock through the silk and she began to stroke him. "Maybe it's what's inside them..." "Oh god..." She stroked him slowly, deliberately. "Mulder..." She got very close to him, her lips at his ear. "Have you ever... touched yourself... and thought about me?" His eyes flew open and he sought out her face. Her hand kept up its slow pace on his cock, and he glanced down to watch her. Breathing deeply, he nodded a little. Her fingers found the opening in his boxers and slipped inside. They both shuddered as she wrapped her hand around the silky steel length of him. He could feel her breath on his ear. "Do you just *think* about me, Mulder? Or do you imagine it's my hand stroking you..." She moved her hand slowly, up and down. His eyes fluttered shut. He tried to speak but couldn't. "My fingers gripping you..." Those fingers tightened around the base of his cock and a strangled cry escaped his lips. She drew her hand up the length of him, fingers tracing the ridge along the underside. "My lips wrapped around you..." Her thumb caressed the head of his penis, capturing the droplets of moisture there. He was trembling now, eyes squeezed shut -- then she felt his hand tighten on her wrist. "Stop. Now." She did as he asked -- demanded -- understanding what he wanted. She gently released him and stepped back a bit, just looking at him. He stood very still, eyes closed, fists balled at his side. He was still breathing hard, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. He was willing himself to slow down, to fight his need. After a few moments, he opened his eyes. He focused, found her face. His eyes were dark with passion, hunger. (The way he looks at me... god... I could drown in those eyes...) His eyes locked with hers. He took off his jeans, then his boxers. Scully couldn't help herself -- her eyes drifted lower, widened at what she saw. She'd seen Mulder naked once or twice, but always in a medical context. But now... "See something you like?" His desire was evident in his voice, too. For her part, she couldn't seem to form a coherent response, so she just nodded. She began to sink to her knees, wanting -- needing -- to take him in her mouth. He caught her mid-movement. "Oh, no. No no no. You do that and this'll be over a lot quicker than I'd like." She looked up into his eyes again, saw a hint of a leer there. "My turn." His hands drifted from her shoulders over her breasts, trailing down her stomach to her jeans. He tugged and pulled her closer, unbuttoning the top button. Then he slowly drew the zipper down, revealing lacy blue panties that matched her bra. He eased her jeans over her hips and down, then traced his fingertips along the edges of her panties. He stepped closer, moved behind her, his erection pressing into her lower back. One arm went around her shoulders and he caressed her breasts, the fingers of his other hand slipped under the elastic of her panties. She shuddered as he brushed the cinnamon curls there, then ventured lower. His long middle finger stroked her slick folds and he brought his mouth close to her ear. "God, Scully, you're so wet..." She shivered, then cried out as he slipped his finger inside her. He slowly withdrew it, then just as slowly he slid it into her again. She moaned, held onto him. He held her tight to his body, stroked and teased her nipples as his finger moved in and out of her and the heel of his hand ground against her clit. "Did I do that to you? Are you this wet because of me?" She threw her head back against his shoulder, her eyes snapped shut. "God, Mulder... yes... you. Only you." He kept up that maddeningly slow pace -- in, out, in, out -- kissing and nibbling on her neck and pinching her nipple in the same rhythm. "Do you know what that does to me, Scully? To know that I make you wet?" (His voice... turning me inside out... god Mulder I'm on fire...) He quickened his pace a bit, brushed his thumb over her clit. She hissed, dug her nails into him, thrust against his hand. "Do you get this wet when you touch yourself..." His whisper got even softer. "...and think about me?" Her knees buckled and his arms tightened around her. She whimpered as he slowly withdrew his hand, and he whispered in her ear again. "Shh... it's okay... we just need to reposition." He knelt down to remove her jeans and panties, then he lifted her off her feet and took her back to the couch. She lay back, looking up as he leaned over her. He kissed her lips, then began to blaze a trail further south. He tongued her navel and she jerked against him. His mouth moved lower on her abdomen, and he felt her stiffen under him. He stopped, looked up at her. She licked her lips, looked a little apprehensive. He moved up her body, eyes on hers. "Scully?" "You... don't have to do that." His eyes never left hers. "I don't." (Smooth, Dana. Now he thinks you're frigid.) She shook her head and swallowed hard. "Not if you don't want to." "What if I *do* want to?" She had to look away from him. "Mulder... I know most men do that because they feel they have to, not because they want to. Besides, I've never really..." "Never really what?" She didn't look at him, didn't answer him, but he knew. "Never come that way?" After a moment she nodded, still not looking at him. (Yep. Frigid. No wonder they call me the Ice Queen.) "Obviously, your past lovers weren't paying attention in class." She looked up at that and saw his gentle smile. She let a laugh come out, thankful for his slightly warped sense of humor. He lay down on the couch next to her and spoke very softly, stroking her face. "Despite what my video collection might lead you to believe, I'm not the most experienced guy in the world. And I haven't done this in a very long time." He paused as she absorbed this bit of information, then went on, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But Scully... I was in class every day." She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in a tiny grin. "There are things about you I want to know... things I can only find out this way." "Like what?" He drew her close, his lips at her ear. "I want to taste you, Scully." He tilted her face toward him, looked into her eyes. "I want to make you come with my mouth." She shivered at the words, at the passion and intensity behind them. He smiled and kissed her -- a long, slow kiss, their tongues exploring every crevice of their mouths. He pulled his lips from hers and rained soft kisses down her throat, to her breasts -- again he took a breast in his mouth, swirled his tongue around the nipple. She gasped and arched against him, tangling her fingers in his hair. He nuzzled the underside of her breasts, moved lower still until his mouth was at her navel. He flicked his tongue again, and again she hissed, her body jerking. He shifted, lapped at her navel, pulled and sucked gently. "Mulder... god that's so..." He kissed his way further down her body, toward his goal. She tensed a bit when his chin brushed her damp curls -- he shifted again, moving away from her center and down to her thighs. With his fingers and his lips, he massaged her inner thighs, opening her up to him. As he moved closer to her core, her breathing grew rapid, her hands clutched at the leather cushions. His own pulse quickened as he tentatively kissed her opening -- she shuddered violently and he breathed in her scent. His tongue caressed her and she began to writhe. "Oh god oh god... Mulder what are you doing to me..." She felt him smile against her skin and he swirled his tongue around her clit. Her hips bucked -- he slipped an arm around her waist, reached for her hand. She tangled her fingers with his and held on tight. She opened her eyes and stole a look at him, ran her fingers through his dark chocolate hair. (Mulder... that's Mulder doing this... my Mulder... oh sweet jesus Mulder...) He nibbled and licked and sucked everywhere but that little bundle of nerves, teasing her, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. He parted her with his tongue, dipping inside her, in and out, as his finger had done before. Her head snapped up, then back again. She was panting now, one hand clutching his, the other buried in his hair. She was close... Finally, finally... he took her clit into his mouth. He tongued it gently, sucked slightly... and she was gone. "Mulder! Oh god Mulder..." Her body went rigid. She gripped his hand and her hips thrust against him. He kept his mouth on her as the orgasm rocked her body, shudders and spasms rolling through her. She murmured his name over and over... After a while he slowly moved up to lie next to her again. He held her as the last waves of her orgasm swept through her, whispering in her ear... "Scully... you're so beautiful... I never imagined..." He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and she turned toward him. She was still breathing hard, but she opened her eyes to look at him. "Mulder..." Her eyes fluttered shut as she tried to slow her breathing. "I've never... never come that hard. Ever." She dragged her eyes open and smiled weakly. "Admit it -- you were the teacher's pet." He let out a chuckle and kissed her again. She drew his tongue into her mouth, moaning as she tasted herself. He moaned in response and deepened the kiss. She felt his erection pressing hard against her, and together they shifted. She parted her thighs, once again opening herself to him. He positioned himself above her, the tip of his cock at her opening, then he looked deep into her eyes. (He can't still be uncertain, can he? Of course he can -- he's Mulder.) She reached up to touch his face and smiled gently. "Mulder. It's just us. You and me... finally..." She wrapped her legs around him, moved her hands to his shoulders. His eyes grew darker as his passion overtook him, and he slid into her. "Finally... Scully..." She gasped at the sensation and he slowed his movements, pulling out almost completely, then pushing in a little more. Finally he was fully inside her and they were both very still for a moment. He leaned down close to her. "You okay?" She nodded a little. "It's just... it's been a long time." He kissed her, smoothed a lock of hair off her forehead. He leaned on his elbows next to her head, his hands gripped the armrest beyond her. He kept his eyes locked with hers and stayed very close as he began to move. She shifted her legs higher around him and matched his movements. They quickly found a rhythm, for now keeping it slow and deliberate. "God Scully you feel so good..." As delicious as this easy pace was, though, Scully wanted more. She wanted to feel him pounding into her. She needed to feel him come inside her. She had to give him the same dizzying release and intense pleasure he'd given her. She subtly changed their rhythm, and he got the hint. Partly, anyway -- he was still holding back, denying himself what he needed. What they *both* needed. She tightened her inner walls around him -- his eyes rolled back in his head, eyelids fluttering shut. He began to thrust harder, faster. The friction of his pelvic bone on her clit was exquisite, and she felt another orgasm building. But still he held back. (Talk to him, Dana. Let him know it's okay.) "Mulder..." Nothing. His eyes were tightly shut, his pace steady. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her nails scraped up his back. "Mulder." Still nothing. She snaked an arm around his neck and pulled herself up off the couch until her lips were almost at his ear. She whispered... "Mulder, do you trust me?" She dropped back to the couch as he stilled his movements. He opened his eyes and tried to focus. She could tell he wasn't with her yet, so she said it again. "Mulder. Do you trust me?" His eyes found her, locked with hers. "Scully, you are the *only* one I trust." "Then let go. It's okay. I'm here, I've got you. Let go, Mulder. Trust me." She whispered... "Come for me, Mulder. Come inside me." His breathing grew deeper as he began to move inside her again. His eyes never left hers as his pace increased. She tried to keep up, but Mulder was driving this train now. His thrusts were harder, deeper, faster. He rose up off his elbows, hands clutching the armrest above her head. He was pounding into her now and he was close, so close... "Scully... oh god..." Once more, then again, then... He shuddered violently, his head back, his face contorted. She couldn't tell if his expression was one of pleasure or pain, or some heady mixture of both. He whispered her name almost reverently as he emptied into her for what seemed like forever. (Oh my god look at him... he's so beautiful...) His head fell forward and he gave one last reflexive thrust -- with that movement she came again, gasping his name. His arms began to tremble and she smoothed her hands over his shoulders, drawing him to her -- he collapsed on top of her. She tightened her legs around his waist and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. For reasons she couldn't quite grasp, she started to cry. She let the tears flow, not trying to stop them or wipe them away. Soon she felt him shudder in her arms, then felt his hot tears on her shoulder. She held onto him and whispered soothing sounds in his ear. After a long, long while, their tears subsided. He shifted to lie alongside her, and she turned to face him. They stroked each other's faces with trembling fingers, dried each other's tears with feather-soft kisses. He smiled and whispered her name again. "Hmm?" "Nothing, just... Scully. I like saying your name. I like touching you. I like kissing you." She smiled and kissed him. (I like kissing you, too.) "Mulder, can I ask you something?" He nodded. "Do you have an actual bedroom?" He suddenly looked a little shy. "Um... I have a room in which most people would keep a bed, yes." "What do you keep in there?" "File boxes." "How many file boxes, Mulder?" "Eighty-seven." Her broad smile became a laugh, one he joined in. "I never had much need for a bed... till now, anyway." They kissed again, enjoying the new pleasures of being close. After a bit... "You do have a bathroom, right?" "You've been in my bathroom on a number of occasions, Scully. Why?" "Mulder, between us we killed a whole bottle of wine. I've gotta go -- don't you?" "Ladies first." She planted a kiss on the tip of his nose and untangled from him. "Hurry back." She smiled and moved off. The light in the bathroom was too bright after the dimness of the living room, which would be dark even if most of the lights weren't off. Scully studied her reflection in the small mirror over the sink -- her makeup was smeared, her hair was a mess. She found herself wondering what Mulder saw when he looked at her. Did he really think she was beautiful? She ran some warm water in the sink and leaned over to wash away the remnants of her makeup. But before she could, a bright red drop hit the water. Scully's head shot up and she stared in the mirror. Her nose was bleeding. (Shit. Shit shit shit. Breathe, Dana. It's just... overexertion. That's all. We were burning a lot of calories out there and I'm just... just... going to die.) Her breath caught in her throat as a tear slipped down her face. "Fuck." A knock at the door. "Hey, Scully, you okay in there?" "I'm fine, Mulder. I'll be right out." "I know I was being chivalrous before, but I really gotta go now, so..." "I'll hurry." She tore off some toilet paper and wiped the blood from her nose. She dropped the bloody tissues into the toilet -- it wouldn't do for him to find them in the trash, he'd just worry. She drained the sink and splashed clean, fresh water on her face, then looked deep into her own eyes in the mirror. (Okay. I'm going to die. So be it. But I will not die with regrets, with things left unsaid or undone. I want to be with this man. With Mulder. I want to make him happy. I want to be happy with him.) She dried her face and ran damp fingers through her hair. She tried to smile and found it almost convincing. When she opened the door he was leaning against the wall, naked, arms folded across his chest, a goofy grin on his face. Her heart swelled when she saw him, and she reached up to kiss him. "All yours." "There's an offer I can't refuse." "I meant the bathroom." "Oh. Right." He stepped past her, then turned back. Worry flickered in his eyes. "Scully, you okay?" She smiled. "I'm fine. I'm gonna get some water, and I'll meet you on the couch." He nodded, closed the door. She walked into the kitchen and poured cold water into a tall glass, drinking deeply, trying to fend off the dread that had overtaken her in the bathroom. She stepped into the living room and stopped in her tracks. There were two fluffy pillows at one end of the couch. Two soft blankets were draped there, one turned back. The empty wine bottle and their glasses were gone -- she hadn't noticed them in the kitchen, but they were probably there. She moved further into the room and noticed he'd folded their clothes and set them on a chair. One of his tee shirts lay across the back of the chair -- a gracious gesture, in case she wanted something to sleep in. (Oh, Mulder...) She felt him behind her, but she didn't turn. She couldn't right now. If she looked at him, her heart might burst. "Is this okay?" She nodded, brought a hand up to stroke his face. "I wanted you to be comfortable, Scully." Then, uncertainty in his voice... "If you were planning to stay the night, I mean." She turned to him, her eyes shining, and drew her thumb across his lips. "I'm not going anywhere, Mulder." He leaned into her touch, pressed his lips to her palm. He reached for the tee shirt, but she shook her head. She took his hand and led him to the couch. He reached down to pull back the covers. "You want the inside or the outside?" "Outside, I think." He kissed her hand then slid between the blankets, pushing himself against the back of the couch and holding the covers open for her. She set the water glass down and joined him, her back to him, snuggling up close to him. He draped the blanket over her then slipped his arm underneath it, wrapping her in his warm embrace. He gently kissed her neck and she sighed. There would be no more thoughts of death tonight. "Scully?" "Hmm?" "I'm sorry I was such a jerk about... everything." "It's okay, Mulder." "I just... I guess I got jealous." She shifted in his arms, turned on her back so she could see his face. "Mulder, listen to me. You're such a beautiful, brilliant, passionate man. Eddie Van Blundht can't hold a candle to you. To the man you are." She laid a hand on his heart, felt it beating. "He might've looked like you on the outside, but there's no way he could imitate you on the inside." He smiled rather shyly and dipped his head to give her another kiss. She deepened this one, their tongues dancing in each other's mouths. When they separated, she turned over and spooned with him again. She heard him sigh -- the happiest he'd ever sounded. After a moment... "Scully?" "Hmm?" "I'm glad..." He trailed off, then... "I..." She turned a little, trying to see him, but he stayed out of her line of sight. "Mulder? What?" He didn't say anything else right away, then... "I'm glad I was the first to... to make you..." She quivered at the memory of his mouth on her, of his head buried between her thighs, of her shuddering orgasm. She felt the stirrings of arousal begin again, and she brought his hand up to cup her breast. He caressed it and kissed her shoulder, glad she understood. "So am I, Mulder." He smiled, content to hold her and touch her with no thought to anything else. After a moment... "Scully?" "Hmm?" "If we can do this again, I promise I'll buy a bed." "Can I help you pick it out?" "Uh-uh. I'd rather surprise you." "That sounds dangerous." "I'm thinking maybe a waterbed. One of those big monsters, with a mirror..." She elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow! I said maybe." And they shared an easy laugh. As if they'd been lying together and talking through the night all their lives. After a moment... "Scully?" "Hmm?" "When you came over here tonight... did you intend for this to happen?" "Mulder, I'm not that conniving." She felt him smile against her shoulder. "All I intended was for us to talk." She brought his hand to her lips, kissed it. "But I'm glad that's not all we did." "Me too." He nuzzled her hair, breathing in her scent. After a moment... "Scully?" "Mulder, you talk too much." "I know. Allison used to say the same thing." She smiled in the dark and waited for him to continue. Instead, he started over. "Scully?" "Hmm?" He paused a minute. She wasn't sure what to make of that until... "I love you." Her eyes widened. Her heart was pounding. She could feel his heart keeping time with her own. She didn't say anything -- didn't know what to say just yet. Then, incredibly, he went on. "You don't have to say it back if you don't feel it. I just wanted... I needed to tell you." She felt his arms tighten around her and he kissed the back of her neck. She was so overwhelmed she couldn't speak -- could hardly breathe. His head settled next to hers on the pillow and his breathing slowed a bit. It didn't seem to bother him that she hadn't responded -- but it bothered her. She loved him, had loved him for a long time. Why didn't she tell him? What was she afraid of? Her mind went back to that moment in the bathroom -- the abject terror she felt at the sight of her blood in the water, the tissues she flushed rather than risk him finding, the immense sadness that overcame her when she accepted her fate. Then she remembered the rest... (I will not die with regrets, with things left unsaid or undone.) She felt a tear slip down her cheek. Her hand was tangled up with his, so she brought them both up to wipe it away, kissing his in the process. If he felt the wetness on her face, he didn't react. "Mulder?" "Hmm?" (No regrets. Nothing left unsaid, undone.) "I love you, too." She felt him smile in the dark. He planted another gentle kiss on her shoulder. "Now who talks too much?" She smiled too, and drew his arms tighter around her. And she realized... (That's the first time I've ever said that and meant it.) She loved him. He loved her. They would be together for as long as they had. And if some miracle happened, if she survived this illness... they just might be together forever. Unless he bought a waterbed.

[thisis4fanfiction]

Blame the Weather by softnow

It all comes back to the rain. Them, here, now, this—it’s all thanks to the rain. Six-plus years of partnership, of trust, of unflinching dependability, and he owes it all to one downpour in a little town in Oregon. Other, more pressing things he owes to the rain: Scully here, at his desk, in her glasses, in his shirt. And not just any shirt. His Knicks shirt. The one with the sleeves cut off and the hem beginning to unravel. The one he’s imagined so many times draping over her after he’s memorized every inch of her small body. Here, Scully, you can sleep in this. He’s never been so grateful for a foot chase in a deluge, or for the street flooding that prevented Scully from getting back to Georgetown afterwards. And he’s never been so grateful to live where he does, close enough to bring her home with him, to offer her first crack at the shower while their clothes tumble in the dryer. She used most of the hot water, but he doesn’t mind, because thinking about her standing in his tub, soaping herself with his soap is dangerous thinking—cold-shower-required thinking. Not that the tepid shower really did any good though, because…here she is. At his desk. In his shirt. With one foot tucked casually under her and the other swinging in circles, and she’s wearing his socks, too. The thick wool ones. They slouch down her calves and pool at her ankles like leg warmers, so many sizes too big, and there’s something about it that makes his heart squeeze in his chest. She looks so young and fresh, devoid of makeup, her hair curling at the ends as it dries. If he didn’t know better, he could almost imagine she’s never wrestled a suspect twice her size to the ground in the pouring rain, cold-cocked him and handcuffed him, and walked away with little more than a bruised knee and a scratched cheek. But he does know better, and he’s glad, because to see her only like this—soft and relaxed at the end of the day—without seeing her surgeon’s hands and her fighter’s stance and her whip-smart tongue would be to do her a disservice. Dana Scully is not a woman to be taken in pieces. Dana Scully is all or nothing. “Clothes should be done soon,” he says, as much to announce his presence as to give him something to do with his mouth besides gape. “What are you doing?” He drops into the chair beside the desk and tries very hard not to look at her legs. Between the tops of the socks and the hem of his shirt, they are smooth and wonderful and bare and Jesus Christ, is she wearing anything under there? “Writing my report. Or…trying to.” She lifts a hand to remove her glasses and gifts him a glimpse of the side swell of her breast. The cut-off arms expose a lot more of her than they do of him, and he adds scissors and his own vanity to the list of things he’s grateful for. “Mulder, what happened out there?” “We got our guy. Or should I say, you got our guy with those Ric Flair moves of yours. Very impressive, g-woman.” He’s going for a smile, but he’ll take the quirk of her brow as she turns to face him. “He had a mandible. He—he tried to bite me with it. And then I cuffed him and turned him over and it was gone. How is any of that possible?” “You ever see The Fly, Scully?” She narrows her eyes and purses her mouth, and he can’t quite hold back his smile, because he knows exactly what comes next. “Are you seriously suggesting Ralph Morrison was part of some scientific experiment that scrambled his DNA with that of—of a beetle?” “Why not?” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His hands are close enough to brush her leg. All he’d have to do is extend his fingers, and he’d be right there. “You of all people know the kinds of scientific leaps being made behind closed doors. Who knows what was going on out at that lab.” She snorts and shakes her head. “Skinner’s going to love this.” “Ah, come on. ‘Bug-man murders family and flees on foot’ is hardly the strangest thing you’ve written in a report. Hey, remember Greg Pincus? Now that was one bugged-out dude.” She tries to glare at him and smiles instead. It starts in her eyes and moves to her lips—just the corners at first—but then her cheeks get involved and the next thing he knows, wonder of wonders, those are her teeth peaking out at him. She’s been smiling at him like this more frequently, but it still feels like winning the lottery. “Yeah, okay.” She shifts in the chair and draws her other leg up under her, revealing a familiar strip of blue cotton beneath the hem of his shirt. He can’t help it; he stares. “I couldn’t find any sweatpants,” she says, her cheeks pink, and it’s a blatant lie. He only has four drawers and his sweats are right on top, unmissable. Scully—his partner Scully, Special Agent Scully—just wanted an excuse to wear his underwear. “They look better on you.” He doesn’t even need to see more than that little scrap to tell it’s the truth. There’s nothing on earth that wouldn’t look better on her. Outside, lightning halves the sky and a roll of thunder follows. Rain beats a harsh rhythm on the window, but in here, in the soft lamplight glow of his living room, Mulder is staring at the sun. Scully’s blush deepens and she turns away from him—back to her report, to responsibilities, to pretending she’s as buttoned up as ever, who knows—and it’s the last thing he wants. He’s out of the chair and kneeling beside her before he can think about it. He cradles her cheek and guides her mouth down to his. It isn’t their first kiss. That honor belongs to the night at the ball field, where he’d given her a present and she’d given him one right back: her body pressed tight against his and her sweet, clear laugh in his ears and after, in the parking lot, her hands on his shoulders and her lips on his. There have been other kisses since—hello kisses and goodbye kisses and tentative just-because-we-can kisses. But none of them—save for maybe that first one, with only the stars and the breeze as their witness—have felt this intimate. Perhaps it’s because she’s barely clothed. Perhaps it’s because she made herself at home without him having to invite her to, stealing from his drawers and commandeering his computer and curling up in his chair like she owns it. Like this is a regular Friday night thing—and in a way, it is. A case, a chase, the aftermath. It’s not the first storm they’ve weathered together, not even the first they’ve weathered here, but it is the first she’s spent wearing his underwear and smiling at him like that and kissing him like this. Dana Scully, he’s been delighted to discover in recent weeks, has lips that could topple empires. When she kisses him, he’s certain he could live and die by the glide of her tongue, the soft exhale of her breath in his mouth. But when she kisses him like this—slow and languid, all gentle suction and teasing nibbles—he’s not entirely certain he isn’t already dead. Her skin is soft and she smells like her, but also like him. His soap, his shampoo. It’s intoxicating and stirs something within him, something primal and male, a prideful possessiveness that makes him want to throw her over his shoulder and pound his chest. You, Scully. Me, Tarzan. She’d hate it, so he doesn’t say a word, just kisses her harder. She cups the back of his head with both hands and threads her fingers through his damp hair, tugging gently. A noise bordering on desperate escapes his throat at the sensation, but she swallows it eagerly and holds him closer. His free hand finds the bare expanse of her thigh to steady himself. He massages it with his palm, skating higher and higher until his fingertips brush the edge of his boxers. He freezes. This is new territory. He’s never touched her like this before. She’s seemed content with soft, stolen kisses, never pushing any farther, and he hasn’t wanted to ask for something she isn’t ready and willing to give. He’s about to retreat to the safe zone of her knee when her hand comes over his and nudges it higher, guiding him under the hem of the shirt, over her hip, over the top of the boxers, rolled at her waist. He knows it’s illogical, but she feels even softer here. He traces the puckered scar of her gunshot wound and her stomach flexes. She bites his bottom lip and soothes it with soft flicks of her tongue as his hand moves as if drawn by a magnet, up and up until it meets the warm underside of her breast. “Scully,” he says, pulling away from her hungry mouth with more than a little regret. “Are—are you—” Thunder crashes hard enough to rattle the windows in their frames as she rests her forehead against his. “Shh,” she says. “Are you?” she says. It’s all he needs. Her small breast is heavy and full in his hand. He squeezes her and she arches into him, her nipple hardening against his palm. She kisses his cheek, his chin, the corner of his mouth as he slips his other hand beneath the shirt to cover her other breast and this is really happening. He’s really fondling Dana Scully’s tits. He’s imagined it so many times, but nothing could prepare him for the warm weight of her, for the way she leans into his touch, for the breathy little gasps she makes as he thumbs her nipples. The rain, he thinks dimly. He’s here because of the rain. If it were any other night, she’d be at home in her pajamas. But it isn’t any other night, it’s tonight and there’s rain and she’s in his clothes and in his hands and he makes a note to send up offerings to Zeus and Chaac and Indra, and to maybe write a thank-you note to Holman Hardt, just in case. In the meantime, though, he’ll start by making offerings to her. He gives her his mouth and she accepts, sipping benediction straight from his tongue. He worries her nipples between thumbs and forefingers like prayer beads and she sighs a miracle into existence. He’s never been a praying man, but if this is what it means to be holy, he thinks it’s time to start. He gathers the bottom of the Knicks shirt in his fist and spares a single moment to entertain the idea of having her just like this before pulling it over her head. At first, all he can do is stare. He’s seen her breasts before, of course. Just last summer, he’d seen them, puckered and frozen at the end of the earth. But he’s never seen them like this—flushed and heaving, her nipples red from arousal, from his fingers. “You’re staring,” she says like he isn’t aware, and he realizes she might be nervous. Scully. Nervous. With him. Do wonders never cease? “You’re beautiful,” he says, because it’s the truth and he needs her to know. The air feels thicker than it did minutes ago. This is more than just kissing, more than just heavy petting. He could go straight for her chest, and he’d like to. He’d like to taste her sternum and map her collarbones and tongue her nipples until she cries from the sheer bliss of it. But he needs her to know, first, that this is more. That she is more. He takes her face in his hands and kisses her once, twice, sweetly, softly. When he pulls back, his eyes stray to the cut on her cheek. He traces it first with his fingertips and then with his mouth. It doesn’t look nearly as bad as it did on the street now that she’s cleaned it. Just a thin pink line, not even deep enough to scar. She’s had worse, so much worse, because of him and yet she’s here, trembling in his arms, carding her hands through his hair, letting him look and touch and feel. There’s been some cosmic mix-up, he’s sure, to allow someone like him to have this with someone like her, but if he thinks about it any longer, he’s gonna lose it. So he kisses her again, slow and reverent, then moves lower—his lips on her neck, her clavicle, the hollow of her throat, teasing and testing until finally, finally he closes his mouth around one pert nipple. Her spine stiffens and her hands twist in his hair, pressing him closer as he sucks at her, and then best of all— “Oh my god.” It tumbles from her lips easily, and he’s never been so turned on by those three words. His good Catholic girl, blaspheming just for him. He wants to hear it again, so he raises a hand to her neglected breast and pinches her nipple while his teeth tug at the other. Scully squirms in the chair and pushes against him, groaning low in her throat, but that’s not good enough. His mouth and hand trade places and he eases her into it this time with gentle flicks and squeezes, soft kisses and swirls of his tongue. She sighs dreamily above him and he ramps it up, nipping and pulling and— “God, fuck.” My, my, my, he thinks. Does your priest know what you do with that mouth? “Oh god,” she moans again, and maybe there is something to this prayer thing after all. “That feels…oh, god. Please.” And fuck it if he hasn’t had a million and one dreams of her begging just like that. “What?” He looks up at her, waits until she meets his gaze, and licks her nipple with the flat of his tongue. Her teeth sink into that plump lower lip and he licks her again. “What do you want, Scully?” “Touch me,” she says, and he smirks against her breast. “I am.” “No. Here.” And then she reaches for his free hand and leads it over her thigh, under the leg of his boxers, over the feather-soft thatch of curls below her belly, then down and oh. Oh, fuck. Here she is. His head swims with the reality of it. No preamble, no big reveal, just Scully, hot and slick in his hand. “Jesus Christ, you’re wet,” he rasps, and she likes it, his prim, polished Scully likes it, because she laughs and moans and bucks against him. “Uh-huh.” He traces her folds with two fingers, and she sighs as he nudges her open. He can barely believe he’s done this to her. Him. Forget uncovering government conspiracies. Forget catching criminals. This is his greatest achievement. When he circles her clit and her moan catches in her throat, he’s certain he’ll never do anything in his life half as amazing as this. Scully clutches a fistful of his t-shirt and angles her hips, guiding him lower still, and who is he to deny her anything? He pauses for a moment, thinks is this really finally happening, and then slips his middle finger into her as a flash of lightning throws his living room into sharp relief. Her head rolls back on her neck, her mouth working around empty syllables. “Good?” he asks to the curve of her breast. “Good,” she confirms, squeezing around him. “More.” He adds a second finger and strokes her from the inside. She’s tight and pulsing and up until now, he’s been doing a pretty good job of not thinking about his cock. But with her lifting her hips to meet him, with her clenching around him when he sucks her nipple or brushes her clit, it’s impossible not to imagine himself sheathed deep within her. “So good. You feel…so good. Mulder, I—ah.” She shoots off the chair when he works a third finger in, following one of his hunches that have gotten him so far in life, and he worries for a second that he was wrong. Then she bears down on his hand, hips swinging and thrusting, and he realizes he couldn’t have been more right. “Oh, I’m gonna—I’m gonna…” And he’d like that. He’d like that a lot. But there’s something else he’d like more right now, something selfish, and he takes his hand away. “Mulder,” she whines—fucking whines, Christ, she’s going to kill him—and tries to pull him back. He grants her a kiss but keeps his hand out of reach. “I wanna taste you, Scully,” he says into her mouth. “Can I taste you?” She nods and kisses him and shimmies her hips to help him tug down the underwear, and he sits back on his heels to look. She’s perfect, spread open for him and glistening, and he’s never needed his tongue somewhere so badly before. He presses his face into her lap, nuzzling the soft curls, inhaling her scent, and takes his first taste. She’s salty and tangy and a little bit musky and he’s never going to get enough, of that much he’s sure. He licks her folds and her clit, dips his tongue into the depths of her, and she makes the most unholy, amazing noises. But he’s too tall and the chair’s too short and the angle of his neck is all wrong. “Come here,” he says and slides her down into his lap. Her ass connects with his crotch and for a second, all he can do is gasp into her shoulder as stars explode behind his eyes. He could just take her now. He’s had his taste, and she clearly wouldn’t mind, not with the way she’s moving against him like a wriggly little snake. But he set an intention, and he’s going to see it through. Mulder shifts so he can stretch out on his back on the rug and grips her waist, pulling her upwards. For the second time tonight, she looks nervous, her lip caught between her teeth and a question in her eyes. “Scoot,” he says and helps her climb his body until her knees are on either side of his head and he’s face-to-face with the center of the universe. “Sit.” She hesitates, looking down at him through a curtain of hair, and he curls his hands around her thighs and tugs. “Sit.” She sits, and her flavor explodes on his tongue. “Fuck,” she gasps, and that’s it, that’s the ticket. He experiments a little—does she like it when he licks her like this? How about like that? What if he puts his tongue here?—and finds a rhythm that makes her keen. It’s fast and hard and unrelenting—hell on his jaw, but he’ll suffer through TMJ for the rest of his life before he’ll stop this, especially when she starts to move. Scully riding his face is quite possibly the single greatest wonder of the world. He thinks of her just hours ago, in her little black pantsuit, a file in her hand, not a hair out of place, and tries to reconcile that image with her now, panting above him, slick with sweat and arousal, her hair messy, her hands on her own breasts, plucking at her nipples. It’s amazing, really, that he hasn’t come in his pants yet. Especially when her hips falter and her breath hitches and he only has a moment to think holy shit, this is it before she’s coming. It’s like watching a star explode. She makes lights in the sky look cheap and tawdry in comparison. Her body arches and rolls as she shouts down the storm for him. Never in his life has he thought someone else’s orgasm could feel as good as his own, but damn if she doesn’t prove him wrong. It’s bliss, pure and simple, and he’s silly and dumb with it, drunk off the knowledge that he did that. He made Scully scream. She pants and falls forward on her hands, keeping him trapped in the sweet, sticky darkness between her thighs and her stomach. There are worse places to be trapped. Far, far worse. But then she seems to come back to herself because she yelps “oh, god, sorry! I’m sorry!” and dismounts. He sits up to look at her. “Sorry?” He catches her hand and kisses her palm. “Scully, I don’t think I could be happier if I tried.” She grins, all teeth and happiness, and her eyes slip lower. That eyebrow that’s caused so much frustration through the years arches and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I dunno,” she says, inching towards him. “I think you probably could.” Her small hand descends on him through his jeans and he bucks against her in a way that might be embarrassing if her wetness wasn’t still drying on his chin. He aches for her. Aches. He can’t see the clock from here, but he feels like he’s been hard for hours. More than hours. He’s been hard for six years. No amount of adult entertainment or solo gratification has done anything to lessen the insistent throb that’s been building since she first dropped her robe for him on a night not unlike this one. “Okay, yeah, fine,” he hisses through his teeth as she squeezes him. “You’re right, you’re—Jesus…” “Mm, no, I’m Scully.” She nuzzles the side of his neck and is he still alive? Is he still in one piece? Somebody open an x-file on this, because surely it’s impossible. “And you are overdressed.” If they gave awards for quickest undressing, Mulder would win gold by a landslide. He tears his shirt over his head and squirms out of his jeans and boxers, and in less than a minute, he’s bare-assed on his living room floor with his equally bare-assed partner. He stares at her and she stares at him, and for a moment, they could be anywhere. They could be in a graveyard at midnight. They could be in an autopsy bay at six am. They could be in countless roadside motels in countless cities. In warehouses, in offices, in hospitals, in cars. But then he reaches for her and she reaches for him and they are colliding planets out of orbit that can only be here, now. When she finally, finally, wraps her hand around his cock and gives him a slow, experimental jerk, root to tip, he dies and is reborn a new man. When she kisses his cheek and then leans lower, her breath ghosting over his abdomen, he just plain dies. “Scu-uh…” His fingers thread through her hair, encouraging her journey even as his brain screams for the brakes. “If you actually want this to go anywhere, you probably shouldn’t—” “Hey, Mulder? Shut up.” And then— And then. At least half of all the fantasies he’s ever had comes true as her pink tongue darts out to lick away the dewdrop of moisture on the head of his cock. She squeezes the base and traces him with her tongue like an explorer in a new land, like she can catalogue every bump and ridge, every flavor, every pulse beneath his skin. Ever the scientist, his Scully. He gazes down at her, transfixed by the improbable image of her, naked and bent over him, her mouth closing around his tip. It’s lewd and incredible and the best fucking thing he’s ever felt in his whole life, holy shit, Scully, where’d you learn to move your tongue like that and can you do it again, Jesus fucking Christ. She blinks up at him, a smirk in her eyes, and he’s only vaguely aware of saying any of that out loud. His grip on her hair tightens when she begins to suck and he has to practically shove her away when her other hand comes up to cradle his balls, because there’s no way in hell he wouldn’t come from that in two seconds flat. “Good?” she asks, the minx, swiping her thumb over her bottom lip. “Like you don’t know.” He draws her to him and kisses her soundly. Her mouth tastes like him, and it’s never been something he’s found particularly enjoyable before, but she might make a believer out of him yet. She straddles one of his legs and rubs herself against his thigh, and when he pulls back to see her, she has fire in her eyes. “So how are we doing this?” she asks, like it’s some tactical maneuver and not the one thing they’ve been dancing around for years. He kisses her jaw. “Anyway you want.” They end with her on her back, his forearms bracketing her head and her legs splayed wide to make room for his hips. She kisses him long and slow, one of her hands between their bodies to guide him in. As his cock brushes the scorching heat of her, he thinks that he should have taken her to bed, or at least to the couch, because this is Scully for Chrissake and she deserves sheets and pillows and soft surfaces, not this rug with its ground-in Cheeto dust, and when was the last time he vacuumed anyway, and oh god, she’s going to have rug burn on her ass, and what if she already does and— She lifts her hips. He stops thinking. She’s everything he knew she’d be and so much more. Tight, hot, her muscles rippling around him as she adjusts to his size. Her brow furrows and she bites her lip as he sinks all of the way in, and he pauses, fighting against every animal instinct in his body to give her the moment she needs. She pulls him down to rest his forehead against hers and they share the same breath. Short, hitched. It’s so much. Almost too much, and all he can do is move. Her arms tighten around him as he pulls away and glides back in. She gasps his name and her voice in his ear is as sweet as honey and twice as thick. It’s like coming home. “Is this…” He grinds his hips and she clenches around him and he chokes. “How—how do you feel?” “Good.” She kisses his cheek. “Amazing.” His neck. “Full.” His mouth. His muscles strain and his pelvis aches with the slowness of their rhythm. He could come from this—he could come from just about anything, he’s sure, as long as she was involved—but he’s not so sure about her. She rocks against him lazily, without any sort of insistence, and if he were a better man (a stronger man) he’d give her this sweet rutting until the sun comes up. But he’s not a better man; he’s a man pushing the edges of his self-control, and he needs her to lose it with him. He shifts his weight to rest on one arm and reaches for her leg with the other. He hooks her knee into the crook of his elbow and presses it up, changing the angle, and when he slides home this time, Scully’s head snaps back and her eyes squeeze shut and she moans, long and low. He speeds up, driving into her with more urgency, and she spurs him on with clenched thighs and a curved spine. “Fuck. Fuck. Mulder—god.” He twists his arm to fit between their bodies, and it’s a little bit of a stretch, and the angle’s awkward, and his forearm aches, but he manages to find her clit with his fingertips and it’s worth it for the way she whimpers. “Right there. Right there, like that, yes, yes, yes, Mulder, yes, please, yes.” Of all the ways he’s imagined Scully in bed (or on the floor), loquacious was never one of them. It’s incredible. He joins her with his own string of nonsense, yeses and gods and fuck, Scully, fuck fuck fuck like thats. She rakes her nails down his spine and he’ll feel the sting in the shower tomorrow and it’ll hurt almost as good as it hurts right now. In return, he buries his face in her neck and bites the sensitive skin there hard enough to make her shudder. She sobs his name, clamps down on him in every possible way, and comes. Just like that. And it’s so good, so deliriously, unbelievably good, because it’s for him, she’s crying out for him and bucking for him, and it’s her, it’s her. He holds on for a second longer, just long enough to see her face, before the spasm of her body pushes him over the edge, and he spills into her with a groan and two erratic pumps of his hips. The world fades away and he’s aware of only his heartbeat racing behind his ears. Gradually, other things return. A sting in his knees, rug burnt no doubt . Sweat pooling in the small of his back. His cock, twitching as it softens. And Scully. God, and Scully. She’s never looked so beautiful. Her hair is a disaster, knotted and stuck to her flushed, damp cheeks. She looks like she does after a chase, after she’s gone a few rounds with a suspect, only better, because there’s no danger now and her lips aren’t bruised from a punch, but from his kisses. And her pupils are blown wide from adrenaline, sure, but also—maybe—if he’s lucky (and he’s feeling pretty damn lucky)—from something else. “Hey,” she says, breathless and soft. “Hi,” he says, and kisses her, because what else can he do? “That was…” “Worth every year?” “Something like that.” She grins, and he feels it in his ribcage. Slipping out of her, he rolls to the side, careful to avoid the coffee table, and pulls her close. She slides a leg between his and rests her cheek over his heart. He can barely believe it. The proof is here in their slick, sticky bodies, in her drooping eyelids, in the delicious, satisfied ache he feels all the way to his bones. But he can still barely believe it. That they really did it. That it was really so easy when everything else is always so hard. He holds her closer and times his breaths to hers. In, out. Even. Safe. They lie like that for a while, just holding each other, just breathing. “The rain stopped,” she says after so long he’s begun to think she might be asleep. He strains an ear, and she’s right. All is quiet. Even his neighbors, the ones who like to yell. The silence weighs heavy like a blanket over their tangled limbs. The flooding has probably gone down, too. “Do you want to go?” He won’t stop her if she does, as much as he’ll want to. He knows Scully, knows how she guards herself and needs space to process things. If that’s what she needs tonight, after this, he’ll let her have it. Even if it means going to bed alone. “Hmm.” She stretches against him and settles down more firmly, nosing his chest hair. “No.” He hides his grin in her hair. “Okay.” “But Mulder?” “Yeah,” he says. Anything, he thinks. “Can we not sleep on the floor?” He laughs. He can’t help it. She fucked him and she wants to stay with him and all she needs is a mattress. He loves her so much. “Yeah. Yeah, Scully, we can not sleep on the floor.” But they do, at least for a little while. And when they finally peel themselves off the rug, stiff and groggy, she rescues his Knicks shirt from the pile and slips it over her head as she stumbles to his bedroom, and it’s everything.

[thisis4fanfiction]

Mine by lepusarcticus

“Not everything is about you, Mulder. This is my life.” Mulder blinks at her a few times, softening, his vulnerability shining like a new penny under his bratty charade. “Yes, but it’s m -” --------- Scully moves around her apartment in a haze. Turns the television on, then off. Picks up a book, and reads the same sentence four times before putting it back down again. Makes a cup of tea, then forgets about it while it over-steeps. Damn him, she thinks, as she tilts her cup into the sink, watching the lukewarm liquid swirl down the drain. Her tattoo, still new, itches irritably against the back of her sweater. Arlington tomorrow, she reminds herself. She’d better pack. She leans against the sink and sighs forcefully, as if trying to physically expel the weight of him from her lungs. Mulder. His heavy, sullen presence is overwhelming, even when she’s alone. At some point in the last four years, he’s taken residence within her, braided himself into her ribcage. Everything she does, everything she is, pulses with the dark undertone of him - muldermuldermuldermulder. She wonders idly if she’ll ever be free of him. If she even wants to be. Hadn’t she gone to Philadelphia for him, even after she told herself she wouldn’t? But then there was Ed. And the tattoo. And for one night, she was free. At least, until everything went to shit. Why does everything always go to shit? She closes her eyes, swallowing the bitterness rising in her throat, little pinpricks of sensation spiraling from the loop on her lower back. Get it together, Dana. A sharp knock at the door startles her, and the immediate jiggling of a key in the lock erases all doubt in her mind as to the identity of her visitor. God, leave me alone, you asshole. He opens the door like he owns the place, closes it behind him as he settles his gaze on her face. He stares at her with an unreadable look in those gray-green eyes, and she wants to punch him and send his goddamned teeth skittering across the hardwood, or tear his clothes off and ride him into submission, break him like a wild horse. Maybe both. For a long moment, they say nothing. But Scully notices the dangerous set of his jaw, the heaving of his chest under his jacket. She’s seen him like this before. He’s determined. Laser-focused, smouldering. She’s almost surprised that she can’t see plumes of steam rising from his shoulders. He opens his mouth to say something - “Look, Scully, I’m sor -” but for the second time that day, she shoots him a look that silences him. At least she has this much power over him. At least. He might live inside of her like some wicked spirit, but at least she can shut him up. She crosses her arms, waiting for his next move. He sighs, turns dejected. “Why him, Scully?” She stares in disbelief, anger flaring in her chest. The pure nerve - “Why him, when we both… when I…” “When what, Mulder?” She hisses, viciously, practically spitting fire. She wants to hear him say it. She knows he won’t. He steps towards her, clenching his jaw, his eyebrows knit together in a silent plea. She squares her shoulders and tips her chin up at him, an invitation, a challenge. “Scully. It’s… you’re... oh, for fuck’s sake.” And then he closes the distance between them, and he’s kissing her, crushing her to his chest. And to her own great disbelief, she is kissing him back. Tongues tangle. Her hands in his hair. A little damp. It must be raining outside. Oh God, those lips. She’s had fantasies about those lips, and none are living up to the real thing. His kiss is rough and sweet and decadent, one large hand threading itself into the hair at the nape of her neck, the other one encircling her waist. Scully feels herself melt, and tries desperately to pull herself together again. She fights against the sheer, foolish romance of it all, but she can’t deny the way they fit together, the heat blooming between her hipbones, the strange swirl of déjà vu sending warmth into her chest. It’s so right. So familiar. He smells of leather and forest floor and sweat, of the stale coffee he spilled on his shirtsleeve earlier that day. She tries to break away for air, but he pulls her closer, growls a single syllable against her mouth - “mine.” The word shoots straight to her center in an electric shock. She resents the thrill that creeps up her spine, pulls back to heave a breath into her lungs, digs her nails into his shoulders. She wrestles with herself - she wants this, oh God, she wants this, but she can’t let him win. She can’t. But he’s so large, so overpowering, so male , and her body betrays her at every turn. He pulls her back in, painfully latching onto her neck with his teeth like a predator, and she’s putty in his hands, molding herself against the warm cotton of his work shirt, slipping her hands under the stiff leather of his jacket and leaving it in a rumpled pile on the floor. He bends and grasps her thighs, hoisting her up and spinning her around to pin her against the wall. Her legs surround him of their own accord, even as her mind distantly screams at her - “get it together, Dana, you can’t do this, you can’t do this”. Mulder presses into her, his hardness and heat already overwhelming. She can feel herself gush in her underwear, the heat rising in her cheeks. Her hands are in his hair, pulling, fingernails digging into his scalp. He releases her neck and trails his tongue along her jaw, up to her ear. “Mine,” he seethes against her earlobe, hot breath escaping through clenched teeth. He thrusts his hips roughly into hers, pinning her even more tightly. Her folds swell in anticipation, and she wills the blood back into her center. Traitorous, she thinks, even as she reaches for his clothes. She works her fingers at his shirt collar, unraveling his tie, deftly flicking the top buttons open as he groans against her jaw. He kneads her ass, working his long fingers inwards towards her center. She pushes back against him with her hips, urging him forward. She feels desperate, feral, wild. She needs him. She hates him for doing this to her. She loves him for doing this to her. She admonishes herself - Nothing for three years, and now two different men within the week. Good God, Dana. Not just any two men, either - a murderous psychopath and your fucking partner. What’s gotten into you? Mulder releases her, lets her slide down his body until her feet touch the floor, smoothing his hands from her rump to her hips and underneath the hem of her sweater. His fingers are rough and warm against her quivering stomach. He sinks to his knees in front of her, his mouth hungrily following his fingers, tracing arcane patterns into her skin. Her nerves fire in filigree, up to her breasts, in towards her heart. He presses his thumbs into her hipbones. “Mine...” He exhales against her, his breath ragged. Scully whimpers, almost imperceptibly, and he runs his hands up the smooth curves of her tiny waist, taking the sweater along with him. Scully finishes the job, lifting the thin black fabric over her head, as Mulder reaches up to cup her through her bra, squeezing, the callous of his hand scratching against the smooth satin. She reaches behind herself, arching towards him and away from the wall to unhook her bra, and feels herself spill out into his rough palms as she flings the bra away, forgotten. Her nipples are so painfully tight and hard that they’ve taken on the colour of bruised fruit, almost purple. She shifts against him again, begging him wordlessly. His eyes have turned dark and reverent, and her skin burns under them. The flat of his tongue dips through parted lips, and he drags it around her navel, up towards her breasts. They feel heavy, swollen with desire. Scully emits a little whine, pushing herself towards him, and he thrusts back at her, hands spanning the dip of her waist. “ Mine, ” he purrs, reaching up to lap at the underside of her left breast. He traces the line of her ribs with his tongue, rumbling his appreciation deep in his chest. Another rush of wetness seeps through her panties, and through her trousers too, she’s sure. She is aching for him. She wonders if he can smell her need. She melts into the wall behind her, sinking lower, seeking sweet release, and Mulder uses the new angle to take her nipple into his mouth. She gasps, his tongue hot and wet against her sensitive flesh, and she can feel herself pebbling, tightening even more. Her fingernails dig into his scalp, his shoulder. He sucks and licks and pulls and bites until she thinks she might cry from the pleasure-pain of it, and then abruptly switches to her left breast, leaving the right one reddish and cold against the air of her apartment. Oh God, that tongue. She had spent years watching him expertly shuck sunflower seeds against his bottom lip while she squeezed her thighs together in one rental Ford or another. One time, in Arkansas, she thinks, he popped a maraschino cherry into his mouth at a skeezy bar, tied the stem into a double knot, and stuck his tongue out at her, smirking. He rolled words off of that tongue that she had never heard before - names of obscure cryptids, paranormal phenomena, his own Frankensteinian rearrangements of scientific terms - some dark wizard breathing life into the ether. He releases her other nipple and pulls back to look up at her, his hair sticking out at wild angles, and he looks so infuriatingly like himself - part puppy, part sex god, her own personal Byronic hero - that it stuns Scully into the reality of what’s happening. No. This can’t. This won’t. He can’t. We can’t. I can’t. Mulder senses the change in her bearing, and staggers to his feet, eyelashes casting long, coltish shadows against his cheekbones as he looks down at her. She tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Fighting against the instinct of her aching sex, she breaks eye contact, tries to cover herself with her hands. But he’s there with her, suddenly tender, cupping her jaw with both hands and locking her eyes to him. He breathes her first name into her mouth, low, intimate, an incantation. “Dana…” Galaxies collide. Stars burst into supernovas. And she crumbles. He senses the opening and slips into her atmosphere again, seizing her mouth with his, and his kiss is long and low this time, affectionate. She can feel his want, not just in the probing of his tongue, not just in the wandering of his hands, not just in the hard, hot steel nudging her hip under his slacks, but in him. He keeps kissing her, holding her close, exploring her mouth, but one hand has found its way to the button of her pants. He unhooks it expertly, not bothering to even push the fabric over her hips before dipping his hand into the lace of her underwear. He groans against her mouth, almost a laugh, and lays his long middle finger along the smooth line where her labia meet, the heel of his palm cupping the damp auburn curls of her mons pubis. Scully bucks forward, urging him wordlessly, and he obliges, sinking into her wetness, gently parting her folds. His index finger joins the middle, and he strokes her from her opening to her burning clitoris. She gasps when he presses into the bundle of nerves there, maddeningly slow and purposeful. Mulder slides his fingers back towards her opening, and she throbs with need. She’s chanting in her head - pleasepleasepleaseplease - and a sob erupts from her chest when he pushes inside of her with both fingers. The pad of his thumb takes up the cause at her clit. Warm honey drips down her thighs. She’s almost embarrassed at how wet she is. When has she ever been this aroused? His tongue slows in her mouth as he concentrates on fucking her, and she takes the opportunity to capture his bottom lip in her teeth. She bites, hard, yearning for one modicum of control over him, but he only smiles, wolf-like, against her teeth. She tastes the copper tang of blood. He slips his fingers out of her, trailing wetness up her belly. She feels bereft without him inside of her, and whines pathetically in protest, releasing his lip. And then those long fingers are inside of her mouth, slick with her own arousal, the distinctly feminine taste of sea salt and oyster flesh mingling with his blood. She almost comes right there against the wall when he grits his teeth against her jaw and commands, in his gravelled monotone, “mine”. His tongue joins his fingers in her mouth, and Scully emits a whimper. He might just drive her to the brink of insanity. He might just push her over the edge. She tries to gain a little control over her body, scrambling to finish unhooking the buttons on his shirt, but the last one won’t budge, no matter how she dips and twists her trembling fingers around it. Frustrated, she rips it open - and he laughs again against her mouth before removing both of his hands from her and letting the shirt slide down from his arms and onto the floor. The planes of his torso are smooth and hard, and Scully marvels at him, not for the first time. What was it that Socrates said? It is a shame for man to grow old without seeing the beauty and strength of which his body is capable...Yeah, he would have loved Mulder. Scully runs her hands over his supple skin, tracing the bullet scar she left. He captures her hand there, holding it to the rippled, pale tissue, and this time, his soft, low “mine” sends a warm rush over her whole body. He bends to pick her up again, and her legs go around him, and it’s as if she’s been doing this her entire life, as if she has practiced this move every day, as easy and natural as pouring a cup of coffee from the little percolator she bought last year for the basement office. He walks her to the bedroom, one arm under her ass, supporting her, the other spanning her back in a wide embrace. He nibbles at her collarbone, and she frantically peppers kisses along his hairline. Claws at his warm, naked back. Yes. Yes, she needs him inside of her. Yesyesyes. A single tear slips down her cheek and into the corner of her mouth. It tastes of ocean, storm and brine and life itself. He dumps her unceremoniously onto her bed, and before Scully can scramble up, he holds her back with his eyes. They’re hungry, commanding, completely in control. Without breaking eye contact, he whips open the strap of his belt, and the sight of him undressing like this is so erotic that Scully thinks she might faint. He steps out of his trousers and boxers in one movement, and oh. Oh, there he is. Oh, holy shit. Her lips suddenly feel very dry, and she darts her tongue out to remedy the situation. She has the bizarre urge to cross herself and utter a prayer. She makes a movement towards him, but he bends over her and yanks her trousers and panties down, flinging them away. They’re both completely naked now, both breathless. His hands roam the shapely planes of her legs, and he pushes her knees upwards and backwards in one forceful motion, gripping the back of her thighs so that she can’t move. She’s utterly exposed to him, spread wide, and she whimpers as her wetness trickles a hot trail between the swells of her ass. She’s so wet. So wet for him. He looks at her for a long while, and she becomes self-conscious, wriggling under his strength. He is close now, and she can feel his breath hot on her sex, the tip of his nose nudging her inner thigh. He dips his tongue into the valley of her ass, lapping up her juices, and she trembles at the sensation, angling her hips downwards, urging him towards her center. She wants to call out to him, but she’s afraid it would break the spell. He looks up at her underneath his eyebrows and squeezes her thighs as he breathes, predatory, against her pussy - “mine” - and God bless him, he licks her with a flat tongue all the way from her anus to her clit. She shivers underneath him, scrambling for something to grasp onto - something, anything. Her nails scrape hopelessly against the sheets. Another long, slow lick, his stubble scratching against her sensitive skin, and she can feel beads of sweat form on her brow as he laps up her wetness. She flexes her legs against his hands, and he gets the hint, dipping the tip of his tongue into her opening for just a moment, then returning to suck on her clit. She gasps her approval, and he stays there this time, flicking and rolling his tongue against her, growling ravenously, like an animal. Scully briefly contemplates reversing her position on the existence of werewolves - was it a full moon tonight? - and then Mulder performs a particularly exquisite trick with his tongue , and she is reduced to vague impressions, her synapses firing as he nips at her labia - blood oranges oozing between sharp canine teeth, shadowy roses blooming, the tumultuous roil of the sea. She can’t believe it, but she can already feel the heat begin to coil at the base of her spine, pulsing darkly with need. She whimpers, greedy, bucking her hips into his face, reaching down to try to grip his head and grind into him. She’s so close… so close… an entire ocean churning within her, swelling and rolling and aching to crash around him… pleaseyesgodpleasemulderplease - And he is gone, leaving her feeling naked and cold, a half-drowned sailor gasping for air. She vocalizes her betrayal, yowling into the room, but before she knows it, he’s leaning over her, and - Fuuuuhuhck - He slides into her in one smooth, slow motion, his cock stretching her almost past her limits, and she’s gasping in pain and pleasure all mixed up in one heady, deadly cocktail. He buries himself in her to the hilt, then pauses, panting, forcing Scully’s half-lidded gaze back to him, always back to him. He’s glazed in a fine sheen of sweat, pupils dilated with desire, and she can see his pulse pounding a rapid staccato against his neck. Jesus, he’s so beautiful, she thinks. He brings his thumb to part her parched lips, balancing on one forearm above her, his eyes glittering, and rasps a low and triumphant “mine.” Scully blinks slowly back up at him, and he’s throbbing inside of her. She’s cock-drunk already, but he begins to move and she’s practically catatonic with the feel of him, the hot, hard, heavy fullness of him. His thrusts are controlled at first, long and ardent as he pushes into her. “Mine,” he murmurs tenderly, “minnnne,” placing kisses in trails along her collarbones, neck, jaw, forehead, lips… She clenches around him reflexively as he rocks into her, and he groans, nuzzling into her neck. Her legs encircle him, and he finds her hands and threads his fingers through hers, bringing them above her head, pressing her forearms into the mattress with his. He kisses her gently with open eyes, and Scully realizes she has never felt this before - this heat, this need, this love. Yes, she realizes, she loves him. She loves him, oh God, she loves him, and suddenly nothing exists but the dark cocoon of his embrace. Another tear escapes, and he kisses it away, whispering a slow, sweet “mine” against her temple. She sighs with pleasure as he bears his weight into her again and again. She’s adjusted to his size, but her pussy is still burning white-hot, almost sending sparks into the air where their bodies meet. She grunts a poor semblance of his name, and his thrusts intensify as he finds a new, more savage cadence. Scully can feel her orgasm building again, a primal mandala deep in her belly, and with every crash of his hips into her, she’s slowly slipping under the surface, under the water, down into the sweet, deep oblivion of release… yesmulderyesmulderyesgod … And then he’s still - ohpleasegodno - cruelly withholding her orgasm from her. She rips her eyes open and gives a wordless cry of protest. “Mine,” he demands, his voice intense and fuming with passion. “Say it, Scully.” “Mul-” He presses her hands hard into the mattress. “Say. It.” She searches his face, and knows it. She is his. It's the simplest truth in this wide, wild universe. Even on that first night in the rain, she was his. “Yours,” she gasps finally, a dark mantra, a prayer, a vow. “Yours , yours, yours,” He crushes her mouth with his, thrusts viciously into her once, twice, again, again - and she finally, gorgeously unravels, dragging him over the edge with her, down into the oceanic depths of her ecstasy. --------- Afterwards, in the hot stream of the shower, she slides her tiny hand around his slippery, already-hardening cock, and murmurs a refrain into his chest. “Mine,” she commands, and Mulder dips his chin towards her as he thrusts gently into her palm. “Yours,” he promises. “Yours.”

[thisis4fanfiction]

Click Here... by Adrienne

It was early Saturday morning and the sun had barely risen. Scully, who had been unable to sleep, decided to get an early start on the mountains of work that she and Mulder had put off until the weekend. She walked the silent halls of the J. Edgar Ho over Building, listening to the echoes of her heels on the tile. It was spooky-yes, spooky-riding down the elevator to the basement at that time of day. No one was around, not even the maintenance workers. She was completely alone. Sometimes she liked it that way. It was a time of contemplative solitude for her. S he entered the office, glancing at rays of sunlight weakly diffusing through the tiny windows. How nice it would be to have an office where the sun could shine and you could see...trees. Other people. But then it wouldn't be the same. She sighed and plopped down at Mulder's desk, tracing a finger over the lightly dusty surface. He had never been big on cleaning house. Yellow #2 pencils were haphazardly scattered all over the desk amongst computer printouts, mugs, pens, and one of those time-wasting paperweights with the goo inside. She flipped it, watching the green ooze drip slowly down the middle. She hated green ooze. Scully flipped the computer on, leaning back in Mulder's chair, liking how the used softness of it enveloped her. She was going to check her e-mail, yes, just for a couple minutes. Before she got down to work. She typed in her password and double cli cked on the e-mail icon. She had two messages. She clicked on the first, from her friend Jolene in Minnesota. "Dana, Check out this website. You might need to show that partner of yours. Just kidding. http://www.the-clitoris.com Love, Jolene" Scully's eyes widened as she read the e-mail. She looked around self-consciously, wondering what to do next. No one was around; Mulder wouldn't be here for hours. She could take a peek. It was a very interesting subject...one that she didn't mind lear ning a few more tricks of the trade for. She clicked on the link and Internet Explorer popped up and promptly crashed. Scully sighed and clicked on the Netscape icon on Mulder's desktop, copying and pasting the URL into the address line. She hit Enter and waited. The page was pink. And it had...a picture of a blooming flower. Jesus, Jolene, she thought to herself as she scanned down the subjects. Anatomy, Development, Orgasm, Masturbation, Cunnilingus, Massage, Intercourse... Massage...Cunnilingus...Masturbat ion. Scully clicked on the link. It had been awhile, she justified to herself. Maybe there were some new techniques. She read down the page, feeling herself become more turned on as she read the descriptions of masturbation. Then she got to the confessionals...things people had tried, and liked, and were willing to share. She gulped and began reading, her eyes consuming every detail. "I love my orgasms and none are as intense as the ones I experience through masturbation. I have two techniques. One is in the shower, standing with legs spread, fixing the shower massage to *pulse* and letting the water hit the side of my clitoris..." Scully bit her lip as she felt blood rushing between her legs, giving her a full, hot feeling. She gently slid her hand down her stomach and rested it over the warm surface, pressing her fingers against the fabric lightly. "The other way is on my back, on the bed, with a tiny vibrator... Again, I move it up and down and in a circular motion on the side of my clit. Sometimes I need to fill myself and have a dildo handy for the last second so I can contract on something, feel like I'm pulling it in..." Scully pressed her hand hard against her crotch now, kneading gently and feeling herself damp underneath her fingers. Yeah, it had been awhile. Probably too long. She sighed softly and read on, massaging herself more, feeling her arousal mounting. Sh e finished the Masturbation section and clicked to the Massage section. She began reading, her eyes running quickly over the phrases as she moved her hand more quickly over herself, finding that she was quickly becoming lost in her excitement. She could f eel the blood pulsing through her sensitive folds of skin, and wondered if she should dare to slip her fingers under her panties, to touch herself in Mulder's chair, in their office. The urge was overcoming her, and she tried to fight it off. "Well, what do we have here." *Oh my god.* Scully jumped, pulling her hand away from between her legs, and looked sharply over to Mulder. He was standing at the side of the desk, smiling at her. Had he seen where her hand was? Would he see...*oh GOD...* Mulder walked around, sitting on the edge of the desk. "Are you hacking into my secret files or what?" His eyes flew over the screen and his mouth slightly opened. "I'm guessing not." "Uhhmm...." Scully moved the mouse quickly, going to close the browser. Mulder smacked his hand down on hers, pulling the mouse away. "Don't close that, I want to see what you're reading, Scully." "No, you don't, Mulder." She fought against his hand, trying to move the mouse. He held her hand and stood up beside her, bending over slightly to get to her eye level. "Yes, I really do, Scully." His eyes scanned the page, reading quickly. She watched his face, unable to look at the screen out of sheer embarrassment, and saw his eyes widen just a little. "So, all this is, is advice?" He said, his mouth by her ear. He used his grasp of her hand on the mouse to scroll down the screen. She shivered a little at the breath on her ear. Damn, she was turned on. "Yeah. I guess so. My friend sent me the link." "Nice friend," Mulder quipped, his eyes resting on a passage. "Very gently grasp the shaft of her clitoris with your thumb and index finger..." he read softly, grinning. "Mulder..." "Scully, I'm reading. I'm reading to you." "Stop it." He tightened his grip on her hand and read on. "Gently slide the loose tissue covering her clitoris around, primarily back and forth, getting a feel for the shape and firmness of her clitoris." Scully squirmed slightly, the hot pulsating between her legs becoming harder and harder to ignore. She looked over to the door frame, around the room, trying to disregard his husky voice. Mulder stopped, turning his head slightly so that his lips were lightly touching her ear. "Scully?" She tilted her head away just a little. "What?" "You want to try this, don't you." Her heart skipped a beat. She was shocked. And now, incredibly turned on. "What are you talking about?" "You know what I'm talking about." He gestured to the computer screen with his free hand. "This. What I'm reading. You want to try it." "I guess so." Her throat was dry, voice barely a squeak. She could feel him breathe against her neck for a moment. "I want to try it too." *Oh my god.* *Did he just say what I thought he said?* "Mulder, I..." She stopped in the middle of her sentence as he took his free hand and slid it down her stomach quickly, resting it right between her legs. His advances were surprising the hell out of her. He knew what he wanted to do. She gasped softly and turned h er head, looking over into his eyes. "Do you want me to do this for you?" His voice was low, challenging. She almost whimpered in response. Her mind was swimming with the tension she felt between their bodies. "Yeah..." She whispered, arching an eyebrow. His reaction was a slow smile, as his fingers gently stroked the fabric covering her aroused skin. "I need you to sit on the desk..." "Mmm hmmm..." She rose, and he swiped his hand across it, scattering pencils and papers over the floor. She sat on the edge, and he stood up straight in front of her, never losing eye contact. Scully watched his hand as he slowly undid the button of her dress pants, and pulled down the zipper gently. Then he slipped his fingers slowly down under her silky green panties, past the soft mound of hair, and directly to her clit. He knew where h e was going. She leaned back on her arms slightly, a soft moan escaping her lips. She felt his fingers wander down to her wet opening, gathering moisture, before sliding back up to grasp the sensitive nub, moving back and forth against it slowly. "Oh...Mulder..." Scully breathed. "I think that's what it said to do," he whispered, putting his face next to her cheek. He wanted to watch her closely, observing each reaction. "Aren't you going to read it..." she sighed, gasping as he tightened his fingers. "I think I can ad lib from now on," replied Mulder, watching her face tense. She was barely closing her eyes, a small smile surfacing. He moved his fingers against her clit, back and forth more frequently now. "Mmmmm..." She was starting to come now, slowly, achingly. He slowed his kissing and his stroking, leaving her hanging over the verge of explosion. She drew her mouth away from his. "Mulder, mmmm please..." He kissed her again, speeding up his massaging, and she felt herself quickly approaching that level again. Then he slowed. She moaned in agony against his lips as she rose and fell; he played her teasingly several times, bringing her to the edge and pulling her back just as soon as she hit it. "I wanna come..." she groaned against his mouth, her eyes glaring into his. She wasn't angry, just desperately seeking the resolution of his sweet torture. His eyes were dancing. "I'll make you." He sped up, and didn't stop this time. His fingers moving faster, and pressing harder against her clit. She felt her body arch up, her lips pressed against his as she felt herself teetering on the borderline. Biting his lower lip gently, she came wit h a soft moan, the breath through her nose coming out hard against his cheek. Her chest was heaving. She let go of his lip, and he let go of her clit, hand cupping her lightly. "So..." Mulder whispered, kneading his palm against her. "Sooo..." she moaned back, breathless. "What part of this website should we go to next?" Mulder's eyes scanned the subject listing on the left of the screen, intently searching for a new topic. He moved his hand to her cheek and stroked it lightly. Scully could smell herself on him, feeling the incredible urge to kiss him hard and pull h im on top of her body, to make love to him, if he would let her. But she couldn't...this was a man with a plan. "Orgasm...already covered that..." he grinned, leaning over and kissing her ear. She laughed softly, nervously, her earlobe burning hot. "Hmmm..." "What?" Scully asked, leaning over the screen. "Well, the next topic is Masturbation." Her heart again skipped a beat. "What's next?" "Hold on, there, Scully." Mulder looked into her eyes and smiled. "Why don't we discuss this a little longer." "Why?" she asked, leaning her head into his hand that cupped her face. He kissed down her neck gently, and she felt herself melting again. "Because, Scully..." She could feel his breath against her skin. "I've always wanted to watch you do it." "You have..." she breathed. "Oh yeah." Scully didn't think she could get more turned on. But she did when he said that. "I...okay..." she replied faintly as he nipped at her ear. His mouth moved to her lips and kissed her fully, slowly. She responded just as slowly, savoring the silky texture of his mouth on hers. He pulled away and brushed the hair out of her face, s miling. "Only if you want to," he said, his eyes honest and sincere. "Mulder, I want to." He kissed her again, harder, in response. "I can't keep my lips off of you," he moaned close to her mouth, "but I can, I will." "Are you going to read to me?" "I wanna know the way you do it...not anyone else. Show me how..." She kissed him, taking his beautiful lower lip into her mouth. "Kiss me..." And he did, watching her between kisses as she slipped her right hand down, over her stomach, fingers seeking her oversensitive clit. She shivered at the sensation, a low breath escaping her chest slowly. He kissed the line of her jaw, letting her br eathe. Scully moved her fingers around lightly, then harder, finding herself more aroused than ever before. She had never done this with another person right in front of her, and it was turning her on incredibly to feel her fingers against herself and his m outh on her body. He ran a hand over her shoulder, and down her chest slowly as he found her right breast through her suit and squeezed, his palm cupping the underside lightly. She moaned softly and kept her thumb at her clit while her two middle fingers found her wet opening, prodding inside. She thrust them deeply-she loved to surprise herself with the hard penetration, to make herself gasp. She could feel him watching her as he ran a hand up her arm, from her wrist between her legs to her shoulder. She moved her thumb harder over it, flicking and rubbing, letting her head loll back slightly on her left shoulder. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply as she felt the dual sensation of her fingers and his sucking the hollow of her throat. She felt herself coming again, after a few minutes of rubbing and fingering herself for him. She whimpered softly, fingers moving faster, and he stopped to watch more now, his cheek against hers, his wispy dark hairs tickling the back of her neck. Suddenly, he grabbed her wrist, stopping all movement between her legs. "What are you...what are you doiiing..." she gasped, her hand fighting against his. "I don't want you to come again...you have to save that energy, Scully." "For what," she growled, gritting her teeth at the general progression back down from climax. Falling...the searing state of calming arousal. "For when we move to..." He looked at the screen quickly. "Cunnilingus." "What?" "You know what that is, Scully?" "Mulder, you've got to be kidding me..." Scully moaned, shifting her hips. "Yeah, you know. Tongue fu. Eating out. You know?" Scully laughed lightly. "Mulder, I know what it is, damn it." "You don't want me to do this?" "Oh god...yes...I do." She kissed him, pressing her tongue against his teeth until he parted his jaws slightly, kissing her back. He wrapped his arms around her waist as they kissed passionately, pushing her back on the desk and cradling her head wit h his hand while he moved his lips over her neck and face. "Stay here..." he whispered, trailing his tongue over her ear and down her neck. She moaned and turned her head to him slightly. He kissed her once and then moved down her body, bypassing her chest completely, getting on his knees as he skillfully sl id her pants and panties all the way down her legs. He lightly pulled her shoes off, and then her clothing down over her feet. He then spread his fingers over her satin thighs, kissing and sucking the inside of her knee hanging over the desk. She sighed softly, nervously adjusting her hips again. He pushed her legs up with his palms on the bottom of her feet, directing them to the edge of the desk, spread just enough so that he could fit nicely between them. She moaned, and felt the cold air hit her warm, moist folds of skin as her legs separ ated. "Mulder..." she sighed, feeling his presence there but no touch. "Hey, Scully. Listen to this," he started, looking at the screen, his fingers lightly tracing the tender skin on the insides of her thighs. "Since your tongue may grow tired, be sure to use your lips and tongue to caress and suck on her delicate tiss ues in alternation." "God, Mulder. Yeah." "If you extend your tongue fully, and you're not use to it, it will soon get tired. It is better to get your mouth as close to her clitoris and labia as possible. Use short strokes with your tongue just extending from your mouth," he continued, with a quick open-mouthed suck on her leg. "Jeeeeesus." "Sounds good to me, eh Scully?" "Fuck..." "Wow. Scully, you talk dirty when you're hot." He let his lips travel, feather-light, over her leg, up and down. She squirmed, hands up on the top of her thighs. "Mulder come on..." She twiddled her toes, sighing. She felt his mouth hot on her flesh and arched her back involuntarily. He sucked at her skin, drawing it into his mouth and nibbling gently. "Mul...Mulder..." she gasped, barely audible. He flattened his tongue against the skin in his mouth and stroked, letting go, and running his tongue through her folds slowly, exploring every inch of them. He brought his tongue down to her wet opening and traced around it, then slowly moved back up, gauging her sighs and pausing when she flinched. He concentrated in the sensitive spots that made her moan aloud; the side of her clit, her inner folds. She wasn't incredibly vocal, but knew how to tell him what she wanted. He flicked his tongue around, against her clit in short strokes, while his teeth grazed against her skin a little bit below it. It made her pant a little, made her squirm. "Come on Scully...lose control." His words shocked her...how did he know? "I...I can't." "Yes, you can." He took her clit between his lips and sucked hard, making her buck her hips and whimper softly. He pushed the tip of his tongue against it, flicking hard and suckling gently. "Mulder I...Mulder..." she moaned, her hips drawing away from him. He grabbed her hips and held her at the edge of the desk, continuing his assault on her senses. She squirmed, feeling shots of pleasure reverberating through her body. He nipped and s ucked, slowly inserting two fingers into her, pushing in little strokes until they were fully in and then pulling out slowly. Pushing in faster. Pulling out more slowly. Hearing her baited breaths and pants. "Jesus...mmmmmm....god..." she whispered, whimpering. "Mulder...please..." He quickly flicked his tongue back and forth over her clit, running around it in circles in between bouts of tongue strokes. "Shit, Mulder, oh GOD..." she moaned loudly, moving her hips against him, her fingernails digging into her thighs. "Come..." he murmured, continuing his tongue movements. "MMMmmmmhhh...yes...Mulder..." She was almost screaming. He was glad it was so early in the morning that no one was there. She was really getting into it now. He pressed his face into her more, tongue working hard against her clit, fingers darting in and out of her, thrusting hard, making her climax. "Mulder!!" she cried, her hips and back arching up, as he kept his mouth on her, feeling her come through the spasms around his fingers. She couldn't speak, her mouth agape slightly. He kissed her flesh lightly, all around, little licks here and there. She was rolling in her orgasm, involuntary spasms wracking her body, making her gasp and writhe. He hadn't ever seen her lose control like this before. It was so unnatural for her, but seemed so right now. He kissed her legs and moved up to her lips, pressing his body against hers and kissing her neck gently. "Mmmmm." Scully put her arm around his head, pulling him closer. "Is that all you have to say?" he replied, running his tongue over her skin. "Yes." She turned her head and kissed him hard, her hand roaming through the back of his hair. He kissed back, pressing his body against her side, and she felt his erection against her bare hip. Her hand traveled down his side, down the front of his stomach , feeling his heat through his clothing as she cupped it, squeezing unrelentingly. He broke the kiss and moaned slightly, but she pressed her lips against his again, muffling his sounds with her mouth. "What's the next section," she murmured against his lips. She knew what it was. She just wanted to hear it from him. He glanced over at the computer screen, eyes widening a bit, looking up at hers. "Inter...Intercourse." He cleared his throat. "What's wrong with that, Mulder?" She moved her hand up against his cock. "Oh, god Scully, there is nothing wrong with that at all," he gasped. She circled her fingers around him as well as she could through the fabric of his dark pants. "Mmmm hmmm. So, are you going to read to me?" He groaned, his hips thrusting gently against her hand and her side. "I'd rather just show you how it works...ohh, Scully, you don't know what you're doing to me." "I think I have an idea, Mulder, I'm a medical doctor." "Well good, because I think I need some work done." He began unbuttoning her suit top urgently, his fingers working hard at the small black buttons. The sides of her suit jacket fell away, exposing her chest and green lace bra. Spreading his fingers out over her bare stomach, he lightly grazed his teeth over the front of her neck. "I like green...it looks good on you," he whispered, panting slightly as she worked her hand against his throbbing cock. He moved down slightly, immediately missing the feel of her hand on his groin. He began licking her stomach, trailing the tip of his tongue around her belly button. She moved slightly under his mouth, putting a hand on his head and pressing it to her tummy. He kissed her abdomen and teased the skin with his teeth. "Mulder...I like you." "Oh yeah?" He moved his mouth up to the tops of her breasts, running his lips over them. "Mmmm hmm." She curled her fingers around his hair. "Well Scully, I like you too. But I would like you better if you took this bra off." Scully laughed, sitting up to his questioning eyes. "I think so too," she whispered, kissing him again. He put his hands on her waist, kissing her hard. She unhooked the back of her bra and it fell loose, as she swiped the straps down her arms. He st ared into her eyes as they kissed, both observing the other's reactions. He didn't stop kissing her when he reached his hand up to touch her left breast, fingers curving over the top, underside resting on his palm. He just watched her flutter her eyelids a few times, sucking on his lip and never breaking her intense gaze. Mulder moved his other hand up and did the same to her right breast, gently kneading. She could feel her nipples getting hard against his hands as he worked them, breaking their kiss for a breath, diving into it again before he could say a word. She moved her hands down his well muscled back, curving her fingers against his ass and gripping it. She had always wanted to do that. Always. He removed his hands from her breasts to unbutton his dress shirt, exposing his tight white t-shirt underneath. She immediately moved her hands up to his pecs, feeling the defined lines down to his torso. She pulled his shirt up over his head and he took hold of it, grabbing it and throwing it across the room. Scully couldn't control herself-she pressed her lips against his chest, between his nipples, kissing the tan skin open-mouthed and moving to his nipple. She sucked it and heard him sigh, rolling her eyes upwards to watch his lip twitch just a little as her mouth rose with his deep breath. His hands went to the top of her thighs, sliding back down between them, and over her stomach. They were everywhere, leaving a path of tingling anticipation. She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and they fell with a mere push of her hands on them. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of them, leaving a Mulderesque pile of clothing and shoes on the floor. He pressed into her, her inner thighs pressing against his hips as she felt his hard cock next to her. "Jesus, Mulder..." "Not yet..." he whispered, sucking on her ear, and down her neck. He slid himself against her, stroking her clit with his erection, and she moaned and pushed her hips against him. "Oh god, why not." He stepped away, kissing her jawline, his fingers lightly pressed into her back. Then he moved away and sat on his chair. Scully looked at him, his body slightly glimmering with the formation of sweat on his skin, his cock hard and at attention. She put her hands on the edge of the desk, tossing her hair gently, raising her eyebrows. "Come sit on my lap, Scully." She shivered as she processed his request through her sex-fogged mind. She hopped off of the desk, walking the short distance over to him and stepping over his thighs, straddling him but hovering just above his body. "Never thought we'd be using your chair for this," she murmured, dipping her head down to kiss him. "I did." He kissed her back harder. She laughed against his lips and he returned a lopsided grin. "You did, huh." She ran her mouth down the tendons straining lightly from his neck. "Yeah...in my dreams...I'd meet you down here and we'd fuck just like this." "We're not fucking yet." She smiled and looked into his eyes. "Well...we are now..." Mulder muttered, grabbing her hips and pushing her down on top of him. The aim was perfect, like he knew right where to go. "Oh god..." she whispered, feeling him penetrate her slowly, deeply. She put her hands on his shoulders and gripped them, her mouth slightly open. He put his lips between her breasts, sucking gently as he pulled her back up. She gripped his shoulders harder, pressing herself down in a desperate attempt to feel full of him again. His hands moved up her hips, her sides, and down to the small of her back. "Scully," he moaned against her skin, grating his teeth lightly against it. She gasped, tilting her head back a bit, rising back up only to lower herself back down harder in his lap. He began to move his hips, starting a rhythm that quickly ran out of control between them, emphasized by the moist slap of their skin together as he thrust into her body. Scully concentrated on the sound for a few moments before losing herself in the sensations of his cock massaging her from the inside out. She panted, making sounds that crossed between moans and whimpers as she slid around him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hands in the back of his hair, tugging as she felt herself rising to yet another climax. This one burned inside of her, and his hand reaching down to rub her clit only made it ache more. "Mulder..." she moaned between pants, squeezing her muscles tightly around him. He breathed deeply, moving just a little faster into her. They weren't fucking hard-it was just right, just enough to let each of them know that the other was there. She felt him groan between her breasts, the vibrations sending a powerful sensation down her spine. His fingers on her clit massaged harder and she felt the first wave of orgasm hit her deep inside, moving up with her hot blood to her head and taking her home. She gasped, mouth agape, a little whimper escaping with a sharp breath out and back in, as if she were drowning in it. Mulder felt her writhe in his arms, spasms both inside and outside her as she pressed her mouth against his, a deep, probing kiss. He felt himself explode, his denial of the urge to climax no longer essential. He pulled her hard against him, thrustin g a few more times, feeling her over every inch of his body. They sat in each other's arms, balancing on the chair with expert ability. He stroked her back and played with the back of her hair as she put her head on his shoulder. "I wonder when someone's gonna come down here and find us like this," he joked against her neck. "No one ever comes down here, Mulder." "Sure they do. Hell, Skinner could come in any moment." Scully shivered and pulled him closer. "He'd probably like it." "Probably." He massaged her tense back muscles, feeling them ease under his fingers. "So, what are your plans for today?" "Well, I have one more e-mail left to check. I wonder who it is." "Oh, that would be me." He kissed her shoulder. "Why did you e-mail me?" She kissed his ear. "To tell you I'd be in to work early."

[thisis4fanfiction]

The Wonder of You by Soft-thrills

When Mulder first sees Scully standing on the front porch of the house in Virginia, he is overcome. “Wait,” he tells her, as she puts the key in the door and turns the lock over, ready to swing it open and step into their home. He takes the stairs two at a time to catch her, grabbing her right wrist with one of his hands and putting the other on her cheek. She looks up at him with that curious expression she’s been tossing in his direction for more than a decade and he kisses her, soft and sweet and slow. Then he reaches down and scoops up her compact little body into his arms. “Mulder,” she says, part warning and part invitation, and she grasps her arms around his neck. He kicks the door open gently with his foot and carries her over the threshold. She laughs a little, and he does too. “It doesn’t count if we’re not married, Mulder.” “I don’t care, Scully,” he responds. “We’re home.” Inside, summer sun streams through the windows, little bits of dust floating in the beams of light. Sheets cover the few pieces of furniture that came with the house. It smells like wood and Pine-Sol. “Put me down, Mulder,” she says good-naturedly. “But you feel so good here, Scully,” he murmurs, “in my arms, in our house.” “We should unpack.” “We don’t really have anything,” he says, not in a melancholy way, just matter of fact. “This is it, Scully: me, you and this house.” “Put me down, Mulder.” “You’re no fun, Scu—” “Put me down and kiss me again, Mulder,” she says, her voice thick and serious. As he so often does, he gives her half of what she wants. He adjust her body so that she’s facing him, one arm under her ass, and she wraps her legs around his waist. Mulder kisses her again, bringing one hand up to the hair at the nape of her neck, red again now that they’re not on the run. They’re home, and it’s not perfect but it’s as close as he can imagine to the happy ending he wants to give her. He walks them both toward what he assumes is a dining room table, and Scully pulls away when he presses her body up against it. She gives it the skeptical glance of a doctor who is obsessed with cleanliness and hand-washing, and he pulls the sheet off the table with one hand. More little particles of dust hang in the sunbeams around them. “Gotta be cleaner than half the motels we’ve stayed in,” he says as he lowers her to sit on the table. “We haven’t even seen half the house yet,” she says. “There’s something else I’d rather see right now, Scully.” He’s gratified by the way her breath catches in her throat, even after all these years. She’s wearing a dress—too damn hot for pants and Scully’s not really a shorts kind of woman, except when posing as a tourist in the southwest and those days are thankfully over—and he grabs the hem and pulls it up her legs. She lifts herself up so he can scoot the dress up past her ass, and then she raises her arms so he can pull it over her head, mussing her hair a bit. She puts her arms down at her sides, palms flat on the table and she leans back just a little, arching her chest and breathing deeply. He pauses just a moment to take her in, watching her chest rise and fall, marveling that this woman wants him, and he’s not sure he can wait another second to have her. “What are you waiting for?” she asks, and he’s about to posit that maybe she’s been reading his mind all these years when she grabs his shirt and pulls him closer. Then she pulls the shirt up and over his head. He kisses her again, both hands in her hair, and this time it’s not as gentle as it was out on the porch. His hands move over her, all over her, hungry but reverent, and she hums her approval. She hooks her legs around him again, pulling him close against her and the table. “I’ve waited years for this, Scully,” he whispers, nipping at her earlobe, kissing down her neck to her shoulder. “To give you a home. To have you in a bed that we won’t have to leave in a couple days or weeks.” “Mm, or a table,” she says. “Or a table,” he laughs. He doesn’t mention that she had to sign the mortgage since he’s a fugitive. He doesn’t mention that this still won’t be a normal life. All he can think right now is that this woman, this perfect woman, wants something permanent with him. She presses up against him, looking for friction, and he decides to do her one better. He pulls away and then drags her underwear down her legs, gently raking his fingernails down her thighs, making her shiver. He pulls her to the very edge of the table and drops to a crouch, thanking his past self for doing squats in all those hotel rooms to stay in shape, and buries his face between her thighs. He hears her gasp and he can’t see her, but he imagines her head lolling back, hair spilling onto the table. Her fingers find the back of his head, hands in his hair, fingernails against his scalp and it gets him even harder. That and his crouched position and the temperature in this sun-drenched house have him wondering why the fuck he’s still wearing his jeans. But he’s suffered for her before. And this—her scent and her wetness and her body all around him—is a beautiful way to suffer. He laps at her, delighted as he was the first time to feel that she’s wet for him. He feels the strong muscle in her runner’s thighs quake and quiver against his ears as she tries to maintain control. He listens to the quiet noises she doesn’t like to let become loud noises, even after all this time, little sounds buried in the back of her throat. He wants to fuck her in every room of this house, every corner of it, claiming it as their own as he claims her as his. Her sharp little fingernails against his scalp and the demanding way she moves against him reminds him that ownership is mutual. He’s hers, dead to rights, rest of his life. “Fuck,” she groans, partly for his benefit because she knows how he likes to hear her say that word, partly because she’s close. “Close,” she says in a harsh whisper, reading his mind again. “Closecloseclose.” And then she’s past close, she’s coming, and his arm around her back holds her close as she bucks against his face and it’s so intimate that some romantic part of him wants to remain there forever. But some other selfish parts of him—his quaking quadriceps and his impatient cock—object mightily to that plan, and win over his brain. By the time he’s on his feet she’s resting back on her elbows, spread out like Sunday supper for him, looking at him with a languid and playful grin in the haze of her orgasm. Mulder unbuttons his jeans and sends them straight to the floor. He doesn’t even bother to step out of them before he slides into her, feeling triumphant when she snaps out her sleepy afterglow for just a second to moan sharply when he thrusts into her. They lock eyes and he is overcome, again, with the love and desire he sees there. He’d never understood, never would understand, why she’d stayed with him through all of this. He knew it was because she loved him—but he couldn’t understand why. “Hi,” he says with a smile, gentle and soft like the pace of his thrusts. “Hi,” she draws out the single syllable, “doesn’t quite cover it.” He laughs. No, it doesn’t. But he can’t really think of any words that would cover it. He can’t really think of a lot of words when he’s inside her and even if he weren’t he couldn’t come up with the words to describe to her the profound thing that tugged inside him when he saw her on the porch, the urge to scoop her up and hold her and have her. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you in this house, Scully, just like this,” he pants against her ear. He’s moving slow, agonizingly slow, hoping to prime her up so she’ll come again, so he can watch her this time. She digs her nails into his shoulders and he knows she wants more than his slow, calculated movements, his gentle declarations. But the build-up will make the reward all the more sweet. “Mulder,” she groans, his name a plea. “I want to fuck you in a bedroom where the wall isn’t paper-thin and shared with some stranger—though I did have some fun making you yell in those rooms,” he teases. “Remember, Scully? That night outside of Flagstaff?” He knows she remembers. “God, Mulder, more,” she urges. “More motel stories?” he laughs, even as he speeds up—just a little. He wants to hear her say it, and she knows. She always knows. “Fuck me harder, Mulder,” she mutters. “Give it to me.” His left hand tangles in her hair, applying just the pressure she likes, his right arm behind her, holding her up as they lean back to get the right leverage. His mouth meets hers and he nips at her lips, bumping teeth and he knows she can taste herself and he knows that she likes it. He knows. He takes his arm from behind her back, and she drops an elbow to the table to hold herself up. He moves his hand between her legs and draws tight little circles with his thumb, and then he stops kissing her so he can watch. She’s always more sensitive after she’s already come and she’s already biting her bottom lip. “Yeah, Scully. Give it to me,” he gives her words back to her. “I want to watch you come for me.” His hand in her hair grips a little harder, his thumb at her clit works a little faster and she falls apart beneath him, gasping and shuddering and her entire body trembling against his as he lowers her to lie flat on her back on the table. She still has her black bra on, and it’s somehow hotter that way. She opens her eyes and stares up at him from the table. He grins victoriously and fucks her harder, searching for his own release. “Mulder,” she whispers, and reaches a hand up to gently cup his face, and she gives him a naughty smile to go with the tender gesture. Sex with Scully is full of dichotomies like that. It makes him feel powerful (he did this to her, made her feel this) and helpless (he’s putty when she looks at him like that) all at once. But his thesis on the duality of fucking Scully will have to wait, because the way she gasps his name pushes him over the edge. He jerks haphazardly inside her, collapsing atop her and groaning her name into her sharp little shoulder. “Well,” he says when he can speak again, “I think we’re officially moved in.” * Later, after they’re actually all moved in, they sit on the front porch under the stars. The night is hot and sticky, like the peach cobbler they’d bought at a farm stand down the road and eaten with their hands, laughing, when they realized they didn’t own any silverware. The devoured it at the same table where they’d devoured each other. They could buy silverware tomorrow. It’s still too hot for pants, but there’s nobody around to notice their near-nudity. Scully is wearing an old cotton t-shirt of his, long as a dress on her. He’s wearing a pair of boxers. They’re making their way through a six-pack and listening to Elvis on a iPod speaker he’s carted around the country, and he thinks this is his vision of perfect. Well, it could stand to be a little less humid. And it would be better if he weren’t a fugitive on the run from the law whose very presence here put his lover’s life at risk. But otherwise: perfect. He looks again at the threshold he’d carried her over hours ago, stepping into their version of domestic bliss. “Do you ever wish we could get married, Scully?” She turns to look at him. “Mm, it sounds nice. But I don’t need the government to certify the way I feel about you,” she says. “In fact I think it’d probably be best not to get the government any more involved in our lives than they already are. Even if you weren’t a fugitive.” He laughs, and takes a sip of his beer. “I mean, I know we can’t. I know it isn’t practical. But do you ever wish it were different?” She moves her beer bottle to her mouth, presses it against her bottom lip but doesn’t take a sip as she thinks. “I’ve wondered, sometimes, what would have happened if we’d stayed in DC, if none of this,” she gestures emptily to signify the last several years of their lives, “had ever happened. Even as a little girl I didn’t think a lot about weddings. I don’t like big parties, or being the center of attention. But sure, in the past, I’ve imagined us doing something small. Family and close friends. Or even just the two of us. Have you? Thought about it?” Mulder shrugs. “When I was away from you for that year, I thought about it a lot. I thought about coming home and marrying you.” He doesn’t mention the son he might have come home to. She doesn’t either. It’s too nice a night for that, to open a wound he knows has not healed for her. “I thought about it before then, too,” he says it quietly, like he’s confessing. “Even before we started sleeping together, I thought about it sometimes.” “How’d you imagine it?” she asks. “Small. Like, in a yard somewhere. I don’t know whose yard, but a yard. With flowers,” he says. “Those big garden roses.” “Garden roses,” she says, surprised and seemingly delighted. “Romantic.” “You makin’ fun of me, Scully?” “Never,” she puts her hand to her heart. “Sometimes I just forget you’re such a romantic.” Easy to forget, he thinks, when you spend several years sharing tiny confines of cars and motels rooms, while running from certain doom, trying to save the world and work out your relationship issues. It doesn’t leave much room for romance. The days when they didn’t want to kill each other were romantic. “You’d wear white, even though it’s silly. Not a big dress or anything, but white,” he says, trying to give her what he hasn’t for so long. “People we love would be there. But not too many, I know you wouldn’t want that. I’d write my own vows.” The smile on her face is so worth the vague embarrassment he feels for pouring his heart out like this. “What about our names?” she asks. “Can I finally call you Fox?” “If you marry me, Scully, you can call me whatever you want. But I think ‘I, Mulder, take you, Scully,’ has a nice ring to it.” She laughs. “It is a nice idea, Mulder. We could drink lots of champagne and eat cake. But none of that smashing it in my face thing.” “No, no,” he says. “No bouquet toss. No garter—we’ll save that for later.” He hears the song that’s starting on his iPod and he can’t resist adding: “But I would insist on a cheesy first dance.” “Oh?” she asks. Mulder closes his eyes, and breathes in the summer air, heavy and sweet. “You hear that, Scully?” he asks. “Elvis is alive.” As the King starts crooning ‘The Wonder of You,’ Mulder stands up and holds his hand out to her. She looks up at him with just a touch of incredulity before accepting his hand and rising from the old lawn chair, and he pulls her close, swaying in the moonlight. “I think we’re doing this out of order, Mulder,” she says softly. “The dancing is supposed to come before the sex, not after.” “Yeah, well, we were never very good at following the rules, were we, Scully?” She laughs a little. “No we were not. No sense in starting now.” Scully leans her head against his chest as they dance. “I’d say yes, you know,” she says, and if the night weren’t so still around them he’s not sure he’d have heard her. “So say yes, Scully,” he looks down and she looks up at him, and he tucks a little strand of hair behind her ear. His hand has traced that some path so many times, but never while asking her something like this. “Mm, it doesn’t work like that, Mulder,” she smiles. “I wish it did.” “What’d we just say about the rules, Scully? And besides, you’re wearing white,” he gestures at her t-shirt. “There are flowers in the garden. There’s music.” “We need an officiant. And a witness,” she whispers. “That moon looks very official, Scully,” he grins. “And all the animals that live out there in the forest are watching.” She’s quiet for a moment so he sings the words along with Elvis—more murmuring along, not quite singing and not quite to her. But he knows the words and he may or may not have imagined this moment before and a romantic Elvis song and a beautiful woman is too perfect a moment to waste. “And when you smile, the world is brighter. You touch my hand, and I’m a king,” he breathes in the smell of her hair, takes in the expanse of their new home. “Your kiss to me is worth a fortune, your love for me is everything.” “Yes,” she tells him. “I’m saying yes.” He always knew she’d say yes if he asked. And he knows this isn’t real. That come morning they won’t really be married in any way that counts to anyone other than them, and maybe it won’t even count to her tomorrow. But now, in this moment, Dana Scully is marrying him. It doesn’t matter if it’s real to anyone else. He believes. She believes. He doesn’t know what to say. He let’s Elvis say it, since that worked before. “I guess I’ll never know the reason why you love me like you do,” he makes the words deliberate. He thinks back to the way he felt earlier, as she unfolded before him, desiring him. He wants her to hear him. “That’s the wonder, the wonder of you.” When the song is over, he carries her over the threshold. This time, it counts.

[thisis4fanfiction]

Loser Takes All by Nicknoc

For the 1000th time that night Mulder offered a silent prayer of thanks to the FBI and the powers that be for this case. They were undercover, again, this time as honeymooners. Their job was to lure a serial killer, dubbed the Honeymoon Killer by some local cop with a very underactive imagination, out of the woodwork, and in doing so, end his killing spree. Predictably, Scully had not seemed terribly enthused at the prospect of going undercover again, but she hadn't seemed entirely pissed either. In fact, relations between them had eased since the last time they had been undercover and tonight she seemed to be actually *enjoying* herself. Especially as he'd relented and agreed to call her Dana instead of Laura, although he'd stuck with Rob - there was no way he was using *his* first name. Mulder glanced admiringly at Scully's lean form sheathed in a cream satin dress that managed to cling and float at the same time. She looked hot - damn hot. And he had a feeling that tonight she knew it. As usual he itched to run his hands over her, take her in his arms, and kiss her. And as usual, he reminded himself that this would get him nothing more than a smack in the face - if he was lucky. Scully was out of bounds. They may toss about the odd bit of sexual innuendo here and there, but he was sure that she wasn't really interested. Kissing her would have to remain a part of his fantasy life. Until he remembered what they were here for. Their *honeymoon*. Thanking his boss silently again, he leaned forward and brushed a kiss against Scully's lips as they waited for the restaurant staff to clear their table. At her slightly startled look he explained, "Honeymooners, remember Scully - sorry Dana?" Scully looked up at him, smiling like a Cheshire cat. "*Sweetheart*, somehow I don't think anyone is going to mistake that chaste little kiss for the passion of honeymooners. I think this is more appropriate." She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his in a hot, open mouthed kiss. He involuntarily clutched at her hips in surprise, pulling her closer to him. Shit! Scully was kissing him, although her tongue was noticeably absent, he thought somewhat deflated. Good ole Scully - always the professional, even when kissing him in the name of duty. Finally she drew back and flashed him a grin before following the waiter to their table. He grimaced slightly when he realized that he had a rather obvious erection forming. Holding his coat in front of him to cover it, he followed her to the table. *** Scully couldn't conceal the wide grin on her face as she walked to the table. Luckily, Mulder was behind her and couldn't see it. She'd kissed him! Maybe not properly, but it was a huge leap forward in Scully and Mulder Land. She had to admit she was starting to enjoy this assignment. During their last undercover assignment she had been too angry with him to enjoy it. She had been still smarting from the Diana Incident, as she referred to it in her mind, and his lack of trust in her judgement when she had ventured to express her doubts about Diana. Now that her anger had died down she had been surprised at what had taken over. Jealousy. Pure and simple. Dana Scully had come to the forefront, pushing Agent Scully aside with sharpened claws, ready to do battle. This realization had forced her to admit what she had previously tried to ignore. She wanted Mulder for her own. And until Diana Fowley had come onto the scene she had been confident that Mulder was hers, in a nice safe way. Now she wasn't so sure, and when the potential loss of him had stared her in the face she had realized just how much he meant to her. And then of course there was sex. Lately she had found herself in bed tallying up the reasons why she *should* have sex with him, rather than the other way around. Well maybe not 'tallying', as there was only one reason. But it was a powerful reason. She wanted him. God, she wanted him. Maybe that was why she had suddenly found the courage to kiss him. Still, she'd managed to keep it on a professional level - if it's even possible to kiss your work partner in a professional manner. Even with no tongues, however, the kiss had sent bolts of arousal to her groin. And don't think she hadn't noticed his erection. Settling themselves in, he leaned over and murmured, "Nice going Scully - at least half the restaurant noticed us. What are you going to do to get the other half to notice?" She smirked. "You can only dream Mulder. Besides, it's your turn next. Just remember, keep those hands in check, and I don't want your tongue *anywhere* near me," she said with a raised eyebrow. She was such a good liar sometimes. "What are you suggesting Scully? That I have no self-control? I can be just as professional as you are about this. It's just another job." Scully ran her eyes over the menu, smiling slightly. "Protesting too much, methinks," she murmured. Her smile widened at Mulder's irritated response. "Scully, you may look cute in that dress, but trust me - you're not irresistible. At least - not to me." She looked up at him with a cool smile. "Really *Rob*. I beg to differ." "And what makes you say that Dana?" he said, with equal parts irritation and humor. "Let's just say, that wasn't a gun you had in your pocket. I think you *were* just happy to see me." She smirked at him before continuing to peruse the menu. Mulder blushed and leaned over so that nobody could overhear. "Don't flatter yourself, Scully. That was merely a normal physiological reaction. You're a doctor - you should know that." When she didn't respond, he added, a little more sarcastically than he intended, "I've resisted you for 7 years now, so I think I'll manage tonight. Thanks for your concern though." She looked up and gave him an incredulous stare. "You've resisted me? *You've* resisted *me*?? Mulder, if anyone has been doing the resisting it was me. If I had responded to any one of your many advances, you would have melted like butter in the summer sun. So don't flatter *yourself*." They glared at each other. Finally he broke their silence, leaning back casually and smiling at her, "Dana, believe me, if I had *really* been making advances towards you, we'd be at home right now, and you'd be naked on the floor and begging me for it." Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. The arrogant bastard! (She refused to acknowledge the little voice inside her head saying "He is right though, isn't he.") Well she'd wipe that self-satisfied smile off his face soon enough. "So Rob, care to put your money where your mouth is?" He looked up, startled. "What are you suggesting Dana?" "Well, you seem to think that if you turned the full force of your charm on me, I'd be - and I quote - 'begging for it'. I dispute that. Furthermore, I believe that if anyone were to beg anyone, it would be *you* begging me, not the other way around." "So the wager is...?" "$100. The loser is the person who breaks first. Just to spell it out - the person who begs for it first." She smirked at his reaction. He looked rather shocked at her proposal. Frankly she was also rather shocked at what she had just proposed, but she couldn't deny the tingle of excitement coursing through her. Fox Mulder was not going to know what had hit him. *** Mulder stared at her, amazed. "Scully," he finally managed to stutter out in a low voice. "Don't you think we're starting to skate on thin ice? I mean...this could lead to..." He stopped, not really wanting to spell out what he had been trying to get at. Sex - this could lead to sex. Frankly he *wanted* it to lead to sex - every damn thing he did with Scully he wanted to lead to sex, but he had accepted that it never would. Now however, she had thrown him a curve ball, and although she was proposing something that he could have dreamed up in some lust-filled fantasy, some chivalrous part of him still felt compelled to warn her - give her a way out. Goddamm his gentlemanly nature. She leaned towards him and said coolly, "Mulder, *you* may be skating on thin ice, but *I'm* not. I have no intention of even coming close to losing this bet. Besides, the terms of the bet was 'begging for it' not *actually* doing it. So don't get your hopes up," she said with a grin. "Or anything else for that matter." Right. If she was going to play hardball, then so was he. Damn chivalry - it was dead anyway. "Ma'am have you made your decision yet?" Mulder jumped slightly. He had been so intent on watching Scully gaze hungrily at the menu that he hadn't noticed the waiter approach. "Ummm lets see." She licked her lips and looked up at him through her eyelashes. "What do you recommend? I'm very hungry," she purred. Mulder's eyes widened in surprise. Goddamm, she was flirting with him. Well if she thought that seeing her flirt with another guy was going to turn him on, then she was sadly mistaken. Although she did look rather cute, the way she pouted her lips. "Ah...well, the seafood salad is very good. It has fresh asparagus, avocado, a variety of seafood..." He trailed off as she looked up at him and smiled a slow smile. "That sounds fantastic...James. Could you do me a favor James?" He leaned closer, captivated by her. "Sure, anything." "Could you bring me the dressing on the side?" He smiled broadly. He could do that for her. "Certainly Ma'am." Turning on his heel he walked off, only to return shamefaced a few moments later. "Uh, sorry Sir, can I take your order?" Mulder glared at him. "I'll have the lobster. And can you bring me and my *wife* some champagne please." The waiter nodded, still blushing, and sped off. "So Dana, any rules for this little wager of ours?" She cocked her head to one side as she considered the idea. Finally she shook her head, causing her hair to swing gently around her cheeks. "No, I don't think so. Anything goes Rob. Unless you're not game?" "Oh I'm game alright." Poor Scully, he thought smugly. He'd never let on to her, but he knew exactly what would push her buttons. He always got the best reaction from her when he was cute, sweet and gently attentive. He knew she'd be expecting him to turn on the full sexy charm - the flirtatious suggestive comments, the compliments, the sexy leers - but that could degenerate into sleaziness. And sleaziness would *never* win over Dana Scully. Nope, he'd go for cute, affectionate and lots of touching. Lots of touching. As for her, well she'd made it clear already that she *was* going to turn on the sexy charm and frankly, that was dangerous. Even the thought of Scully being slightly sleazy sent a rush of blood to his groin. He was a man after all. However, he consoled himself with the fact that even if he lost this bet - he won. He'd give his right arm to have Scully come on to him, and here she was handing it to him on a silver platter. Really, his only test was to hold out for as long as possible so that he could enjoy this. The champagne arrived quickly and Mulder poured them both a glass. "To us," he said, raising his glass. "To us," she repeated. He brought his chair closer to hers. "So have you looked around yet? Any likely candidate?" They had been seated so that their backs were to a corner and they were able to see almost the entire room. And, of course, the entire room was able to see them. "Everyone seems to be in couples or families. Nobody is alone. But I guess it would draw too much attention to come here alone. Nobody seems to have been looking at us though." "Well I guess we simply haven't drawn enough attention to ourselves," he murmured into her ear. And then he kissed her earlobe, noting her shiver as he did so. He continued his trail of kisses softly down her neck and then back up to her cheek. She didn't turn to look at him, instead she kept her eyes fixed ahead. Chuckling quietly, he grabbed her jaw gently between his thumb and forefinger and turned her face towards him. "Whatsa matter Scully," he whispered. "Don't you want me to kiss you?" He ran his forefinger lightly over her lips. "I want to kiss you Scully, but I wont if you don't want me to. I wonder what you taste like? Champagne maybe, mixed in with your own slight saltiness. Do you want me to kiss you Scully?" "Your dinner Ma'am." *** Thank God! Scully could have kissed the waiter. Saved by a seafood salad. Okay, Mulder was better at this than she'd predicted. Or maybe she was just so far gone over him that she had only a few vestiges of will-power left, because she was ready to grab him and pull him under the table with her, and all he'd done was kiss her neck. Dammit, it was time to turn the tables. First she slipped off the wrap that came with her dress, revealing only tiny shoestring straps and a great deal of cleavage. Well, a great deal for her. It was chilly without the wrap, and she considered putting it back on again. Until she saw Mulder's eyes popping out of his head as he stared at her chest. Yep, stared. She glanced down and realized that it was quite a sight - she had no bra on and she was *cold*. Normally she would have thrown that wrap back on so fast, but tonight she needed every advantage she could get. And Mulder was a very visual man. She would have to take advantage of that. She leaned over to get a look at his meal, affording him a better view of her cleavage. "Your lobster looks great. Can I try some?" Reluctantly he dragged his eyes up to her face. "You haven't even tried your own yet Scu - Dana. I'll give you some in a moment." She smiled and turned back to her own meal. It did look delicious - spears of fresh asparagus, slivers of avocado, prawns, scallops and crab. It was huge and she would never finish it, but that's what Mulder was for. She picked up a spear of asparagus in her fingers and dipped it in the sauce. As Mulder looked up from her lobster she tilted her head back and lowered the asparagus into her mouth, sucking the sauce off as she gently withdrew the vegetable. She noted with satisfaction the rising flush in Mulder's cheeks. "Mmm," she moaned, "This sauce is fantastic. Here, try some." She dipped her finger in the sauce and held it out for Mulder. Raising an eyebrow at her, he took her hand in his and drew her finger into his mouth. Okay, that was a *bad* move. He wasn't content with just licking the sauce off. He was sucking her finger, and running his tongue up and down her sensitive flesh. This felt good. Too good. She tried to pull her finger out of his mouth, but he wouldn't let her. He suckled at it some more before he finally released it. "Hmm, it is nice," he said smugly. She raised an eyebrow at him and placed the same finger in her mouth, sucking his saliva off. They locked eyes as she sucked, and she realized that her action was turning her on as much as it was obviously turning him on. Eat your dinner Dana, she told herself. End Part 1 From: "nicknoc@hotmail.com" Date: Sat, 06 Nov 1999 13:33:10 +1100 Subject: xfc: NEW: Loser Takes All (Part 2 of 2) Source: xfc From: "nicknoc@hotmail.com" Loser Takes All By Nicknoc See part 1 for disclaimers Part 2 Mulder watched as Scully ducked her head and began eating, suddenly ignoring him. He smirked. She wasn't quite so in control now. Time for the second wave of his onslaught. "Dana," he murmured in a husky voice. "Want some lobster?" She looked up quickly and he chuckled. She could ignore him, but she couldn't ignore lobster. He pulled a nice chunk of flesh out of the shell and held it out for her. But instead of taking it with her fingers, she leaned forward and ate it out of his hand, making sure she licked his fingers in the process. Her shoulder strap slipped off as she leaned over and his senses were assaulted with the sight of a creamy expanse of flesh as well as her hot tongue lapping at his fingers. Okay, that was erotic. He quickly cleaned the remaining lobster juice off his fingers with the finger bowl and napkin and then ran his finger up her arm, bringing her strap back up with it. "You have beautiful breasts." Her head snapped up to look at him, and his cheeks colored. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. She looked at him guardedly, as if gauging whether his comment was just part of their bet. His heart constricted as he realized she really didn't know whether he was serious or not. How could she not know? How could she not know how alluring and attractive he found her? Because you've never told her, you stupid bastard. "I mean it Scully. I think you're beautiful and sexy. I'm sorry I haven't told you before." She still continued to stare at him, fork paused halfway to her mouth. As the seconds ticked by he began to feel more and more uncomfortable. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. Maybe he'd completely misjudged the situation and he'd crossed a line that she didn't want him to cross. He picked up his glass, and had a mouthful of champagne. It was safer if he didn't say anything more. *** As she watched Mulder pick up his glass she realized she still hadn't responded. She'd left him hanging after he'd just told her she was beautiful. Not even a 'Thank you Mulder.' But she was stunned. He'd told her she was beautiful. And sexy. And the tone of his voice told her that he wasn't playing any games - he meant it. He'd never said anything like that to her before. He'd teased her about being his one in five billion; in times of anguish he'd told her she made him a complete person. But there was no anguish here, and no teasing. He'd just told her straight out that he thought she was beautiful and sexy. Not just that she *was*, but that he *thought* she was - a distinction which, to her, meant a lot. She put down her fork, trying to gather her thoughts and think of a suitable and meaningful response. When she realized she had no words to do justice to what she felt, she leaned over and placed her hand against his cheek. Pulling his head towards his, she pressed her lips against his and moved them against his until his lips parted. She flicked her tongue out and was gratified to hear the whisper of a whimper emanate from him. Pulling him closer, she delved into his mouth with her tongue, until he was kissing her back with a passion that nearly took her breath away. His tongue stroked hers, and then forced its way into her mouth until they were exchanging hot, open mouthed kisses, oblivious to the stares of the people in the restaurant around them. Finally, Scully pulled back and shyly wiped her hand over her mouth. "That was from me Mulder. Nothing to do with the bet, and nothing to do with tonight. Just me." Mulder heart skipped a beat. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her ear. "The bet's over Scully. You win. Consider this me begging for it." Scully laughed and squeezed his hand that was resting on her leg. "Let's call it a draw, shall we?" They were interrupted by Mulder's cell phone. "Yes Sir. Okay Sir. Uh yeah, we did. Thanks. Okay, I'll let her know. Thanks." He put down his phone with a big grin at Scully. "What?" "That was Detective Lampett. Thanking us for a job well done." At her mystified look his smile widened. "They just got him. Outside, preparing his 'equipment' for us. Apparently that last kiss sent him over the edge. In the words of Detective Lampett 'You two must have put on quite a show'" Scully snorted. She raised her glass to Mulder. "Do you think this will go down in history as our easiest job ever?" "I don't know about that, but I think it will go down in history as our most pleasurable job." "So what next?" she asked after draining her glass. Now that their suspect was caught, she didn't need to watch her alcohol consumption. "Well..." said Mulder slowly. "We could take advantage of the Bureau's generosity, and finish our meals. Or we could not." She took a moment to digest what he was implying. "Why don't you drive me home?" she finally said. *** Mulder couldn't get her out of the restaurant fast enough. On the way home he felt her gaze on him. When he turned to meet her stare she turned away, with a slight smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Facing the road again, he saw her turn to look at him once more. Okay, she wanted to look at him - god knows he'd stared at her enough in the last 7 years. He wondered if she could see the prominent bulge in his pants. He could almost feel her eyes burning tracks on him, and the feeling that she was devouring him with her eyes was intensely arousing. Up ahead he saw the light turn amber. Good. As he pulled to a standstill, he turned and roughly pulled her across the console, pressing his lips fiercely against hers. It was not the most skilful kiss, but what he lacked in finesse he more than made up for in passion. He swept his tongue into her mouth and she responded with a small moan. His hand traveled up her hip and across the satin material clinging to her stomach before cupping her breast. This time they both moaned. Fuck! Mulder glared into his rear-view mirror. Would it be improper use of his power to arrest that guy? He screeched off, oblivious to Scully's silent laughter, and made it back to her apartment without causing an accident. By the time they made it to her door he could barely contain himself as he watched her fumble for her keys. His hands stole to her hips and gently massaged them, reveling in the feel of the satin sliding over her skin. He noted with satisfaction the shaking of her hands as she tried to get the key in the keyhole. He slipped his hands around to cup her breasts and she stopped even trying to get the key in. Leaning her head back against his chest as he lightly stroked her nipples she croaked, "Mulder, if you don't let go of me there is *no* way I am going to be able to open this door." He grinned. Her nipples were like two hard little stones beneath his fingers and he began massaging her breasts more fully, peering down at her cleavage as he pushed them together and then apart and then together... "Mulder?" "Well Scully," he murmured into her ear. "They're not my neighbors, so I guess I don't care if we never make it inside." She brought her hands up to cover his. "I care Mulder. Please, just stop for one second." He obeyed long enough for her to open the door, and then he pushed her forward, spinning her around and kicking the door closed with his foot. Before she even had time to speak his lips were against hers, drinking her in. Still maintaining lip contact, he bent down and lifted her up so she was pressed against his chest, feet dangling. Tongue stroking hers, he began stumbling towards her bedroom. And then he stopped. Mortification overcame him as he realized that he had just assumed this was what she wanted. Certainly she was kissing him back with equal passion, but a passionate kiss didn't necessarily mean sex was on the cards. God knows he'd learned that lesson many times over in high school. He pulled back from her mouth and she wrapped her legs around his waist to get a better grip. "Uh...Scully -" "What's up Mulder? Apart from the obvious I mean." She began tracing the outline of his jaw with little bites. "You want to do it in the hallway?" she murmured against his skin. "Kinky." He laughed in relief. "I was just checking...that you really wanted this. We don't have to go all the way if you don't want to." He winced at the schoolyard phrase, but it was the only way his lust-addled brain could think to put it. She ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. "Mulder, I want this. I want you. I thought that was obvious by the way I had my legs wrapped around you and was pressing myself into your erection." He laughed, a bit embarrassed. "Well yeah, but you know - girls press themselves against my erection all the time and it doesn't necessarily mean anything." "Blow up girls don't count Mulder." He shot her a mock outraged look and almost ran into the bedroom with her, tumbling them both onto the bed. Lying atop her he paused to look at her closely. This was a Scully he'd never seen before. Hair wild, cheeks flushed and glowing, lips swollen and eyes hooded with arousal. This was the Scully he'd waited almost 7 years to see. "What took us so long Scully?" he asked softly. She shrugged slightly. "Fear? Uncertainty? Not wanting to upset a status quo that worked so well?" He gazed at her. "You know I love you don't you?" She smiled widely. "Actually no. So I'm glad you told me." His eyes widened in surprise. "Wasn't it obvious?" Her mind flashed back to their argument over Diana. "No Mulder, it was never obvious," she said quietly. "I love you too. Just in case that's not obvious either." He grinned in relief. "Thanks. I'm no good at reading between the lines." "Well in that case, I'd like to make another thing clear." She moved her hips under his suggestively. "I'm starting to get restless Mulder. You have what I want." He thrust gently into her. "Demanding aren't we?" Scully giggled. She'd show him just how demanding she could be. Grasping his head between her hands she pulled him forward and pressed her lips firmly against his. Undulating her hips beneath him she began exploring his mouth slowly with her tongue. He tasted divine - traces of champagne mixed in with his own distinct flavor. It was a heady mixture. Not breaking contact with his mouth she turned him over so she was lying on top of him. She sat up, straddling his hips, and he moaned at the loss of her mouth. Scully smiled - he'd be moaning for a lot more than that in a moment. Wriggling so she positioned herself firmly over his erection, she began unbuttoning his shirt, leaning over in the process so he had a full view down her dress. When the shirt was fully unbuttoned, she pushed it aside, exposing his chest to her wandering fingers. She scratched her fingernails down his sides, fascinated with the faint red marks that appeared instantly on his smooth skin. His flesh looked so inviting and she bent to explore his chest with her mouth, alternating kisses with small bites. His nipples hardened into tiny peaks and he began thrusting upwards into her groin. She sat back and rotated her hips, enjoying the sensation of his hardness against her soft, sensitive flesh. He groaned and clamped his hands onto her hips, pulling her hard down onto him. Scully placed her hands over his, and together they ground into each other, eyes locked in sultry, silent communication. She released his hands and ran her own hands over her stomach, up to her breasts. He watched, enthralled, as she played with her nipples until they jutted out, straining against the satin of her dress. "Show me," Mulder demanded huskily, still thrusting against her. Smiling sexily, Scully slipped the spaghetti straps off her shoulders. Holding her arm across her breasts to keep the dress up, she slipped first one arm, then the other out of the dress. Teasingly, she let the material fall slowly, exposing her breasts inch by inch. "Scully..." breathed Mulder as the dress pooled around her waist, exposing her creamy pink-tipped breasts. "You're magnificent." She picked up his hands gently and placed them against her breasts. They both moaned at the sensation. Unable to contain himself any longer, Mulder sat upright, nearly toppling her off in the process. Capturing her in a deep kiss he fondled her breasts, causing her breathing to become even more rapid. "I want to taste you Scully," he muttered against her mouth. "I want to see if you taste like I've imagined." "What do you think I taste like Mulder?" "Tangy, like limes, but deeper, richer, more savory. Musky...like you smell, only stronger." While he spoke he lifted her off his lap and propped her gently up against her pillows, pausing to suckle her nipples. She whimpered at the sensation and her hands cradled his head, following its path as he kissed down her belly. He lifted the dress up so it created a silky band across her waist and then pressed his face into her satin-covered mound, inhaling her scent. Her fingers gripped tighter, tangling in his hair, and she thrust her hips up to meet his mouth. She felt his tongue lapping at her through her underwear. Jesus! Did anything ever feel so good?! She began thrusting towards him, matching the rhythm of his tongue. "Mulder, Mulder...oh God, Mulder," she moaned. *** Mulder smiled against her. Her moans and entreaties were an incredible turn-on. For a second he paused, wanting to savor this moment. This was the top of the list as far his Scully fantasies went and he almost wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He considered this the most intimate of sexual acts and he couldn't believe that Scully was letting him share this with her. Actually, she wasn't just *letting* him, she was positively encouraging him. As if to prove his point, she moaned again and thrust against his mouth. He quickly pulled her panties down and then sought out her clitoris with his tongue, giving it a light flick which caused her to cry out. He was fast discovering the sheer delight of making love to Dana Scully. Not only was she incredibly sensitive to his caresses, but she was endearingly abandoned about showing her pleasure. He stroked her clitoris with his tongue, keeping his touch light, but his movement rapid. Her fingers clutched sporadically at his hair, and she kept up a stream of sexual babble, "God yes Mulder, just like that, just like that, don't stop, please Mulder, don't stop, ohgodohgodohgod...Muuulder!" This last cry of his name tore out of her throat as she came, and he kept his mouth against her, wanting to feel the vibrations of her orgasm. When she had finished and lay limply on the bed, he slid up her body until they were face to face. She turned her flushed and sweaty face to him and said, "I want you to come in me." Okay, he hadn't been prepared for *that* and he almost came at the sounds of those words tumbling out of her mouth. But fortune smiled upon him, and he managed to hold back while he quickly pulled his pants and boxers off. He left his dress shirt flapping around him - it wasn't important and every second he wasted was a second he wasn't in Scully. He positioned himself over her and she obliging pulled her legs up and wrapped them around his waist. Reaching a hand down to help guide him in, Scully grasped his thickened cock. Her eyes widened and she arched an eyebrow at him. "Much bigger than I remembered," she smirked. "Much, much bigger." "Yeah, well - you didn't see me in ideal circumstances that time. Now *this* is the ideal circumstance..." Their grins faded as Mulder pressed himself into her, both of them overtaken by the sensation of his hard flesh being enveloped by her pulsating muscles. When he was fully surrounded by her, he paused, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the moment. Finally he croaked out, "You feel amazing Scully." She smiled and ran her hand lightly through his hair. "*You* feel amazing Mulder." As Mulder began stroking she closed her eyes, giving in to the sensation of Fox Mulder making love to her. He watched her reaction, still slightly in awe of what was happening between them. But as he picked up pace, his eyes fell closed too. Now it was all about touch - the ultimate tactile experience. When Mulder could hold back no longer, he began pumping furiously into her. He could feel his orgasm rising, and although he wanted to hold back to try to give her another orgasm, he knew he was fighting a losing battle. And when Scully pulled his head down and whispered in his ear, "Come for me Mulder", it was all over. He came into her in huge pulsating bursts before slumping on top of her, completely spent. After what could have been a few seconds or a few minutes, Scully wriggled under him. "Mulder, you're much heavier than you look." "Mmph, sorry Scully." He slid off her, and positioned himself comfortably with his head on one breast and one hand clasped possessively around the other. "You're not going to fall asleep on me, are you?" she murmured. "Mmhuh," he nodded happily. She smiled. Noticing his shirt was still on, she undid the buttons at the wrist of the hand he had wrapped over her breast. Gently lifting his fingers off, she managed to slip his arm out of the shirt and pull it to one side, exposing his back, before placing his hand back on her breast. She was too wired to sleep, so she may as well have the pleasure of running her hands over his smoothly, muscled back. Casting her eyes down his body, she noticed she still had her dress on. Well sort of on - it was crumpled around her waist, and probably had numerous bodily juices on it by now. Maybe she should save it - you never know when a semen stained dress can come in handy. She laughed at the thought, causing Mulder's head to bob up and down slightly. He was so fast asleep he didn't even stir. The sudden realization that Mulder was asleep on her caused a lump in her throat. This was a man who went days without sleeping, trusting her enough to sleep like a baby wrapped around her. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her nose in his soft hair. Breathing in his scent, she found herself relaxing. His smell was so familiar to her, bringing with it flashbacks of good times and horrible times. But above all it brought with it a sense of calm. Keeping her nose buried in his hair, she fell into a deep and comfortable sleep.

[thisis4fanfiction]

An eyeful by Unknown

Mulder looked up from the file he was reading when Scully walked into the office carrying two cups of coffee. "What took you so long?" he queried. He watched as an eyebrow arched skyward. She set his cup down on his desk. "Don't even start with me, Mulder. First of all, the only reason I even make the coffee to begin with is because my stomach can't tolerate the tar that you call coffee. Second of all, the reason I took so long is because I had to go beg coffee from Kimberly. I could have sworn that there was enough coffee left on Friday to last this week. I guess someone else ran out and decided to use ours." He nodded. "Oh, I was just curious." He decided that this would not be the best time to tell her that when he had made himself a pot of tar on Saturday night, he had spilled the rest of the coffee on the floor. That would be admitting two things; that he had forgotten to replace the coffee and that he had no place better to be on a Saturday night. "New case?" she nodded towards the file in his hand and took a sip of her coffee. "Mmm hmm, Skinner just dropped it off," he motioned with his head for her to come and look at it. He watched as her eyes widened as she read the first page. "I've been following this case in the paper. Why are the FBI involved?" "The latest victim was picked up in D.C. and her body was found in Virginia." Mulder told her. "Another prostitute?" Scully asked, turning to the next page. "Yup, dressed like a kid,too, but she was 25," "This isn't even close to an X-file, Mulder. Why'd Skinner give it to us?" "He didn't. The official line was that they need all the people they can get, but Skinner also said no one would mind if I wanted to draw up a quick profile." Scully snorted. "The only reason your pet project is even tolerated, Mulder, is because they know they can count on you for things like this when they need you. After five victims in as many weeks they are starting to feel some heat, so they come running to you." "Best not to burn my bridges." He looked at his watch. It was eight-thirty. "Everyone is meeting in the 4th floor conference room at nine. I'm going to track down a couple of police reports," he told her. He took the file back from her and headed towards the door. "Skinner said you could join us if you've got nothing better to do." he called back as he headed towards the elevator. After Mulder tracked down the missing police reports he headed to the conference room to jot down a few more notes. There were approximately fifty law enforcement officers in the conference room; only nine were women, Mulder noticed immediately. An audible buzz began as Mulder made his way to the front of the room to join Skinner. He sat down and began to jot down a few more notes when something made him look up. Scully had come in and was taking a seat at the back. He wasn't surprised to see her. He was constantly amazed, however, that he could tell instantly whenever she entered a room. He could sense her, like they had a telepathic connection. Skinner stood up and quieted the room down. While he went over the preliminaries, Mulder collected his thoughts. He heard Skinner say his name so he stood to join him. "I know a lot of what I'm about to say has been covered in most of the other profiles that I've read, so I'll try to be brief." Mulder glanced at his notes before he began to address the room. "The killer is most likely a white male between 18 and 30, based on his preference for young women and girls. He's probably small and unassuming; your typical guy next door. I don't think he would've managed to graduate from high school, not because he wasn't smart enough; it was probably a self-esteem thing. For that same reason he can't hold down a job. He quits because he thinks he should paid more or get a promotion, but he never does anything to advance his own case. I know this sounds cliche but he doesn't feel like he has any control in the things that happen to him, like he doesn't have the power to change anything." Mulder looked over at Scully, expecting to see a smirk, but she remained stoic. She probably wouldn't think that this was an appropriate time for making jokes. Mulder decided to just forge ahead. "I think he takes these girls in retaliation for some real or imagined humiliation that he endured as a teen. It may have been no more than most kids usually go through in school, or it could have been very severe. In either case this humiliation that he suffered at the hands of his peers would only have compounded what was most likely a miserable homelife. He probably witnessed the physical or emotional abuse of his mother, who was also likely powerless to stop any abuse that her child or children might be subjected to. In whatever form that abuse may have taken it would only have served to increase his insecurity." Mulder glanced up to see heads nodding in agreement as he spoke. "Something must have happened recently in his life to trigger this killing spree. We know that it isn't likely that he has an underlying mental disorder, but we shouldn't count it out. He probably just doesn't have the capacity to deal with all the crap in his life. Some people's crap tolerance level isn't as high as most of ours is, maybe he just reached his limit." He got a few snickers out of the room. He was relieved. He knew they were listening, and it also served to diminish the almost palpable tension in the room. "I know that local law enforcement has taken to calling this guy the 'Lolita Killer' because of his preference for young girls, or prostitutes who dress like young girls, but I have been informed that our superiors would like us to refrain from using nicknames while we're in the field." Skinner nodded in agreement. Mulder continued with his analysis. "The fact that the faces of the victims were cut up so badly, indicates pent-up rage. The fact that he disfigured them at all says to me that he was trying to hide their identities, not from us, but from himself. He didn't want to see them for who they really were. Also, the fact that he covered them up so demurely must mean that he respected them, or who they represented to him in some way." Mulder drew a long breath. "Unfortunately, none of this narrows down the white male population between 18 and 30 enough to be of much use to us. On top of that we have very little physical evidence to go on. I know I said that I don't think that the killer made it through high school, but he apparently was still smart enough not to leave behind much physical evidence." Mulder opened the case file and looked at it. He hesitated momentarily. "Umm, I think my partner would do a better job of going over the forensic details of the case." Scully looked up in surprise, both eyebrows raised. Mulder tried to plead with his eyes. He saw her soften in resignation. She turned to her own copy of the forensic reported and scanned it briefly before she began to speak. "As Agent Mulder has already told you, the perpetrator didn't leave any significant physical evidence behind. No ejaculate was found at the scene, but we know that he used condoms, since condom wrappers were found near all the victims. This also indicates that he didn't move the bodies after death. Traces of Nonoxyl-9, a spermicide that is commonly used on condoms was found on each of the victims. Since all of the victims were prostitutes we can't be sure if it was a result of this specific sexual encounter. Two of the victims had a latex sensitivity which caused a telltale irritation of their vaginal lining, but again due to fact that they were prostitutes, this may have been from previous sexual activity. Several pubic hairs not consistent with the victim's were also recovered in each case. Unfortunately these hairs weren't consistent with each other, indicating more than one sexual partner. The only evidence that intercourse may have taken place is the presence of the condom wrappers. The only discernable prints on the wrappers were the victim's." Mulder watched her face as she spoke. If this was affecting her, there were no outward signs. She was standing there in her immaculate navy suit, looking like the consummate professional that she was, calmly detailing the forensic evidence. He suddenly felt guilty for making her talk about the most brutal aspect of the case; the part he felt uneasy discussing himself. He hoped that her years as a pathologist helped her to distance herself from the horrific nature of cases like this. All of his years with VICAP hadn't helped him in the least. She must have noticed how intently he was watching her because she glanced up at him. He nodded in what he hoped was encouragement. She took a deep breath and continued. "If there was any sexual activity, it wasn't brutal; there was no bruising or tearing of the victim's vaginal walls or bruising of the thighs. So, death occurred after the consensual sex and presumably, ejaculation," Scully told them in conclusion. Mulder picked up the reins again. "Now as Agent Scully said, death occurred after consensual sex. This leads me to believe that the killer was expecting something more from the victims than he was getting; not sexually but emotionally." "I suspect that the killer convinced himself that he was 'in love' with these girls and that they, in turn, loved him. When this turned out not to be the case...when he was laughed at, teased or turned down...that is when things got ugly." Mulder saw and heard everyone's agreement as people nodded and murmured as he spoke. "He killed them by strangling them with some article of their own clothing. The mutilation of the victims was all postmortem." As he spoke, Mulder watched Scully nod in agreement as well. "I think the only thing that could help us right now would be a decoy. Unfortunately, I don't think we have..." "I'll do it." All the heads turned to look at Agent Scully. Mulder shook his head. "What? You don't think I could pull it off?" she raised her eyebrow, mostly at Mulder. "All of the victims were much younger than you, Agent Scully." It was A.D. Skinner speaking. "I still get carded, sir, I don't think there will be any problem with the age thing, if that's all you're worried about," she challenged everyone in the room, but she was still looking mostly at Mulder. The room was silent. Gazes were shifting uneasily between Scully, Skinner and Mulder, waiting for one of them to speak. "Let me go and get ready. I'll have to buy a few things. If everyone agrees that I can pull it off, then that'll be that," she told them. Mulder shrugged. Skinner gave his consent by nodding, and suddenly the room was buzzing. "I'll be back here by one," she said loudly, so that Skinner could hear. Skinner nodded and Scully headed for the door of the conference room. Mulder practically had to run to catch up with her in the hall. He reached for her arm. "What Mulder?" she said without turning around. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. "Don't do this, Scully." "I thought you said you needed a decoy." He nodded. "You don't think I could pull off 25?" He frowned, "Of course I think you can. It's just...well...dammit, Scully, it's too dangerous." "Back there you were going to say that there weren't any female officers that fit the bill, weren't you?" He nodded again. "I think I can fit the bill, Mulder. It's my job. You can't let your personal feelings get involved here. I know you like to leave me behind when it might get dangerous; but that hasn't stopped me from being at risk, has it? I'll be well protected. I have to do this, Mulder, with or without your blessing. I have to do what I can to stop him. You've done what you do best. Now let me do something." She didn't wait for him to answer. She turned and walked down the hall. An Eyeful: 2/6 At five to one Scully showed up at the conference room. Everyone stared at her as she walked to the front of the room. She was wearing a trench coat, so they couldn't see what she was wearing, but her hair and make-up had them convinced already. She had the sides of her hair pulled up into a scrunch and the rest of her hair was curled and teased. She was wearing dark eyeliner and deep blue shadow. She had highlighted her cheeks with rouge and she was wearing candy apple red lipstick, but no foundation. The freckles seemed to jump off her face. Mulder was watching her intently. She looked fifteen. She was pulling it off no problem. He couldn't help wondering what she was wearing underneath the trench coat. All he could see was black leather boots. At one o'clock everyone was seated, looking at Scully with silent anticipation. No one more so than Mulder. Skinner nodded. Scully took off the trench coat and put it on the chair beside her. There were several gasps in the room. Mulder's cock began to grow hard immediately. A lot of the male officers were shifting around in their seats. The few women in the room were staring, wide eyed. Scully grinned and started working on a piece of gum. She was wearing a white blouse that she had rolled up and tied just beneath her breasts. None of the buttons were done up. The black lace push-up bra she was wearing underneath was plainly visible. Her breasts were spilling out of her shirt. At her hips began a few inches of pleated tartan cloth that ended just below her buttocks. The black leather boots came just above her knees. She turned to give everyone the full picture. Her tattoo was in full view. She cracked her gum. "So...whaddya think?" "Is there anyone here who thinks Agent Scully can't pull this off?" Skinner asked the room. There was complete silence. "Okay...we know this guy strikes early, so I say we hit the streets by eight. He hasn't picked anyone up later than ten. So if there's nothing by midnight we try again tomorrow. Agent Scully, could you please wait...I need to arrange a few details. Agent Mulder will be handling who goes where tonight, so see him for your assignments." Skinner spoke loudly to be heard over the din in the room. He made his way over to Scully. "We are going to set you up with a small body mike...although I have no idea where we're going to put it, and an earpiece. We will have other female agents there and some guys in drag...there will always be someone close. Mulder will be across the street in a black Camaro with tinted windows. He insisted. He already seemed to know that you'd be able to pull this off. I must say, Agent Scully, you really surprised me. You look great! I mean, well..." "I know what you mean sir. I knew I could do this because I spend most of my time trying not to look like this...fifteen, I mean." He smiled, "Okay...be back here at six to get wired and briefed." She nodded and headed for the door. "Scully! Wait up!" Mulder hurried towards her. "Are you finished already?" "I delegated...Can I drive you home?" "You wanna carry my books, too?" she grinned at him and blew a bubble. They headed out of the door together. Mulder had his hand on the small of her back, as usual, except now it was skin on skin. Mulder noticed that his hand was on her tattoo. "The tattoo helps," he commented. "I knew it would come in useful sometime," she smiled up at him. Being this close to her right now might be dangerous. Surely with all her medical training she would be able to spot his arousal instantly. He decided to just press on and hope for the best. Once they were in the car Mulder cleared his throat. "Can I ask you a couple of personal questions, Scully?" "Shoot." "What happened to your breasts...I mean...when did you get so... I mean..." She laughed, "It's the bra, Mulder. It's got these silicone things sewn into the bottom of the cup. It's designed not only to push the breasts up, but also to make them look bigger and fuller. Models use them all the time. I thought if I really wanted to catch someone's eye, this might help." "You don't need help to catch anyone's eye, Scully. If you were solely interested in turning men's heads, you know that you could if you wanted to. You dress to hide your body." "I guess I'm not interested in any man who is only interested in my body." Mulder fell silent. "You said you had a couple of personal questions, Mulder." "Oh, yeah...Um...are you wearing any...Um...panties?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Why do you ask?" she laughed and turned to look at him. "When you did your little spin... well, we all got an eyeful," his voice was very quiet. "Oh, sorry about that...and I'm wearing a thong." "I didn't say it was a bad eyeful." "Thanks, I think, Mulder," she laughed. It certainly wasn't a bad eyeful at all, Mulder thought to himself. He just wished everyone else didn't have to get an eyeful of what he considered his. He pulled up in front of her building. "So I assume you are picking me up?" Scully asked as she stepped out of the car. "Yeah...in the Camaro...at about 5:30. What are you going to do for the rest of the afternoon?" "Try to get some sleep, I think. It's going to be a long night," she smiled, "See you at 5:30." Mulder watched her walk into her building. He didn't drive away until she came to her living room window to wave. It made him feel more at ease to know she was safely inside, and she granted him this little concession. Sleep, he thought to himself, even if I deal with this raging hard-on, what gave it to me will still be burned into my eyes...I certainly won't be getting any shut-eye. Mulder was at her door at 5:25. He waited while Scully pulled on her boots, watching with rapt attention. He opened the car door for her, she looked at him questioningly. "Opening my door, Mulder?" He realized she must know something was up. He just shrugged it off without answering her question. He was silent for a couple of minutes, trying to decide whether or not he should tell her how he was feeling. She sat quietly while he drove, either not noticing his dilemma or just waiting patiently for him to come out with it. He couldn't tell which. Finally he took a deep breath. "I'm still really not very comfortable with this, Scully. I think it's too dangerous. No one would think less of you if you decided to back out, you know." "I'm not going to back out, Mulder...but I am curious about something," "What's that?" "Who, exactly, do you think you are to have any say in this? This is my decision. It has nothing to do with you." The shock was evident on his face. "Your friend!" "My friends don't tell me how to do my job. Do yours?" "Okay, your partner, then." "As my partner and fellow FBI agent you know that this kind of work is occasionally expected of us. You took a deep cover assignment that almost cost you your life without telling me what was going on, never mind looking for my approval." She pointed out. "Am I nothing more to you than your partner and friend?" "What else is there Mulder?" He said nothing. "I guess you're my best friend, Mulder and I don't want you to misunderstand. I do appreciate your concern, but you have to admit that this is my decision. The only thing that might hold me back Mulder would be if I had kids." "So if you were involved with anyone and they didn't want you to do this, you still would?" he asked. "I guess if I was involved in some sort of long-term relationship I might understand that person being concerned." "Don't we have a long-term relationship?" "I meant an intimate relationship, Mulder." He was quiet. They pulled into the underground parking at the J. Edgar Hoover building and headed up to the conference room. Skinner was there already. He headed towards them when he saw them. "There's a small room back here with all the electronic equipment. Let's get you wired and then test it out," he told them. They followed him into a room that had a small table in the centre of it that held all kinds of monitoring devices. Skinner picked up a body mike. He looked at it and then he looked at Scully. "I think you're going to have to handle this on your own, Agent Scully," he said, a little uncomfortable. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes," she said, taking a small roll of duct tape with her. She came back to the conference room about five minutes later. She walked over to Mulder. "Well?" she asked. "Well what?" "Can you see the mike?!" "Well, I didn't want to look too closely," he told her. "Well, out there tonight I'm sure I'm going to be inspected closely. So could you please look closely to see if you can see it?" He looked at her chest, a little longer than he found comfortable. He shook his head. "Nope, I see plenty...but no sign of a mike." "Sit in a chair, backwards," she told him. "Why?" "Just do it, Mulder!" He turned a chair around and sat on it. She put her hands on the back of the chair and leaned forward like she would if she was leaning into a car to talk to someone. "How about now?" she asked. Mulder was looking at her face. She was completely serious. He lowered his eyes to her chest. He was getting the full picture. Not much was being left to his imagination, but it was still working overtime, anyway. "I still don't see the mike...Oh and Scully, if we have to do this again, please ask one of the female agents to check you out." She stood up quickly. "Sorry, Mulder...I didn't mean to bother you," she spun around and started to walk away. He jumped up and went after her. He grabbed her arm and turned her towards him. "Scully...it's not that you're bothering me," he lowered his voice and leaned in close to her ear. "It's that I'm getting hot and bothered, okay? Just because we are partners and friends doesn't mean I'm not going to react when you shove your breasts in my face." "Sorry, Mulder...I thought you wanted me to be safe. I'm sorry if you can't keep your hormones under control long enough to make sure your partner and friend is not going ruin this operation by being caught wearing a mike. I won't bother you again." She tried to turn around and walk away from him, but he was still gripping her arm. "Scully, I--" he wanted to defend himself. "Let go of my arm, Mulder. I'm sure you don't want to make more of a scene then we already are." Mulder dropped her arm. He glanced around the room. Almost everyone was staring at them. He pursed his lips. He would have to apologize later. Scully had already walked away, and she was far too pissed at him right now to listen to anything he had to say. Skinner was calling for quiet. "Okay, people! It's time to get this show on the road." continued in 3/6 An Eyeful: 3/6 Mulder sat in the Camaro across the street from Scully and watched as yet another luxury car slowed to a stop in front of her. It had been that way all night; a long line of business men in expensive cars stopping to pick her up. Mulder could understand exactly how they felt. If he had been cruising by and seen Scully standing on the street looking the way she did, he sure as hell would be stopping to try and pick her up. The only notable exception to the parade of businessmen had been a thin young man who told Scully that she reminded him of his former girlfriend. She had them all drive to a pre-arranged location where they were promptly arrested. Upon his arrest, the young man crumpled and confessed to every sin he had ever committed. After some initial checks, including a call to his parents, it appeared that he had an alibi for at least three of the murders. In fact, at the time of the most recent murder he had been in Ohio playing with his college band at a football game. Mulder watched as Scully leaned in through the window of the car. As the night wore on he could tell she was getting more and more tired. He could hear it in her voice. "Looking for a date?" he heard her ask. "I sure am, sweetie. How much will it cost me?" the sound of the man's voice made Mulder's skin crawl. "That depends on what you're after?" Scully sounded coy. "With those luscious lips, baby, I'd really love a blow job." Mulder clenched his jaw. It was driving him nuts listening to all these men talk to Scully like this all night. He would have gladly strangled each and every one if he'd been able to get his hands on them. "A blow job'll cost you twenty," she told him. "Really, only twenty? How much for me to play with your tits, too?" "Son of a bitch," Mulder growled. "Take it easy, Mulder," Skinner's voice sounded in his ear. "If you want me to take my shirt off, too, that'll cost you another twenty." It stunned Mulder that Scully could sound so cheerful when he knew this had to be killing her. "Get in the car, sweetie, we got a date." Mulder watched as Scully got into the car. "So where are we going to do this, honey?" "Here in the car is fine with me. There is an alley just around the corner where we won't be disturbed," Scully directed him to the preset location. It was the time that Scully spent alone in the car with these men that scared Mulder the most. They could drive away with her and do some serious harm to her before anyone could catch up and stop them. "Anyone ever tell you that you've got really nice tits?" Mulder could practically hear the john drool. "Yeah, I hear that a lot." There was silence from the car for few seconds. "Why don't you wait until we stop, so I can take my shirt off?" Mulder wondered what was going on in the car, now. "Naw, I like the way they feel through your shirt. I can hardly wait until you get that shirt off. Why don't you take it off now?" "Sorry, I want to see the colour of your money first," Scully stalled him. "You're a shrewd businesswoman for a whore," he sneered. "Gotta pay the rent and I can't do that if I just give it away, can I?" she countered. "Well, here we are and here's the cash. Now I want to see those tits!" Mulder was relieved to hear a rap on the car window. "What the..." the man started. Mulder heard the power window as it went down. "Could you step out the car please, sir?" Mulder heard Agent Montero request. "Why, this young lady and I haven't broken any laws," he tried to defend himself. "This young lady is a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation," Scully's tone was decidedly cold. "No shit!" the man was amazed. "No shit, step out of the car please," Montero asked again. "What's this all about? Surely you're not going to bust me because I was looking for a little action, are you?" "Offering money in return for sexual acts is against the law, here sir." "Yeah, but why is the FBI involved in a shakedown?" "I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you, sir. Come with me, I'll take you to the police station." "Damn, I thought she looked to good to be true." At least he had one thing going for him, Mulder thought, he had good taste in women. He saw Scully reappear from the alley and he watched as she strolled back to her corner. It was 11:30 p.m. and Mulder was ready to call it quits. Skinner was apparently feeling the same because he decided that they had picked up enough of D.C.'s sexually frustrated for one night and told everyone to pack it in for the night. Mulder started his car and circled around to pick up Scully. She leaned into the window when Mulder lowered it. "Looking for a date?" she asked. "I think I only have twenty bucks on me," Mulder told her. "That'll only get you a blow job," she grinned as she got into the car. In their earpieces they heard several snorts and guffaws. Skinner congratulated everyone on their efforts that evening and reminded everyone to meet the following evening at six. Scully removed her earpiece and mike and put them in the purse that she had left in the car. Mulder put his in the ashtray. "I thought for a little while that we had him there," Mulder told her as he drove away. "Mmm, me too," she told him. They were quiet for a while as Mulder drove towards Georgetown. "You did really well out there tonight, Scully. I can't imagine how it must feel to put yourself on display like that." "I felt pretty naked," she admitted. "You were almost naked," Mulder pointed out. "It seemed to get the job done. We didn't get the guy, but maybe he wasn't out trolling tonight." "You certainly seemed to strike a lot of men's fancies." "Including yours?" she wanted to know. "I don't think any of the guys out there could help but be affected, Scully." "I thought you preferred 'experienced' women, Mulder," she challenged him. "I'm not into little girls, Scully, but you hardly look like a child." "So what's the attraction then?" "For those of us that know you,I think it was the transformation." "From tight-assed Agent Scully, to Dana, the pretty little whore." "No one thinks you're a whore, Scully." "I know, Mulder. I know what everyone thinks. Maybe that's why I got such a big of a kick out of it myself. Sometimes it's fun to shock people. Especially you." "You didn't shock me." "Okay. It was fun to see how much my transformation turned you on." He looked at her sideways. "Fun! A couple of hours ago you were chewing me out for being turned on." "At that point, Mulder, I needed you to have your head clear. Even though I knew I was doing the right thing, I was still nervous. You telling me that it was turning you on was not what I needed to hear." "So now you don't mind that I think you look..." his voice trailed off. She leaned closer to him and put her hand on his thigh. "Why does it embarrass you all of sudden to admit that you're turned on by the pretty little whore?" She ran her hand up his thigh a few inches. "Scully!" She shook her head. "The pretty little whore is called Dana." Her hand was only a few inches from the bulge in his jeans now. "What are you doing?" he voice was hoarse. "Giving you what you want." She unbuckled her seatbelt and knelt on her seat. Mulder was wide-eyed. "What is it that you think I want?" He almost lost control of the car when her hand moved to his erection. "A blow job from the pretty little whore." Her hand left his lap and she began to untie her blouse. "Jesus!" Mulder breathed. She tossed it onto the floor of the car. She sat back on her heels and began to unhook her bra. Mulder was starting to have trouble breathing. Scully tossed her bra onto the floor, on top of her shirt. She leaned over him and began patting his pockets, her bare breasts brushing up against him. "What the hell are you doing, Scully?" his voice was raspy. "Looking for your wallet...and the name is Dana." She reached underneath him, trying to feel for his back pockets. "Jackpot!" she grinned when she felt his wallet. She slid her hand into his pocket and struggled to free the wallet. Mulder lifted up off the seat, and she retrieved his wallet quickly. "Thanks," she grinned, opening up the wallet. "I hope you don't mind that I copped a feel while I was at it." Mulder looked at her, his eyes as big as saucers, and shook his head. She took the twenty out of Mulder's wallet. "Well I guess you can consider that a freebie, since you only have the twenty." She took the money and tucked it into the waistband of her skirt. She reached over and caressed his erection through his jeans. The car swerved within the lane. She chuckled. "Maybe you should pull over, Mulder. If you can't control the car when I'm just touching you through your jeans, how are you going to manage when your cock is in my mouth?" He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. They were already in Georgetown on a quiet residential street. Mulder pulled into the first free spot he saw. He turned the car off and quickly turned to face Scully. "What is going on? Why are you doing this?" he panted. "I thought you wanted me to," she reached for his fly, and began to unzip it, "but I'll stop if that's what you'd prefer." Mulder grabbed her wrist as she was about to reach into his jeans. His breath was coming in short gasps now. "I don't want you to stop. Please tell me you're not screwing with me." "Nope, you don't have enough money for that, just a blow job." He let go of her wrist. "Cause if you stop now, I can't be held responsible for my actions." "We are always responsible for our actions, Mulder," she told him as she reached into his jeans. He groaned as her hand grasped his cock through his boxers. "Mmmm, why would you let something this impressive go to waste for so long? Didn't you're mother teach you to share?" He mumbled something incoherent in response. She leaned over and pressed her lips against him through his boxers. "Jesus!" he gasped. Scully pulled his cock out of the opening in his boxers. She ran her hand up and down its length. Mulder moaned at the sensation. He was still having a difficult time believing that this was actually happening. He wasn't sure what he had done to deserve this, but he didn't want to stop and discuss it right now, either. As Scully's lips closed around the head of his cock, he quickly realized he wouldn't be capable of intelligent thought, not for a while anyway. Good God, she was good at this, although he couldn't remember ever having had a bad blow job. He couldn't remember a whole hell of a lot at this instant. He could only feel. He could feel her tongue swirling around his shaft, her lips gliding along its length, her teeth occasionally grazing him. He felt her hand grasp him firmly, and it began to follow the path her mouth was taking up and down his cock. He was stroking her hair. His mouth was forming incomprehensible words. He felt his balls tighten as his orgasm approached. He tried to say something to warn her, but as his climax overtook him he wasn't sure if he had managed to say anything. When his mind and body began to recover from the incredible heights she had taken him to, he realized that Scully had already put her shirt back on. "Scully...that was..." he started. "Why is it that you keep forgetting to call me Dana? So much for your eidetic memory." "Sorry," he mumbled. "Never mind, you're probably just as tired as I am. Are you okay to drive now? I can't wait to get into a hot bath. I'm sure I'm going to sleep the sleep of the dead tonight." "Yeah, I'm okay to drive," he told her as he started the car again. They drove in silence for a while. "Dana?" "Mmmm?" "I think we should talk," he ventured. "Not tonight, I'm too tired." "Are you sure?" "Very sure!" she said emphatically as he pulled up in front of her building. "Okay, see you tomorrow then, Scu--Dana." "Night," she mumbled as she got out of the car. Mulder waited for her to come to the window. He saw the light go on. He waited...nothing. He dialed her phone number. The phone rang once and then went straight to the machine. He tried her cell phone, but she had turned it off. He sat there wondering if he should go to the door. What if something was wrong? What if someone had broken in? No, she said she was tired. She probably headed straight to the tub. He decided to wait until she turned off the lights. His mind was racing too much for him to sleep right now, anyway. Scully was acting very strangely. It wasn't only the blow job, but her whole demeanor before and after. He had never seen her flirt like that or talk so suggestively before. Next came a mind altering blow job. Then she had become so incredibly cold. Not the usual Scully aloofness, but really icy. Could she be that pissed because he came in her mouth? He had tried to warn her. Had he done something wrong? Did he say something during his orgasm? He didn't think he had said anything that was even close to intelligible. Had she misinterpreted something he'd mumbled in the heat of passion? He would have to wait until tomorrow to ask her. On top of everything else he couldn't figure out what this "Dana" crap was. She was Scully to him; always would be. He really hoped that she didn't actually want him to call her Dana now that they had taken their relationship to a new level. He looked at her window, still hoping that she would remember to wave to him. Even if she remembered now, she would probably assume that he was long gone, he mused. Eventually he saw a shadow pass the window and the living room light went out. He sighed and started the car. If they had just taken their relationship to a new level, why did he feel so damned empty? continued in 4/6 An Eyeful: 4/6 Mulder slept late the following morning. He had been up far into the night mulling over the events of the previous day. As soon as he was somewhat conscious he phoned Scully. He got the machine again. He tried her cell, but it was still turned off. He figured she must still be sleeping. He really needed to talk to her. He had been trying to tell her how he felt for so long and something always screwed it up. Now she had taken the initiative, but it hadn't turned out at all like he had expected. He thought that when one of them finally dared to make the first move, they would fall into each others arms and spend eternity in sexual bliss. He did not expect Scully to become cold and distant. She usually only got like that when she was really pissed at him. Why the hell would she be so pissed off at him? He had definitely missed something. He would have to go over there and find out. By the time Mulder was on his way it was close to noon. He had tried to call Scully several times, but she still wasn't answering. He found a spot in front of her building and parked his car. He didn't see hers; maybe she had parked around back. He bounded up the stairs to her apartment, knocked loudly on the door and waited; no answer. He knocked again...nothing. He used his key and went in. He called her name as he walked through the apartment, but there was no sign of her. He plunked himself down on her couch with his head in his hands. He sat there, wracking his brain, trying to figure out what was going on. He lifted his head and looked around the room. Everything was so Scully. It was the little things that seemed to remind him of her the most; the votive holder she had picked up when they were in New Haven on a case, and the engraved sterling picture frame that cradled a picture of Emily. He could smell her perfume lingering in the air. There was a hint of something else, too. Probably something she used in her bath water. By just breathing deeply he could imagine that she was there, but the sinking feeling in his gut told him that things were not right. He wasn't sure what it was, but he felt like something was missing. It wasn't anything tangible. Whatever it was, it was making him edgy. If he could just talk to her, he needed to see her, hear her voice, then everything would be fine. He went to the office hoping she might have gone into work. The office door was still locked when he got there and there was no indication that anyone had been there since yesterday. Mulder sat down at his desk and switched on his monitor. He had several new e-mail messages; none were from Scully. He called Skinner's office to see if Scully had checked in. Kimberly was a little perplexed at the question, but told him that no, she had not heard from Scully either. Mulder spent the rest of the afternoon reading his e-mail, going over case files, straightening his desk drawers and phoning Scully about every fifteen minutes. It seemed to take forever for six o'clock to arrive. At five to the hour Mulder headed to the conference room. He tried to appear nonchalant, scanning the room as he strode in, but there was still no sign of Scully. He spotted Skinner standing near the front of the room and headed that way. "Sir, have you seen Agent Scully yet?" he tried not to sound panicked. "What? Oh, yeah, she's just getting wired," Skinner seemed distracted. Mulder wondered if his relief was visible. "Something wrong, sir?" "Just trying to make sure we aren't missing anything," he was flipping through the case file, "To be perfectly honest, Agent Mulder, I'm nervous about Agent Scully putting herself out there like this. We can't control everything." Mulder took a long shaky breath. "I know how you feel, sir, I'm worried about Scully,too. I wish she wasn't going out there again." "I wouldn't try to stop her, Mulder," Skinner warned. "You're right about that, sir, she'd kick my ass." Mulder was still laughing when Scully came into the conference room. He stopped abruptly. His cock reacted immediately at the sight of her. He watched her walked over to join a small group of female officers who were also dressed as hookers. As she walked towards them she scanned the room. Mulder waited for her to make eye contact with him, but her gaze passed over him without recognition. That confirmed it for him. She was definitely angry with him, but why? There was no time to talk to her about this now. He planned to drive her home after the stakeout again and this time he would find out what was going on. Skinner was calling for everyone's attention. It was time for Mulder to think about the case again. He hadn't thought about it since he picked Scully up last night. He hoped this operation would be over soon. For some reason when he and Scully had to liaise with other agencies or even with other departments within the bureau, things always got tense between them. Everything seemed to move along much more smoothly when it was just the two of them. Skinner nudged him out of his reverie; everyone was leaving. "She'll be fine, Mulder. We have a lot of good people looking out for her." Mulder nodded. "I know, sir." "Doesn't make you feel any better, does it?" Skinner noted. "Not in the least," Mulder admitted. In the first half hour of the stakeout Scully had already attracted two more of D.C.'s upstanding citizens. Mulder feared that they would waste another night's work arresting businessmen. He watched and listened closely as Scully's latest customer pulled to a stop in front of her. She leaned into the window of what appeared to be a family station wagon. Mulder was surprised to hear a young voice in his ear. "Hi Cindy," the voice sounded cheerful. "Am I Cindy?" Scully asked brightly. "Of course you are, who else would you be?" the voice sounded a little confused. "Okay, sweetie, are you looking for a date?" "Cindy! Of course I am. We've been planning this for a week now. Sorry I'm a little late. My dad was getting on my case." Alarm bells were going off in Mulder's head, and a few other people's as well, if the muttering in his ear was any indication. If this was the guy, he was making it pretty easy for them. He seemed to be fitting Mulder's profile to a tee. Mulder hoped he wouldn't turn out to be a dud like the kid yesterday. Scully got into the car after he opened it for her. "I can't remember what we had planned for tonight," she prompted. "Cindy, I hope your not trying to tell me that you've changed your mind, again. There's only so much a guy can take, you know," the pitch of his voice was rising. "No, of course not. I just can't remember where we planned to go." Scully was speaking softly to him, trying to keep him calm. "That's because I haven't told you yet. It's a surprise. It's a special place, really secluded. No one will be able to disturb us." The car pulled away from the curb. Skinner's voice was suddenly loud in his ear. "Mulder, you follow first, then Ramirez, then Phillips and then me. I don't want any black-and-whites within a mile of them. Mulder, you'll have to be our eyes." Mulder swung out to follow them, staying about half a block behind. He could hear Scully talking. From what she was saying, he knew that she realized that this was the guy. "Why can't we just get a motel room?" Scully tried to sway him. "We've been over this before. I will not cheapen our first time by checking into some sleazy motel room like you were nothing but a common whore!" "Why does it make me a common whore to want our first time to be in a bed?" Scully asked reasonably. "I know you'd like it to be in a bed, Cindy and I promise that as soon as I get a raise, I'll move out of my parent's place and we can be together, always." Mulder couldn't imagine how Scully must be feeling, trapped in the car with this loser, but the sound of this guy's voice was making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He was constantly relaying the location of the car to the team as he followed them towards the bridge that led into Arlington. Skinner's voice was in his ear again. "Okay, Mulder, time for you to drop back. Ramirez you take the lead now." Mulder looked into his rearview mirror at Ramirez. "Don't worry, Mulder, I won't lose her," Ramirez tried to assure him. Mulder took the next right. He circled the block, waited until he saw Skinner's car pass, and then pulled in behind. Mulder wasn't at all comfortable being this far away from Scully. He needed to see what was going on, hearing wasn't enough. He was far enough away that he was having trouble hearing what was going on in the car. Then he and Skinner got stopped at a red light. Mulder was having a hard time even hearing Agent Phillips now. "Come on, come on," he tried to urge the light. "Calm down, Mulder, everything's under control," Skinner assured him. "I don't think I like having you in my head, sir," Mulder quipped. He heaved a sigh of relief as the light finally changed. "The feeling is mutual, Agent Mulder, believe me." Mulder followed closely behind Skinner as they headed in the direction the station wagon had last been heading. "I can't hear them anymore, sir, can you?" Mulder was still obsessing. "I'm in radio contact with a police helicopter that is following them, too, Agent Mulder. Everything is under control," Skinner informed him. "Now I know why you get the big bucks," Mulder chuckled. "We ran the plates on the wagon. It's registered to a Martin Kellington, of Alexandria. They ran that name and Mr. Kellington is 52, married with two kids, a girl, Sarah and a boy, Peter," Skinner continued, ignoring Mulder's remark. "They appear to be heading towards rural northwest Virginia, probably close to site where the latest victim was found." Mulder was silent as he followed Skinner out of Arlington. "The Virginia State Troopers have been called and are joining us. They are going to try to close in from the other direction, although the area is only serviced by dirt roads, so it's not very accessible." "I hope he doesn't spot them and panic." "They're professionals, Mulder. They won't screw up." Skinner's words were of little reassurance to Mulder. He didn't like Scully's safety being in someone else's hands. That was his department. He knew that she resented his need to be protective of her, but she was the single most important person in his life. He didn't think he would be capable of dealing with losing her. Her battle with cancer had almost killed him, too. The fear of pushing her away was the reason he had been reluctant to tell her that he wanted their relationship to become intimate. He thought about what had happened last night. It seemed that his worst fear had been realized, and for the life of him he didn't know why. continued in 5/6 An Eyeful 5/6 While Mulder was thinking about what had happened after the stakeout last night they had driven out of the suburbs surrounding Arlington on I-66 and were approaching Haymarket in northern Virginia. "How much, farther, sir?" Mulder broke the silence. "He's turning off onto what the guys in the chopper are calling little more than a cart track. It's halfway between Haymarket and the intersection of Virginia State Highway 245 and I-66. It's not on any of the maps. They're only a couple of miles ahead of us now. Phillips is on their tail, but he's dropped back quite a bit. Too easy to be conspicuous out here." "Right," Mulder agreed. They drove in silence briefly. "Okay, the station wagon has stopped about 200 yards in from the road. The troopers are going to go in on foot," Mulder's earpiece began to pick up voices again as they approached the rest of the group. Suddenly he could hear Scully's voice again. "Did you remember to bring the condoms?" "You said you were going to bring them," his voice sounded agitated, like it had earlier. "Oh...umm, I forgot," she told him quietly. "Forgot! Why are you always so stupid?" Mulder tensed up immediately. "Can't we just drive back to town and get some? I've got money." "No! Now you've ruined everything!" Mulder and Skinner had finally reached the turn off. The area was heavily wooded on both sides of the main road. The deepening twilight gave the woods an eerie quality. The small amount of sunlight left was not penetrating into the forest. Mulder pulled off the road quickly and slammed the car into park. He jumped out and started to run towards the trail. "Dammit, Mulder, not yet!" Skinner's voice sounded harsh through his earpiece. Mulder ignored him and kept running. The narrow path was bounded by old-growth hardwoods. "How does that ruin everything?" Scully wanted to know. "It was going to be perfect and now you've gone and spoiled it." "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Sorry! If you think you're sorry now..." his voice had become hard. Mulder's heart was pounding as he raced down the path. He rounded a corner and the trees on either side of him seemed to give way and the station wagon appeared in front of him. He saw the passenger door open. Scully fell to the ground with the suspect on top of her. Several state troopers materialized from the woods with their guns leveled. Mulder stopped abruptly. "Police!" one of them yelled. The suspect jumped to his feet and started to run. Scully grabbed his leg and hauled him back down. He kicked at her and scrambled away. She yelped in pain and brought a hand to her face. The troopers began to fire as soon as he was clear of her. Mulder rushed over to his partner. "Let me see. Are you okay?" he tried to move her hand away. She pulled away and stood up. "I'll be fine. It's just a bloody nose," her voice was muffled. Mulder nodded. "Did you hit him?" he called to one of the troopers. "If we did, we just winged him. He's off into the woods." Mulder looked back to Scully. "I'm fine. Go...don't let him get away." That was all Mulder needed to hear. He started off in the direction that he had last seen the suspect heading. There was a lot of undergrowth in the woods, so it was slow going. It did, however, make it easy to follow the trail. Mulder could hear someone crashing through the bush about twenty yards ahead of him. He could hear other people following him, and approaching from both sides. He thought that maybe he was getting closer to whoever was in front of him because the sounds were getting closer. His eyes had adjusted to the deepening darkness and he could see a dark form about ten yards ahead. "You might as well just give up, Peter" Mulder called to him. "If you're hit, you'll just bleed to death out here." "Please don't hurt me," he whimpered. "You think you deserve mercy?" "Please!" Kellington begged. Mulder was only a few feet from him now, his gun drawn. "After what you did to those girls, why should I be merciful?" "Those bitches!" he hissed, "They deserved everything they got. We made love and all they were interested in was money. They wouldn't even kiss me." "They were prostitutes, Peter. They had sex with you because you paid them to." "No." "Let me see your hands, Peter. Put them behind your head and lace your fingers." "She loved me." Mulder finally reached him. He grabbed him and spun him around. "That was my partner you had in your car tonight, Peter. You hurt her." "She loved me, too." "Did you hear what I said, you son of a bitch? You hurt my partner!" Mulder was yelling now. He raised his right arm to give the kid a backhanded pistol-whipping, when a shout stopped him. "Hey, Mulder!" It was Agent Phillips. "Careful there, I'm sure you don't want this guy walking on a technicality." Mulder lowered his hand. Phillips cuffed Kellington and started to walk him out of the woods. The trip out seemed to take forever. Kellington kept stumbling and falling. Finally Mulder and Phillips each took one of his arms and practically dragged him out of the forest. When they emerged a couple of state troopers grabbed Kellington and shoved him into the back of one the cars they had pulled into clearing. Mulder looked around the clearing. It was alive with activity. He couldn't see Scully. He spotted Skinner heading towards him. "Where's Scully?" Mulder asked when Skinner got closer. "She went with Ramirez. She was exhausted and she wanted to get cleaned up," Skinner told him. "Is she okay?" "A little shaken up, but other than that I think she's fine. She said her nose wasn't broken. It had stopped bleeding by the she left." "What about her car?" Mulder asked. "She said she was going to drop off some stuff at work and get her car before she headed home," Skinner informed him. "If Phillips hadn't stopped me, I probably would have killed that bastard for hurting her. Are you letting Virginia keep him? Most of the victims were killed in D.C. or Maryland," Mulder nodded towards Kellington. "He's a citizen of this state, Mulder. Besides, Virginia has the death penalty," Skinner shrugged. "So does Maryland, and even though D.C. law doesn't allow capital punishment, federal law does," Mulder argued. "I'm not really up for a jurisdictional fight over this guy, Mulder. Virginia has the highest execution rate in the nation, but if they can't convict him, Maryland can try." "Just as long as this bastard gets what he deserves," Mulder raged. "Well, we aren't the only one around here who want a piece of him," Skinner's reminded him. "Right, sir. Do you still need me here?" "No, it's been a long night, you can head home, too, if you like," Mulder could see from the look on Skinner's face that his superior knew damn well where he was going. "Right. I'll see you tomorrow, sir." Skinner nodded and Mulder turned to head back down the path. After he rounded the bend he broke into a jog. He really needed to talk to Scully. As he sped along the highway towards Arlington, Mulder's thoughts were centered on his partner. He knew that Scully wasn't badly hurt, but whenever she was injured it was like he had been punched him in the gut, too. What made it worse was that he knew that Scully was angry with him for something. He figured it had something to with the blow job she had given him last night, but he wasn't sure what. It wasn't like he had asked her to do that. He thought he had tried to make sure that it was something that she wanted to do. Maybe when she had asked to go home he should have refused. Maybe he should have insisted on going inside with her. Mulder was glad he wasn't asked to draw up profiles on women very often, they confused the hell out of him. When Mulder finally pulled into the underground parking of the J.Edgar Hoover building he was relieved to see that Scully's car was still there. The lot was almost deserted so he pulled in right beside her. He decided to wait for her there. He didn't want to risk missing her in the building. He got out and leaned up against his car to wait. He had barely settled his butt against the car when he heard heels clicking on the concrete. He straightened up and turned towards the sound. He felt his stomach twist. He couldn't believe how tiny and vulnerable she looked. She had removed her make-up and taken her hair down. She had put her trench coat back on but she still looked fifteen, except when she got closer he could see the her nose had started to swell and it looked like she was going to end up with two black eyes. She stopped a few feet away from him. "That bastard! Let me see," he reached out to her. She held up her hand and took a step back. "I'm fine, Mulder. What do you want?" "You don't look fine," he said softly. "It's just some bruising. It'll heal." "Why do you always have to be fine? Why can't you ever admit that you might be hurting?" "Look, Mulder, I said I'm fine. Is this why you tracked my down, so we could debate my health?" "No, I wanted to talk." "I don't think I'm up to talking about the case right now, Mulder. Can't it wait?" "I don't want to talk about the case and no, it can't wait. I wanted to talk about last night," he told her. "What about it?" her voice was cold. "What about it! Jesus, Scu--Dana, first you--" he started. "Dana!" she winced at the use of her first name. "Don't you dare call me Dana. Do I look like a whore to you?" "What!?" he couldn't fathom what she was saying. "Last night you told me to call you Dana." "I said the pretty little whore was called Dana. I'm Scully to you and don't you ever forget it." "You've lost me, Scully. I have no idea what you're talking about." "You don't have a fucking clue, do you?" Mulder felt like he'd been slapped. She had never spoken to him like this before. "I'm sorry, Scully, you're going to have to explain it to me," he told her quietly He had never seen her look this angry before. She took a deep breath. "First of all, Mulder, I am sick and tired of being treated like a second-class citizen by you. You are not the fucking be-all and end-all of the Bureau. Other people have valuable skills, too. I am not at your beck and call to make your work more pleasant for you." "What? I don't treat you like a second-class citizen." "You treat me like some rookie, fresh out of the Academy, all the time, Mulder. You told me yesterday I could come along if I had nothing better to do. How nice of you to allow me to join you. I felt so blessed," her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't mean..." he tried to defend himself. "Shut up, Mulder, I'm not done yet." Her cheeks had become crimson in her rage. "Then when I show up because I have 'nothing better to do', you have me deal with the forensic and autopsy results, because you find them distasteful. Well, I'm glad it was convenient for you that I decided to show up." "Look, Scully, I'm sorry--" "Would you just shut the fuck up? I'm not finished!" He shut his mouth and waited. She was silent for a minute. She was biting her lip and blinking rapidly. "You know, Mulder, I'm not as tough as you might think I am," she told him finally. "It does hurt me when you treat me like that. After nine years with the bureau, I'm used to being brushed off by agents who consider my opinions less valuable because I'm a woman, but I expected more from you." Mulder opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and closed it again. "As for what happened last night, Mulder, all that did was add insult to injury." Now, he was completely lost. Hadn't she come on to him? "How do you think it makes me feel, Mulder, after seven years of working so closely together the only time I ever manage to arouse you, is when I'm dressed like a whore? What do you think that does to my self-esteem? I have to be dressed like a fucking whore to make any impact on you!" her voice was cracking as she spoke. "I can't believe that I ever considered having a relationship with you! I used to think that your video collection was just a diversion, but now I know that is how you really expect a woman to look and act. You disgust me, Mulder. Just stay away from me," her voice quivered with rage. "Scully, no, wait..." he stepped in front of her, blocking her passage to her car. "Get out of my way, Mulder, now!" "Scully, please..." "I'm warning you, Mulder," her voice was icy. "Fine" he raised his hands and turned aside. He watched as she got into her car. She was staring straight ahead, her lips were pressed firmly together. As she backed up to drive away, Mulder could see tears streaming down her bruised cheeks. He opened his car door and slumped into the driver's seat. He couldn't believe what had just happened. She couldn't be serious. She thought that the first time he had ever been aroused by her was last night? Talk about not having a fucking clue. He was amazed that she had never noticed before. He thought it was blatantly obvious how he felt. He realized she would have been too upset to notice how it had affected him when she had dropped her robe on their very first case together. She also apparently hadn't noticed the effect she had on him, when they were investigating the mysterious suicides in Comity. Feisty Scully made him really hot. Tonight, however, she was just a little too feisty for his comfort. He would probably never admit to her how much it turned him on when she got jealous. If she found that out, she might also discover that he had recently started making her jealous on purpose, just to reassure himself. He would just let her sleep on it and he would sort the whole thing out tomorrow. He was sure by then she would have calmed down enough to discuss this rationally. He could understand how she might have misinterpreted some of his actions recently. When he had a chance to have his say, he could make her see, see how he really felt. An eyeful 6/6 Mulder sat in his car with his head on the headrest, staring at the roof of the car. He heard everything Scully had said over and over again in his mind. The frigid tone of her voice still sent shivers up and down his spine. Right after she left he had felt guilty about the accusations she had made. The more he thought about it, though, the angrier he became. Nothing she had accused him of was true. He could see how she might have misinterpreted some of the things he had said and done. That, however, was no excuse for the way she had treated him. There was no way he was going to leave things this way. She had another thing coming if she thought he would take this lying down. He had pushed his feelings aside for too long, trying not to compromise their working relationship, but this was more than he could take. He wasn't sure exactly how long he had been sitting here mulling this over, but he wasn't planning on waiting any longer. He started the car and sped out of the garage. The 20 minute drive to Scully's Georgetown apartment, took him 10. He screeched to a stop in front of her building. After he turned off the car, he sat for a minute taking deep breaths. He had gotten himself really worked up, and he wanted to be calm and rational when he talked to her. He got out of the car and looked up and down the street. Her car was parked a couple cars in front of his, and he could see lights in her apartment. He went to her door and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again; still nothing. He used his key and went in. He was surprised that Scully hadn't chained the door. The boots she had been wearing were sitting on the mat just inside the door. He walked into the apartment and looked around. He heard soft splashes coming from the bathroom. He recognized the scent that was wafting underneath the door. He knocked softly. "Scully?" "Mulder, what are you doing here? Leave me alone!" "I don't think so, Scully. I never got a chance to have my say. If you still want me to leave after you hear me out, I'll go, no questions asked." "Mulder, I'm not in the mood to argue with you about this. Could you please go?" "I am going to have my turn, Scully. You can come out here or I can come in there. It's up to you." She didn't answer. "If you're not out here in two minutes, I'm coming in." There was a short silence before he heard her get out of the tub. The door opened shortly and Scully emerged in her terry robe. She closed the bathroom door behind. She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. "Well?" "You know, Scully, they say people who cross their arms like that are closing themselves off. Are you actually planning to listen to my side of this?" "Your side?" she laughed, "I'll listen, Mulder, but I doubt that anything you say will change my mind." "Is this how they fight in the Scully family? My family may have been incredibly screwed up, but at least we fought fair. Everyone got to have their say." She glared at him through narrowed eyes. "There," she said, dropping her arms to her sides, "Does that make you feel better?" "Only if you will try to keep an open mind." "I don't know what you expect, Mulder, after the way you've been treating me." "The way I've been treating you?!" he took a step towards her. She tried to back away, but she was stopped by the bathroom door. "Do you have any idea what you've been putting me through?" "What I've been putting you through? That's rich," she laughed. "Maybe you should take off your blinders, Scully, and try to see things from someone else's perspective for a change," he took another step towards her. He watched as she started to fold her arms across her chest, but she must have realized what she was doing, because they fell to her sides again. "Fine, Mulder, I'll listen, and for your information, the Scullys always fight fair." "I hope you don't consider swearing at me, accusing me of things, and storming off before I get a chance to defend myself, fair?" She just shrugged in answer. "So, should I start with your first accusation?" "Start wherever you like." "I always like to start at the beginning. It's easier to keep things straight that way, don't you think?" "Whatever, Mulder, just get on with it," she sighed. "Let me see...I think the first thing you accused me of was treating you like a second-class citizen. I may be guilty of not always thinking about what I'm about to say before it comes out of my mouth, but I never think of you as inferior to me in any way." "You never take anything I say seriously, Mulder," she countered. "That's not true. I listen to everything you have to say and even though I might think you are a little rigid in your beliefs, having an opinion that is usually diametrically opposed to mine keeps things in perspective for me. I think that all I am guilty of is not telling you how important your opinions are to me more often." "What about saying I could come along if I had nothing better to do?" she almost pouted. Mulder started to feel a little uncomfortable. "I'm waiting." "You want me to be completely honest with you?" he really didn't want to get into this. "Completely," she nodded. He took a deep breath. "When Skinner brought that case down, he made it clear that I was being asked to help out on the case, not both of us. When I asked about you, he said he guessed you could sit in if you didn't have any paperwork that needed to be finished. I'm sorry, Scully. Once again, I didn't think about what I was saying before I said it. I didn't want you to know that they hadn't asked you to help out as well." "I'm a big girl, Mulder. You should have let me take Skinner to task for that myself." "I guess I didn't want you to know. I thought you would have something valuable to contribute." "What, like dealing with the forensics report for you?" she asked sarcastically. Mulder hung his head. "No, that's not what I was thinking when I asked you to come along. I realized when you started reading, that I wasn't being fair, asking you to deal with something that I wasn't comfortable with handling myself. I'm sorry, Scully. I did mean to apologize for that," he informed her. "Okay," she said softly. "And that, by the way, Scully, was the only accusation you made that I was actually guilty of," he said, pointedly. "Oh, I don't think that's true, Mulder," she laughed ruefully. "Well, your other complaint seemed to be based on my reaction to the way you were dressed, right?" "Right." "You were upset because you thought that was the first time you had ever turned me on." "That's right," she said smugly. "Well, you're wrong," he said evenly. "That is such bullshit, Mulder. We have been working together long enough for me to realize when you're aroused. I've never seen you like that before." "Never?" "Never!" "Not even with Detective White?" he queried. "Nope." "What about Bambi?" he probed. "No," her voice was quieter. "How about around Phoebe or..." She just shook her head. Her eyes had widened at the realization of what he saying. "Did it ever occur to you that I might try to hide the way you affect me?" She just stared at him. "I'm sorry if you were offended by the fact that seeing you dressed like that made it incredibly difficult for me to hide how I, in fact, always feel. I may have missed something here, Scully, but didn't you dress like that to be provocative?" She nodded. "Then why should I be immune?" he demanded. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I had no idea," her voice was barely a whisper. "Even if I was guilty of what you said, that in no way excuses your behaviour, Scully." "My behaviour?" she was confused. "You took advantage of me, Scully. You knew that you were turning me on and you used my feelings for you against me," he took another step towards her. "I didn't think that you had feelings for me." "I seem to recall someone once saying we are always responsible for our actions," Mulder reminded her. "I thought it was just they way I was dressed," she made excuse. He took another step in her direction. Now they were less than an inch apart. "And that makes what you did better how?" He lifted her chin up with one finger. "It doesn't. I was angry. I wanted you to see what you were missing. I wanted to hurt you," she admitted. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. "I've never knowingly hurt you, Scully." "I don't know what to say, Mulder. I was wrong. I'm sorry." "That's a good start." "What else would you like me to say?" "Do I still disgust you?" She shook her head and a tear slid down her cheek. "You never disgusted me, Mulder. That was just my anger talking." "Do you think I should forgive you?" The sorrow he saw in her eyes slowly began to change to fear. Her breath caught in her throat when she tried to speak. "I'd like you to try. There is no excuse for what I did, Mulder, but please try to forgive me." "I think we've reached a turning point in our relationship, Scully. I think we have two choices. We can end it right here and now, terminate our partnership and go our separate ways." He paused to give her a chance to think about what he had said. "What's the other choice, Mulder?" "You don't like the sound of that option, Scully?" She shook her head. "What do you think the other choice is?" he wanted her to say it. She looked at him. He thought she was trying to find the answer in his eyes. "I'm not sure if we'll agree on what the second choice is." "I guess that answers my question, then," he said shortly. "What do you mean?" she sounded scared. "If you can't tell me how you feel, you're obviously not ready for the only other real alternative we have." "Mulder!" "Look, Scully, I laid it on the line here tonight. I need something in return." "I told in the parking garage that I had already considered having a relationship with you," she offered. "You said that like it was in the past, Scully. I want to know how you feel now. I want to know what you think we should do next," he told her. She took several deep breaths before she finally spoke. "I want you to forgive me, Mulder. I need you to forgive me. I need you to put your arms around me and tell me that you know that this was all a huge misunderstanding." "Like this?" he pulled her into his arms. "Yes," she sighed, leaning into him and sliding her arms around his waist. "What next?" he asked. "I want you to kiss me, Mulder." "Like this?" he kissed her forehead. "No, I want you to kiss me on the lips." He kissed her chastely. "Is that what you had in mind?" She shook her head. "Tell me how you want me to kiss you, Scully." "Can't I show you?" "Tell me," he insisted. She took a deep breath. "You know how I want you to kiss me, Mulder." "I want to hear you say it." "I want to be able to feel how much you want me. Please, Mulder!" He covered her mouth with his. Her lips parted instantly. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip. She moaned when she felt his tongue circle hers as he began to explore her mouth. She ran her tongue along his and Mulder felt her sliding slowly up his body. He pulled out of the kiss. They were both panting. "Is that how you wanted me to kiss you?" "Yes," she breathed. "Let me know if I hurt you," he ran a finger gingerly over the bruising on her cheeks. "You're not hurting me," her voice was soft. "What do you want me to do next?" "I want you to kiss my neck," her voice had become sultry. He began to kiss his way down her neck, occasionally nipping her flesh. "Oh, God yes, Mulder, like that. Now open my robe." He continued on the other side of her neck while his hands worked on her belt. "Now what?" he momentarily raised his head from her neck. "I want you to touch me." "Where?" "Everywhere," she groaned. He slid his hands under her robe. He continued to kiss her neck. He didn't want to neglect her mouth, so after he traveled back up neck, he paused there to kiss her feverishly, before continuing down the other side. He ran his hands over her ass. She moaned when he grabbed her and pulled her up against his erection. He kept one hand on her ass while he brought the other to her breast. "God, that feels good, Mulder," she told him as he ran his thumb over her already hard nipple. "There's still one thing I asked you to do that you haven't done, Mulder," she panted. "What's that?" he asked without lifting his lips from her neck. "You haven't told me that you forgive me." He raised his head to look at her. She seemed to be searching his eyes, looking for the absolution she sought. "I forgive you, Scully. I'm not sure if you deserve you to be forgiven, but as long as you promise never to mess with my mind again, I'll forgive you." "Never, Mulder, I swear. I want you to let me make it up to you." "Actually, Scully, I forgave you as soon as you asked for a hug. But you can make it up to me for as long and as often as you like." "You like kissing and making up, Mulder?" she grinned. "Yeah, but I never want to have another fight like this again. Will you promise me something else, Scully?" "What?" "If I say or do something to make you think that I don't respect you, would you please call me on it immediately, please? Because more than likely I was just doing without thinking, again." "I promise, Mulder." "Good. What do you think we should do now?" "I think you should take me into the bedroom and make love to me." He slid the robe off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He picked her up, and kissed her deeply. "You know, Scully, when I asked you what you thought the second choice should be, I just wanted you to say that you wanted to make our relationship an intimate one. I didn't mean for you to walk me through it." "I know, Mulder, but I needed to take this one step at a time. I needed to judge your reaction." "You still weren't sure how I felt?" he started to head towards the bedroom. She shook her head. "Are you now?" "Yes," she grinned. "I don't know how you couldn't see it before, Scully." "I needed to be positive. I hoped more than you'll ever know that you wanted this, too." Mulder set her down gently on the bed. He straightened back up and looked at her." "God, you're beautiful, Scully," he sighed. "Mulder! I must look horrendous," she raised a hand to her face. "You are always beautiful in my eyes, Scully," he said gently, moving her hand away from her face. She stop squirming and let him gaze her. Her breath quickened as his eyes slowly traveled the length of her body. He sat on the bed beside her. "I think you're a little overdressed, Mulder," she started to lift up his shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it on the floor. "Now the jeans," she told him. He stood and undid the button. "Let me do that," Scully scrambled to her knees. Mulder exhaled sharply when she began to lower his fly. She reached around behind him and slid her hands into his boxers to push them down. She carefully lowered his jeans and boxers past his erection. He groaned when she paused to stroke him. "I have a confession to make, Mulder" she whispered. "What?" "I really enjoyed giving you that blow job, yesterday. I mean that it was you, and you seemed to like it so much." "Like it!" he laughed, "That was the most amazing..." "Shhh," she quieted him, "Take your jeans off." He pushed his jeans the rest of the way off and climbed onto the bed. He pulled her close and kissed her again. "Lie down." She did as he said. He lay down beside her and began to kiss her again. He gently kissed her face and her neck. He inched his way down and began to nuzzle her breast. He ran he tongue along the full underside of her breast. She gasped in response. He flicked and nibbled her nipple. She writhed under him. He moved over to give her other breast the same attention, putting his knees between her legs as he adjusted his position. She pressed her hips against him. He could feel the heat emanating from her. He started to kiss his way down her belly. "Mulder, where are you going? I want you inside me." "It seems to me you've had things your way more than enough recently, now I'm going to do what I want to do." He continued his path down her belly. "Scoot up the bed more and hand me a pillow," he instructed. "Why do you need a pillow?" she asked as she moved up the bed. "Better access. I could haul you over to the edge of the if you'd prefer, but I'm gonna do this right." Her eyes widened and she handed him a pillow. She raised herself off of the bed to let him slide the pillow under her. He gently brushed his hand over her. A shudder ran through her body. He began to gently kiss her pussy, occasionally sucking and nibbling her lips. She groaned and sighed. He slowly slid one finger into her, and she bucked her hips to meet him. He pulled his finger out and as he replaced it with two fingers he drew a slow circle around her clit with his tongue. "God, Mulder," she gasped. He began to slowly slide his fingers in and out of her, while continuing to tease her clit. She was panting now, and tossing her head back and forth on the bed. He sucked her clit into his mouth, making her cry out. He released it again and began to draw circles around it again. He continued to finger-fuck her, but he lifted his mouth from her clit for a second, letting her anticipate, then began to tease her with his tongue again. Once again he paused, but this time he sucked her clit between his lips. He didn't realize that she was as close as she was, because as soon as he pulled her clit into his mouth he felt he stiffen and her clit began to pulse between his lips. He kept the pressure on clit and left his fingers buried to the hilt inside of her. A rush of heat passed through him when she cried out his name. He relished the way her muscles pulled and tugged at his fingers. When her muscles stopped clenching him, he slowly slid his fingers back out of her, and began to kiss his way back up to her face. Her breathing began to return to normal and she opened her eyes. "I didn't mean to make you come that fast," he told her. "I'm surprised I lasted as long as I did," she chuckled. "Well, I reserve the right to spend a lot more time between your legs, later." "I don't think you'll be getting an argument from me, Mulder, but right now I really, really want you inside of me." "Is it okay if I take this slowly?" he asked as he repositioned himself between her legs. "Once your inside of me you can take it any way you like." "Mmmm," he groaned as he began to slide into her. "Oh, my God," she gasped. He stopped abruptly. "Did I hurt you?" "God no, don't stop! This feels wonderful, Mulder!" He tried to move slowly to let her adjust to him. She began to move with him, swiveling her hips as she matched his pace. He moaned as he realized that Scully was going to be an active participant. He would have been content if she wasn't, but in his opinion there was nothing better than a woman who knew how to move. Scully was certainly showing him that she knew how to move. He opened his eyes to look at her. She was watching him intently. "God, Scully," he moaned as he bent to kiss her. He had wanted to take this slowly and savour every second of it, but he found he had increased his pace, and she was matching him, stroke for stroke. She began to move faster and his body followed of it's own volition. He felt her fingernails dig into his back and her body grew taut. He realized that she was close to coming again. He knew he wouldn't be able to last if she had an orgasm like her last one. Just thinking about it made his balls start to tighten. When her internal muscles clenched around him, he was lost. When he became aware of his surroundings again, he realized that he had collapsed on top of her. When he tried to move off she held on to him. "Don't go," she whispered. "I'm crushing you." "I'm fine. I like the way this feels, Mulder. Your weight on top of me makes me feel secure." He put some of his weight onto his elbows. "Scully, I can't relax like this. Let's spoon up." "As long as you hold me tight," she consented, and she climbed under the covers. Mulder followed her and pulled her snuggly against him. She sighed and snuggled back against him. "I like the way this feels, too, Mulder." "It feels pretty damn good," he agreed. "Sleepy," she mumbled. "Me, too," he said, or at least he thought he said, he wasn't sure as his mind gave in to sex-induced slumber. The phone woke Mulder out of the first sound sleep he'd had in days. "Mulder," his voice was rough. "Mulder? I was wondering where you were. Do you have any idea what time it is?" Mulder's mind was trying to was process what was happening. This wasn't his bed, it was Scully's bed. It all flooded back. He was in Scully's bed, with Scully. Now he had answered Scully's phone, and it was their boss calling. He tried to focus on Scully's clock. It read eleven-thirty. "Uh, sorry, sir. Did you expect me in first thing?" "No, but a call might have been in order." "Right, I don't think I'll be in today, sir." Scully had turned to face him. She was resting on her elbow, grinning at him. "How is Agent Scully?" "She's right here if you'd like to talk to her." "Umm, no that's alright. I just wanted to make sure she was okay, but I take it you've already seen to that. I assume she's not planning to be in today, either?" Mulder but his hand over the receiver. "Skinner wants to know if you are planning to go into work today." She shook her head. "No, she's not sir," Mulder passed on the message. "I hope you are both planning to be in tomorrow, because there are still a few things we need to go over to wrap up this case." "Right, sir, we'll see you tomorrow," Mulder hung up the phone. "Sorry, Scully. I picked it up instinctively." "We're not doing anything wrong here, Mulder. I was leery about starting an intimate relationship with you because of how other people would interpret it. I also thought it might change our partnership, and I didn't want to do that." "I won't let it change our partnership, Scully, and we can be discreet, no one else needs to know about this at work besides Skinner. I'm sure he's going to read us the riot act about the FBI's official code of conduct. As if we need to be reminded what is allowed on bureau time and what isn't." "I'm looking forward to seeing him handle that," Scully grinned. "You want to see him squirm?" Mulder laughed. "Yeah, he tries to come off as the big tough guy, but deep down he's just a big teddy bear." "So, Agent Scully, if you're not planning to go into work today, what were you planning to do?" he grinned mischievously. "First, I'd like a shower." She gave him a quick peck on the lips before she slid out of the bed. "Oh," he was disappointed. When she got to the bedroom door, she turned and raised an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you coming?"

[thisis4fanfiction]

Worth Breaking by Narida Law

Prologue ~~~~~~~~ She was awakened slightly by the dip in the bed, caused by a large, warm, male body. The pitch-blackness of the room, however, combined with her exhaustion and the certain knowledge of whom the body belonged to, allowed her to remain unconcerned. After all, this was not a new or even unusual circumstance. In fact, such occurrences had been happening for quite some time now. He had probably been unable to sleep, or had woken from a nightmare. Whatever the reason, he was always able to find rest when he had a warm body by his side, and it was no hardship to help him out. He was her best friend. She felt him press close, and her head naturally rolled toward him. Burying her face in the crook of his neck, she breathed in his warm masculine scent. He always smelled so good. She let out a small sigh, not having once opened her eyes. As usual, he was naked from the waist up, wearing loose pajama bottoms and nothing else. His arm snaked around her, bringing her body still nearer to his. She could barely breathe for the closeness, but to this, too, she was accustomed. In a matter of moments, he was claimed by sleep and his grip slackened. She then pulled away, only as much as she needed to give herself a little breathing room, but otherwise she was content to let things stay as they were. Moments later, she returned to her slumber. ~~~~~~~~ Chapter One ~~~~~~~~ Office of Dr. Audrey Lake September 14 9:58 a.m. The waiting room was too small. It felt cramped, which didn't help to alleviate Scully's tension one iota. She'd been here only once before, and she hadn't gotten used to it yet. She didn't know if she ever would. But she needed to be there. She was going quietly mad. She recalled the day she had meekly asked Karen Kosseff for an outside recommendation of a colleague. She hadn't known where else to turn, and picking a psychologist out of the phone book wasn't a very attractive option. Going wrong there would invalidate the whole purpose of seeing a counselor in the first place. Karen hadn't come right out and asked why, but the question had been in her eyes. Scully had mumbled something about it being a personal matter that she didn't feel comfortable discussing with Bureau personnel. She had expected Karen to try and convince her that she could communicate whatever was bothering her and it would remain private and confidential. But Karen had merely smiled kindly and provided Scully with a name. For whatever reason, Scully felt very uncomfortable with the notion of discussing these particular problems with Karen. Possibly because Karen was privy to certain information, such as first hand knowledge of who Mulder was. She needed to talk to a total stranger. One she could open up to and not chance seeing in the FBI cafeteria or walking the same corridors that she did everyday. Dr. Lake was just what she needed. A nonjudgmental ear and helpful comments interspersed here and there. Not too many; mostly the psychologist just listened. Voicing her troubles out loud to someone she didn't have to face on a normal day-to-day basis helped her sort out her thoughts. She preferred to speak them out loud to =someone=, because the last thing she needed was to start talking to herself. Today she would start her real therapy. She had decided this after the last session in which nothing of import had really been revealed. Scully had felt a bit nervous and shy to start in on her =real= problems right away, so she'd mostly talked about her general family and professional life, touching on various other light subjects here and there. However, there was no sense in spending the money to see a psychologist if she wasn't going to open up and truly embrace the purpose of these sessions. Dr. Lake's receptionist showed her into the spacious office where everyday people poured out their problems and anxieties, maybe even letting a few dreams slip in now and again; it felt a lot more airy and less confining than the waiting room. Scully took a deep breath. Once settled in the large comfy leather loveseat of her choice, she began to relax. She liked the fact that Dr. Lake was never in the office when she walked in. Scully was allowed to get her bearings in her new surroundings before having to face the other woman. "Hello, Dana." Scully started a bit at the voice; she had been lost in thought. She moved to stand, but Dr. Lake held up a hand and motioned for Scully to remain seated. "Hi...Dr. Lake," Scully responded. The designation was an after-thought; too late she remembered that she had been asked to call Audrey by her first name. Scully was too preoccupied with what she was going to reveal today and how she would go about doing it to remember such details. "Audrey, please," the other woman corrected. She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Her salt-and-pepper hair was, as usual, immaculately groomed. Scully thought absently that she hoped she would age as gracefully. "I think we can dispense with the formalities, wouldn't you agree?" She took a seat in the large chair opposite Scully. Scully relaxed even further at hearing the soothing voice, slightly tinged with a British accent. She had already come to associate the sound with the letting of her burdens – though she had yet to get to the big stuff. Her eyes strayed for the first time to Audrey Lake's credentials. They spied a diploma of particular interest - one she hadn't noticed before. "You attended Oxford University?" "Yes, I did my undergraduate work there," Audrey explained. Scully could not take her gaze off the diploma. Before Audrey could question her interest, she spoke. "Mulder is an Oxford graduate." She looked down at her lap, fiddling with an imaginary piece of lint on her black slacks. "Is he, now?" Scully continued to train her gaze downward. "Is there something else you would like to tell me?" Scully took a deep breath. This would start it. She would spill her guts today. At least, some of them. "Yes." She had spoken sparsely of Mulder, but enough that Audrey knew generally who he was and the background of Scully's professional relationship with him. But what concerned Scully – what she wished to reveal today – had nothing to do with their professional relationship. "Take your time." The understanding tone of Audrey's voice encouraged Scully to say what she needed to say, if only she could find the words. The right words to make it sound more...acceptable. Less sordid. "I'm having sex with him," she blurted. Oh God. That was a little more blunt than she had planned, and judging by the warmth in her cheeks, she was sure her face must be flaming. Audrey's facial expression did not alter. "I see." Scully finally lifted her head to face Audrey. Her heart was pounding like a hammer in her chest. Was it just her, or did Audrey look extremely disapproving? But no – it wasn't disapproval; it was more a piercing stare of concentration. "I...I..." Scully didn't know how to continue, and looked away, unfortunately catching the Oxford diploma again. "Is this a situation you wish to change?" "No!" Her answer came a little too quickly, and she begged herself to get a hold of her reactions. But it wasn't completely truthful. And she would help no one – least of all herself – by not being honest. "Not exactly," she amended. Audrey remained silent, but the expression on her face caused Scully to hasten the explanation. "I enjoy – it. But I'm afraid I've trespassed the boundaries that we agreed to, which may compromise everything we are to each other." The other woman was apparently waiting for Scully to continue. When she didn't, Audrey was forced to say, "I'm afraid I don't quite understand." Scully felt miserable. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be cryptic. I'm not sure if I understand anymore, either." "How long has this sexual relationship existed?" "About two months." Audrey nodded. "Why don't you explain what you meant by 'trespassing boundaries.' Am I to understand that you and Mr. Mulder formed some sort of...pact, before venturing into this relationship?" "Yes. We did. We set rules." Scully didn't blame Audrey for looking a little perplexed. "Our working relationship is...extremely important, to both of us. We thought it best if certain limits were established, so as not to endanger the health of our partnership." "What kind of limits are we speaking of?" Scully hesitated. This was where it got tricky. She wasn't sure an outsider would understand. It wasn't the most orthodox of relationships. But when her gaze met Audrey's, Scully pushed away the heaviness in her own chest, knowing it was a risk she would have to take...and that Audrey was there to help. "Perhaps it would be best to start at the beginning," the older woman suggested when Scully still did not speak. "You and your partner had obviously harbored feelings for one another before this began – " "Oh, no!" Scully interrupted. Audrey had jumped to the most obvious – and erroneous – conclusion, and Scully couldn't blame her. "That's exactly the problem. There are no feelings involved whatsoever," she said miserably. Audrey looked skeptical. "None?" "Well...not on his part," Scully whispered painfully. Here it was, the confession that she had been holding inside for such a long time. "But - on mine. And in that way, I've broken our most important rule." "So this was to be a purely physical relationship?" "Yes." Scully bit her lip. "No strings attached. Two adults relieving the tension of a highly stressful work environment - an environment that also makes it extremely difficult for either one of us to meet or sustain any meaningful relationship with others." Scully did not realize that she parroted her answer in monotone, as if she had repeated it hundreds of times before. "Well - that sounds reasonable on the surface. However, put into practice, it becomes a highly volatile situation." "I know." "You are an intelligent, capable individual, Dana. What did you hope to get out of such a relationship?" "It wasn't supposed to be a real relationship at all!" Scully revealed, somewhat agitated. "A – a relationship requires feelings, commitment...work. What we have requires none of that." "Yet from what you have told me, there =are= feelings involved. Yours." Scully shuddered. "Yes. He doesn't know." "And you aren't happy with the situation." "I..." Scully hesitated. "I'm not happy with where I see it going. The problem is, I don't have the right to feel this way. I wasn't supposed to get emotionally... attached." Audrey appeared to consider for a moment. "What about the rules you established? I take it they didn't work as planned?" There was no masking the derision in Scully's voice when she answered. "Oh no – they've all been broken." She went on quickly, "And before you say that I should tell him how I feel, I should tell you that I can't. I won't. I could never jeopardize our professional relationship for self- indulgent emotions on my part." "Dana, I wouldn't advise any action that makes you uncomfortable. At least, not at the moment." Audrey smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling again, and Scully told herself to relax. "May I ask you a question, Dana?" Scully felt herself tense up again, but nodded, if somewhat jerkily. She didn't know if she would be able to answer, but she could hardly refuse to hear the question. "Did you enter into this...situation, thinking that you and your partner would succeed with it? Where did you see it going? Be honest." These were not unexpected questions, but Scully hesitated nonetheless. "I have asked myself that a thousand times. I honestly don't know. When I agreed to the terms we set, I truly believed that we could pull it off. His emotion, or lack thereof, would help me maintain my own emotional distance. That's also what the rules were for, to help keep personal and professional private." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "But in hindsight, I think I knew I was fooling myself. I =had= wanted to develop our relationship further." "But it hasn't happened." "No." It was what they had before, with occasional – or not so occasional – sex. The physical might have moved to a different level but the emotional had not followed. She couldn't move their relationship to the next level by herself; he needed to want it, too. But he didn't. Scully was mortified to find that her eyes were burning behind her lids. I'm not going to cry, she told herself. Taking a deep breath, she went on, "And now...and now I'm afraid that I've ruined the most important relationship in my life." This was her true fear. The one that kept her awake nights, that visited her in her nightmares and haunted her during her waking hours. It was the black mark in her life...the dark cloud on the horizon that threatened showers of loneliness and pain. "How did it begin?" Audrey's voice was so kind, so ready to understand, that Scully could not refuse to answer. "I won't lie. There was always – something – between us. I think it just broke during a particularly long and frustrating case. We were overworked and tired. He was stressed out." ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Two ~~~~~~~~ Dew Drop Inn, Room 7 July 11 3:05 p.m. Scully took a relaxing breath and sank further into the sudsy world she had made for herself. Rarely did the places where she and Mulder stayed have such wonderful tubs, but she always brought bubble bath just in case. This time, she was able to put it to use. She really didn't relish the idea of leaving the soothing water, but it was rapidly cooling, and the pads of her fingers and toes were starting to resemble little prunes. So with a sigh of regret she pulled on the drain and climbed out. Toweling herself off, she heard the connecting door open. "Mulder? That you?" she called. If it wasn't, she wasn't in a pretty situation – her gun was in the bedroom. "It's your secret lover, here to have his wicked way with you," he answered, his voice muffled. She snorted. That would be the day. She told herself that the rush of arousal his words elicited was utterly ridiculous and only went to prove how lacking her sex life had been for the last – oh, seven years or so. The problem was not lack of opportunity, exactly. It was lack of opportunity with the one person she wanted to spice it up with. For all of his innuendoes and risqué humor, Mulder had never seriously made a move on her. There had been that one time, a kiss that almost happened, but that was more than a year ago. He hadn't attempted anything resembling lip-lock since, so she chalked it up to temporary insanity. They had been going through a lot at the time. She quickly slipped her clothes on – at the moment, her glamorous attire consisted of sensible cotton underwear, a ratty old t-shirt, and a pair of Mulder's boxers. She had no idea how they had gotten into her possession, but they were comfortable, and he hadn't seemed to miss them, anyway. Opening the bathroom door, she saw what was, apparently, her partner stripping. He had pulled the curtains shut, giving the room an artificial cover of darkness in the bright afternoon. "Mulder...what are you doing?" "Taking my clothes off." "Uh...why?" "Because I'm tired and I want to get some sleep." His tone was very matter-of-fact. He flipped over the bedcovers. "It's three in the afternoon." "With your powers of observation, Scully, it's amazing we didn't have this case wrapped up sooner." She pursed her lips. God, she hated the bastard when he got sarcastic. "This is my room." She hated to state the obvious, but with Mulder, sometimes there was no other recourse. He seemed allergic to the sensible and obvious. He was down to his t-shirt and boxers; the rest of his clothes were strewn carelessly on the floor. His fingers slid under his shirt and her eyes widened. Don't you dare take that shirt off, Fox Mulder... His subconscious apparently chose not to read her mind, and he deftly jerked the shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor to join the rest of his clothes. She wondered if her gulp was audible. It sounded loud enough to her ears. He had the most beautiful upper body, toned and smooth, with just the right sprinkling of chest hair. She never saw him tanning himself, but his skin always had a gorgeous, healthy glow... He cranked up the air conditioning, then flopped onto her bed while she remained standing at the doorway to the bathroom, gaping at him. "Mulder." There was dire warning in her voice. He yawned hugely, stretching his long arms over his head. "You should probably get some sleep too, Scully. You look beat." Thanks. You really know how to stroke a girl's ego, she thought acidly. "What's wrong with =your= bed?" she complained, finally moving from her position to pick up his clothes and fling them onto the nearest chair in irritation. His eyes were already half-closed. "It's in my room." "And what's wrong with your room?" Scully was provoked into asking, exasperation tingeing her voice. "You haven't had a problem with it the last three days." "You're...not in it," Mulder answered in a drowsy voice, the words trailing off at the end. The statement was capped by a slight snore. She gaped at his prone figure in the bed. When he was able to fall asleep, he could do it very quickly, Scully had learned. She sighed. A nap did sound rather nice. The bath had relaxed her muscles, and her limbs suddenly felt heavy. It would be good to rest a bit. They'd been working nonstop since they arrived a couple of days ago. Also, baths had always made her lethargic. Achieving such an effect was why most people took baths in the first place. She considered going into Mulder's room to sleep, but part of her argued that he shouldn't be able to displace her from her own damn bed. Besides, there were probably sunflower seeds and shells all over the place. Ugh. Without further contemplation, she crawled into bed beside her sleeping partner, pulling the covers over them both. There was no sense in wasting perfectly good body heat. Even if it was July. In any case, no matter how much she groused about it, the truth was they were used to sleeping in the same bed together. It was just something they had come to do from time to time, like buying each other meals or saying "it's me" as an introduction on the phone. Just a side effect of their partnership. Scully lay on her side, facing away from Mulder, their bodies not touching in any way. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Ah, this really was nice. Mulder had the right idea. Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was to wonder what would happen if anyone ever caught them indulging themselves like this. Not that anything untoward =ever= happened. Wait, was that disappointment she was feeling...? ~~~~~~~~ Dew Drop Inn, Room 7 July 11 4:13 p.m. When she woke, Scully found that she had rolled over and was now facing Mulder. Somehow he had hauled her close, making it possible for his erection to press insistently into her stomach, which was not a new sensation by any means. They had, after all, slept together in the same bed on many occasions. But the feel of his hardness, the irrefutable evidence of his masculinity, always made her want what she could not have, and that invariably put her in a bad mood. He had an arm wrapped tightly around her waist, keeping her firmly where he wanted her. His other hand was cupping one of her breasts. Also, nothing new. That sometimes happened. What woke her was no doubt a new sensation, one she had not previously experienced...Mulder's tongue halfway down her throat. Now that was definitely new. Her eyes popped open. "Mmphf," she said. She tried to glare at him, but since his eyes were still closed, it didn't quite have the effect she was going for. It was also probably not as resolute as she wanted, but the feeling of his warm lips on hers, their wet tongues sliding hotly together, made her want to close her eyes again. She allowed herself to enjoy it a few moments more, but when he began to play with her breast more determinedly, pinching her nipple, she knew she had to stop him now or she wouldn't at all. She wasn't sure about Mulder's state of consciousness, whether he was still sleeping or what, but he was about to be awakened. She abruptly pulled her mouth from his, intending for her entire body to pull away as well, but she had underestimated the strength of his hold on her. Still, her mouth was free, and she gasped for air. She used her hands to push against his chest – his naked chest. Uh oh, that probably wasn't a very good idea. Now her hands burned to run over the expanse of skin so delectably within reach. "Mulder!" They shouldn't be doing this. There was a reason. A very sensible reason, she was sure. "Scully, whad you do that for?" he mumbled. "Let go of me." "Don't wanna." His lips found hers again, nibbling this time, sliding his tongue between her lips and running it over her clenched teeth. "Feels so good." Well, she wasn't going to argue with that. But it was still wrong. And if she could only get her wits about her, she'd tell him why. "What's wrong with you?" she finally cried, not knowing how else to get through to him. His eyes opened at last, and she was mesmerized by the intent they held. "I'm doing something right for a change," he answered. "I'm tired, I'm stressed out, and all I want to do right now is kiss you. Because that makes me feel good. And I think it makes you feel good too." He smiled and lowered his voice seductively. "So let's not play these stupid games anymore, Scully." She didn't understand what he was talking about - what had made him suddenly decide this? – and that made her frustrated, which in turn made her a little pissy. "I haven't been playing any games, Mulder. You're the one playing games here." He looked affronted. "I'm not playing games. I'm being honest. I'm tired of pretending that you don't turn me on, Scully. You do. Every little thing you do makes me hard. Did you know that? You've turned me into a permanent hard- on." Her mouth opened in astonishment, but no words came out. She shook her head. His words sparked a rush of arousal, and she frantically willed it away. "I know you find me attractive," he whispered. "I've seen you checking me out when you think I'm not looking. And all your temperature checks – those are only excuses to touch me." She was mortified. Learning she was so transparent caused two spots of humiliation to flare in her cheeks. She wanted to hotly deny what he was saying, but his next words made her momentary fit of pride fly right out of her head. "I think we should fuck." "What?" Was that her voice that sounded so squeaky? How could she be so turned on and want to slug him at the same time? "It'd be the perfect solution, Scully." "To what?" She'd missed something, here. "Half the time I can't concentrate on our cases because I'm too aware of you." He took a ragged breath. "Everything you do, every move you make. You don't realize it, Scully, but I notice everything about you...the way your ass moves under your skirt when you walk, those tight shirts you wear... your beautiful breasts looking like they're gonna spill right out..." There really was a rather insane looking light in his eyes. She had never been more turned on in her life. "And I'll bet that works both ways," he continued. "Tell me the truth, Scully. Don't I distract you sometimes?" Her first impulse was to nod enthusiastically, but she resolutely kept her head still. If she told him yes, he would no doubt take it as encouragement. She was finding it difficult enough to keep from eagerly going along with his crazy suggestion without the added burden of having to deal with an =encouraged= Mulder. How best to proceed? After a few moments of frantic thinking there was really only one thing she could do – she wasn't about to lie bald-faced to him about something so inconsequential as finding him attractive. So what if she did? She found plenty of other men attractive. None came immediately to mind, that was all. Did he distract her at times? Yes, he did. Much to her consternation, she lusted after him constantly. She just didn't know it was public knowledge. "Sometimes," she acknowledged reluctantly. Half a truth was better than none, right? "You see? Our relieving this tension would be for the good of our work. We'd 'solve the mystery' – the unknown would be made known. The attraction of the unexplored would no longer be there..." She was somewhat insulted by his assumption that once he had experienced sex with her, the main attraction – that of the unknown – would be gone. But she had to focus here. The idea of the two of them, having sex - she suppressed another shiver of longing - as some sort of preemptive strike against loss of concentration at work, was absolutely ludicrous. "The fact that I find you reasonably attractive as a person of the male gender does =not= mean that we should have sexual relations," she informed him frostily. He looked amused, damn him. "It does if it =distracts= you, which is what I asked, and you answered in the affirmative." She opened her mouth to refute his claim, but then realized there was nothing of substance to refute. "I hate to crush that enormous ego of yours, Mulder, but you don't distract me =that= much," she responded haughtily. Oh, if only that were true. He was apparently not swayed by her assertion. "What if I find =you= that distracting?" Her heart jumped to her throat. "Well...I guess you'll just have to stop it," she said lamely. "I've got a better idea. Since I'm attracted to you and you're attracted to me, I say we do something about it right now." "Okay, let's," she said sweetly. "We'll start by forgetting this conversation ever happened." Forget that her heart was pounding madly in her chest. "Hear me out, Scully," he begged, nearly bouncing on the bed. The mattress shook with his enthusiasm. She sighed; all of his crazy theories started out with that plea. His exuberance was almost contagious. Almost. "We're letting our attraction to one another distract us from our work, Scully, whether you admit it or not. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think that's a good thing at all." He sounded disapproving. "I don't think it's a good thing," she said immediately. He nodded. "Physical attraction isn't something you can just will away. Are we at least agreed on that?" If it was, she wouldn't be attracted to him. God, his nearness was making her feel a little dizzy. "Yes, that's true." He looked relieved, then smiled. "Once we've gotten this out of our system, we'll be able to concentrate better on our cases. Not that we're doing too shabby a job, but we can always do better. Wouldn't you agree?" Had Mulder's voice always been this hypnotic? Laced with the remnants of sleep and combined with a little lust and need, it seemed more seductive than it had ever been. She stared into his eyes; they entranced her. "We could always up our solve rate," she agreed, not looking away from his eyes. She was unable to see the satisfaction that bloomed over his face as all her concentration was focused on one part and not the whole picture; all she saw was the crinkling at the corners of his eyes. "Right. I'm glad you're being so reasonable about all this, Scully." He appeared to be very proud of her. "I'm a reasonable person, Mulder," she said automatically. "I know you are," he soothed. He continued, "And sex is a great way to relieve tension...not just the sexual kind, but all kinds. This is a highly stressful job, Scully." She nodded. They had both chosen very stressful occupations. She panicked when she realized that he could interpret her nod to mean acquiescence to his suggestion that they engage in sexual activity. She had to control those involuntary head movements. "It'd never work, Mulder." How could it? The very idea was ludicrous. Tempting, but insane. Much like Mulder himself. "Why not?" "You know why not," she said in frustration. Wasn't it =obvious=? She struggled to voice her precise objections, but they seemed all jumbled in her mind. He ought to know them, anyway. "I don't know," he stated. "You agreed that physical attraction can't be simply willed away. The only way I see it dissolving is if we give in to it. Otherwise, we'll always see each other as the person we can never have – making us even more attractive to one another." She chewed on her lip. "Yes, but..." Oh =why= weren't the arguments coming? He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "We know each other. And we trust each other. We'd never have to worry about disease or...or..." She knew what he meant. Pregnancy. "No strings attached, Scully. No messy emotions to get in the way. We love each other, the way two best friends love each other, and that bond is stronger than any connection to another human being I've ever had in my life. Our friendship is the most important thing in the world to me." She latched onto his admission. "Sex would ruin that." "No, no," he hastened to assert. "Our friendship would have nothing to do with it, don't you see? Just a man and a woman, relieving stress and tension together." When had his hand started that soft stroking gesture against her spine? She shivered. "Sex is an animal instinct, like eating or sleeping. Its deprivation naturally causes the deprived – you and me – to supplement it in =some= way." His voice was a seductive whisper. "This need becomes a priority, like any other animal need, and that would be when our work could be disrupted. I think we both agree that that would be a bad thing." His hold on her tightened once more. She had to admit that this argument held some merit. Mulder had never sounded so reasonable. "Of course, this need could be fulfilled by other people, too," he conceded somewhat grudgingly, "but since we're attracted to each other and trust each other with the important stuff, why let that go to waste? Besides, what we do isn't exactly conducive to meeting people." Who weren't circus freaks or flukemen or shapeshifters, he meant. He appealed to her with earnest eyes to see the rationality of his idea. "I would =never= do anything that would jeopardize our friendship. You believe that, don't you, Scully?" The tremor in his voice combined with its tone of utter sincerity made it very easy for her to believe him. There was no reason why he should lie about such a thing. "So you want us to...have sex? This once?" Even saying the words made her feel slightly light-headed. "Whenever we feel like it," he breathed. "Maybe after this once, we won't want to again. Maybe it'll be enough. But we won't limit ourselves. What do you say?" Was this how he picked up women in bars? If he turned the full blast of those puppy dog eyes on some unsuspecting female, he could no doubt get anything he wanted. Hell, it was working on her and she was hardly 'unsuspecting.' What swayed her, however, were his arguments. He seemed to have given it a great deal of thought. That in itself was a pretty heady notion. "We are both mature, responsible adults, Scully," he said, when she hadn't said anything. "More than capable of separating sex and friendship, don't you think?" Her mind chose that moment to recall a movie. "It didn't work for Harry and Sally," she said. Amazingly, he picked up on her wavelength, as out of the blue as the allusion appeared to be. "First of all, those were fictional characters," he chided. "Second, once she slept with Harry, Sally didn't =want= to separate the two. We don't know if they both had tried it that it wouldn't have worked." Well, the 'When Harry Met Sally' argument was all she had left, and he had effectively and convincingly disputed it, so it seemed to her that it was time to give in. NO! What was she thinking? She had to use the strength of her mind to overcome the weakness of her flesh. Unfortunately, that's where he had attacked – her mind – and the second an argument popped into her head, she heard him voicing his contentions again, convincing her even before the argument fully formed. She considered herself to be a mature, responsible adult. When he put it that way, saying no would be to say that she couldn't handle a "mature" relationship. He clearly thought he was more than capable of handling it. And if he could do it, then of course, so could she. The concerns nagging in the back of her mind seemed to quiet with this reasoning. In any case, it appeared Mulder was armed with an arsenal of excuses and seemed fully prepared to shoot down any possible resistance without breaking a sweat. "I suppose that's right," she said grudgingly. "So what's stopping us?" Mulder traced a finger down her cheek. His touch immediately caused her nipples to harden. Scully pondered his query. None of this sounded remotely right, of course, but he had been very persuasive and she was tired of arguing. His hand dropped from her face to the aroused peak of one breast. She vaguely realized that this was his first blatantly sexual overture aside from their earlier kiss, and that she ought to be more outraged by the liberties he was taking. But his fingers began playing delicately with her nipple, distracting her. It wasn't as if she could truthfully say she didn't want to have sex with him. She'd wanted him for a long time – so long she couldn't even recall when the wanting began. It was just a fact of life she had learned to live with. However, it did seem rather ludicrous, now that he had pointed it out, that all this time, they'd been right under each other's noses, yet had never taken advantage of their mutual attraction. "You feel so good," he whispered, eyes glazing over with a kind of primal need. He rolled her onto her back while she was still contemplating. He lifted her shirt up over her breasts so that they were bared to his view. He licked his lips. "Can I taste you?" She could feel his hot breath on her newly-exposed skin. This felt so incredibly right – and yet, so very wrong. She knew she ought to stop him, but hadn't they already crossed some invisible line? And if they were going to cross the line, mightn't they just go all the way? No use breaking only half the rules, right? Once you'd broken one, you were already a criminal. She stared once more into his beautiful hazel eyes, wide with hope and lust, and knew they mirrored her own. Her doubts had been effectively muted. The only thought in her head was how much wanted him. She hesitated a moment, then nodded, sealing her fate. His relief was almost palpable. He lowered his head, his tongue snaking out to run a damp circle around one nipple, already puckered into a hard little nub from his earlier touch. Now, his ministrations caused her breasts to further ache with want, and she groaned. "You have the most luscious breasts, Scully," he breathed reverently, kissing the nipple he had just laved. "I've noticed those shirts and sweaters you've taken to wearing. My imagination works overtime with you, Scully. Do you know how many times I've dreamed of taking a whole one of these into my mouth?" She moaned, wishing he would stop talking about it and do it already. Now that she had agreed to this, she was determined to enjoy every minute. After all, it was possible they would decide afterwards against doing this again. "You like that idea, huh?" She didn't know whether he was referring to the idea of the act or the idea that he dreamed about it. She found both possibilities equally arousing. "Well, I do it a lot, Scully," he shared, his voice rasping like sandpaper. "You wouldn't believe how much." I'll believe anything if you'll just fulfill both of our fantasies, right now, she thought a little desperately. Would it be really rude of her to just pull his head down and thrust her breast into his mouth? Finally, seeming to sense her desperation, he sucked a nipple into his mouth, then took as much of her breast into his mouth as he could. She gasped; she had never felt anything quite as incredible as the sensation of Mulder suckling her. This was already better than most of her past experiences with sex. If he did just this all day, she would be pretty content. She found the little noises he made while performing this act almost as exciting as the act itself. She felt like the most desirable woman in the world; he couldn't seem to get enough of her. With his mouth still sucking strongly at her, his hands reached up to pull her shirt completely off. It fell, forgotten, to the floor. Her hands had somehow made their way into his hair and were clenching tightly. He released her breast with a slight suctioning sound and worked the other into his mouth. Electricity shot through her veins, pooling into liquid form at her center. With his teeth he nipped lightly at her nipple, and the sensation felt so startlingly good that she yelped and arched off the bed. She saw, even with his mouth full of breast, the grin that split his face at her reaction. In another situation, she might have wanted to wipe that smug look away, but at the moment, she couldn't care less. As good as he was making her feel, he had a right to be smug. When he apparently decided it was time to move on, he deliberately rubbed up against her, making his way leisurely back up her body, skin to skin, letting her feel the friction of his chest hair against her nipples. The feeling was indescribably erotic. Her fingers felt boneless, falling from his head to his shoulders, reveling in the feel of his taut, smooth skin over the hard muscle beneath. He then lowered his head and kissed her again, rubbing his tongue possessively against hers, devouring her. Her hands traveled up and down the length of his arms, absently marveling at how different he felt from herself. He was so hard and smooth everywhere, and she was eager to feel if that applied to all of his appendages. And he was so smart. They had been idiots to deny themselves for so long. That said, she was tired of being the submissive one. Hooking one arm around his neck, she used her weight and the element of surprise to topple him onto his back. She fell not so gently onto him, but the grunt he let out wasn't one of pain. She straddled him fully, her knees on either side of his ribcage, and bent to spear him with a fierce look. He looked a little anxious for a moment, his macho facade slipping a bit, but he regained his equilibrium and smiled lazily. "Be gentle," he pleaded in mock seriousness. She smiled back, somewhat ferally, and he again looked a little worried. Oh, he was all hers now, all Mulder under her, and she was going to enjoy herself. She trailed one finger down his cheek, exactly as he had done to her earlier, her nail digging into skin near the corner of his mouth. Immediately she reached down to soothe the hurt with her lips. "You know you don't really want me to be gentle," she husked into his ear. He shivered, then yelped when she reached behind her to feel the strength of his resolve. "Very impressive, Agent Mulder...I can't wait to get that in me." He groaned at her words. "But first I think I want you to have a little taste test." She was somewhat surprised by the words that fell so easily from her tongue. This was their first time together, and she ought to show some modicum of reserve, but – this was Mulder. She was used to demanding what she wanted, even if she didn't always get her way. He groaned, clutching her thighs tightly. He looked at her with feverish eyes. "You read my mind, Scully," he rasped. "I can't think of anything I want to do more. You have no idea how much I – " "Shut up, Mulder," she ordered, exasperated. He talked way too much. She was going to put that delicious mouth to much better use. She hopped off the bed for a moment to dispose of her boxers - well, Mulder's really - and panties already soaked with her desire. He clamped his mouth shut, immediately doing as he was told, and she could barely stifle a smirk. In this situation, he was a typical male – so easily controlled by sex. A side bonus to agreeing with his plan. If she had known he would become so docile, she'd have agreed much faster. Grinning, she clambered back on him, treating him rather like a gymnastic apparatus. Her smile widened at the thought. "You can't possibly be as thrilled as me," he claimed huskily, taking in her beaming face. She leaned down and kissed him, hard. "You ready?" she whispered. This time it was his turn to grin. "Been ready for the last few years or so..." At her raised eyebrow he raised both of his. "I've even been building strength. Why do you think I eat so many sunflower seeds...?" She couldn't help it; she burst out laughing. He took the opportunity to lift her up a little so that he could slide himself down, until she was poised directly above his face and her laughter had turned to breathless pants of anticipation. The first touch of his tongue sent a bolt of electricity from her clitoris to the rest of her nerve endings. He worked her slowly at first, running delicately through her folds, laving gently. However, it soon became not enough, and he met her increasing need with stronger strokes of his tongue. At a critical point he sucked her clit into his mouth and she jerked on him, crying out, practically rubbing herself in his face. "You taste incredible, Scully," Mulder shared in a voice so contorted with lust that it was barely recognizable as his. "I could do this all day." I could let you, she thought hazily, not able to muster enough concentration on the act of speaking to actually lend voice to the words. She cried out when he worked his tongue into her; it was one of the most erotic sensations she had ever felt. The knowledge that it was =Mulder's= tongue doing these things to her made it even more exciting. Damn, he really did have a talented mouth. He wasn't kidding. All those hours of shelling sunflower seeds had certainly not gone to waste... Soon his tongue was replaced by several fingers, rubbing and stroking her expertly, occasionally sliding into her tight wet heat. She found herself moving up and down on his hand. It felt so good she couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like once she had his dick – so much bigger than a couple of fingers – inside her. She couldn't wait to find out. Spots of white were beginning to dance in front of her eyes, and she knew it wasn't going to be very long before she...oops, there she went, leaping, flying over the edge as her entire world first went completely white and then dark. She heard someone screaming, and from the slight pain in her vocal chords, realized it was her. So much for not being submissive. She found herself promptly tossed onto her back, her legs spread wide apart as Mulder asserted himself there, his cock immediately finding her entrance, pushing unrelentingly, inexorably into her. The stretching sensation was almost unbearable as she tried to relax her muscles to accommodate him more easily. It had been such a long time since she had had to accept a man inside her body that it was not without a little discomfort. For the first few moments the pain almost overwhelmed the pleasure. "Jesus, Scully," he gasped. "Why is this hurting you?" He sounded genuinely alarmed. "I haven't done this in a l-long t-time," she answered, concentrating on her breathing. Her admission seemed to make him grow even a little big bigger, and they both groaned, for different reasons. God, it felt like he was splitting her in two. She tried to keep the whimpering to a minimum, though she was certain tissue that wasn't meant to be torn was being torn anyway as she breathed in short, shallow pants beneath him. Never once, though, did she move to stop it. She knew if she were to show any indication of real resistance, he would roll off of her immediately, and she didn't want that. She wanted this, needed it as much as her next breath. Just underneath the pain was the wonderful, incomparable sensation of being completed. When he was finally all the way in, when he was buried so deep inside her that she could feel his balls resting lightly against the curve of her ass, she let out a deep sigh of contentment. Now there was truly no going back. She had never felt so filled. The pressure she had felt during his invasion had been well worth this delicious feeling of fullness. "You feel fucking amazing," he groaned, shifting his hips a little. She winced, but was pleased nonetheless. She thanked God he had prepared her so well – she suspected it would have been a lot more difficult to accept him into her if he hadn't. "You do, too," she answered truthfully. Yes, 'fucking amazing' just about covered it. She sucked in a breath when he slid nearly all the way out, then back in. No wait, she had spoken too soon. =That= felt fucking amazing. He did it again, and again, each stroke more pleasurable than the last. She could tell that he wanted to be gentle; he was holding himself back. But each thrust shred a little more of his control, until every stroke of his shaft was hard, fast, unchecked. She liked seeing him totally out of control like this, as he rode her hard and caused her to jerk against him like a marionette. She liked knowing she was the one to make him so wild with lust and need. She especially enjoyed feeling him fuck her like a madman, as if she was the woman he wanted most in the world and this was his one and only chance with her. Unbelievably, she could feel the pleasure build again until she was once more in danger of toppling into the abyss of climax. This had =never= happened to her. She had accepted long ago that she was not a multi-orgasmic woman. This had never particularly bothered her. She counted herself lucky; some women found it impossible to climax at all, while others didn't have partners who could get the job done and had to go it solo. Now she had Mulder to thank for showing her the wonderful world of multiple orgasms. He jerked against her, ramming one last time into her, so hard that for a moment the pleasure and pain blurred. She felt him expand, growing impossibly bigger and harder. Then he was gushing into her, the hot seed of his life rushing forward to fill her in all the places his cock hadn't reached. It was more than she could take, and her back arched, lifting her hips up high as her second orgasm hit. It wasn't quite as strong as the first, but in many ways it was even better, first and foremost being that this time, she had the feel of gripping Mulder's hot engorged cock inside her as it happened. They both passed out for a few moments. When next she opened her eyes, it was to find that Mulder had straightened the covers a bit and adjusted her limp body in a way that she lay plastered against him. Looking up at him, she saw that he looked positively smug. Smug and sated. When he saw that she was looking at him, his expression immediately turned hopeful. He gave a tentative smile. She supposed this was the point where he expected her to go into histrionics, wailing about what they had done and what they were going to do about the future and so forth. If she had not had that second orgasm perhaps this would have been the case. Currently, however, she felt much too happy and content to go through any of =that=. Deciding to go the mature, calm route, she returned his smile, then stated, "I suppose we should draw up some rules about this." It was probably a safe assumption that they would want to do this again. She knew she did. "Rules?" He sounded dismayed. "Yes. Other than keeping this to ourselves, which I think is a big given?" She felt rather than saw him nod. She continued, "As a preventative measure. Establishing rules would help keep us from getting too carried away." "But Scuh-lee," he whined. "We're grown ups. I don't think we need rules to keep everything separate." "We're entering into a very dangerous situation here, Mulder. Emotions are very volatile. Lines should be drawn, at least in the beginning, and we have to make sure that they don't get blurred." She was making too much sense, even for herself. God, she really knew how to suck the fun out of a situation, didn't she? "At the beginning?" he hung on to her one concession with hope in his voice. "Well...yes. If we continue to do this, I'm sure that after awhile some of the rules will eventually become unnecessary." "I see." He was quiet as he mulled. "I agree; this makes perfect sense," he announced. "You're right, Scully." She was a little suspicious by the vehemence of his complacency, but she muttered, "Of course I am. =You're= being surprisingly reasonable all of a sudden." "Surprisingly?" he exclaimed, sounding insulted. "I can be just as reasonable as you." She decided not to share her doubt about that one. "And to prove it, I'll even come up with the first rule," he offered. Gee, take your time thinking about this, she thought sarcastically, then frowned. What was the matter with her? She ought to be thrilled that Mulder was embracing her suggestion about drawing lines. Or maybe this was just an opening to yet another wisecrack. "Okay...what is it?" she asked warily. "We shouldn't say each other's names during the deed. Like the way you screamed my name just now? Not allowed." Was he kidding? She twisted her head to look up at him, but he seemed perfectly serious. "It makes sense, Scully," he continued. "If we're to separate the sexual act from =us=, from our friendship, then it makes sense to distance who we are from it, entirely." She furrowed her brow. He sounded so cold, so impersonal. But that was the point, wasn't it? He'd made it clear from the beginning he didn't =want= to get emotionally involved. Well, neither did she, she told herself stubbornly. She had to get her feelings for Mulder under control. Like he said, it was just the unresolved attraction between them that was making her feel these strange love feelings for him. Now, that would stop. She ignored the pang of loss she felt in the pit of her stomach. "Okay..." she agreed slowly. "And we should never do this during an ongoing case. It should be like it was this time, after things have been wrapped up. The point is to keep from getting distracted from our work, not aid the distraction." "Agreed," he injected smoothly. "In that case, to keep up the impersonal nature of our bargain – we're just using each other for sex, after all – I say that our apartments are off limits, too." Did she detect a note of asperity in his voice? She looked at him suspiciously, but his face was the epitome of blandness. "All right, that makes sense." Damn, she'd never fulfill that fantasy of making love to him on his couch. "No funky business at the office, either," she added. "Are you kidding?" He sounded appalled. "If you even =consider= compromising my virtue at FBI Headquarters I'll finish this like that." He snapped his fingers for emphasis while she hid a smile. "Anything else?" All right, there was definitely a note of sarcasm there, but she chose to ignore it. She thought some more, but there didn't seem to be...oh. There was something else. Discussing it would feel just about as lovely as a root canal, but it had to be said. "We can see other people." Her voice was deceptively calm. In reality, she thought she was going to show Mulder the contents of her stomach. This was =not= the conversation she wanted to have at the moment. This was not the conversation she wanted to have, =ever=. Before, they had had a kind of unspoken agreement - while they were of course free to have romantic relationships with other people, they had nevertheless remained "faithful" to one another, despite not being involved in a romantic relationship with each other. Changing this fact changed that previous dynamic. Before, "fidelity" had been individual choice. Now, it could be misconstrued as obligation. It was ridiculous to couch it in terms of fidelity, anyway, but she couldn't think of what exactly to call it. She just knew that she didn't want Mulder to feel that he needed to abstain from going out with other people out of some misplaced sense of duty to their new physical relationship. What they had embarked upon still couldn't be considered a romantic relationship. If they went strictly by the rules, they weren't having any kind of relationship at all. They were the same as they had always been. Their bodies were going to help them relieve stress and tension from time to time, but nothing significant was to change. She didn't know if it was really possible to separate existences and realities, but they were going to try. And one of the first steps was to acknowledge that they were nothing but temporary sexual diversions for one another – a circumstance that could change at any given moment. For instance, if Mulder found someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Stop it, stupid heart! she thought in annoyance, when a sudden pain shot through the organ in question. "Mulder?" she prompted gently when he still hadn't said anything. His agitation was clear from his reply. "For crying out loud, Scully, this thing's barely started and you're already talking about seeing other people?" He was pissed. "I just think we should be prepared for any eventuality," she soothed hesitantly. He could have no idea how hard this was for her. But, she refused to allow herself to harbor any false hopes. If they didn't get this straight right from the beginning, she would be so easily lulled into a false sense of security, before having her heart shred to pieces when the inevitable finally happened. When it came time to let him go, the last thing she wanted was to make him feel obligated to her, or for her to make a huge tearful scene begging him to stay with her. She cringed at the thought. "All right, fine," he snapped. "You can fuck whoever you want to fuck, and I'll look the other way." For a moment she was inert with confusion. Her, why was he talking about her? This was for =him=. She would never want anyone else. She supposed it was only natural – at the moment there wasn't another woman in his life and he had naturally taken her statement to mean that she wanted to be able to see other men. "Mulder," she began cautiously. "As friends and two people who care about each other, we have to plan for such a situation." She sighed when he continued to sulk in silence. "When – if," she amended for his benefit, "one of us becomes emotionally or physically involved with another person, we should let each other know immediately." Even the thought of Mulder coming forth with such news was enough to cause bile rise in her throat. Yet, this discussion was necessary, even if he couldn't yet see the sense in it, so she pressed bravely onward. "For health reasons if nothing else." "Should we each take a blood test every time we hit the sack, too?" Even his scowl was attractive, she noted distractedly. "No..." She knew he was lashing out from his perceived hurt, and wanted to ease his tension as much as she could. "I trust you. And I think you trust me, too. That's why we're doing this, right?" She took a deep breath. Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he hadn't bargained for all these restrictions when he had made the rash suggestion that they sleep together. Maybe she should just keep her mouth shut and go along with whatever he was capable of giving. But this was for their own good. She didn't want to lose the comraderie they shared; she doubted that he did, either. If they stopped now, that could still be salvaged. It'd take some time, but it could be done. If they went on like this, however, separating their personal relationship from their professional relationship would only get more difficult as time passed. This was precisely why they needed to set these ground rules, to make sure that didn't happen. The rules would help them maintain focus of who they were. Who they =really= were. She suddenly felt very frightened. What were they really doing? Wasn't it completely insane to risk what they had for a few sexual encounters? She sighed in resignation. Perhaps not, but now that she had made love with Mulder, she could never voluntarily go back to not being able to make love with him. He would have to be the one to express that desire. "Yes," he answered finally. "I trust you." He sighed. "Okay, so we're gonna tell each other anytime we each score. Anything else?" "Well, along those same lines..." God, she hated herself sometimes. She really did. He had gone silent again. "I know this should be obvious, but...=this=," she gestured to the tousled bed and their state of nudity, "shouldn't be a factor when making a decision about whether or not to enter a relationship with someone else." Shut up, woman, shut up! She was desperate to make it clear to him that she did not want to hold him back, that he was free to pursue his own interests and happiness without feeling responsible for her. "In other words, I don't want you to feel some misplaced sense of loyalty to me, or this. If you find someone, Mulder, I'll be thrilled for you, as your friend and your partner." She floundered at his black look. "We don't owe each other any emotional...obligation," she finished, for lack of a better way to say it. "Has anyone ever told you that you're really romantic?" he asked darkly. "There's no romance in this. None," she stated fervently. It was fine and dandy for Mulder to be so condescending about all this, but he didn't have the same level of emotion invested. This was clearly evidenced by his initial proposition and his subsequent lack of argument over the rule-making, despite his blustering. He poked fun at =her=, but she didn't see him really disagreeing with any of it. Inside, he was probably relieved that she was being so "mature." "Okay fine – we're fuck buddies," he snarled. "Agreed." "You sound upset." She toyed with the sheet covering his stomach. "I'm =not=...hell yes, I'm upset!" "I didn't mean to upset you," she said, running her hand soothingly over his chest. "But it's over now. We can move on." He brooded sullenly as she waited for him to get over his pique. She knew he wasn't really mad at her; this just probably wasn't the way he had pictured things would happen. That was her Mulder, always jumping in head first without fully considering all the repercussions. Of course, she grinned to herself, she wouldn't have him any other way. "Okay," he sighed finally, in acceptance. A pause, then, "What are we going to have for dinner?" Oh, now =that's= romantic, she retorted silently. But she smiled, burying her face in his chest so that he couldn't see. "Whatever you want," she purred, laughter in her voice. It wasn't like they had many choices; the local diner or delivery pizza were the safest bets. Then she shivered as he slid a little ways down to nibble behind her ear. He growled into her ear, "Then I'll have to ask that you stay right there." ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Three ~~~~~~~~ Mulder's Apartment September 17 8:58 p.m. Mulder flopped ungracefully down onto his couch and stared up at the ceiling. He was wide awake. His fingers itched to pick up the phone, but he was resisting the urge to call Scully. It had been nearly a week – well, okay, three days - since they had last made love, and he was feeling a little antsy. Not to mention really, really horny. He wanted to call Scully; there was no real reason =not= to call Scully, except that he was a big coward. In fact, the next stage of this affliction was to sprout wings and start clucking. The problem was that he didn't want to push her too far, too fast. It had taken him five years to make a =real= move for precisely that reason, and even that had been thwarted in the end. It had taken him another year to make a second move – a really blatant one at that, since Scully wasn't the greatest at noting subtlety. Hell, he'd come right out and told her he loved her, though her naturally cautious nature wouldn't let her believe him, loaded to the gills as he had been with drugs. He'd even contrived a baseball game that was really nothing but a poor smokescreen to allow him to touch her and hold her that close. He'd wanted to rip Padgett's heart out himself after reading the things that freak had written about Scully. It had infuriated him that another man had dared to fantasize about her, even though part of him, of course, couldn't blame Padgett. His partner was, after all, incredibly hot. Still, she had scared him shitless for a moment when she didn't agree right away that the naked pretzel scene Padgett had written about was 'a priori,' too. She was a cruel woman. In any case, he was closer now than he had ever been to getting Scully right where he wanted her. It would be a crime to frighten her off now with needy, overeager calls. She had hated those even when they =hadn't= been sleeping together. Sighing, he turned his head, his gaze falling upon the black leather-bound book resting on the coffee table. He'd purchased it during lunch, escaping from the office and the vision of Scully in a slit skirt. After their one and only transgression in the office, which really hadn't been their brightest move, he hadn't wanted to risk a repeat. Fleeing the office had been the only recourse. He wasn't sure if the book had been an impulse buy or not. He'd needed some sort of mental release for weeks. He still wasn't sure if the idea of writing in a journal had been building for all that time, or if it had come to him when he'd been standing in the bookstore, catching sight of it on his way to the porn mags. They had now become deterrents for his lust; after being with Scully, the glossy images of fake-breasted, shaved, big-haired women just didn't do it for him anymore. It didn't really matter, he supposed, =why= he'd purchased the journal – the fact was, it was here and he had no one else to talk to. Sitting up, he reached over and switched on the lamp. He picked up the journal, and for a moment just held the weight of it in his hand. He felt kind of idiotic, actually. He'd never written in a journal in his life, and the concept seemed kind of – well, girly. He had never felt much compulsion to put his thoughts on paper, and wasn't sure why he felt drawn to it now. Of course, he had never been in a situation quite like this one before. He flipped the journal open to the first neatly lined blank page. It occurred to him that he was supposed to mar it with ink, fill it up with the things in his head. It seemed like a waste. The book was probably better off with its nice new blank pages, without the crap in his head messing it all up. And his writing was really messy. And ink inevitably smeared when he wrote anything. But those things didn't really account for his hesitation. That stemmed from another source - he didn't know what he was going to write, which was more than a little frightening. What was going on in his head was confusing and, at times, threatened to make him say or do things he knew he shouldn't. But he had never faced what those things were. This journal might make him face them. And he just wasn't sure he wanted to know. *You don't even want to know what's going on inside your own head, Mulder? Imagine how the rest of us feel.* Scully's voice popped up in his mind out of nowhere to taunt him. Grabbing a pen that lay with the rest of the clutter on the coffee table, he began to write. **I am sleeping with Scully. No, wait – Scully and I are sleeping together. I am sleeping with a woman and she happens to be Scully. We are relieving tension together. Yeah, that's it – relieving tension. It was my idea. Hell, of course it was. It all started about two months ago. Two months yesterday, in fact. Not that I'm counting. You could say that Scully and I have been seeing each other for two months, if this was a normal kind of relationship. But, of course, "normal" wants nothing to do with me. And if I'm honest, I'll admit that Scully wants what "normal" wants. At least, romantically. Damn it. This is not how things were supposed to be. I was supposed to be the one with all the control. I knew it wasn't going to be easy to sway Scully to my thinking, but now that I've had her, I'm more impatient than ever to have it all. Which most likely means I'm going to fuck things up. All right, lack of control was kind of what brought this all about, I'll admit. I couldn't control myself around Scully. Well, I could, but it was getting harder and harder. Yep, you could take that both ways and they'd both be accurate - the situation was difficult, and I was always sporting wood around her, too. More and more I started to think that if I could have her, just once, it would make all these pesky feelings of lust for my partner go away. It was getting really distracting – each case became more of a reason to be around her than to actually bring any truth to light. Okay, I don't think I really believed that "just once" crap for a second. But it was really convenient to think so at the time. The Time Before. As in, before I actually had a naked Scully in my arms and was making love with her. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable theory. Scully is, after all, a very intelligent, beautiful, wonderful, sexy, compassionate... Scully is an attractive woman. And while I may be oblivious to a lot of things, but Scully's attractiveness is not one of them. I also have the same natural impulses as the next guy. And my natural impulse around Scully was – is - to toss her onto the nearest bed – or floor, if no furniture's available – and show her why it's a dangerous idea to wear her tight little shirts around me. Or any clothes at all, for that matter, since she looks incredible in anything. I suppose the alternative then would be for her to walk around naked, and that wouldn't help the situation. Though I can't say I wouldn't be the happiest guy on the planet – provided, of course, that only I would be privy to the...okay, damn, this was =not= supposed to degenerate into another Scully fantasy. Anyway, I dreamed of "just once" constantly. Just once, I told myself, that's all I would need. Scully was utterly desirable - but most likely it was because I felt like I couldn't have her. Nothing will tempt a man more than what he thinks he can't have. I convinced myself it was because she felt so off limits to me that I wanted her so damn much. And once I had her, well, that would be that. Okay, I suffer from denial. A lot of it. I won't attempt to defend myself except to say that at the time =it= happened, I still believed the lies I was telling myself. Sort of. I still don't know where I got the balls to do it. I had insinuated myself into her bed for months by then – sleeping, and copping a feel here and there, which she surprisingly didn't seem to mind. Of course, she might not have noticed, but I highly doubt that. I imagine it's hard to miss a man's hand clamped around your breast. You may ask why I'm into this kind of masochism, being so near her and yet never really being able to go the last inch. What you have to understand about Scully is that one inch with her is like ten miles. You gotta train for that sort of thing. I already wanted her so badly my teeth hurt just to be around her...and I start sleeping in the same bed with her, touching her in all her lovely feminine places? Well...not =all=. But it was the sweetest torture imaginable, and I was addicted to it. Some people are addicted to drugs, others to alcohol, others to chocolate – there are a lot of things, I suppose, that a person could get hooked on. Well, sign me up for the meetings. Hello, my name is Mulder and I'm addicted to Dana Scully. Most mornings after we'd slept in the same bed I was out like a shot and into the shower where I could jerk off in relative peace. But I wouldn't trade a single one of those Scully-scented nights for all the gold in Fort Knox. Don't imagine that I let up on the sexual innuendo I so delight in. It's already been established that I am a masochist, after all. I even tried pathetically to let her know in little ways how I felt about her, not really consciously accepting that that was what I was doing. Unfortunately, she's used to me and never takes anything I say seriously. I don't really blame her – I wouldn't take me seriously, either. But I can't help feeling that if she'd only use some of those smarts and figured out that I was in love with her, she could have set me straight right then and there and we wouldn't be where we are today. I like to think that I would have taken the rejection like a man. There would have been some awkward weeks, yes, but we would have risen above it and moved on. We'd still be partners, friends. But now I've been given a taste of heaven, and if I had to give it up, I think I'd run off in search of the next ghost ship and make sure to actually drown this time. Without Scully to wake up to, Scully to say "I love you" to, God, what kind of life would that be? I haven't lost her yet, though. I just wrote "yet," implying that it's going to happen eventually. I guess I'm still living in denial though part of me knows better. For now, for today, I still have Scully in my life. Ever since we started fucking like bunnies, I started to plan how I could get her to fall in love with me. I know she enjoys the sex. I was pretty pleased when we managed to break all those damn rules within the first six weeks. I thought things were finally falling into place for me; in another six weeks we'd have moved in together. I'm still working on it, but it doesn't look good. After all the rules were broken, we've just been fucking whenever and wherever we want. She doesn't want anything more than that, though, and that's what I've got to make happen. I need her to want more. I'm more than ready to give it to her. Now I'm trying not to call her because I don't want her to get annoyed with me. In a way, it's good – deprive her a little and she might come to realize how much she needs it. Unfortunately, that means I get deprived as well, and I already know I need her, which makes it ten times worse. I'm here in my place and across town she's in hers, doing her Scully thing. All so mysterious yet desirable. I want her to do her Scully thing in my apartment. I'd like to experience that for the rest of my life, I think. Maybe that's not long enough. I like to imagine Scully in her apartment – I like being there. I feel so surrounded by Scully, always, when I'm there. I think that goes back to the time when she first let me sleep in her bed. My father had just been killed. In the midst of that horror, I had Scully to go to. I was drunk as a skunk and probably reeked, but she put me in her sweet-smelling bed and let me sleep there. I think I must have fallen in love with her then. It surely accounts for why I always feel so safe when I'm surrounded by her scent. I remember the first time we made love in her bed. It was doubly thrilling because it was the first rule we broke and she was the one who initiated it. It's still my favorite place to make love. I thought at the time that my head was going to explode from too much happiness.** ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Four ~~~~~~~~ Mulder's Apartment July 23 6:34 p.m. Every time he caught himself whistling, he'd stop. A few moments later, he'd catch himself doing it again. He usually whistled when he was nervous or happy. In this case, it was a little of both. He didn't know why he was so anxious about going to Scully's for dinner. It was standard, routine. Once a week, when they weren't on a case, they would take turns, once a week, to prepare dinner for each other at their respective apartments. It was Scully's turn. Such was the case half the time, but he had never felt this particular combination of light- headedness and terror before. It wasn't that bad, actually. He couldn't have been more thrilled with the way things were working out. He and Scully hadn't lost their easy companionship, despite their new carnal knowledge of each other. Things at the office had been surprisingly comfortable. He'd expected a little awkwardness, maybe, and perhaps a little embarrassment. He'd prepared himself for stilted conversations before things truly settled. He wanted to take it one step further, but he was patient. He could wait. There would be plenty of time to convince her those damn rules weren't necessary. As it turned out, he'd been overly cautious. They had jumped back into their working relationship with total ease. He behaved as he always did – light flirting, subtle innuendo, and the occasional invasion of personal space. For the most part, she responded in her usual manner – barely concealed exasperation, deadpan deflections, and the occasional arched eyebrow. More than that, things seemed =better= than before. Scully seemed a lot less tense and certainly he felt a new lightheartedness. He would often look up from his desk, catch Scully's glance, and return her smile. Afterward he would realize that she had been responding to =his= smile, which seemed permanently plastered to his face. In fact, at times he would wonder why the muscles in his cheeks ached, and then realize he was grinning – and had probably been doing so for some time. He wasn't aware of their sexual tension in the same way. It was less urgent, less on the surface. He was better able to concentrate on his work, and, it appeared, so was she. They had really done themselves a good turn. He'd really convinced her that he wanted to get rid of his attraction for her. It was rather disturbing that she had been so eager to get rid of hers for him. There was no way in hell he was going to let =that= happen. In the meantime, he'd play along and pretend his attraction for her was dissipating. He'd get to work on "defeating" it – hopefully, a lot. He knew he was grinning idiotically, and didn't care. However, thinking about it made him excited, so he tried not to, especially around Scully. He had to take things slow – she was likely a bit skittish at this early stage, and he didn't want to frighten her off. It was difficult to keep his lust at bay, yes, but not impossible. Often, the best trick would be to simply train his gaze on Scully, who was even more ethereally beautiful lately. He enjoyed simply looking at her, marveling at her petite and perfect figure, the way her eyelashes framed her expressive eyes so perfectly, the way she would tuck a strand of her soft, thick hair behind her ear when she was studying a document. His libido would rise again when she got up from behind her desk and he caught a glimpse of her gorgeous legs, but he would simply squelch his desire. Accomplishing that was a lot less painful than it had been before. Before, his need had almost been overpowering. Now, he felt content to wait. Because Scully was worth waiting for. Almost immediately after their first time together, he had realized that "just once" wasn't going to be enough. As a result, he'd been a little disturbed by the rules she had insisted on imposing upon their fledgling relationship. He had gone along, albeit a bit reluctantly. He was proud of himself for not letting his emotions get the better of him by making unreasonable demands of her. She would have shown him the door immediately. Thank God it turned out he was a mature, responsible adult, after all. Using the same tactic, he would control himself at this dinner. It would be like always, two colleagues, two friends, having a weekly dinner together. He didn't want o push his luck, revealing to her that he wasn't capable of handling the relationship as it now stood. First, he needed to convince her - subtly of course - that what they now had was fantastic, but more would be even better. Mulder pulled on his leather jacket, still whistling. Making sure he had his keys in his pocket, he exited the apartment. Dinner. Friends. Natural. Casual. ~~~~~~~~ Scully's Apartment July 23 7:17 p.m. "Oh...ohhhh...oh God!" Mulder clutched at the material of Scully's sofa as he watched her head bob up and down on his lap. The tender ministrations of her mouth – her lips and tongue on his cock - was quickly driving him over the edge. This was Scully. This was really Scully giving him head in her living room. The very thought nearly signaled the end. If he was kind, maybe he ought to come now. After all, her work would then be over. But he was also a selfish bastard and the sensations felt entirely too good for him to stop her just yet. So he held on, and she kept sucking. Mulder wondered hazily how they had gotten to this point so quickly. He was still wearing his jacket, for Pete's sake. He dimly remembered knocking on Scully's door, fully aware that he was wearing a goofy and slightly nervous smile. Her first words were, "Mulder, you look a little tense," spoken in a tone that had immediately caused his dick to stand at attention. She had then led him over to the sofa without saying another word and proceeded to coax him into unbuttoning his pants. Not much coaxing had really been needed, but his nerveless fingers had made themselves so useless that it looked like he was resisting rather than assisting. It had all seemed rather surreal. He kept waiting for her to burst into a peal of laughter, or else slap him – hard. This is a test, he told himself. She wants to see if you'll stick to the rules. Technically, it was even his rule, though it had been sarcastically meant. If she wanted to break his rule, that was fine by him. This was, of course, against regulations. No sexual activity was to be performed while in each other's homes. It made impersonal sex rather difficult, when one was surrounded by the other's personal effects. He was a slut – no resistance came from him whatsoever. He was physically incapable of resisting. She could put a stop to it at any time, however. And right up until her lips closed over him, he'd thought she was going to do exactly that. She hadn't hesitated once. She'd grabbed hold of him as soon as his erection had cleared his pants and instantly brought her mouth to him. That was a few minutes ago. Or maybe it was eons. Presently, she was sliding him in and out of her hot mouth continually, stroking him with her tongue. After paying especial attention to the head of his cock, which she kissed and licked and squeezed between her lips, she took the length of him in again. He couldn't take his eyes away from her. The sight of her engulfing his dick with her mouth was unbelievably exciting, yes. What was most intoxicating was the knowledge that it was Scully doing this to him. For him. God, she was so beautiful. She kept going, farther than she had before, until he could feel himself prodding the back of her throat. And still she kept taking him in, until she had every last inch down her throat, and her nose was touching the skin right below his stomach. "Omghh," he groaned, giving a little involuntary thrust. Damn. He hadn't meant to do that. How was she not choking? How was she not gagging on him? No matter how much he wanted to touch her, he kept his hands to himself. The last thing he wanted was for Scully to think he was going to hold her head down. It was the least he could do to show his gratefulness. Boy, was he grateful. She was a goddess. When she began to slide him in and out of her throat, all the little whimpers he had been making turned into full- blown groans. God, she was incredible. This was...it was the most...God, she was incredible. He nearly lost it all when he saw her close her eyes, taking him in as though she was sucking on her favorite lollipop. It struck him how much she was enjoying this. He'd had blow jobs before, but no one had ever seemed to delight in it as much as she seemed to be doing now. Maybe it was because Scully simply enjoyed the act? Or maybe it was because it was he that she derived joy from it? God, he hoped that was it. Just when he thought he couldn't feel better than he was feeling at that moment, one of her hands reached between his legs and cupped his balls through his boxers. He saw stars – he really did, and he thought he might have started drooling when she began to massage him lightly. It was just the right amount of friction to add to the pleasure he was already feeling, and he distractedly told himself that he better remember every second, because his life would never get better than this. She started making humming noises in the back of her throat, and he could feel the vibrations running in little waves of pleasure all over him. He'd praise her for her impressive repertoire, only he honestly believed that she didn't have one. The humming seemed to stem from her own pleasure. At least, if the constant "mmmm" sounds were anything to go by. He felt a familiar tightening at the base of his cock signaling his impending orgasm. He opened and closed his mouth several times to try and warn her, but no sounds issued forth. He had to warn her, didn't he? Fellatio etiquette escaped him at the moment. This was his first blow job ever by Scully, and already it had surpassed any and all of his previous experiences. It would be presumptuous to assume that she'd want to swallow, too. Finally he was able to get out, "Scuh – " but she was too fixated on her task to appreciate his effort; she didn't even pause. "Gonna...gonna come, Scuh...Scuh..." She ignored him. Okay, that had to be deliberate. He had strung five words together in an audible voice and she was still just sucking the life out of him. Which meant...which meant she wanted him to come. In her mouth. "JESUS!" The thought of Scully =wanting= to swallow his ejaculation was what finally did it. He jerked into her mouth, spasming as he emptied himself down her throat. Her hands were on his thighs, holding his lower body down as much as she could, all the while continuing to suckle him, milking him dry. Well, one rule was definitely blown – so to speak. Oral sex was sex. And they were in Scully's apartment. But had he broken another rule, the other ridiculous one he had manufactured, about not saying each other's names? She definitely had not said anything – that much was for certain. What about him, had he said her name? Almost, he realized. But not exactly. So technically, that rule was intact. Just barely. He found himself almost disappointed. Well, he shouldn't be too greedy. One was a start. His brow furrowed as it occurred to him to wonder why she had done this in the first place. Setting up those damn rules had been her idea. He wouldn't allow himself to hope that she had reached the same conclusions as he – he highly doubted that she had come to realize she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him in the time between their first sexual experience and his arrival at her door tonight. Scully braced herself against his legs and lifted herself up from where she had been kneeling between his knees. "So are you hungry, Mulder?" She brushed some lint from her jeans. He could only stare at her and nodded mutely. She stepped around his left leg and made her way over to the kitchen. The sex was over, so it was safe to say each other's names again. Right. And they were going to have dinner. Like normal, friendly...oh who the hell was he kidding. The sound of running water told him she was washing her hands. "Good, because I made your favorite," she called, and he could hear the smirk in her voice. It was an old joke between them – he ate anything, so everything she cooked was his favorite. How could she =joke= at a time like this? When he still sat stupefied on her couch, his dick still hanging limply out of his pants? Wasn't she at all affected by what had just occurred? She'd broken one of the rules! Why had she done that? Not that he was complaining, but he wanted to know what it meant. Or perhaps it wasn't so significant for her. Maybe he was making a big deal out of something that wasn't a big deal. She =had= said that times would come when one or all of the rules would no longer be necessary. He had simply assumed that there'd be some sort of discussion about it, first, and he certainly hadn't expected a rule to be broken this soon. Maybe subconsciously Scully really wanted the same thing he wanted. The thought made him very happy. But no – that was too easy. He would just have to wait for her to enlighten him. Silently he righted his underwear and buttoned his jeans, his hands shaking slightly. Aftereffect of orgasm. "Do you need an engraved invitation?" Uh oh. Slightly pissed tone of voice; he'd better go sit down at the table. Scully didn't like it when her sauces burned. He got up a little shakily and took off his jacket, which he draped over the couch. He then made his way to the kitchen and sat down at his normal place. She had made chicken Alfredo...delicious. Scully's culinary skills didn't extend very far, but her chicken Alfredo was out of this world. She placed a heaping plate of pasta in front of him, not even half that amount for herself. He busied himself by opening the wine bottle. This was routine. What they did every time they had dinner at her place. He always opened the wine. A sudden thought flashed through his mind that he always wanted to be the one opening the wine bottle at Scully's table. A wave of longing swept through him so fiercely that he actually felt his eyes burn. Scully had already dug into her pasta, paying him no mind. He filled her glass first, then his own. She took a big gulp of wine. How could she eat so heartily after...after? She took a crusty bread roll and dipped it into the creamy sauce. The salad was ignored. Mulder knew from experience she always ate that last. She had read somewhere that this was the healthier way to eat. He didn't see what difference it made since it was all mixed together once it went in, but Scully was surprisingly stubborn about things like that. Just like the yogurt and bee pollen – he had told her a million times that she was a scientist and it was ridiculous she bought into such crap, but typically, she never listened to him. "What's the matter? Why aren't you eating?" Under her scrutiny he obediently dug his fork into the pasta. Steam rose from the noodles and sauce, and despite his inner turmoil his basic biological need for food took over. He had had one basic biological need satisfied this evening by Scully; this was merely the second. All right, he had to stop dwelling on that, so he concentrated on his food. He glanced up once to ask her why she had jumped his bones the minute he'd shown up at her door, but was distracted by the sight of Scully chewing her pasta. A little cream sauce had situated itself right above her upper lip, and her tongue darted out to clean it off. He swallowed and forgot what he was going to say. After that he looked up only to fill their wine glasses. Finally, over bowls of vanilla ice cream, Mulder felt ready to confront her. He cleared his throat, then opened his mouth to speak. "You liked it, didn't you, Mulder?" "W-what?" Was she talking about the pasta or the fellatio? The corners of her mouth twitched. Her head tipped to the side, indicating the living room. "What happened on the couch." Was she kidding? He was so thrown he could only stare at her. She licked ice cream off her spoon; he couldn't seem to tear his gaze from her lips. "You could say that, yeah," he answered raggedly. Now he was at a loss as to how to ask her to explain her actions. What was he supposed to say? Thanks for an incredible experience but don't let me catch you doing it again? It was fanfuckingtastic Scully but have you lost your mind? What about your rules? The evening in review: he arrived at Scully's apartment – the home of the woman he cared most about on the planet – she gave him a blow job, and then served him dinner...and he was going to ask her to explain herself? It was official – he was an idiot. But it was bothering him. There was something not quite right about the whole scenario. "Why?" he asked finally, foregoing anything more articulate. She gave him a sheepish grin. "I don't know – I felt like it. It's been almost two weeks since..." She flushed a little. He raised an eyebrow. So this was what Scully with an active sexual life was like. In any other circumstance he might have given her a hard time, but there was no way in hell he was going to do that now. "And," she continued a bit breathlessly, "I wanted to see what you would taste like. I've been wondering about it all week." He absently noted that the ice cream was melting – a natural process, to be sure, but he couldn't help but think that the heat of their current conversation was assisting in the liquefaction. "O–Oh?" Though he had so recently been sated, he felt himself begin to harden at her words. It was her tone of voice; it was because Scully was the one saying them. "And – what did I taste like?" She cocked her head to the side, as if thinking for a moment. She pushed her bowl away. "Better than ice cream." "Really? Just this ice cream, or ice cream in general?" Her eyes held laughter before she rolled them at him. "It was one of the lesser rules, anyway." "There are lesser rules? There's a rule hierarchy?" "Of course," she answered primly. "You're the one who made it up," she reminded. "You were being sarcastic, but at the time it actually kind of made sense. However, the point of this exercise, I thought, was for us to be able to ease a little stress." He nodded enthusiastically. "That's true." "We experience stress even when we're not on a case. Right? So it seems kind of arbitrary to say we can't relieve some of it at this location or that. Except at the office, of course. For me, just getting up in the morning knowing I have to work with you is stressful, Mulder." She grinned. "Ha ha." She had always been the more the levelheaded of the two of them. She could tell herself whatever she wanted about keeping things separate. Meanwhile, he would do his damnedest to make her forget about the rules entirely. And if he did it stealthily, she wouldn't even notice until she was head over heels for him and wouldn't give a damn. Still, some part of him was determined to make her suffer for imposing the rules in the first place. "Won't this blur the line between, you know, the people we really are and..." Her eyebrows raised. "The other people we are?" "Yes." "They're just places, Mulder." She shrugged. "Locale. We'll just have to trust one another to keep things separate. It would be ridiculous of us to waste money on a motel whenever we felt like..." She looked down, flushing again. It was really cute, the way she did that. "Copulating" was the word that sprang to his mind, but he didn't share. "It'll be harder, but I think we can manage," she finished. His mind flashed back to another time he had been in her apartment, drunk, having just held his father's dead body in his arms. Scully had helped him into her bed, and even then, in his exhaustion, he'd realized that it was precisely because it was =Scully's= bed that it brought any comfort. Now, he kept his mouth shut, even knowing that for him, locale was very significant. Her trying to think otherwise was something he could use to his advantage. He'd agree with whatever excuse she wanted to give, and then somehow he would take this intimacy and make Scully fully aware of how intimate it really was. Then she would see that they were both fully capable of being in an intimate relationship, that in fact, they had been engaging in one for quite some time without realizing it. He nodded and smiled. "You're absolutely right, of course, Scully." She looked at him suspiciously. He doubted he had ever said those particular words to her all in one sentence before. "All right, then." She had apparently decided to ignore the momentary aberration. Decision made, they carried their plates and silverware to the sink. They washed and dried together amiably, as they had dozens of times before. He wiped his hands on his jeans. He wasn't sure if their conversation meant he could stay tonight if he wanted, or whether it was just for future reference, or... His thoughts halted when Scully slid her arms around his waist and looked up to meet his gaze with lust-filled eyes. The blood in his head began to rush in a southerly direction. "So," she began huskily, "what would you like for breakfast?" He didn't need any more invitation. He bent his head to capture her lips with his. "What I'm about to have for dessert." Kissing, they fumbled their way to her bedroom. Just the sight of that bed made him unbearably excited. She broke her mouth from his. "This is the only rule we'll toss," she said firmly. He shook his head. "Whatever you say, Scully." "I love how sex makes you so docile, Mulder," she said, pulling her shirt over her head and flinging it aside. As they fell on the bed, Mulder had a brief flash of what Scully's reaction would be if she really knew what was going on in his head. But then her hot little mouth closed over his nipple, and he forgot everything but the woman in his arms. ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Five ~~~~~~~~ Office of Dr. Audrey Lake September 21 10:01 a.m. Scully had arrived early for her appointment this morning and was ushered in immediately. Audrey seemed eager to get started. The psychologist took a sip of water. "Now, last week you were telling me about the new direction your relationship with your partner had taken. Our time was unfortunately cut short – did you want to continue with that?" "Yes, I do," Scully answered decisively. "To be honest, it's the reason why I decided to seek...outside help." Audrey smiled kindly. "I thought so. Please continue. Talk about whatever you like, whatever's on your mind." "Last time I told you we tried to distance ourselves from what was happening in a deliberate way. Establishing rules and such. We – I - thought this would make distance =possible=." Dr. Lake nodded. "You didn't find this to be the case?" "We tried to make it impersonal. But no, I didn't find this to be the case at all," Scully shared miserably. "Impersonal sex? That's what you were aiming for?" "Yes...no. I don't know. I agreed because it was what Mulder wanted and I thought I could go along with it. I think I was hoping that in the process of pretense, I could learn to want what Mulder wanted." She took a deep breath. "Or, I hoped circumstances would eventually change on their own, making it so that I wouldn't need to learn it." "Change how?" Scully was silent, contemplating her next words. "That we would...that Mulder would...that Mulder and I – I don't know." "Of course you do." The other woman's voice was kind but firm. Scully swallowed. She felt rather like the times she'd been caught by her mother lying, and she did now what she did whenever that happened: she spilled her guts. "I suppose I hoped that our physical intimacy would carry over to our pre-existing relationship. That we would combine the two." Audrey nodded. "That's only natural. You care about him outside the realm of your sexual relationship. What is he to you, Dana?" Scully's response was automatic. "A colleague...a friend...a partner." Audrey waited. "A very prominent figure in my life," she finished in a low voice. "I'm told by several sources that partners in law enforcement are often closer than a husband and wife. Do you believe this to be true?" Scully sucked in a breath, looking down. "I wouldn't know. I've never been married." "That's a very pragmatic answer, Agent Scully." The unusualness of Audrey using such a formal title when she normally called her "Dana" caused Scully's head to swivel up to look at the other woman. Audrey met her gaze unwaveringly. Scully flushed and looked away again. Usually during a session she trained her gaze down, or to a point on the wall behind the psychologist. She found it difficult to look directly at another person while she was baring her feelings; she supposed it was a natural protective instinct. "There's a 'but,' isn't there?" Scully asked wryly. "But," Dr. Lake smiled, "you understand the basic institution of marriage and generally what a marriage requires. You've been exposed to marriages and probably have heard many secondhand stories about it. I think you can give a better answer than that." "Yes," Scully answered finally, "I do believe that in =some= cases partners in law enforcement are closer than a husband and wife in =some= marriages. But that would depend on the marriage." "True," Audrey conceded. "But that would have to be some bond. Most people spend their days working and spend only nights and weekends with their spouses. Now, in some occupations – such as law enforcement – even that is iffy. Rarely would a situation occur where one or the other has to make any decisions about his or her spouse's continuing existence on the planet. "Partners, however, depend on the other in life or death situations, and spend most of their waking hours with each other. Time spent together, combined with that kind of dependence and trust, would make almost any other relationship pale in comparison. At least," the older woman took a sip of water, "that's my personal view." Scully's mouth had dropped open during the spiel. She'd never heard Audrey speak so at length. It was probably a bit unorthodox, but Scully found it refreshing. It made her feel as though she was only engaging in conversation with another person, instead of being stared at and dissected like a bug under a microscope. "I'm sure you're right," Scully conceded huskily. "I think that in most instances, exceptionally sound marriages apart, partners have a special connection, one that is as strong if not stronger than most marriages." Audrey nodded. "Dana, I don't believe you explicitly stated one way or another the last time we met, but you and Mulder are still involved in this no-strings-attached physical relationship, am I correct? At least, on the surface?" Scully nodded her confirmation. Audrey seemed to hesitate a bit before posing her next question. "Dana, do you believe that you and Mulder have one of those partnerships?" Scully was somewhat taken aback by the question, although it shouldn't have been unexpected. That's where all this was leading, of course – back to her and Mulder. Well, did they? She trusted him with her life and she knew the opposite to be true, but did that really mean anything? They were both officers of the law and honorable individuals; they had sworn to protect and uphold the law, and knew that at any given moment they might be called upon to give up their own lives for somebody else. So was their relationship merely the co-worker equivalent of what their jobs entailed anyway, or was it something more intimate? "I would like to think that we do," she answered. Whether they did or not was another question. "You realize by saying this you are implying that you do not expect a future relationship to surpass what you have with Agent Mulder." Scully bit her lip. That =was= what she was saying, wasn't it? It seemed so perfectly innocent when approached from one side – do you trust your partner? Do you have an intense understanding of one another? Do you have a unique connection to one another? To all the questions the answer was yes. But when approached from another angle, the questions were altered yet inherently the same – and much more dangerous. Do you trust anybody else the way you trust your partner? Will anybody ever be able to understand you the way your partner does? If your connection is unique, doesn't that mean that there is and can be no other like it? "Yes, I realize this," Scully said. "Nobody else could ever mean what Mulder means to me," she finally whispered. There was a moment of silence as Audrey considered Scully's answer. Scully tried not to watch the clock; she knew it was rude, but she was supposed to meet Mulder after her session today. Normally it was fine if she ran late, but she didn't want him questioning her tardiness this time. If he knew that she'd been seeing Audrey, it would bring up too many questions, with answers he didn't want. It would also force a confrontation she wasn't ready for. However, chances were great that he wouldn't even notice. He always seemed to be in a different world when playing basketball with his friends. "These...parameters the two of you set. You said they have all been broken." Scully was momentarily thrown by the change in subject, but was relieved to leave the intense personal scrutiny behind. "Yes." "I see." Scully watched as the older woman jotted a few notes onto her pad of paper. "I broke a rule first," Scully blurted, as if she were in confession. "What I mean to say is, I initiated the first rule breaking." "Why?" "I...missed him," she said, flushing. "I was...it had been a week since the first time we ever...had relations, and I wanted to have sex with him." Might as well get it out there. "I thought about it all the time. I knew he was going to come over for our weekly dinner, so I told myself I could have him then. It helped me get through the days at the office. "I suppose, subconsciously, I wanted to break down the barriers, even as we constructed them." She gave a small laugh. "But you know all about subconscious motivations." "I don't know yours," Audrey replied with a smile. "It's good to be aware of the factors that prompt our actions, Dana. Don't feel the need to hold back what you think were your motivations. It's important for me – and especially you – to hear them." Scully nodded and took a deep breath. "I take it you felt the rule was dispensable?" Again, Scully nodded, and gave a little smile. "At the time, =extremely= dispensable." She and Audrey both laughed. It felt good to be able to talk about this with a little brevity. "The rule was that we weren't supposed to do the deed at our apartments. But since we started having sex to relieve stress, it seemed rather ludicrous to have limitations on location. Stress can strike anytime, anywhere." Of course, that sounded more like an excuse than anything. "Well, that's how I rationalized it to myself," she amended. "It certainly can," Audrey agreed, amusement coloring her voice. "The next 'rule' that was broken – when was that, and at whose instigation?" Scully immediately relaxed. This was already done, in the past; this she could handle. She thought for a moment. "About a week and a half after the first one." "And what did this rule entail?" "Well...I told you that we had originally planned to make our sexual...er – transgressions as impersonal as possible." "I heard you say that, yes." "We thought it best if, during the sexual act, we didn't say one another's names." Audrey's eyebrows rose. "And it had worked up until that point?" Scully flushed a little. "It had been difficult, for both of us, I think, but yes. After the first encounter and making up the rules, there was only that one time at my apartment when we had to exercise this restraint before we broke another rule. Well, it wasn't =one= time but it was one occasion - " Scully stopped abruptly as she realized she had probably said more than Audrey needed to hear. Mortification threatened to overheat her face until she heard Audrey chuckle. She started in surprise. "Dana, I'm quite aware of the various forms sex can take on. Stop being so self-conscious – I'm not a priest." Audrey chuckled again, filled with mirth. "You're making me feel like an old woman." Scully found herself smiling sheepishly in response. "I'm sorry. That isn't what I meant to do. I just find it hard to speak openly about this to someone who isn't – " She hesitated, then plunged ahead. " – Mulder." So why hadn't she spoken about it to him, then? Maybe she was afraid to realize exactly how little this meant to him. "Oh, to have the benefits of youth and vigorous physical training on your side," Audrey sighed wistfully. "So...you were telling me about how you and your partner could no longer hold back shouting out each other's names in ecstasy," she said with a straight face. God, would she ever stop blushing? Audrey had apparently forgotten her question about who had been the one to instigate the breaking of this rule, and Scully was rather relieved. Okay, so it had been her...but she'd been in the throes of mindless passion at the time. Surely she couldn't be blamed all that much. It had been another rule that had a sound theory behind it, but when put into practice was simply unfeasible. She was certain it would have been broken sooner or later, so it really didn't matter whether it was she or Mulder who had initiated that particular transgression. Besides, it'd been getting rather ridiculous. What were they supposed to do? It's a natural inclination to utter your sexual partner's name while making love. Should they have made up names? Remained mute? There was never any regret on her part that that rule had been tossed to the wind. And it was highly doubtful Mulder had been fond of it, either. She'd done them both a favor. ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Six ~~~~~~~~ Residence of Mrs. Elliot Treadahe August 4 5:12 p.m. They stepped out into the bright sunlight, Mulder donning his sunglasses and Scully following suit. "So what do you think, Scully?" All she seemed capable of concentrating on was his lower lip. Throughout their interview with Mrs. Treadahe, Scully had been unable to focus on the questions being asked. She was grateful Mulder hadn't seemed to notice that he'd been picking up her slack. It was ridiculous that the only thing she'd been aware of as he'd spoken to the interviewee, and now, as they conversed in front of their rental car, was that lower lip of his. Well, =he= was conversing. She was merely staring from behind her sunglasses. The lip was plump and slightly swollen from being chewed on. He had recently run his tongue over it, so it glistened, slightly moist. She had the almost uncontrollable urge to stand on her tip-toes, lean over, and suck it right into her mouth. "Scully?" She reluctantly dragged her gaze from her perusal of his lip when her name emanated from his mouth. "What, Mulder?" She was thankful she had followed his lead and put on her sunglasses. He couldn't know what was so preoccupying her. "You okay there?" He was the very model of concern. "You were saying you thought you had a fever." He drew closer, arm half-raised, no doubt intending to check on that himself. She backed away before he could reach her. The last thing she needed was for him to touch her in her current state. The way she was feeling right now, she was liable to throw him to the ground and wrestle him for possession of his tongue. And that was against the rules. Most definitely against the rules. Maybe not against a specific rule, but against the spirit of the rules in general. Oh – and they were on a case. Right. "I'm fine, Mulder." She was proud of the way her voice came out cool and collected. Her gaze fell to the strong column of his neck, so ready to be nibbled on. He dropped his arm. "All right. So what do you think?" Damn. What had he been saying? She was loathe to reveal the extent of her absorption with assets of his that had nothing to do with his mind. Unfortunately, there was no help for it. She hadn't a clue to what he wanted her response. "I'm sorry. I wasn't listening." She adjusted her sunglasses. "Run it by me again?" Surprisingly, Mulder made no comment, simply repeating what he had just said. "The lab results and forensics report are pretty clear. I've found nothing out of the ordinary. Mrs. Treadahe seems a few sandwiches short of a picnic, and I don't think a poltergeist is involved. Seems like a simple arson case to me. No X-File." She nodded her agreement. Not an X-File. Which meant, technically, that they were no longer on a case. Which meant...she couldn't stop the flutter of excitement that arose in her stomach. "We'll go speak to the sheriff and tell him our conclusion, then I'll books us flights out for tomorrow. What do you feel like for dinner?" Mulder was always worried about his stomach. "Whatever's fine." They headed toward their rented Taurus. Mulder was driving, and not for the first time, Scully was grateful. She was little too keyed up at the moment to drive, and looked forward to some contemplation time. Neither brought up the fact that it was still early evening and they could probably get a flight out that night with very little problem. If they'd wanted to leave. ~~~~~~~~ Motel 6, Room 9 August 4 9:21 p.m. Scully rose out of her bath, reaching for a towel. After she pulled the plug to drain the tub, she began to pat herself dry. The bath had relaxed her somewhat, but now that she was no longer ensconced in bubbles, she felt a twinge of the same anxiety that had prompted her desire for a bath in the first place. She'd taken one even though the tub was small and cramped, not ideal for bathing. Sighing, she hung the towel back onto the rack. Now that she was all sweet-smelling and clean, what the hell was she going to do? Barge into Mulder's room, where he was no doubt entertaining himself with filmed versions of what she wanted to do with him, and announce that fact? Or wait until he came to her? She honestly didn't know if she could wait that long. She had been feeling restless and horny all day, and if she had to wait until =Mulder= made a move she could well be facing hours of frustration. Yet Mulder had been the one to make the first move and got this whole thing rolling, while she had been paralyzed with indecision. Well, no more. Now that they had crossed that line, she didn't feel the need to hide her desires the way she used to. Still, what was wrong with her, anyway? She'd never been quite so desperate for sexual attention from a man. And why Mulder? Sure, for six years her dreams and the occasional fantasy had revolved around him, but that was because he was a good-looking man, intelligent and challenging, and practically the only male she ever spent time with on a regular and significant basis. But surely, now that he had been attained, her desire should have been doused somewhat? She was not of the mind to do any real analysis. All she wanted was Mulder's cock – which, incidentally, she had become quite infatuated with – and those lips of his pressed upon her body. Yet simple pride kept her from throwing open the connecting door clad in only her birthday suit only to find him sprawled fully dressed on his bed watching TV. She wanted him to want her as much as she wanted him. The only way she would know that for sure was to wait until he made the first gesture. Pulling on a robe, she went into the bedroom and sat down on the bed to wait. After about ten minutes, she got bored and switched on the TV. Flipping through the channels, she finally stopped on some adult channel where a woman with enormous breasts was having sex with a man who needed some major grooming in Scully's opinion – and she wasn't talking about the hair on his head. She changed the channel. A nature film, the narrator cheerfully explaining that it was mating season for this particular species of toad, and Scully was then subjected to the sight of the two horny toads – and she wasn't talking about the species. Everybody's getting some but me, she thought morosely. Sighing, she went over to her suitcase and took out a bottle of nail polish. If he didn't show up soon, she was going to paint her toenails. She set the bottle down on the small bedside table, then took one of the pillows and propped it up against the headboard. She settled against it, half-sitting and half-lying on top of the sheets. "Scully?" There was a tentative knock on the connecting door, Mulder's voice muffled behind it. Finally. But it wouldn't do to appear too eager. She could be just as cool and detached about this as he. "Yes?" "Can I come in?" Don't ask, just do it! she thought with aggravation. Her voice, however, was perfectly calm when she spoke. "Sure." The connecting door opened slowly, an inch at a time, as if he was afraid he was interrupting something he shouldn't. Once he spied her on the bed, however, the door swung open with a loud bang against the wall. Scully winced. "Sorry," Mulder mumbled. He was wearing a Knicks t-shirt with torn sleeves and sweatpants. He looked utterly delectable to Scully, but she casually trained her vision on the TV. She wouldn't have been able to tell anyone what she was watching, though. She was too aware of Mulder's presence in her room. Oh, well. It wasn't as if she'd be quizzed on it. "What'cha watching?" Oh, damn you, Mulder. "Uh – " There were pelicans on the screen. "The nature channel." Whew. Good save, Agent Scully. She suddenly felt very warm and wanted to shed some clothing to ease the discomfort, but then remembered that the robe was the only thing she was wearing. While the prospect of getting naked with Mulder was infinitely pleasing, she wasn't about to stand up and simply drop the robe to the floor. She felt too self-aware at the moment, not to mention that she didn't feel the least bit sensual or provocative. It rather felt like she was on her first date, wanting to be kissed but lacking the know-how to go about initiating it. And it didn't help that her "date" was currently staring at his feet as if they were incredibly fascinating – more fascinating than the half-naked woman on the bed. "What'cha doin'?" "Nothing." He made a move toward the bed, placing first his hands upon the cover, then hauling his large frame completely onto it to settle next to her. Scully's heart beat a little faster. Here it comes, she thought. If she had been some heroine in a bad romance novel she would have demanded that he ravish her immediately. Instead she said, "You're a big lug, you know that, Mulder?" The bed had shrunk two sizes. "What have I told you about the flattery, Scully?" Mulder retorted sarcastically. She didn't know why she felt so damnably awkward. She certainly hadn't felt awkward the last time they'd done this – she'd devoured him as soon as he'd entered her apartment. But there was the difference, she supposed; she'd felt comfortable in her apartment, in control. She had decided upon a course of action and simply plunged right in. This was a little different. It didn't feel spontaneous, yet neither of them knew what the plan was. She didn't want to be the only one who wanted to test the boundaries. "You're into the nature channel, Scully?" The sound of Mulder's voice so close to the sensitive area of her ear caused her to give an involuntary jump. She smoothed a damp palm against the material of the robe, hoping to cover her reaction. But he had noticed it, she realized, when she looked at him out of the corner of her eye and saw a pleased little smirk on his face. "It's very educational," she replied. "You don't have to pretend. I know you haven't really been watching." Boy, one uncontrolled physical response and the man was reeking arrogance! "Shows what you know," she snapped. "They were talking about...frogs mating." Ha! "Uh," he said, in a tone that made her want to clobber him, so full of condescension, "the humping toads were on when I first came in. They've gone on to at least four other animals since then." Her first thought was, *he said 'humping.'* Focus, woman, focus! "That one was the most interesting," she answered, feeling a hot flush creep up her neck. "Mm hmm." She jumped again as the deep throaty purr seemed even closer to her ear, so close that she had not heard so much the sound but felt the vibration of his utterance. She froze when she felt Mulder's nose touch her ear. "I've often wanted to learn more about the mating habits of...frogs." She struggled for some semblance of nonchalance. "They were toads," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear, causing goosebumps to appear all over her flesh. "Oh," she responded breathlessly. Mulder began to rub his nose back and forth against her ear, causing her toes to curl in pleasure. "Are you wearing anything under that robe?" he murmured. His breath was hot against her ear, and he flicked his tongue against her earlobe, warm and wet. Tremors of anticipation shot through her. She wanted to feel more of his tongue against her ear, so she pressed it against his face. He chuckled. "You haven't answered my question." But he obligingly sucked her earlobe into his mouth, nipping and biting lightly. She moaned, writhing a little on the bed. One leg came up so that her foot rested against the bedcover, causing the material of the robe to slide down, exposing one bare thigh to practically the junction of her legs. Mulder caught the movement, and there was no doubting the tremor in his own voice as he said, "Well, that was a very demonstrative way to answer." To her delight, one of his hands immediately went to her exposed knee and began a trail up her leg, higher and higher to the soft skin of her inner thigh. She shivered at the sensation of his slightly callused hand gliding up her skin, promising soon to be where she wanted it most... Though she was expecting it, the sensation of his fingers there at her center nearly made her vault off the bed in surprise. One of her hands went involuntarily to his wrist, as if to stop him, and he went still. She loosened her grip, instead trailing her fingers over the back of his hand until she reached his fingertips. She looked into his face then, and saw that he was watching her intently. Their gazes locked and held as she pressed one of his fingers into her. There they were, in a Motel 6, dressed in ratty clothes, the nature channel blaring from the TV, and she was having an unbelievably erotic experience. The feel of his finger pressing up into her was incredible – and she could hardly wait for something more substantial. It was the connection of their eyes that made it all so much more intimate, however. Quickly, Mulder moved in between her legs, his head dipping low to get a better view of what his finger was doing. "You're so wet," he murmured. "Already." There was no hiding how pleased he was. "Mmm, and you smell good too. Want to...taste you." He removed his finger, eliciting a small whimper of disappointment from her – but then his tongue was there, searching her folds, and she quickly voiced her approval. But when she would have said his name, she bit her lip. That was not allowed. She just had to pretend that it was not Mulder who was doing these things to her, but a random man. A random, sexy stranger she had picked up out of nowhere because she felt like having sex. He just happened to look a lot like her partner. She felt oddly bereft, even as her lover's lips and tongue were bringing her to new heights of ecstasy. She felt strangely alone. That had to be changed. "Stop," she commanded huskily, sitting up. He only looked at her in confusion, the beginnings of hurt starting to show on his face. "Let's do this together." Her hands went to the belt of her robe, clearly intending to remove it. She gestured to his clothes. A grin spread across his face. "Whatever you say, Sc – " he stopped, a sad look stealing over his face. But then he brightened. "I never refuse when a woman asks me to take my clothes off." He stripped of his shirt with glee and tossed it carelessly to the floor. She raised an eyebrow, feeling a touch of possessiveness about him even though she knew he was joking. "And how often is that, M - ?" That was a close one. "Oh, all the time...all the time. Don't you see them throwing themselves at me?" he teased. He leaned forward to kiss her sweetly. "If you mean Kersh's secretary, the next time I see her I'm gonna – " "Ooh, what?" His eyes were twinkling with delight. "You would fight over me?" She smiled. "Of course not. The next time I see her I'm gonna tell her you're not worth it." His face fell, but she could see that he was amused. "Not even a little bit?" "Not...even...a...little...bit," she answered, punctuating her words with kisses. The last one initiated a kiss that continued for quite some time. They weren't touching except for their mouths, and Scully wanted to remedy that as quickly as possible. She shrugged the robe completely off, glad to be rid of the thing that was keeping her from feeling Mulder's skin on hers. She placed her arms on Mulder's strong shoulders and wrapped them around his neck. She then plastered herself against him, delighting in the way he felt against her skin and her breasts in particular. He apparently liked it as well, because he groaned into her mouth and wrapped his arms tightly around her, bringing her even closer to him. God, it was such an amazing feeling to be naked, at least from the chest up, with Mulder, kissing the life out of each other. He tasted so good...he smelled so good...he felt so good...and she herself had never felt better. But there was something slightly amiss. She wasn't feeling =all= of him. She realized he still had his sweats on. She couldn't get her arms down to his pants with his arms around her so tight, so she had no choice but to make him aware of it verbally. The problem was that when she tried to pull away from his kiss, those same arms held her in position. She placed two hands against his face and forcefully drew his head away as she pulled back, so that their lips disconnected with a loud pop. She couldn't help but grin at the slightly dazed look on his face. His eyes were still closed almost all the way and his lips were still slightly puckered. "Scuh - ?" She clamped one hand over his mouth so that he wouldn't break the rule, and smiled at him. "You're still wearing your pants. That's cheating." The heat in his gaze brought her temperature up a few degrees. "Well let me take them off, by all means. Wouldn't want to be accused of foul play." They moved away from each other reluctantly, Scully feeling an unwelcome blast of cold air from the ventilation system. It did cool her off a little, however, and she was better able to appreciate the sight of Mulder stripping off his clothing with eyes unfogged by the drugging lust that normally overtook her when in his arms. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and removed them swiftly. Next went his boxers; he slowly tugged downward on the material until his jutting erection sprang free. His underwear joined his sweats on the floor. Scully immediately reached for his arousal, being as she was rather obsessed with it. He seemed more than happy to oblige her, however, returning to the bed and kneeling on the mattress. Before she even knew she was going to do it, she had taken the tip of him between her lips. "Aauhgh, don't do that!" Mulder exclaimed in distress, jerking back so that he popped right out of her mouth. "What? Why not?" Scully was rarely denied what she wanted, and this unexpected rejection was rather aggravating. She could still taste him in her mouth, but the flavor was quickly dissipating. She wanted it back. He was breathing rather rapidly, and his hands were in front of his groin, as if shielding his poor mistreated penis from her uncouth and unwanted aggression, Scully thought in irritation. "I can't...concentrate when you do that." "I'm not asking you to write a dissertation here, Mu – " His eyes widened and she closed her mouth abruptly. "I know, but it's my turn." Was that a whine she heard in his voice? "You said I could," he fairly accused. "You promised." Yep, definitely getting whiny. "Oh, all right," she said grudgingly. Not that she was opposed to this idea of Mulder performing cunnilingus on her, of course. But she did so like having him in her mouth. And this was a new experience for her. She had never liked it before – ever. Yet with Mulder, he hadn't even been the one to insist on it before she had eagerly fallen to the task. "Well, I suppose we could compromise," he said thoughtfully. "What do you mean?" She looked at him suspiciously, then felt a flood of warmth between her legs as she realized what he meant. This was exciting in so many ways, not the least of which was that she had never done it before. "Okay, how is this gonna work? You being the big lug that you are?" "You're really going to hurt my feelings one of these days." She smiled. He moved, settling against the pillow propped up by the headboard where she had been lying previously, sliding about halfway down. He flashed her a quick grin. "Problem solved." She was dubious, and it showed on her face. "You just worry about your end, and I'll take care of my end," Mulder said patiently. She could tell he was trying not to grin madly at his meaning. "Now, back into me." "What! I'm not backing into you." The very idea seemed undignified to her. "Fine. Do it however you like. But I'm not backing down about this." "Did I ask you to?" she snapped. Finally, the only foreseeable alternative was to straddle herself high on his chest and gradually go on all fours. So, that was what she did. He was now within reach, and she licked her lips in anticipation. "Wait! Don't start yet!" The loud cry nearly gave her a heart attack. She turned her head to look behind her and see what the holdup was. He was struggling, wrestling with the pillow, and finally he just propped himself up by his elbows. "Well?" She raised an eyebrow. "Hold on." More struggling, until he was settled once again back against the pillow, at the perfect height for his mouth to reach her without having to lean forward. "Now, when I tell you, can you back up a little?" She turned back to take in the object of her hunger. "I suppose so." Less for her, but not that much. "Okay then." She felt his hands against the backs of her thighs, sliding up toward her feminine core. She felt his thumbs parting her folds, and knew without a doubt that he was studying her. She had never felt so exposed in her life. It was a great feeling. And then his mouth was on her, and it was as if she had been dunked into a well of sensation. Electric shocks were coursing through her body so fast that she could hardly identify where they were coming from. In automatic response, her mouth latched onto his cock. Mmmm. She could hear him groaning behind her, but she couldn't concentrate on anything but the wonderful sensations his lips and tongue were rousing, and the fact that she had Mulder's thick cock in her mouth. She suckled strongly at him, and felt his response as he stabbed his tongue into her. It was a curious mix of attack and retaliation, each trying to force the other over the edge first. She laved her tongue all around him, concentrating on the tip; he teased her clit with his tongue. She took him deep into her throat; he stabbed two fingers into her, pumping roughly. The influx of sensation was amazing. He was making her feel so good, and she realized she was making him feel the same way, which made her feel good again. And she loved tasting him in her mouth. A win-win situation all around. It was undoubtedly one of the most arousing sexual acts she had ever performed, and she wondered why she had never done it before. Of course, she had never enjoyed giving blow jobs before, either. Obviously, it was all because of Mulder. She couldn't stop the thought as it came unbidden to her mind. Shit, shit, shit. It was not supposed to matter that it was Mulder, damn it. He's just a guy. But the taste she had in her mouth – it was so familiar. So familiar because breathing deeply, she smelled him. And he smelled like her partner. He smelled the way he smelled on a hundred stakeouts when she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He smelled the way he did when he got too close to her, explaining one of his theories. He smelled the way Mulder smelled when he'd leaned in close to kiss her cheek as she lay on a hospital bed. This was that same scent, only earthier, muskier; it was raw Mulder, promised to her senses many times but never actually fulfilled until she had had him that first time in her apartment. This =was= Mulder, and that was why everything was heightened; better. He chose that moment to press his tongue hard against her clit, circling forcefully, and contemplation took flight. All she saw and felt were stars, exploding all around her. She couldn't even concentrate on what she was doing with her mouth. Her arms felt rubbery, alien, as if they were not really attached to her body. It came as no surprise to either of them when her arms finally gave out and she collapsed onto him, his erection leaving her mouth with a twitch of disappointment. For a long time there was nothing except for the sounds of two people trying to slow their intake of breath. "That was fun," Mulder said finally. Scully was eye-level with his cock, still hard and huge and throbbing with blood. He could see that she was looking at it, of course, and his reflexive swallow was audible. "Yes, it was," she said. His dick moved in response to the warm caress of her breath. She finally called up the strength to haul herself up and straddle him face-to-face. For a long time they just looked at each other, a thousand conversations flying back and forth in their gazes. Scully dipped her head and touched her lips to his. The kiss immediately deepened. She could taste herself on him and knew that he could taste himself on her, and for a long while the mingling of these flavors was the only purpose they had in life. When Scully pulled away, it was to gasp for air. "I think..." she rasped, "I think it's time we took care of your little problem." He looked vaguely insulted that she had called his raging erection a "little" problem, but was not quite fully coherent enough to voice any objection. He did, however, locate enough cognizance to sit up and adjust his position better suited for what was coming next. So to speak, she snickered to herself. God, this habit of making bad puns had to have come from Mulder. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, adjusting the position of her legs, she slid down on him an inch at a time. She could feel her muscles expanding, adjusting to the foreign object invading her body, and she was glad they had taken the time for foreplay or this would have been more uncomfortable. Two prior experiences had not gotten her body used to him yet, but if she was honest, the discomfort was pleasurable as well. It was the intimacy of the act, however, that she enjoyed most. Mulder had his eyes closed and was biting his lower lip; the sight sent a shiver of desire racing through her body. She loved it when he did that. At last, there was nowhere else for him to go, and he let out a hiss of breath. "God, you're so tight, Sc – " He stopped himself. She was a little annoyed that he still had the presence of mind to think about =rules= when he was fully sheathed inside her as far as he could go. And this was not an easy thing for a woman of her size to do – accommodating a big lug like him. "You think so, huh?" She gave his shoulders a little squeeze. "Did you know I can be even tighter?" She clenched her inner muscles. "God!" His eyes flew open. "Feel good, dearest?" He panted. "Ah, I can't remember – you'd better remind me." She did, this time sliding up and down as she did so. She smiled in satisfaction at the long throaty moan she got out of him. So she did it again. Again. And again. Soon she was riding him so hard and fast that her muscles began to ache and protest loudly. She kept her inner muscles clenched tight, which was tiring, but also made it feel incredible for her. She took her hands from his shoulders and adjusted her angle, her hands now resting on his hard stomach. OH! The new angle hit some funny spot inside her – she had never felt that before. There it was again! To her amazement she felt herself begin to tighten even further, signaling an orgasm. She had thought for sure that the last one was – well, never mind what she thought; she had been wrong. This new spot was the key. And to think in her entire life so far, she hadn't even known it existed! Moving frantically on him, she wondered why the hell he hadn't come yet. She was so close to her second climax, and he hadn't even reached his first. She recalled that she wanted to make him lose control, lose that irritating presence of mind he was so good at maintaining. That was the whole point of this ride-him-fast-and-hard exercise. The side bonus of a second orgasm from her exertions had momentarily distracted her from this ultimate purpose. She slowed to a halt, causing the little cries from Mulder to stop and elicit a panicked, "Why are you stopping?" "Not stopping," she explained in a breathy little voice. "Just changing pace." She unclenched her muscles, lifted herself until he was almost completely out, then slammed back down, reclenching when he was fully inside again. His bellow rang in her ears, and she blacked out a little for a moment, herself. She performed that move two or three more times, until for the last one Mulder unexpectedly met her halfway. He'd been pretty docile up to that point, letting her ride him at the pace, depth, and strength she wanted. Now, he came up hard as she was going down hard – the result was bone jarring, teeth rattling ecstasy. He erupted into her, shouting "Scully!" like a benediction, so loudly her ears rang with the noise. It wasn't until moments later, feeling the aftershocks of her second orgasm that she realized she was chanting, "Mulder, Mulder, Mulder." She was once again crushed against his chest, having collapsed upon him. His arms had immediately gone around her and held fast. She lacked the strength and the conviction to do anything about it. Silence reigned. A pronouncement: "I think we should toss out that rule." Coming close on its heels: "I agree." "It's hardly reasonable not to say names during sex. 'God' and 'Jesus' don't count." Mulder was the voice of reason. "Nope." Scully hid a smile. She'd done it, made him lose control. If she had lost some in the process as well, it was a loss well worth the result. "It would be stupid to make up fake names." "Ridiculous. Unthinkable." There was another moment of silence as this was digested. Mulder cleared his throat. "Since that's settled, mind if I go take a shower?" "Not at all." Her voice was dismissive. "Uh, Scully?" Pause. "You'll have to get off me." "I already got you off," she replied, snickering. At his groan she rolled away, trying not to feel bereft when he slipped out of her body. She watched him make his way to the bathroom, admiring the fine round cheeks of his ass as he walked. She heard the shower go on, and tried not to feel that he was washing her off of him. The area between her legs throbbed, reminding her of her recent activity, and realized with a grimace that she was going to pay the price for all this pleasure with a lot of soreness tomorrow. She wondered if she ought to put on some clothes. Where was her underwear? Ah, yes, she hadn't been wearing any this time. At least she wouldn't be hunting madly for them as she had the last two times she and Mulder had made love. It was odd, but she seemed to have misplaced those pairs. Not that she could really say for sure. The first pair to go missing had undoubtedly in her eagerness been flung into some forgotten corner where the maid had probably found them. The second pair was likely still in her apartment somewhere – maybe she had tossed them into the laundry hamper and forgotten. She lost this train of thought when she heard the shower stop, and then heard the soft, muted sounds of Mulder drying off. He walked back into the room, naked as a jaybird, and Scully thought absently that he was magnificent. Grabbing his clothes up from the floor, he quickly redressed. She watched him with a growing sense of unease. "Well," he said, not quite meeting her eyes, as if embarrassed that she was still unclothed, "good night." He walked quickly to the connecting doorway, then through it to the adjoining room. He wasn't going to sleep with her? Scully tried not to feel like crying, and failed miserably. He washed off the evidence of their passion, dressed, then went somewhere else to sleep? What had she expected, words of love and promises of forever? She knew she wouldn't be getting those things – ever. They had an agreement and she was breaking it right now by wanting more. Mulder had probably suspected that she would get emotional on him, and had wanted to spare her the agony of indulging her feelings only to have them lead nowhere. She knew that he was doing what was best, but it didn't stop her from resenting him for it. Or feeling hurt. Just because he'd spent the night at her place that once didn't mean he wanted to sleep together all the time. Maybe she was too clingy in her sleep. Maybe he just wanted to sleep in his own bed. Well, he shouldn't want that! the unreasonable part of her argued. He should want to spend the night with you, in the same damn bed! He doesn't want that and neither should you, she told herself, and ignored the wetness trailing down her cheeks. She got up to turn the room light off, then crawled back into bed, burying her face in the pillow he had so recently leant against. She could smell his soap and his sweat, and if she concentrated she could still taste him in her mouth. She didn't shower; she liked the way his scent was all over her, saturated into her skin. She feel asleep with Mulder's redolence surrounding her, his face filling her slumberous vision, his essence resting safely inside her. ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Seven ~~~~~~~~ Mulder's Apartment September 20 9:32 p.m. Popping open a can of diet soda, Mulder took a long gulp, then settled onto his sofa and flipped open the pages of the journal. It had been three days since his last entry. At the time, he had penned the last word with a feeling akin to relief - it had been cathartic to spill his guts onto paper. That had changed in the past few days. He was more anxious than ever. Although he had seen Scully since his last entry and their lovemaking had been as powerful and enjoyable as ever, he was beginning to feel as if she was trying to distance herself. She was doing the exact opposite of what he had hoped their closeness would induce – she was retreating rather than embracing. And he didn't know how to stop her from slipping further away. The situation was making him insane with worry. This time, he didn't hesitate. He picked up his pen and began to write. **I've always been open and honest with Scully. I've always told her everything. But I've kept one thing from her these past few weeks – knowledge she has a right to. Though this is the only thing I have ever kept from her, I feel like the biggest liar on the planet. I don't even think I've kept the secret all that well, but amazingly enough, Scully's keen instincts haven't picked up on it yet. I must be more talented than I give myself credit for. Actually, I lied to myself just now. It's not the only thing I've ever kept from her, but we made it through the other instances with our friendship intact and possibly even stronger for them. This, however, has the greatest ramifications to the continuance of our friendship to date. I'm scared. Scully has always been the strong one of the two of us, and this time it's not any different. I'm tempted to confess all and let =her= come up with the solution. The only reason I haven't is that I'm afraid her solution would be to leave me. And that would make me want to shoot myself in the head. So. I have to remember how strong our bond is. It makes me ashamed that I have to remind myself, but there it is. Fear is crippling. I can't lose her. We've had more than our share of tragedy and pain, but in a twisted way, that makes our happy times even more meaningful – not that I wouldn't take back all the pain I've caused her if I could. Right now is a happy time. Sort of. I love being able to express my love for Scully in a physical way, and I love that she enjoys it, too. The threat of these happy times ending haunts me. I know I'm the luckiest son of a bitch alive for being able to experience what we've had. I'm also a greedy son of a bitch, though, and I want more. I want it all. I'm addicted to the fact that whenever things look like they can't get any worse, I see Scully beside me and realize that things will never be at their worst if she's with me. I love that I can depend on that. It scares me shitless to imagine a time when I can't. It used to be fine to accept it like any other given in life. The sun will always shine. The sky will always be blue. Kersh will always hate my guts. I will always have Scully. Now such assumptions are dangerous. Now there is a chance that a given will change. Scully may not be there. Then you might as well ask me to stop breathing. Such fears prompt even more dangerous thoughts. Thoughts of confessing what I feel for her. More and more, I'm thinking these dangerous thoughts. Thoughts I hope and am yet afraid will manifest themselves, making it impossible for us to continue on the way we have. It would force us to make choices. Well, force her to make a choice, at least. It's not really a choice for me. Do you want to go on living? How would you answer that? I'm living a fucking lie. I don't want to pretend anymore that I have lesser feelings for her than I do. But I will, if the only alternative is a life without Scully. Sometimes, I let myself hope that she's living a lie, too. Then we can confess our truths to each other and move on, complete and together, from there. But the realist in me doesn't dwell on it too long. I know that if only one of us is living a lie, then we both lose, just in different ways. I know she's not ready to hear my truth yet. What I mean by 'ready' is: ready to give the response I want to hear. She's not going to drop everything and declare that she returns my feelings. I think the only time I could ever expose myself like that, bare my soul to her, risk our partnership, would be when I'm reasonably sure she's not going to utterly reject me. Because if I do come clean with her about the way I feel and she doesn't feel the same, not only would I have to deal with the rejection itself, but also with the knowledge that I'd made myself a burden to her. She'd have to deal with my feelings. Not exactly the kind of impression you want to make on the woman you love. Worse – she might pity me. Or maybe not worse. It's pathetic, but the selfish part of me would even take that, if it was all she could offer. But then she'd feel guilty...unhappy...stressed. And if there is one thing I have sworn to myself about my sorry life, it's that it will in no way, shape, or form, cause Scully unhappiness. I've already failed plenty of times in that respect, I suppose. Never with that intention, though, and never when I could prevent it. This I can prevent. I'll just keep my damn mouth shut and everything will be fine. I don't know what to call these feelings. I suppose, love - which explains everything and nothing at all. I don't think we have a word for what I feel for Scully in the English language. Perhaps another. Perhaps somewhere, in another country, another continent, a language exists where a man is able to describe in one word what he feels for the woman who completes him, sustains him, owns him body and soul. The other day, I ran through the gamut of words that I know and none of them fit. They are all so pale, so drab, so unfit to describe what Scully means to me. I would do anything for her. People die for causes all the time, and I'm no different. I'd die for a cause if I thought it worthy, I'd die in exchange for my mother's life, I'd even die for your average citizen on the street. Hell, that's what they pay me for, isn't it? That's what an officer of the law risks every day. But how many people can say they have something – someone - to live for, truly live for? Scully is it for me. I don't think there's a single person in this universe who could get me to stay in this world if I wanted to go. Except Scully. It's a lot harder to live for someone than to die for a person, I can tell you that. Dying for someone or for a cause requires only one moment of bravery, and then you don't have to worry about anything ever again. I've had a number of such moments in my life. *Well,* I thought during those times, *this is the end.* While I was never =happy= about those occasions, I wasn't entirely full of regret, either. I suppose I took the thought of death rather pragmatically. We all have to go sometime. Most people probably think about their loved ones when they're about to die. The precious faces, the good times, the shared love. I never, ever, let myself think of Scully at those times if I can help it. It makes the prospect of leaving this world too hard, the yearning to stay too strong. Why put myself through that kind of agony if it's really my time to go? I haven't always been successful at putting her out of my mind. That's how I know what agony is. On the reverse end, there have been very few times in my life when I've been consciously happy to be living. Scully is associated with them all. The day her cancer went into remission, life had never seemed so beautiful. I was thrilled to be alive, because my life had been given back to me. That may not make any sense to anyone else. The way she looked at me, those beautiful eyes sharing her relief, her bravery, her pain, I think she knew what I was feeling. I ask Scully for a lot – sometimes, more than she wants to give. More than I deserve. But I ask anyway. How can it be expected of me not to ask? One day I'm afraid that my need will swallow her whole. I see it coming, sometimes, the way the sea swallows an object as strong as a ship – in the end, it's as if the ship was never there. Scully will be minimized, reduced to becoming a part of me, because I couldn't learn to coexist with her. Instead, we'll be made into a sick parody of togetherness. I've tried to keep my distance to please her – God, how I've tried. The time we broke down and actually said each other's names while making love, I was a little scared. Her name was ripped out of me and I thought I'd given everything away. I was afraid she'd see right through me – she'd see what she meant to me, and I would lose her. Imagine my intense relief when I heard her cry my name out too. I had to pretend to be detached; pretend it didn't faze me at all that she'd fucked me within an inch of my life. So what if it was one of the most incredible sexual experiences of my life? I was very convincing. I amazed myself. The last thing I'd wanted to do was wash off the delicious fragrance of Scully, me, and sex, but she was watching me and it would have looked suspicious if I hadn't. Sure, part of it was pride, too. If she didn't want to care about me, then I wasn't about to confirm how truly pathetic I was by begging her to do it anyway. So I was clinical about it, as she would appreciate, following the spirit of our pact. I washed, I dressed, I went back to my own room to sleep. Just because these actions made me miserable didn't mean they weren't necessary. I probably made Scully very relieved. That's something, I suppose. And if I wanted more than anything to hold her in my arms as I fell asleep – well, that was my own fucking problem, wasn't it? I don't worry too much about that time anymore, though. Since then we've learned that we both sleep better with each other than without, so it's not a memory that causes me much anxiety now. I remember the first time she actually let me stay with her in a motel situation. To say I was thrilled covers maybe a tenth of what I felt then. It happened during the time we broke our last rule, actually. I'd been so frustrated - by the case, unrelieved horniness, and Scully's tempting presence - that I was practically demented by the time we got into bed. I still think we did everybody concerned a good turn by breaking that rule. I'm certain that it's what finally got my mind unknotted enough to complete the profile on that son of a bitch, and we nailed his ass. But that's a whole other story. My anxiety now stems more from my possibly doing something stupid, something that will make her end it with me once and for all. And that doesn't just entail the confession of my feelings. It could just dawn on her one day that she's fucking a pathetic loser whose professional opinion she doesn't think is worth beans most of the time. You know, some poor schmucks live with that fear all the time, all over the world. I just never thought I'd be one of them. Before Scully, I don't think anyone would have pegged me for the type, =especially= myself. I was absorbed in a lot of things, but being in a relationship with a woman wasn't one of them. Now it's the most important goddamn relationship of my life, the only thing I'm really absorbed in, and I'm fucking it all up. I guess that's pretty typical. I suppose it's kind of sad how easily I accept that. I don't mind being a fuckup in the eyes of the world – in fact, I cultivated that notion. It was carefully orchestrated. Okay, maybe not, but I certainly didn't mind when it happened. But I can't be a fuckup in Scully's eyes. Her opinion =matters=, and if she doesn't see any redeeming value in me then I'll have to believe that that's because there isn't any. I suppose that one time we broke another rule and fucked in the office could be categorized as somewhat of a fuckup. Technically, it wasn't the office, it was the bathroom, but it was in the building where we work. Of course, I initiated it all. I know I can be somewhat of an ass at times. I could blame it on her shorter-than-usual skirt, or the top she was wearing that was so tight her breasts were practically exploding out of it, but that would be to place blame where it doesn't really belong. I have no control where Scully is concerned – I'm just grateful she puts up with it most of the time. She possesses amazing powers of forbearance. Then, she's had a lot of practice with me around. She really is the perfect woman. Needless to say, it was basically just down and dirty fucking at old FBI Headquarters, and even though it was incredibly stupid and risky...I still wish it would happen again. To know once more how it feels to have Scully wanting me that bad. The fact that we're not likely to do it ever again just makes the experience that much more memorable. Talk about thrill! Talk about danger! Man. Members of the mile-high club don't know what adrenaline =is=. It was fast and hot and sexy and I would've probably been willing to donate a kidney for the experience. Luckily, no such sacrifice was required of me. Of course, it did get Scully kind of pissed at me. I didn't know what she was so mad about – she enjoyed herself at the time, or it seemed to me, and I know she came. I still have scabs where she scored me with her nails to support my claim on that. To this day, I still have no idea what I did that made her so upset. Maybe it was the meeting with Skinner right after. Hey, it's not what I would have wanted after making love with Scully, either, but we =were= on the clock. I guess she just took her annoyance out on me. That's okay because Scully deserves to take some frustration out on me. I gotta say, Skinner is one lucky bastard, though. He got to see Scully after she'd been thoroughly fucked, and there isn't a more beautiful sight in the world. Of course, the reason why we both still have our jobs is due to the fact that he =wasn't= aware of what he was seeing. I have it on good authority, however, that it's been quite some time since anyone has seen her like that (aside from her lover, of course – and that would be me), so I'm counting Skinner as lucky. See, a little on-the-job-fucking can sometimes benefit more than just the two parties directly involved. I'm the luckiest bastard of all.** ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Eight ~~~~~~~~ FBI Headquarters – X-Files Division August 16 3:01 p.m. "It's Friday, Scully. What do you want to do?" He twirled a pencil. "Work, Mulder. You know, why I'm here in the first place." She kept her face buried in the document she was perusing. "I thought I was the reason." "Right. I forgot." There wasn't even an attempt at sincerity in her tone as she began to scribble on a pad. What the heck was she doing over there that was so much more interesting than he was? He leaned forward, trying to peer over at her desk. Eh, looked boring. He tossed the pencil skyward. YES! Clean stick. That sucker wasn't coming back down anytime soon. He looked over at Scully again, and could have sworn she was trying not to smile. She used the hand that wasn't holding her pen to play absently with her necklace, drawing his gaze to that area. She shifted a little, and Mulder's eyes widened. Had there been that much cleavage showing before? And if there had, why hadn't he noticed until now? Not that it mattered. He was in a constant state of arousal around her so it really didn't make much of a difference. They'd last had sex...when was it? A week ago? Two nights ago? Whenever it was, it was too long. She brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and he swallowed. Had that deliberately been provocative, or was he just really susceptible? Then she began to nibble on her lower lip. Without conscious knowledge, he imitated the action on his own lower lip, imagining it was hers. Uh oh. He was quickly getting excited. And they were at work. This was not good. Concentrate on something else, he told himself. Since at the moment he found it physically impossible to tear his gaze away from Scully, he just had to concentrate on her less provocative assets. Unfortunately, there wasn't a single part of her that didn't turn him on. Even her hands, so beautiful, so delicate, so pure and chaste, were not safe from his lust. From the graceful arch of her wrist to the tips of her delicate almond-shaped nails, she was sexy as hell. Not to mention that his mind vividly brought to the forefront the memory of what those hands were so good at doing. For a moment he allowed himself to believe that they were not at work, that they were somewhere else entirely, transported there by a benevolent being who had taken pity on him, and he and Scully were free to cavort as they pleased. He was doused in the cold water of reality when Scully asked if the expense reports were done. He looked at the pile of receipts and forms on his desk. "Uh...no?" "One of these days, Mulder – " "You're going to shove me up against the wall and punish me?" he suggested hopefully. " – you're going to give me a heart attack when you answer 'yes' to a question about getting any paperwork done." "I think that day is still far off in the future, Scully," he assured her. He thought he heard her mumble something about karma, but he couldn't be sure. Scully sighed, and for the first time he noticed – or thought he noticed – lines of tension around her eyes. "Want a neck rub?" he offered. At this point he had no thoughts for anything more than that; she looked tired and she appreciated a neck rub now and then. Of course, that was usually in private, but surely it wouldn't harm anything? "That would be good," she murmured. He was instantly grateful to Scully for understanding how much he wanted to do this for her, how much he needed to be able to help her in some way. Making his way to where she sat behind her desk, he loosened his tie a bit. Maybe they were both a little tense. He stood behind her, looking down at the top of her head, thinking once again that she was entirely too beautiful from any angle. Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss where her hair naturally parted, taking the opportunity to take in her scent. His eyes closed, imagining that they were at home, relaxing after a long day at work, and he was going to ease her tension with a neck rub. She had stiffened a little under his hands from the kiss, and immediately he straightened. Unfortunately, only the last part of that fantasy was true - they were still at work. And more-than-platonic gestures were strictly forbidden. He might have already blown it with that lengthy kiss. It wasn't even a kiss, really, he defended himself, just the pressure of one part of him touching one part of her. He placed his thumbs at the junction of her neck and shoulders, and began with slow, hard strokes, the way he knew she liked. Her head bobbed gently forward as she allowed herself to relax and fully enjoy his ministrations. Slowly, he worked his way up the column of her neck, pressing his thumbs firmly against the tight muscles. She moaned a little, and his cock twitched at the sound. It was far too used to hearing that moan under different circumstances. Or perhaps it had been a preparatory twitch; after all, massages given in the privacy of wherever they happened to be often led to a vigorous bout of sex. It ain't gonna happen this time, he informed his penis sorrowfully. But it had taken on some of Scully's personality attributes – it knew who could bring it the most pleasure, after all – and stubbornly refused to listen to him. His hands had returned to the tense muscles of her shoulders, which had loosened considerably. He could also tell by the humming noise coming from her throat that he had at least brought her these few moments of relief. Another breathy moan and he was rock solid against his slacks. "Feel good?" he asked, not quite steadily. "Mmmm," she answered, the sound making the little hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention – and that wasn't all. He involuntarily moved closer to the back of her chair so that his erection was pressed up against it. "Good. I'm glad," he rasped. With every strenuous rub his hands performed, his lower body rocked forward, creating some blessed friction where he desperately wanted it most. He supposed he ought to be ashamed that he was practically humping Scully's chair while she sat there innocently believing he was only being nice. He truly had meant this to be an altruistic effort on his part. Once again, however, he had underestimated his need for her; his automatic response to Scully whenever she was near. Vaguely in his lust-addled mind it occurred to him that this problem was supposed to have abated somewhat – that's why he had thought up the whole sex-as-inhibitor thing in the first place. But he had fed his addiction when he should have starved it. The functioning part of his mind at the moment, however, was far from clamoring for him to cease and desist. However, all the blood rushing south didn't allow for many thoughts, and unfortunately his brain wasn't the organ in command. It was this other part that told him to lean down and plant a kiss on the soft skin of Scully's neck. And another. And another. It was this other part that told him her skin would probably taste sweet and salty at the same time, and encouraged his tongue to reach out and find out for sure. Yep, it was true. It was this other part that told him to suck gently on her skin until he elicited a moan from her throat – and this he did, with no compunction. He lifted his lips from her neck, noticing that her muscles had tensed again and her breathing was uneven. He didn't even know he was going to speak until the words had been said. "Ladies room. Two minutes." In the period of time between his demand and her answer, Mulder's head cleared a bit – enough to understand that he had probably just made an immense ass of himself. Not only was he suggesting they break yet another rule of their mutually-agreed-to pact, but his suggestion went against all of Scully's inured convictions of professionalism. He was about to open his mouth and apologize, when to his disbelief she gave a short nod, not looking at him, then got up and left. OH MY GOD. After he had gotten over the shock – well, let's face it, there was really no getting over it, only familiarize himself with it – he felt such an urgent surge of need in his pants that he thought he was going to burst right through his zipper. Holy shit. She was actually going to do it. She was going to let him fuck her in the ladies room in the basement of fucking FBI Headquarters. At the office. This admission of her desire, of her need, sent tremors of excitement jolting through him. His head was probably so swollen it could have popped with a single pinprick. That she would overlook professionalism, throw all caution to the wind, do this utterly stupid thing with him, was unbelievably sexy. He'd never been so turned on in his life. Oh, Scully. His prim, proper little Scully who was a tiger in bed but nevertheless kept her professional demeanor to a fault at the office. At work, this sacred place where she based much of her worth, she was going to overlook and bypass all that, so that she could have sex with him. He probably would have gone through another wave of amazement had his cock not reminded him of the time. His two minutes were up, and heaven beckoned. He nearly killed himself tripping over a box as he rushed out, narrowly escaping concussing himself on the edge of a desk. He shuddered to think what Scully's reaction would have been to find him knocked out on the floor of their office, beaten up by a desk, no less, after waiting who knew how long for him in the ladies room. He had chosen the ladies room because it was closest; the men's room was located all the way down another hall. At the time he hadn't really had any other consideration, but now that he thought about it, it had been a blessing in more ways than just location. The mental picture of making love to Scully next to a bunch of urinals was not exactly lust-inspiring, so there was that. But what =was= lust-inspiring, incredibly so, was the fact that they would be doing it in the room where Scully went everyday to do her mysterious little feminine preparations, whether it was to touch up her makeup or tweeze her eyebrows or whatever the hell it was that women did in bathrooms that made them take so damnably long. And now whenever she went in that room to do those things, she would remember this event. He made a vow right then and there that this was going to be the hottest, most erotic, unforgettable sex that he could give her. After he was through today, she wouldn't be able to walk into that room without soaking her panties. That thought sent more blood rushing to his cock, which made him grit his teeth. He was aroused to the point of pain, and if anyone should see him at this moment there would be absolutely nothing he could do to hide his condition. He would have to stop this barrage of excitement and control his dick, or the only thing Scully was going to do when she walked in that ladies room in the future was laugh. Standing in front of the door to the restroom, he took a deep breath. What if another woman was in there besides Scully, who had for some random reason decided to use the bathroom in the basement? Perhaps there had been long lines for the restrooms on other floors, and a woman had decided to venture down to the basement...what would he do then? Mutter a sheepish apology, he supposed. It was the only thing he =could= do. But it'd certainly look suspicious, if Scully was in there. Or maybe what would be suspicious would be to make too big a deal out if it, like he was doing now. There was a perfectly good bathroom here that hardly anyone but Scully ever used. Why should he have to walk to the men's restroom, which was all the way down in the other direction, when they were both grown adults and could listen to another person urinating without going into fits of adolescent giggles? But he'd – they'd – be breaking some kind of unspoken social rule. Men did not go into women's restrooms or vice versa. If they were caught in the same restroom, for whatever reason, it would probably be weird enough to pass along, and tongues were wagging enough about them as it was, without feeding the fire over where he took a leak. And with things being as they currently were, the less attention drawn to them, the better. Also, if there =was= another woman in there, Scully would no doubt be outside to warn him. Better to err on the side of caution. He'd open the door just a crack, take a tiny peep. He pushed gently; the hinges squeaked a little as they gave way slightly. There didn't seem to be anyone inside, as far as he could tell, but he couldn't see very much. He pushed a little harder, opening the door a little more. It occurred to him that if there =was= someone other than Scully there, it'd look a whole lot worse to be peeping into the ladies room than if he were just to open the door normally. However, before he could put this plan into action, the door swung rapidly away from him, causing him to pitch forward and stumble into the room. Before he knew what was happening, he had been slammed up against the wall and Scully was kissing him senseless. He eagerly responded in kind, and the kiss quickly spiraled out of control. His teeth ground against hers; lips were bitten; tongues clashed, and all thoughts of being discovered vanished. He thought he tasted blood, but whether it was Scully's or his own he didn't know and it didn't matter. He felt wild, out of control, and best of all Scully seemed to feel the same way. He wanted her to lose her head, to lose her cool, because that would mean he could sneak in and steal her heart when she wasn't looking. Or more accurately, he hoped she would give it of her own accord, but that wouldn't happen except perhaps during a vulnerable moment. And Mulder was determined to create as many of those as he could. Quickly, he reversed their positions. Scully grunted when she hit the wall a little too hard, but he didn't apologize and she didn't complain. It was perfect. This whole scenario was perfect; there wasn't such a thing as being too rough. It was going to be quick and dirty, the way they both wanted it. It was funny how they could read each other like that. He wondered when it had started. He wondered why it was so easy to read each other's sexual needs and why they couldn't do it with the important stuff. He supposed it was because they were unafraid to show one and scared shitless to show the other. That was the difference. Searching her face, he found it difficult to get past her expressive eyes, darkened by desire, and her hair, which was mussed by careless handling and framed her flushed cheeks. "Why..." he began, but the thought rolled out of his head when she cupped and massaged him through his pants. Scully met his gaze unwaveringly, wetting her lips with her tongue. It distracted him from her eyes, and he followed the movement hungrily. He saw them then curve into a small smile. Groaning, Mulder slipped his hands under that short skirt of hers and felt bare skin. Ah, Scully, what foresight. She had already removed her pantyhose. He glanced down and saw that she had put her shoes back on. Those black, clunky, high-heeled shoes. He groaned again. Was there anything about this woman that =didn't= turn him on? Oh wait; it'd already been established that there wasn't. Shoving his hands up her thighs roughly, her skirt obediently following suit, he kissed the area right above her still-clothed breasts. He was delighted to feel skin; Scully had undone two extra buttons. Kissing and nipping his way up to the base of her neck, he concentrated on that spot for a few moments. They didn't have all the time in the world, he realized this, but it was one of the sweetest spots on her, and for him, this was time worth spending. Scully threw her arms around his shoulders. He took the hint, grabbing her ass with his hands and lifting her up. She hooked both legs onto his hips. "Come on, Mulder," she ordered breathlessly. Well, that was enough time spent on that spot, he supposed. He slid his tongue up the length of her neck, stopping at her chin, kissing her there lightly. Her legs wrapped around him, helping her stay in position for the moment, and he was able to let go of her sweet little bottom to fumble with his belt. If he'd had the same foresight Scully possessed, he would have gotten rid of the thing in the office. Now, instead, his anxious fingers made it take longer than it should have. Then the button. And the zipper. Damn all these contraptions! Scully made no move to help, simply rolling her head back and forth against the wall, making impatient noises in her throat. Her arms had slid bonelessly down to her sides. Mulder hitched Scully up a little higher and leaned in closer, so that her weight was partially supported by the wall and his abdominal muscles. He could feel her burning through the material of her panties and his thin dress shirt. He needed to be =there=, right now. He was also starting to realize that he probably should have gotten his pants off before getting into this position, but now that they were there, there was no way in hell he would change things. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, he attempted to slide both his pants and his underwear down in one easy motion. Unfortunately, the elastic of his boxers wouldn't give, and only his pants made it to the floor. "Goddammit," he muttered. Scully cracked her eyes open, staring at him from beneath her lashes. Mouth parted and swollen from his kisses, he thought he had never seen her more beautiful, and was going to die if he didn't get inside her within the next few seconds. "What's wrong, Mulder?" She spoke in a voice so transformed by lust that it was barely recognizable as hers. "Nothing, nothing," he said, latching onto a breast with his mouth. He could feel the hardness of her nipple through her shirt, and he circled it hard with his tongue, wanting to distract her. All right, there was no way he would be able to get his boxers off and still hold Scully up at the same time, so the boxers were just going to have to stay on. Impatiently grabbing the waistband with one hand while the other grabbed Scully under one of her knees, he began to hurriedly hitch the boxers back up. Unfortunately, in his haste he pulled a little too hard, and almost gave himself a nasty wedgie. Avoiding such an occurrence by a couple millimeters or so, he was finally able to reach into his fly and pull out his rock hard erection. His mouth let go of her nipple. Finally! He was home free! Oh damn, Scully was still wearing her underwear. All right, there was no way he could survive more delay. He was already half-deranged. Reaching toward the waistband of her panties, he tested the material quickly. Silk. Easily torn. One good yank and they were off, fluttering to the floor. Scully seemed to appreciate his impatience, because she emitted a sound that was a cross between a growl and a gasp. At last. He slid Scully down gently, until he was poised at her entrance. He knew she could feel him prodding at her, and she let out a breathy little moan. Her legs tightened around him, urging him closer. He gripped her right underneath her thighs, just below her ass. He had a good grip, which was important, because this was going to be hard and fast, and he needed to be able to keep them both upright. "You ready?" he rasped. "Yes, Muld – augh!" her response ended on a shriek as he rammed into her. Oh God, oh God, she was so tight and hot and wet and she was like a fist gripping him so firmly that it felt like heaven. Feels so good, feels so good, feels so good... "You feel good, too," she gasped out, her words punctuated by little gasps as he thrust forcefully into her feminine heat. Mulder realized he'd been speaking out loud. With every thrust of his hips, he yanked her body forward to meet it, so that they crashed against each other again and again, connecting almost violently. "Harder." He was already pounding her. "Are you sure?" "Harder." His arms were getting tired, and luckily Scully seemed to sense this. She wrapped her arms tightly about his neck and braced some of her weight onto his shoulders. She then moved herself against him, bringing herself down hard on his cock. Gasping, his freed hands slapped again the wall, bracing himself there. He continued to move his lower body with the ferocity she wanted, her little screams and gasps filling his ears. "Faster. Faster...y-y-yes, like th-that," her voice trembled as he complied. She continued to jerk herself up and down on him and he moved his hips even faster, faster than he thought he was capable of, faster than he thought any human being was capable of. But Jesus, did it feel good. Suddenly Scully let out a piercing scream, scoring the back of his neck with her nails, and began to shake against him. Her vaginal muscles squeezed him so tight that he let go, too, shooting into her like a geyser, bellowing into her ear. They held onto each other tightly for a few moments, waiting for their minds to clear and vision to return. When Mulder finally allowed himself to let up just a little on his tense muscles, it was a mistake – he slid weakly to the floor, taking her with him, nearly cracking his kneecaps on the tiles. Scully apparently was experiencing the same lack of strength, as she no longer tried to help him support her weight. Her cheek rested on his shoulder, and he really wanted to see her face. Did she regret this breach of conduct, which represented practically everything they had said they wouldn't do? Was he about to get his ass kicked? "Let me clean you up, Mulder." He guessed not. Lifting herself off of him, she pressed and slid her face against his shirt, down and down until she reached his cock, hanging feebly outside the fly of his boxers. Mulder closed his eyes as he felt her tongue sliding over him, cleaning their mutual juices off of him. Once, he thought he heard her say, "Mmm, we taste so good," but he was only half paying attention, so he couldn't be sure. Having her tongue and lips on him, combined with the sounds she was making, caused familiar stirrings of arousal. Before that could be manifested into another erection, however, it appeared he was finally cleaned to her satisfaction, and she tucked him back into his underwear. She then got up, wetted a paper towel, and scrubbed his face clean of traces of lipstick. When she was done, she grabbed his face for another quick kiss. He wanted it to last longer, and was disappointed when she pulled away. "I guess...we should go back to the office," he said regretfully. "I guess." Scully didn't seem particularly concerned. She stood in front of the mirror, looking at herself critically. Finger-combing her hair, she grumbled a little to herself. With a little difficulty, Mulder got to his feet then reached down to pull his pants up. He spotted Scully's underwear not two inches from his foot. Glancing at Scully, who was attempting to erase the smudges of lipstick outside her natural lip lines, he quickly snatched them up and stuffed them into his trouser pocket. They were torn, anyway – she couldn't wear them again. She hadn't noticed yet that he was pilfering her underwear. Or if she had, she hadn't said anything to him about it. He liked having them. The first time had been purely accidental – he'd seen a pair of his boxers lying on the floor after the first time they'd ever had sex, and snatched them up. When he realized that they were the boxers Scully had been wearing, he'd already found the panties bunched together with the boxers. He'd returned the latter but kept the former. Since then, he'd taken them whenever he could, remembering each sexual encounter by Scully's underwear. He washed them and kept them in his underwear drawer, placing hers right next to his. He supposed this was rather obsessive, freakish behavior, but was that supposed to bother him? Besides, he liked seeing their respective undergarments lying side by side in his drawer. As if...as if – this line of thinking was dangerous. It spoke of permanence, and right now they were far from that point. They were getting closer, though, and for that he was grateful. He stood there awkwardly a moment, studying her, wondering how she could be so poised, fixing her lipstick as if she had merely smeared it while eating her morning bagel. He didn't know why she was really bothering; there wasn't much left of it. The back of his neck throbbed vaguely; he placed a hand over that area and winced at the stinging sensation. Bringing his hand back to his line of vision, he gaped at the traces of blood. Damn, Scully was a wild woman. She'd broken skin. If he said something she might take it as a complaint, though, and he certainly didn't want that. "Meet you back in the office," he muttered, turning toward the door. This felt all wrong. He wanted to talk to her, to discuss what had happened, but she was just so put together. He got the feeling that if he tried to start any serious discussion she would just get annoyed with him. And he didn't want Scully to be annoyed with him. Just as he reached the door, he heard footsteps. High heels, to be exact, and they were coming from the wrong side of the door. Clack, clack, clack, traveling quickly, too. Oh, shit. "Scully, I think there's someone coming," he hissed. Looking around frantically, there was really only one thing he could do. He went into the nearest stall and shut the door. ~~~~~~~~ FBI Basement Ladies Room August 16 3:47 p.m. At the first sign of trouble, it was typical that Mulder would dive into the nearest bathroom stall and lock himself in. However, in the present situation, it was probably a good call. At least he had the presence of mind to stand on the toilet seat or whatever he was doing so that she couldn't see his feet. And thank goodness for it - not two seconds after his impromptu break for the closest door to hide behind, the door to the ladies room swung open. "Agent Scully?" "Kimberly," Scully exclaimed, trying to mask her dismay. The secretary's presence meant only one thing: Skinner was looking for them. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to intrude, but Assistant Director Skinner has been looking for you and Agent Mulder. I tried calling down here several times, but no one answered. And no one was in the office, so I thought I'd try here..." She stopped and sniffed the air. Jesus, she can smell us, Scully thought, not a little panicked. She let out a fake little laugh that normally would have made herself shudder. "Yes, I had to use the restroom. Just finishing up here. And we uh – that is, I came to see if uh..." She thought wildly. Her first inclination had been to say that she was fixing her makeup or her hair, but there was no makeup or brush in sight. "...see if they had replaced the tampons in the machine." Kimberly looked at her in puzzlement. Scully walked over to the machine that dispensed those feminine products. "Yep, looks like they did. Never know when you might need one of these things, you know. Goodness! They charge a quarter now? That's highway robbery..." She knew she was babbling but couldn't seem to stop. "Agent Scully," Kimberly interrupted, apparently having heard enough, "AD Skinner would like to see you. Immediately. Where is Agent Mulder?" "I think he's around somewhere." Scully pursed her lips. Kimberly looked at her expectantly, clearly expecting Scully to follow her out. "I'll find Agent Mulder, and then – " Scully began. "That won't be necessary. I've left a note in his office and a message on his machine to go up to the AD's office as soon as possible. It seemed urgent." This last was directed pointedly at Scully. "Oh, all right," Scully grumbled, not trying in the least to hide her irritation. If the other woman was surprised by this attitude, she didn't let on, for which Scully was extremely grateful. After thinking about it, after thinking about what Kimberly =could= have walked in on, she was counting her blessings. She shuddered to think. She and Mulder had been very, very lucky this time. Not that the inconsiderate bastard had seemed the least concerned by what they had done. No, it was wham, bam, thank you ma'am, out the door. Jerk, she fumed. And now she was following Kimberly back to Skinner's office, all sticky between her legs and fearing that things were about to get even stickier. She would have given almost anything for the chance to duck into a bathroom and take care of her problem, but Kimberly was walking so fast that Scully didn't dare. For one thing, she had already admitted to using the restroom, and for another, if Kimberly had been sent to look for them, it meant that Skinner was probably already annoyed it had taken this long. Once at their destination, she was quickly ushered into Skinner's office, where she encountered the scowl of her boss. It was then that she felt it. In her hurry, she hadn't been able to clean herself up, and now she stood with her legs pressed tightly together. Was it possible she could actually feel that certain fluids created during sexual intercourse were about to escape from her body, starting to trickle down her leg...? She let out a deep breath. Of course, it was only her imagination. For the time being. Skinner glared at her. At least, that's what it seemed like. "Where's Agent Mulder?" Scully opened her mouth to respond, but, as it turned out, she didn't have to. The subject in question answered for himself. "I'm right here, sir." Scully whipped her head around so fast it hurt. Mulder must have rushed out as soon as she and Kimberly had left. Damn him, he looked immaculate, while she felt – and was certain that she looked – completely frazzled. Skinner gestured for them to sit. Mulder did so fluidly, while Scully went about it a little more gingerly. Was it her imagination or did Skinner sniff at them? God, he couldn't smell her, could he? She was positively mortified by the possibility. Clamping her legs together as tightly as she could, she stared at him as he began to speak. None of his words registered. She could see his lips moving, could even vaguely hear the sounds that were coming out of his mouth, but her concentration was on masking the scent of sex as much as she could. She was still wet. What if she left a stain...? Oh, God. Yet another mortifying possibility to worry about. Mulder was sitting, utterly at ease, in his chair. His face was a little flushed, but for the most part, he seemed totally relaxed. And why shouldn't he be, Scully fumed. He wasn't the one still soaking wet, trying to not leave a wet spot on Skinner's chair. He wasn't the one who likely still reeked of their quickie. God, what had she been thinking! She had told herself it was a bad idea, over and over. She told herself that even as she took off her pantyhose and stuffed them in the nearest trash receptacle. She told herself that even as she unbuttoned her blouse. She told herself that even as she threw Mulder against the wall and practically assaulted him. Well, she was paying for her indiscretions now, wasn't she? She was the one who was desperately clenching her inner muscles, attempting to hold in not only the remnants of her sexual arousal, but his as well. It was =his= fucking semen that was threatening escape, and she would be the one to live with the consequences if she couldn't hide it. And just =where= the fuck were her panties? Those would have helped a little in this situation. Of course, perhaps not in this case, since she belatedly remembered that Mulder had torn them off. This recollection made her thoughts toward him turn even blacker. Now what the hell was Skinner saying? She sighed a little in irritation, and fought the urge to slug Mulder. Skinner noticed that her attention was not entirely focused on the meeting. "Agent Scully," he barked. "Is everything all right?" Scully noticed out of the corner of her eye that Mulder tugged around his collar a bit, but did not look at her. Yeah, you better be nervous, buddy. She felt another trickle of - something - between her legs, and she clamped them together even tighter. Damn gravity, anyway. Oh God, Skinner would be able to smell it, she was sure. She flushed in humiliation. She was going to kill Mulder for this. Fucking stupid semen! Slow, agonizing death. Yes. All for Mulder. Skinner stared at her expectantly. She realized she still hadn't answered. "Yes, sir," she said. "Fine." She congratulated herself on the slightly bored affectation of her voice, conveying that he had no reason to ask in the first place. It worked, and Skinner's brow furrowed. "In that case, there isn't much more to say. Your flight to Arizona leaves tonight." Scully opened her mouth to ask what it was exactly that they were supposed to do in Arizona, but immediately thought better of it. No doubt that had been covered during her homicidal ruminations. The important thing now to consider was escape. Mulder stood up quickly, as did Skinner. Scully was afraid to stand. What if the wetness had seeped through her skirt and onto the chair? It was really too bad that these chairs weren't made of leather, which would have made such an event fairly easy to hide. One conscientious swipe of her bottom... She tried not to glare at the two men who were looking at her with expectancy, and a little confusion. Fucking men. They had their fun and never had to deal with the consequences. "Uh...Scully?" Mulder raised an eyebrow. Damn him, that was =her= look. Death was too good for him. He was completely oblivious to her problem, staring at her with that condescending look on his face. "I'm sorry, I feel a little dizzy," she improvised. "Just give me a minute." She wondered wildly how she was going to be able to get up to surreptitiously check and see if she had stained one of Skinner's chairs - if =Mulder= had stained one, she amended, since she was positive it was mostly his fluid that was trying to escape. God, even his bodily peripherals were a pain in the ass! And if there =was= a stain, what in the world was she going to do, aside from die of embarrassment on the spot? Immediately Skinner looked concerned, while Mulder continued to sport his best imitation of a bemused hedgehog. Scully could practically hear his thoughts. He had just banged her but good in an FBI ladies room, and she hadn't shown any signs of illness then. Or was he responsible for this sudden bout of dizziness? Had he just been too damn good? Was it her imagination or did his chest actually puff out a little? It would be up to her to deflate that overactive ego. "Is this serious, Agent Scully?" She understood from the gravity of his tone what Skinner was asking, and she tried not to flinch at this reminder of the cancer. "No, no. I think it was something I ate." Mulder's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He was remembering, as she was, that she had licked him dry afterward. Which was why he was entirely comfortable while she felt like she was leaking like a faucet. "I guess it wasn't very good." She watched Mulder deflate to the point where his shoulders actually sagged. For a moment she was thrilled with her payback, but then she felt bad. After all, the sex had been spectacular. It wasn't his fault they had been so hurriedly called to Skinner's office, or that she had this new tendency to lose her underwear after getting laid. She felt sticky and uncomfortable, a little panicked because she didn't know what she was going to do if she =had= left a wet spot on Skinner's chair, and now, to top it all off, she felt like a bitch for hurting Mulder's feelings. And then it made her madder that he should be the one to cause this situation in the first place, yet =she= was the one who had ended up feeling bad. Skinner was still looking at her expectantly. After all, she said she was fine, so why was she still sitting there? She =had= to get their attention away from her. If Mulder was a little quicker on the uptake, he would have realized her predicament, but alas, he was Mulder - only brilliant when it didn't have to do with her. "I...uh..." She was really beginning to sweat now. The two men were staring at her raptly, no doubt wondering what the hell was =up= with her. And she couldn't come up with any diversionary tactics. "Sir," she finally blurted. "Could I ask you to turn around, please?" The straight-forward approach. Conventional, a little humiliating, but endurable. She had thought for a second about shouting, "What's that?!" and pointing, but dismissed the idea because only Mulder would have turned to look. Skinner's brows snapped together in confusion. Mulder merely gaped at her. "Agent Scully? What are you talking about?" "Turn around. Please. Both of you." She glanced down at her lap in what she hoped was an embarrassed look - let them think that she had feminine problems. Anything was better than the truth. Understanding dawned on Skinner's face, though he was still slightly puzzled. Scully saw Skinner glance at Mulder, who was still staring at his partner. Skinner gestured for Mulder to turn around. Judging from the look of utter confusion on his face, Mulder still hadn't gotten the point. Scully merely glared at him before he, too, followed suit. Seeing both of their backs, Scully quickly got up and glanced down at the material of her seat. Nothing. She craned her neck to look at the back of her skirt. Also nothing. It had all been in her imagination. All the moistness and dampness she felt had been contained within the confines of her skin and skirt, although the first stop she was making once she got out of this office was to the nearest restroom. "Thank you," she said huskily, and started out of the office, brushing by the two men quickly. She felt flushed, and could only hope that Skinner would interpret the redness of her cheeks to be embarrassment rather than anger, which would invite more speculation. But Mulder would know better. She would make sure of it. Once she could bring herself to admit her over-active imagination. This was the last time this was =ever= going to happen again. No more sex at the office. It had been risky, stupid, and utterly unprofessional. If either of them felt another unprecedented level of horniness again, they would leave the building, go to an apartment, a motel, a fucking park bench. But the J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building was off- limits from now on. Even if they had been in a normal relationship, work would and should be a place where they drew the line. The problem was, they had drawn many lines, but they were getting blurrier all the time. She could hardly recall why so many lines had been drawn in the first place. But of course, she did remember. They had been drawn for her protection. Oh, they both pretended that it was for Mulder's protection, too, but she knew that she was the only one in danger of being seriously hurt. The one who could let this consume her, let it take her over, ruining their friendship and their professional relationship in one fell swoop. She had to follow the rules and remember why they had been created. There was one rule still intact, but the rules themselves weren't what mattered. It was the purpose =behind= the rules that was important. Sex was to be kept separate from their friendship and their partnership. She could not lose those things. And that was all the reminder she needed to strengthen her own resolve. ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Nine ~~~~~~~~ Office of Dr. Audrey Lake September 28 10:10 a.m. Scully hurried into the office, where Audrey was already seated. She took her normal place across from the other woman and put her purse on the ground, her breathing somewhat labored. "I'm sorry," she said a little breathlessly, adjusting her position and trying to get comfortable. "It's quite all right, Dana, relax." Audrey smiled, calmly taking a sip of coffee from her mug. "Would you like something to drink?" "Ah – water would be great," Scully replied, feeling how parched her throat was. Audrey buzzed her receptionist, who promptly returned with a bottle of water for Scully. "Thank you very much," she said, gulping gratefully. When her throat didn't feel as much like sandpaper, she explained, "I was running late this morning and then I couldn't find parking...finally found a space a few blocks down." Audrey looked at her with shrewd eyes. "You look tired." Scully almost collapsed at the other woman's words. She had been trying to keep her exhaustion at bay, but at the confirmation that it was evident, she deflated like a pricked balloon. She =was= tired. And confused. And feeling like she was about to start screaming any minute. "Something's happened, Dana?" Audrey's voice was matter- of-fact, and came across sounding more like a statement than a question. A hysterical bubble of laughter threatened to escape, but Scully suppressed it quickly. Something had happened, all right. "Our relationship is over." It was amazing how calm she sounded. Audrey was clearly surprised. "Oh, Dana, I'm sorry," she murmured. "When did this happen?" Scully waved a careless hand. "Nothing definite has been said. It just – is. Because of me." She took a deep breath for the strength to elaborate further. "I'm in love with him." She wasn't saying anything they didn't both already know, but it felt like a huge revelation, anyway. What was huge was how that factor affected what had happened last weekend. She felt that she had whizzed by the point of no return with barely a second glance. She had to try and salvage what was left. She only hoped that she was not too late. It wasn't until she licked her lips and tasted the saltiness there that she realized something in her had caved, and she had started to cry. Bringing her hands up to wipe the tears away, she murmured, "I'm sorry." Audrey opened a desk drawer and pulled out a box of tissues. She handed it to Scully, who apologized again. "Dana," the older woman said gently but firmly, "it's all right to express your emotions. This obviously upsets you. Let yourself cry." Scully gave a choked, watery laugh. "I let myself cry. I do it too much." This past week, anyway. In her bedroom, in the dark, usually alone. She tried not to do it when Mulder was around, but luckily the few times it had happened, the tears only came after he was asleep. Audrey smiled sympathetically as Scully tried to compose herself. "You haven't done anything yet." Scully shook her head. "But I will," she whispered. "I have to." "Will you be sharing with him what you just shared with me?" For a moment Scully thought Audrey meant telling Mulder that things were over, and her first response was, well of =course= she was. But then she realized Audrey meant her earlier "revelation," and Scully gave a short, bitter laugh. "How can I? It's bad enough I'm going to lose this part of him. If I were to tell him I'm in love with him, it'd scare him shitless. I'd lose what's left." "And what =is= left?" Audrey pressed softly. "Our friendship. Our partnership. The things that will last. This isn't an easy decision for me. God. I =wanted= to believe in the fairy tale." She hung her head, as if ashamed that this was the case. "And just what is the fairy tale?" Scully looked up, her smile bittersweet. "Everyone knows the fairy tale, Audrey," she whispered. "That, in the end, I won't have to hide my real feelings. That my love is reciprocated. God, how naive that sounds. I finally found something to believe in, and it was the one thing you couldn't share." This last was murmured to someone else. "So now you're going to...?" "I know what I should do," Scully said quietly. "I know what you – and let's face it, most people - will advise as the best course of action." "I'm not going to advise any course of action. I trust you, Dana, to know what is the best thing to do for yourself." That was the problem. There was no "best thing" to do for herself. Because of her wretched emotions, she had lost. No matter what she chose, Mulder was lost to her. It was a bleak, depressing reality. "I can't lose him." The tears fell in earnest. "I can't...but I already have." Mulder's reaction to what she had done the previous weekend had been everything she could have hoped for and more. But it was dangerous. He'd been feeling possessive, territorial. A natural reaction, since they were what they were to each other. However, she had started to see it as something more, as evidence of his deeper feelings for her. Letting herself believe he felt more than he did was so easy, so tempting. If she allowed herself to be immersed in that fantasy world, however, getting out would be impossible. "You know, Dana..." Audrey hesitated. "Have you considered that you might be wrong about your partner's emotional stake in your relationship?" "That the fairy tale is true, you mean?" Scully sniffed, blowing her nose. "The possibility briefly occurred to me, but I'm too realistic to entertain the idea for very long. I would only be setting myself up for more pain, wouldn't I?" She might have already gotten in too deep. That was why she had to end it before it could go any further. "Perhaps," Audrey conceded. Gently, she suggested, "But have you thought about the pain that awaits you by not making sure? Considered the happiness you might be throwing away?" Scully was confused. This was not the line of advice she had expected Audrey to give. She was expecting something more rational, not follow-your-heart. When Scully still did not answer, Audrey continued. "I know you're afraid of being hurt. We all fear the same things. We take that chance every time we allow our hearts to become involved." She took another sip of coffee. "Dana, let me ask you something. Do you consider yourself to be an optimist or a pessimist?" Scully was a bit thrown at the change of subject, but considered it for a moment, using a tissue to wipe away the remainder of her tears. "I don't believe I can label myself either, in all honesty. I'm a realist." She smiled a little. "I suppose that's one of the greatest sources of contention between Mulder and me." "Is Mulder a realist, like you?" The laugh that resulted was genuine. Mulder, a realist? "I take that to be a 'no.'" Audrey smiled. Scully's brow furrowed a bit. "Actually, I believe that Mulder believes himself to be a realist, as well." "What category would you put him in?" "He's an optimist." Scully smiled, seeing Mulder, his enthusiasm, his energy, his sheer strength of will. "I think he has enough hope for everybody in the world." "And what category would he put =you= in?" Scully's smile vanished as she considered this. "I suppose," she said slowly, "I suppose he would call me a pessimist in many ways, but not in general." She paused. "Does that make any sense?" Audrey nodded. "You know, pessimists call their views realism and optimists call it pessimism." "Just because I would label Mulder an optimist doesn't mean that he feels things he doesn't." "That's absolutely true. That's not what I was proposing; I was merely trying to suggest that perhaps what =you= see as his motivations may not actually be what they are. That isn't to say that your assessment may not be dead-on, of course, but there is another possibility." Scully shook her head. "But I know Mulder. I know him inside out." "Dana," Audrey began in a voice that clearly said it was not meant to offend but might do so anyway, "don't you see that it's impossible for you to have an objective viewpoint about Mulder's motivations? You have too much at stake. You have too much riding on the answers." "You think I'm being defensive." Scully's tone was almost accusatory. Audrey nodded. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "Yes. I do. It's perfectly understandable and natural. Many, many people in your situation – myself included – would probably react in a similar manner. It doesn't mean the situation will resolve itself the way you want. The only way that can happen is if you act. Or if he does." It was Scully's turn to nod. "But if I tell him how I feel and he doesn't feel the same – " Worse, if he looked at her in sympathy, or in pity, she would just dry up and blow away at the first sign of wind. "I will lose everything. His friendship, our recent closeness, the job that I love. It will make it impossible for us to work together. That can't happen. Our work is too important." If she had to sacrifice herself for the greater good by never letting Mulder know how she felt, then that was what had to happen. She had been doing it for the past six years – it could not be thrown away now. Not over her inability to control her hormones. Or was that just an excuse? "If I don't say anything at all and just end it, we can at least continue to work together." Audrey looked at her steadily. "Can you? You believe you can end this new relationship that you've started with your partner and go on as you always have? You mentioned something earlier about sounding naive. Does this seem like a sound plan, one that you honestly believe will work?" Psychologists weren't supposed to say things like this, were they? Tears flooded Scully's eyes again as Audrey echoed her own doubts out loud. "I – " She grabbed another tissue as the tears ran unbidden down her cheeks. "It's the only thing I can do." It was all too much. It had been folly to do what they had done; it would pain her to lose the physical intimacy that she now shared with Mulder. But he did not love her; he was not =in= love with her. If she confessed her feelings, their years of hard work would be wasted; she would be separated from Mulder. She shuddered. She might have been able to live with such a possibility a year ago, maybe even six months ago, but she didn't have the strength for it anymore. She had to be near him, to work with him, to see his beloved face everyday. She couldn't imagine life without him, and sure as hell didn't want to live it. She didn't know if she could go back to being his partner at work only; when their new tie was severed, it would be the most painful event of her life. No more weekends spent like the last one, no more satiating their hunger for each other, no more sweet, slow sex in the mornings, no more rough, fast fucks in restrooms, no more cleansing, life-affirming, passionate lovemaking in the dead of the night. No more whispered sweet nothings. No more relaxing baths together. No more kisses that made her toes curl and her heart jump to her throat. No more holding each other close. No more watching Mulder sleep. Losing these things would be gut-wrenchingly difficult. And it would be by choice. The hardest thing she'd ever done. But the alternative – losing him for good – was not acceptable. She simply did not possess the strength it would take to survive such an event. What she'd had only a few short months ago used to be enough. And enough it would be once more. The pain of one option simply held no comparison to the other. And since it was the only choice left to her, she had to make it work. She had to at least try. Scully explained this to Audrey, who nodded sympathetically. "I don't mean to be harsh, Dana. I only want to suggest alternatives, because I know you can't be completely objective about this subject. I want to be sure that you have considered every angle before you reach a final decision." "I understand," Scully replied hoarsely, throat thick with tears. She had already made her final decision: not to lose Mulder. Now she just needed the strength to inform him of her decision. No doubt he'd be disappointed, since there was no problem that =he= could see. "Do you believe that your partner will marry someday?" It was as though Audrey had slapped her. Scully sat there, momentarily stunned. The images that Audrey's words conjured ate at her soul like acid. Would Mulder marry someone someday? A someone that was not her? A someone who would share his life, his body, his heart? "I can see this idea does not appeal to you," Audrey noted dryly. "Have you considered that if you stay on as his partner at work, the day may come when you will have to confront his life partner of choice?" His life partner of choice. Mulder and another woman. Oh, God. Mulder and his wife. Oh, Jesus. Scully felt as though her chest had been ripped wide open, her heart removed and cut into a thousand pieces right before her eyes. "I hope – " The words came out as a croak. Scully cleared her throat. "I hope that when and if that time comes, it will no longer affect me the way that it does now. I hope I will be happy for him," she added, almost defensively. "Of course. And I hope the same. But our hope does not guarantee that event, does it?" Scully felt the other woman's look and shook her head. Of course it didn't. Of course not. Suddenly she wanted to scream. She wanted more than anything to be out of this office. Though she understood on an intellectual level that it was completely irrational, she wanted to get away from Audrey, who had forced her to think of things she would not have let herself imagine even in her worst nightmares. She could almost see it now. Mulder lovingly holding his wife, an unknown entity - Scully felt an almost consuming hatred toward the faceless woman – telling her that he loved her, that she completed him, that she was his life. And Scully, standing off to the side, her heart in her hands, her eyes huge and wounded as the man she loved professed his undying devotion to another woman. She felt almost disgust at this unflattering, degrading image. Her pride was rebelling at the thought. Pride was good. Pride would save her. She would never let herself go that far. The moment another woman came into the picture, Scully promised herself fiercely, she would be gone. She would leave. By that time, Mulder would no longer need or want her presence, and hopefully, =hopefully=, the sight of Mulder with someone else would be the final breaking point for her. The time when she had to face once and for all that he did not love her. She recalled with sudden clarity that almost a month ago, she had decided on a course of action to slowly get them back into the groove of their pre-sex relationship; they had just broken the rule about sleeping together while on a case. She had determined then to gradually extricate her need for Mulder in a way that would make it bearable for her and acceptable to him. Obviously, she had failed. Instead of getting less intense, they had only gotten more so, and now she was in danger of being consumed. Yet even now she hoped that perhaps she was wrong about how he felt about her. She felt herself tremble as a wave of longing washed over her. She had never wanted so much in her life to be proved wrong. Mulder...please. Please prove me wrong one more time. ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Ten ~~~~~~~~ Yavapai County Sheriff's Office Seligman, Arizona August 24, 1999 8:04 a.m. Scully followed Mulder into the sheriff's office, which was cluttered with paperwork, charts, and assorted paraphernalia that indicated recent usage by a number of individuals. At the moment, the only people present, aside from she and Mulder, were the sheriff, a few deputies milling about, and a couple of officers from the state Criminal Investigation Bureau who looked as if they had been up all night. "Morning, Dana. Agent Mulder," Sheriff Robert Barnes greeted cheerfully when he caught sight of them. Barnes had just celebrated his sixty-fifth birthday; he was slightly thick in the waist and had more lines in his face than one would expect a man of his age to possess, but he was tall and carried himself well. He still had a full head of hair, which was more than a lot of men his age could claim, even if it was snowy white. "Morning," she murmured in reply, glancing over at Mulder and his stony face. He had been in a rotten mood for days; she knew it was frustrating the hell out of him that they weren't further along in this case. Despite this, he murmured a greeting as well, looking around distractedly. Scully said she was going to get a cup of coffee and asked if he wanted one; he answered "no" rather absently, still seeming preoccupied. Without a word he left her side and went over to study some of the charts on the walls. "He always like this?" There was no mistaking of whom the older man was speaking. Grounds for it or no, she was immediately defensive. "Mulder gets very focused. It's why he's so good at what he does." The older man acquiesced to her claim, indicating that he had meant nothing negative by his comment. She knew what he was thinking, though. This was the eighth morning that had dawned since their initial arrival, and the case seemed no closer to being solved. She sighed; she felt responsible for Mulder's mental health – the whole reason they were here was her doing; Sheriff Barnes was an old friend of her father's. It was he who had contacted her and asked for assistance. A string of murders had left the local law enforcement stumped, he had explained. Since she was with the FBI did she know anyone who could help, perhaps do some profiling? Mulder had, of course, been agreeable to doing the favor. While she did not particularly enjoy watching Mulder sink into the mind of a societal degenerate, there was no doubting his skill and aptitude for it. Then, there was the fact that Robert Barnes had been like a father to her in her early years, and of course, there was the fact that a serial killer was at large. Innocent people were dying, and if Mulder could stop that – well, she would not allow her at-times-overprotective desire for his well-being stand in the way. Skinner had approved the assistance, the local field office had been more than happy to conserve manpower, and off to Arizona they had gone. After all, it wasn't an X-File. He would prepare a quick profile, they would catch the killer, and then they'd be out of there. Justice would be served, she would have done her duty as her father's daughter, and no one would be the worse for wear. Yet it had been a week and the profile still wasn't ready. She knew it wasn't from lack of trying, but it was odd. From the start, Mulder hadn't seemed to focus the same way he used to. The concentration was there, as always, but the intensity he was capable of when immersing himself in cases such as these was simply not there. That didn't mean he'd faltered, however. The profile was almost complete. "There's just something missing," he'd mutter. Some piece of the puzzle that hadn't yet fallen into place in that brilliant mind of his. "There was a gray notebook sitting on this desk last night when I left. Where is it?" Scully looked over at Mulder when he spoke. He looked tired, she realized, feeling the urge to go over and take him in her arms. She felt guilty again for having gotten them here. She would make him sleep tonight, stand over him and make sure it happened, if she had to. When no one answered, he asked again, this time louder. "Uh – " Deputy Mikladen spoke up. "I think one of the CIBs spilled coffee on it last night." There was a definite note of worry in Mikladen's voice. "It's sitting right there." He pointed to another desk where the coffee-soaked notebook was located. Scully blanched. That notebook held a lot of Mulder's notes, his thought-processes, details and connections; days of work. He'd forgotten it when they'd left at two in the morning last night for their motel. When he realized that he didn't have it in his possession they figured it was safe enough to leave it in the office. There was a pregnant silence. With a deceptively casual stride, Mulder had reached the desk and picked up the notebook. The pages crunched as he flipped through it, some of them stuck together. He tried to separate a couple of pages, and the paper tore in his hands. Scully closed her eyes. She knew it was only a secondary source of information to what Mulder kept in his head, but he was already frustrated enough. She began to walk toward him, desiring to prevent what she could already see coming – an explosion of epic proportions. "Mulder..." she began soothingly. "Don't say it's okay, Scully," he said, his voice a little too calm. It made her nervous. "It was an accident – " the Sheriff began. "No real harm done..." Mulder shot him a withering glance. "I can't =read= my fucking notes!" Scully reached his side. "Mulder, we'll piece together what we've got – " "What we have is nothing! I don't believe this." He was clearly disgusted. She stayed silent. She knew as well as he that the information in the notebook could never be as important as the information in his head; she understood why he was upset, but there wasn't anything they could do about it now. "Not like it was doing much good, anyway," Mikladen mumbled under his breath. Mulder and Scully both turned sharply to look at the deputy. "What?" Mulder demanded. "If you have something to say, just come out and say it to my face." "I said it wasn't doing much, anyway," the other man answered loudly. "You're supposed to be the hotshot FBI profiler, and the killer's still on the loose! You haven't done a damn thing!" Mulder stared at the man for a moment, then turned on his heel and stalked off. Shit, shit, shit. He would blame himself; he always did, anyway. But now with Mikladen verbally placing blame, Mulder would wallow in self-reproach. "It's not Mulder's sole responsibility to catch this guy, Deputy," she told him coldly. "Might I remind you that it was =your= team who couldn't get the job done and requested help. You've had a month to do your duty; we've only been here a week." She strode quickly out of the office and into the warm Arizona morning, only to see the back of their rented Taurus as it sped off. ~~~~~~~~ Historic Route 66 Motel, Room 5 August 24, 1999 10:22 p.m. All Scully wanted was a shower. It had been a long, exhausting day, to top off a long, exhausting week, and the very notion of getting out of her suit provoked thoughts of heaven. She wearily dug through her purse for the key to her room, getting frustrated when it remained lost in the depths of her small purse. Every joint ached. She was covered in dried sweat, several times over, and functioning on three hours of sleep. A long hot shower was all she needed, and then she'd collapse onto the bed and sleep for at least a thousand years. And she would not let Mulder deter her from her intended goals. If he wanted to go out and sulk all day, that was his business. She was only slightly teed at him for ditching her in the company of people she had just told off, but she knew he needed the time to cool down. She'd even eaten lunch an hour late because she had waited for him, but he had never returned to the Sheriff's office. She'd spent the rest of the day trekking through the dry Arizona heat interviewing victims' families again – and they weren't happy about it. Now all she wanted to do was get out of her disgusting clothes and stand under a scalding rush of water. Nothing of import had come from the interviews; nothing said that hadn't already been said. Not that her mind had been completely focused on the task at hand – her thoughts kept drifting to her wayward partner. She should probably check on Mulder before she crashed, but...she would rather sleep. Besides, he was bound to be in a sulky mood, and she found a sulky Mulder rather sexy. She didn't know what that said about her, but she hadn't had sex in a week and the most important thing was avoiding physical contact with him as much as possible. Avoid anything that turned her on...which at this point pretty much ruled out everything about him. Having at last located her key, she unlocked the door and swung the door open with a loud bang. Finally inside her room, she kicked the door closed behind her and stepped out of her shoes. Depositing her purse, her notepad, and the files onto the desk, she allowed her tired eyes to drift shut for a moment. She had left the air-conditioning on, and the cold crisp air of the room only accentuated how dirty and smelly she felt. She removed her suit jacket gingerly. Ugh, that feeling was the worst. Well, it was almost as bad as sitting in a car upholstered with leather on a hot sticky day, then getting up from said seat, clothes soaked with perspiration. What she needed was a massage. A long hot shower followed by a relaxing massage. Not by Mulder, though, she told herself. Any masseuse would do. Yeah, keep dreaming. Her bra followed. Then her skirt and hose. Clad in only her white cotton bikini underwear, she went into the bathroom and started the shower. She wanted it good and hot before she stepped in. Her eyelids were drooping. She badly wanted to get under the covers and close her eyes. But she wanted even more desperately to be clean, and to slide into those sheets warm and scrubbed from her shower. Okay, so it was going to be a short shower. Stepping back into the bedroom, groggy and eyes half- closed, she didn't know what hit her until it was too late. She landed on the bed with a stifled shriek, her hair flying about her head and finally feathering onto her face in a rather undignified fashion. She found herself pinned under a very heavy, very naked Mulder. "Mulder?" She was more puzzled than anything. After the initial surprise, she was more concerned for him than herself. This =was= kind of bizarre of him, wasn't it? Her brain might not be functioning on all gears but she knew a strange situation when it hit her. She brushed her hair back from her face, brow furrowing. "What are you - " He stopped her question by quickly planting his mouth onto hers. It was wet and full of passion - the kiss of a man who had been waiting a long, long time. He was pressing her so hard into the mattress, his mouth so vehement on hers that she found it difficult to breathe. She whimpered in distress. Immediately his mouth gentled and he slid his tongue into her mouth. Her eyes closed completely. He tasted heavenly. Would she ever get used to kissing Mulder? She really, really hoped not. Lightly, his tongue rubbed against hers. He teased the roof of her mouth, caressed the back of her teeth. She swept her tongue into his mouth, and immediately he deepened the kiss, devouring her. For a time, there was nothing but the wet sounds of the two of them kissing. Of their own volition, her hands wandered up into his hair. Dimly, she realized that the strands were wet. He also smelled really good, the combination of soap, shampoo, and aftershave. He smelled clean. Eventually, the sound of the water she had started in the shower penetrated through her lust-fogged brain. This, combined with his clean scent, reminded her of her own grimy state. She tried to push him off of her, embarrassed that she should be so disgustingly sweaty when he was freshly showered. He wouldn't budge. She broke their kiss and turned her face away. He began to kiss her cheek, making his way toward her mouth again. She shoved against his chest. The feel of his smooth warm skin under her hands made her want to run her hands all over him. But even her hands felt dirty, and she didn't want to soil her clean Mulder with them. "Mulder...uhgn ...mmm...get off me." "Don't want to," he answered succinctly into her ear, then began to nibble on it. She couldn't quite stifle her moan. Her ears were very sensitive places, damn it. And now she was made very aware of his erection pressing into her hip. It was enough to send a hot new tide of arousal rushing to her center. He began to trail kisses down her neck, and she sighed in bliss. Her collarbone received a nip. Then he was at her breast, his tongue circling her aureole first before he sucked her nipple into his mouth. She groaned as it happened, at how good it felt. A hand found its way into his hair again, and clenched hard. He didn't complain, simply began to suckle and lave in earnest. He possessed a talented mouth. He really did. He could spout the dullest facts in the most monotone of voices but in the end, what his mouth was capable of was amazing. But now she was even more uncomfortable. Grimy with dried sweat and wet with arousal. If Mulder kept this up, she wouldn't care. But after it was over, he'd realize what he had done and would wish he had waited. At the moment, however, she understood that his cock was his operating brain, and couldn't see how much more sense it would be for her to shower first. She tried to pull his head away by yanking on his hair, but he was attached like a leech – or a particularly hungry infant. "Mulder...I want to take a shower." He pulled his mouth away from her breast, and a popping sound signaled the disengagement. Their eyes met, and Scully shivered. God, those eyes...she felt a swelling of emotion and tamped it down fast. She looked away. "Why?" He sounded truly puzzled. "Why? Because I'm sweaty...and dirty...and ohhhh - " She moaned as he ran light fingers over the crotch of her damp panties. He licked the area between her breasts. "You taste mmm...delicious." His mouth moved to her other breast. "No shower yet." He couldn't be serious. If she tried to get up right this second, he would pout a little, but he'd let her go. She decided that this was a very educated guess, and moved to rise. To her surprise, and if she admitted it, arousal, he pushed her back down and held her pinned to the bed by his weight. His eyes were a bit unfocused, the light in them a little wild. She was excited in spite of herself. Here was a Mulder she didn't know very well. A Mulder who wouldn't take no for an answer, who took what he wanted. "Mulder?" Was that her voice, so breathless, so tremulous? A strand of hair was caught somewhere, and she tried to adjust herself to fix it. He interpreted it as movement to escape again, and made a low sound deep in his throat. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and dragged them off her legs. The barely masked urgency of the movement made her gasp. She shivered, but not in fear. Suddenly, something occurred to her. "We shouldn't be doing this," she gasped. "We're still on duty..." "Fuck that," he growled. His fingers worked her, and she closed her eyes to enjoy it. "I need this," he revealed, voice gravelly and taut with barely suppressed need. He leaned down to speak directly into her ear again. "And so do you." He then slid one long finger into her until he was buried to the knuckle. She involuntarily threw one arm around his neck to clutch him close, as if the lack of such an anchor would cause him to withdraw completely. She whimpered her displeasure when he began to slide his finger out, then groaned when it returned with reinforcements. His thumb rubbed in circles over her clit, fast but not too hard, just the way she liked it. She knew she ought to be protesting to his actions – and hers, but at the moment she couldn't remember why. "You want me to fuck you, don't you, Scully?" he rasped, his need and desperation almost masked by the sheer naked lust that was also in evidence. She half opened her eyes to see his, so dark and beautifully haunted, staring at her intently. His narrowed as they took in her swollen pink lips, parted so she could take in the little breaths that apparently, was the only thing she was capable of at the moment. "Oh, yeah," he breathed, satisfaction lighting his eyes. "You want it bad." Their eyes still connected, she watched as his head dropped back down to her chest. They looked at each other as his hand continued to work her. In and out. In and out. He sounded like an arrogant asshole but Scully knew better. There was a lot of need there, and she basked in it. She enjoyed seeing him out of control. She liked joining him in that state. And despite the need, despite his caveman- like boasting, his touch was gentle; it held care and the desire to please. When she still had not said anything, his brow began to crease in uncertainty. His movements inside her began to desist, and when he opened his mouth she could see that it was to apologize. However, all thoughts of a shower had flown out of her head; the only thing she was aware of was Mulder and the way he was making her feel. The way only he could make her feel, and she lifted her hand to cover his mouth. She thrust her hips forward, telling him without words that she wanted him to continue. She lifted her hand, letting her fingers linger on his lips as they trailed away. He still watched her, and she knew that he would stop at any sign of resistance from her at this point. "Keep going, Mulder," she whispered. "I want you..." A sound escaped his throat that was half growl, half whimper. "I gotta have you now, Scully," he said, his voice unsteady. That wild look in his eyes was back. She nodded, and he pulled his fingers out of her. Rising to his knees, he adjusted her so that she lay in the position he wanted her to be in, flat on her back with her knees up. He braced one arm by her head and lowered himself closer to her. With his other hand, she saw him grasp his cock. Her vaginal muscles gave an involuntary twitch. God, she loved seeing him do that. After that, all she could do was feel. He rubbed the tip of his penis against her, running it through her slick folds. Once or twice there was pressure against her entrance and she prepared herself for his invasion, but it never came. Instead, he kept wetting the head of his cock with her juices, then used his hand to run the moisture over the rest of him. She resisted the urge to point out that he was going about it all wrong - if he wanted his cock slick with her wetness all he had to do was slide on in. Still, it was an incredibly erotic sight and kept her in a heightened state of arousal. "Scully." It was a few moments before she realized that he wanted a response. She cracked open eyes she didn't realize had closed, to see him looking closely at her face. "What, Mulder?" Did her voice sound as reedy to him as it did to her? She would go mad if he didn't use his dick the way that God intended, soon. "I want you to watch," he said in a low voice. "Think you can do that?" Her brow furrowed. "Watch? What do you mean?" "While I fuck you," he clarified. "I want you watching the whole time." Any blood that had remained in her brain now rushed to color her cheeks. "I...I don't...know," she stammered. The idea excited her unbearably, but at the same time, she had never done such a thing before. "What are you going to do?" she wanted to know. "I'm going to watch you," he said simply. "You mean..." She faltered. He wanted her to watch him fuck her while he saw her response to what he was doing. She swallowed, and her breathing became even shallower. It was almost =too= arousing and strangely, personal. She wouldn't be able to control herself in that state; who knew what she might reveal in her facial expressions? But you want him to know, she told herself in sudden realization. You want him to see how you feel about him, because he should know. Because maybe, just maybe, he'll then feel free to reveal something, too... Without requiring an answer, Mulder leaned forward, resting his groin against hers and causing them both to groan, then brought his arms back and his hands grasped her under her knees. Pushing them forward, he adjusted things so that her knees were practically in her face, her ass lifted so that her entrance was open, more readily accessible, and vulnerable. He then swung her legs over his shoulders, leaning forward, spreading her legs wide. Scully couldn't tear her gaze away from his. It was incredibly intimate to look into his eyes as he prepared her for him; his eyes were dark, fathomless pools of intensity. Finally, he appeared to have their positions settled the way he wanted, his hands on either side of her head. She couldn't move; she was trapped, but instead of alarming her, she felt curiously content – safe and secure. The only person she was vulnerable to was Mulder, and there was no other person she would rather be that with. "Can you see?" She had almost forgotten. She glanced down, where currently his cock was trapped between his stomach and her bed of curls. She nodded. "I want you watching the whole time." She looked at him again. He smiled, a slightly feral movement of his lips, a flash of teeth that made her think of a wolf. "I'll be watching you," he reminded her. "So don't try to cheat." She nodded again, and could only wonder where her voice had disappeared. She was determined to play this as coolly as he was, so she directed her gaze down once again. "Well? What are you waiting for?" All right, so her voice was a little unsteady, but at least she had found it again. And she had managed to apply an imperious tone to it. She saw him adjust his hips until the tip of his cock was poised at her entrance. Even though she was watching the whole thing while it happened and knew when to expect it, it was still a shock to see his huge erection thrust into her and to feel it simultaneously. She gasped steadily as he filled her, disappearing into her body until she could feel his balls brushing against her ass. "You're beautiful, Scully," he said. Immediately she was self-conscious and wanted to see his face, but she wasn't about to give in to that weakness. In any case, Mulder chose at that moment to withdraw and thrust again, and she groaned at the sight. She couldn't decide what was more arousing, the sight or the feel of him moving in her. He kept up a steady rhythm, sliding in and out with restraint. In this position she was unable to limit the speed or depth of his penetration, which excited her even more. Acquiescing control had never afforded more gratification. She noted a little absently that he was certainly wet with her juices now. She was infatuated with his cock, and it pleased her to see it happily finding pleasure in her. With her. The pleasure was building with each thrust. "Christ, Scully," he groaned. "I love the way you look. It's...it's indescribable." He thrust faster. "You like what you're seeing down there?" "Ah...ah...ah," was the only response she could make. "I love making love to you," he gasped. "I love watching you." Eventually the restraint gave away to the overpowering need for release, and his assault became marked with purpose, driving them both toward a much-desired end. She gulped, breathing growing faster and faster in time with his thrusts. In and out, his cock moved with amazing speed. So caught up with she with the sight and the sensations it was provoking that she was startled when her vision was blocked by Mulder's sweaty face, flushed with his exertions. Leaning closer, forcing her knees to practically touch her shoulders, he kissed her, swallowing her gasps, sucking her lower lip into his mouth, biting it. She kissed him ferociously in return, their mouths colliding, teeth grinding against one another's. He shoved into her so hard that it actually hurt a little, forcing her to break the contact of their lips and cry out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said in horror, stopping. "Mulder, it's okay," she hastened to say. She kicked her feet slightly, heels falling lightly upon his back. She took his face in her hands, reassuring him with her eyes. He was obviously appalled, his hazel eyes so concerned that she felt a warm flood of pleasure begin at her heart and spread throughout her body. "It's okay," she said again. "I liked it. I was just...surprised." She lifted her hips, thrusting against him. His eyes closed, a grimace of pleasure crossing his face. "Are...you...sure?" he ground out. "Yes." She licked her lips. "Fuck me, Mulder. Fuck me the way I know you want to – " She gasped as he began to move once more. It didn't take more than a few thrusts before her climax hit, causing her to tighten her inner muscles as waves of ecstasy attacked her senses. She felt Mulder swell to an even greater size and hardness before he too exploded, and she felt the warmth of his seed bathe her insides. Eventually, she slid her legs off of his shoulders, no small feat considering he was currently resting his weight against them. When she removed this support, he collapsed fully onto her, the back of his head pressed to the side of her neck. Her eyes began to refocus. The room and the situation gradually filtered back in to her, and along with them, the concerns and doubts. "We shouldn't have done this," she said quietly, even as she basked in the sheer pleasure from the feeling of being crushed by Mulder's weight. He didn't answer. Damn it, he was probably already asleep. She sighed. Part of her was relieved. She wasn't sure she really wanted to have this confrontation... He spoke. "Why not?" His voice was drowsy, and muffled by a pillow, but he was awake, at least. For some reason, his nonchalance upset her. "Why not?" she repeated. "Mulder, this – " She gestured with an arm to generalize the whole situation, but of course, he couldn't see it. She blew out a breath, considering for a moment. "This seriously compromises things." He chuckled a little. "Do you feel compromised, Scully?" he asked in a throaty voice, rubbing against her. If she had been able see anything more than the back of his head in her peripheral vision, she would have glared at him. Instead, she had to settle for staring balefully at the ceiling. "I'm serious, Mulder. This was a mistake." Contrarily, she felt the urge to wrap her arms around him and keep him pressed close to her as she uttered those words, but she resisted. Sensing her mood, he lifted himself up a little, looking down at her a little anxiously. Other than the concern, he looked wonderfully relaxed and content, Scully noted absently. A far cry from the ravenous being he had been only minutes ago. He leaned down and kissed her softly, and her eyes automatically drifted shut. His gentleness caused an unwanted lump of emotion to form in her throat. She soon realized that she was only getting that one kiss and opened her eyes. She reluctantly met his gaze, since there was nowhere else for her to direct her attention. He was staring at her so intently that she found it impossible to look away. "Nothing that happens between us is a mistake," he said, his voice husky with emotion. A hand glided across her forehead, brushing back the hair there with gentle fingers. "Don't you know that?" A secret part of her thrilled at his words, but she suppressed it quickly – she would not allow herself to entertain false hope. It was very well and good for him to get caught up in the moment, but she couldn't afford to do the same. They were on dangerous ground here. "Mulder – " she began tremulously, hating herself for ruining the mood, but unable to stomach the pretense that everything was okay when she felt more confused and conflicted than ever. She resented him for making her love him so, for saying all the right things at the right moments. How was she to keep from loving him when he did that? How dare he say them to her when he didn't mean them in any way beyond the sexual, proving to them both how successful he was at separating his emotions from their physical relationship? She was at last able to turn her head, breaking their eye contact, when she felt tears spring to her eyes. She couldn't bear to look into his familiar hazel orbs, so loved, and see nothing reflected back at her. "Don't cry, Scully, please don't cry," he entreated, his voice sounding curiously thick to her ears, trying to get her to look at him again. She couldn't face him; instead, she pushed at him firmly. "I have to get cleaned up, Mulder," she said. His hand was gentle against her face, his thumb lightly exerting pressure against her jaw. She stubbornly refused to turn her head; she knew that if she saw his beloved face, his eyes filled with sympathy or even worse, pity, she would certainly burst into tears and horrify them both. Finally, he let her up, for which she was both excruciatingly disappointed and immensely relieved. She escaped quickly to the bathroom where the shower was still running and shut the door behind her. Not yet, she told herself, swallowing sporadically, keeping the tears in check. Not yet. She realized she was shaking, actually shaking. She was glad that the heat from the shower had caused steam to blanket over the mirror – the sight of herself in her sorry state would undoubtedly only make her feel worse. Grabbing a small washcloth, she stepped into the shower and hung it haphazardly on the bar situated just inside the door. She was overwhelmingly grateful that the water was still hot, since their recent bout of lovemak – fucking, she amended, had been desperate and frenzied, taking only a fraction of the time that some of their sessions lasted. It was such a simple, trivial thing, but at the moment it felt like a blessing. Nothing like a quick fuck to ease your tension, she told herself deprecatingly. Standing there, water pelting her face, she let her emotions go. The hot liquids of the shower and her tears combined so she could pretend that the moisture running down her cheeks was only water. Not physical evidence of the pain in her heart. Reaching for the bottle of shampoo, she squirted some of the substance into her palm and began to wash her hair. You are such a hypocrite, she castigated herself, lathering her hair viciously. They had broken rules before – twice at her own prompting. Why was this one suddenly so hard on her? But it wasn't about the rules. It was never about the rules; she had simply arrived at a point in their relationship where she could no longer fake indifference, or pretend to herself that that was what she really wanted. What she really wanted was the man in the next room by her side for the rest of her natural life. You would have had that, she thought bitterly, if you hadn't let your lust for him lead you to this point! Now that would never be, and her heart ached with the knowledge. She understood quite well that technically, it was Mulder who had started it all. But he had known his limits; it was she who had been unable to admit hers. Mulder had sexual needs, she knew that. As the female he was around most often, it was natural that he should develop an attraction to her. It was natural that he would want to do something about it. That didn't mean that he wanted a normal =relationship= with her – or any woman for that matter. She knew what his goals and his priorities were. She had always known. Had she fallen prey to the common feminine delusion that she could change a man? She felt nauseated by the thought. Had she, in the back of her mind, believed that once Mulder entered into a physical relationship with her, he would suddenly reciprocate her feelings for him? She couldn't know for sure what had been going through her subconscious in the moment of her acceptance. Consciously, however, she had realized it was her opportunity to know what it was to be loved by Mulder, even in just a physical sense - know what it was like for him to look at her, touch her, as a lover would. And she had wanted that, wanted it to the exclusion of all common sense. She probably =had= thought that it would change things, she admitted to herself in resignation. At least she had ceased the self-pity. Her emotions were no longer welling up like a bubbling cauldron; instead, she felt a soothing kind of numbness steal over her as she confronted some home truths. Truths she should have made herself face long ago. She had excused her actions with the same reasoning she had allocated to Mulder: working with him day in and day out, caring for him as she did, sharing a bond with him that necessarily excluded others, it was only natural that if she should develop an attraction to someone, it would be Mulder. There was proximity and opportunity, combined with mutual respect and concern. It was perfectly understandable – she couldn't fault herself for that. Their reasoning at the outset had been sound in many ways – they were both human beings with sexual needs, yet they trusted no one but each other. The logical and =safest= thing to do was to alleviate those needs together. Or it would have been, had their presumptions been correct. Primarily, that the other didn't want or need more than the physical gratification. While that was true on his part, she had been lying both to herself and to him when she had agreed to the terms, stating in not so many words that it was also true for her. Now it was too late, too late to go back to that day six weeks ago when he had first suggested the possibility of sexual involvement. Her self-preservation instincts had failed her then, and now she was on the verge of having her heart irreparably broken. Having gambled in a game she could not win, the only thing she could do was enjoy what little she had left before that, too, was stripped from her. Admitting her feelings was an impossibility; one that could not even be contemplated. She would never, ever force Mulder's hand in that way. The very idea that he might feel obligated to coexist in a romantic relationship with her out of some misplaced sense of guilt or pity was abhorrent, sickening. She couldn't do that to him, or to herself. If she revealed her feelings, he would react with one of two extremes: feel sorry for her and continue the charade until who knew when (she never underestimated Mulder's capacity for obligation), or he would end it immediately. She knew that this latter scenario would probably be best for their relationship in the long run. Yet there was still part of her that hoped for things to end happily. In the interim, she would have the opportunity to repair their friendship, ease them back into how they were before, saving that relationship. If he was suddenly torn from her now, she would not be able to handle it; she knew she would do something drastic and unlike her. She needed time to prepare herself for the end. The possibility of the relationship ending naturally =and= well was slim. Indefinitely continuing their sexual liaisons required quantities of strength she did not have. She just needed a little time to extricate as much of Mulder from her heart as possible. She could not go on much longer as they were. She had to distance herself before it was too late. She could still see the boundaries of normalcy; she was sure she could reach them again. And then there was Mulder. He had other priorities, other goals to achieve. Those things took time and all of his concentration. One day those goals would be reached, and then perhaps he would want to settle down, start a family. The last thing he would need or want was a partner who could not let go. Rinse, rinse, rinse. Repeat. He loved her, as a friend and a confidante. She knew that. She felt the same kind of love for him. It was not =that= love that was incompatible with what they each took from their physical intimacy. It was the kind that wanted him not only as a friend, but also as a lover and lifelong companion, that was unacceptable. She wanted to grow old with him. Right now, that was the last thing he could offer her. He had never pretended otherwise. The very ease in which he conducted his part in this relationship – or whatever the hell they wanted to call it – was proof irrefutable. These were not the actions of a man in love. He had never attempted to claim otherwise: he liked her, he respected her, he trusted her, and right now, he was fine with the two of them satisfying their mutual lust for one another. He believed that her emotions and desires mirrored his own. Her deceit in that regard would soon be mended. She would eliminate the feelings that were causing her to lie to him by omission. To successfully achieve this end, it was necessary that she continue as she had before. In the process of hiding her need for him from him, she would be able to suppress it entirely. Starve the feelings, and they could be killed. The first order of business: reassure Mulder that everything was fine. Her aloofness and outburst of emotion had probably already caused him to have second thoughts about whether she was handling things as well as she should. No more freaking out like that. She wanted to enjoy what they had together, even as she prepared for its end. The last thing she wanted was to let some evidence of her need slip through the cracks. She didn't want to worry him or have him suspect that something wasn't right. For him to guess at her feelings would bring about all the negative repercussions she was determined to avoid. He had no doubt returned to his room by now; she would go to him. For all intents and purposes, nothing was wrong – she had as much of Mulder as she could ever expect him to share, and they had just made wonderful, incredible love. She should be making the most of what time they had left, not brooding in a motel room shower. Engrossed in her thoughts, she was unaware of Mulder's presence in the bathroom until he had stepped into the shower with her, as naked as when she had left him. She gasped in shock at his unexpected appearance. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest she could hear it pounding in her ears. Before she had fully recovered enough to speak, he had grabbed her around the waist. "You okay?" She trembled slightly at his proximity and the husky tenderness of his voice. He really had a beautiful chest. She stared at it. "Fine," she nodded. "I don't know what happened – " He bent down so that they were eye-level and captured her gaze. "You were right, Scully," he interrupted. "It probably was a mistake, but I wanted you – " He took a deep breath. " – I needed you," he completed, earnest as he attempted to gain her forgiveness. "Scully...we created those rules so that we each would know the boundaries and that would help us keep things separate in our minds. But it hasn't been a problem; neither of us seems to be having any trouble – which makes the rules not only unnecessary, but also a hindrance. We know the limits; we don't need to follow arbitrary rules. Do we?" She didn't want him to see how much his words hurt. She didn't realize how painful it would be to hear him verbalize exactly how well he was able to keep his feelings for her as a partner and his lust for her as a willing female body separate. For a moment, she thought there was a note in his voice that almost made her believe that he wanted her to disagree with him, and she reprimanded herself for indulging wishful thinking. "I guess not. I wanted it," she said honestly. She attempted a bright smile. "Who says that people only get stressed out =after= work is over, anyway? We're doing this to relieve tension – and that strikes most often during a case, wouldn't you say?" Something she couldn't identify passed over his face, but it was soon gone and he had relaxed into a smile. "That makes perfect sense to me, Agent Scully." He leaned in and kissed her, both keeping their eyes open. You're wonderful, she told him silently. I'm not going to lose you. I can't lose you. Even if I have to lose this. "You about ready to get out of here?" he teased. She smiled a little sheepishly. "I've washed my hair. I haven't actually done any cleaning yet..." "You've just been thinking in here the whole time, huh?" he asked lightly. "Pretty much," she admitted. He didn't say anything for a moment, and she looked at him quizzically. "If you wanted me to wash your back, all you had to do was ask," he finally said, attempting a grin. She ignored the fact that it didn't quite seem to reach his eyes. Putting a bar of soap into his hands, she whispered, "Mulder, will you wash my back?" "Only if I get to wash the rest of you, too," he countered. She pretended to consider for a moment. "Umm...okay." He was very courteous and gentlemanly as he washed her. He never stopped for a prolonged period at any one area. He was almost clinical as he cleaned, with a kind of detachment that both amused and irritated her. When she had been thoroughly cleansed, he stood there and inspected her with a critical eye. "What?" she demanded, a little exasperated. His eyes narrowed, and then he trailed a hand down her chest, running his fingers about experimentally. Finally, he gathered some lather in his hands and began soaping up her breasts. "This area looks like it needs some extra attention," he said, in a voice so low she had to strain to hear him above the shower. "May I?" Her breaths were coming short and shallow now as she saw the intent and rekindled lust in his eyes. "Be my guest," she croaked. She moaned as his fingers, slick with soap, kneaded and shaped her breasts, molding the peaks into his hands. He paid especial attention to the hardened tips that were pushing insistently against his palms. "You have the prettiest pink nipples," he said. She smiled at how silly he sounded, but he was looking at her with such reverence that she decided to let it go. "Are they clean yet?" she asked huskily. The water from the shower had washed the soap away. He studied her heaving chest for a moment. "I think I'm going to need further examination to answer that question, Doc," he replied, before leaning in and closing a mouth around her. It was a good thing his arms had wrapped around her waist, or she surely would have fallen. Her knees felt like jelly, and standing upright seemed a most difficult feat. She looked down at him as he suckled hard on her, his eyes closed, his face covered in droplets of water. He looked beautifully sensual. This was how she wanted to remember him. He transferred his attention to her other breast and worked on it until she was putty in his arms. He pulled away, apparently satisfied that the area in question had finally passed muster in the cleanliness department. Lathering up his hands once again, he then took one of her hands that was currently clutching his biceps and deposited the bar of soap there. "Hold that for me, would you?" he asked. She could only nod as she stared at him through half-closed eyes. She held onto the bar of soap tightly, as if it were a talisman of strength. "There's another area I'm particularly concerned with," he shared. He kept one arm wrapped around her waist while the other found the area between her legs. She quivered against him as two soapy fingers eased up into her. He pumped her quickly, causing little mewling sounds to issue from her throat. He spread moisture over her clit, a combination of soap, water, and her arousal. He moved faster and faster, and she was involuntarily moving up and down on his hand. Eventually, their muscles protested the prolonged tension, and Mulder pulled away, groaning. She whimpered at the loss of him, though her arm ached from gripping him so tightly and her legs ached from the effort to stand. Her hand brushed across his groin, encountering his hardened cock. Of course it had probably been in that condition for a while, but this was the first that they took note of it. Impressed by his stamina, she stepped back to get a better look. "Whoa, how'd that get there?" he exclaimed with some surprise and not a little pride, looking down at himself. Her clit was throbbing almost painfully, and she was delighted that Mulder would be able to join her in release. "You're not thinking of taking all the credit, are you?" she admonished, grabbing hold of his hard-on with both hands. "Wouldn't...dream of it," he gasped in response. He reached for her again, but she avoided him playfully, letting go of him. "Scuh-lee," he whined. "I wanna touch you." "Is that all?" She sounded disbelieving, almost scolding. "I don't think you're being completely honest with me, Mulder." He looked like a little boy who had been caught blatantly lying. "All right...I really want to be inside you but the other sounded more respectable," he confessed. Her vaginal muscles clenched tightly at his admission. "You don't think after all we've done to get me clean, I'm gonna let you put =that= in me, do you?" She pointed at his gorgeous cock, now getting sprayed by the water not blocked by her body. His mouth dropped open and he stared at her, clearly panicked. "But – " She held out the bar of soap for him to see. "Clean yourself up, Mulder," she demanded throatily. He obediently took the soap from her, rubbing it in his hands until he had a good lather going. She then took the soap from him and carelessly tossed it onto the soap dish. She watched in fascination as he grasped the base of his erection with one hand. It had been a surprise to her how much enjoyment she got out of watching him masturbate. "Come on, Mulder," she encouraged breathlessly. "You know what I want to see." His gaze dropped to the curls between her legs, looking quite mournful. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a cruel woman, Scully? I can do this at home, you know." He almost had her feeling guilty until she saw his cock twitch in his hand when she licked her lips. She smiled slowly. "I don't believe it's the same thing at all," she said silkily. "Now – do it." "Yes, ma'am," he said meekly, sliding his fist up his impressive length. His eyes closed and he groaned; she smiled in satisfaction, feeling a gush of warmth between her legs in response. Up and down, he pulled and jerked at himself until his breathing grew short and shallow along with hers. She dropped to her knees, barely even computing the hardness of the tiles against her joints. She was much more interested in the hardness that was now eye-level. The combination of soap and water had given Mulder a slick look, making a pretty good imitation of how he had looked gliding in and out of her earlier. She licked her lips again. She looked up to see that he was watching her with lowered eyelids. Without a word he halted his motions and took his hand away. Reaching up a little, she grabbed the washcloth she'd brought into the shower. It was already wet, but she stuck it under the spray for a few moments, anyway. When it was saturated, she brought it to the object of her fascination and proceeded to wash all traces of soap off of him. He was sensitized and the washcloth was abrasive so she was very, very gentle. That done, she deposited the washcloth onto the floor. She brought her face closer to him, studying his throbbing length from all angles. He was beautiful. She began with light kisses. Starting at the base then working her way up, she trailed his hardness with tiny movements of her mouth. He stood utterly still. Her hands grasped his thighs, and she could feel how tense the muscles were there. He was obviously struggling for control, and winning admirably. Next, her tongue appeared. She had tasted him dozens of times, but each time was different. He was a veritable cornucopia of flavors. Now, he was sweetened by the soap, but still possessed the underlying musky flavor that was always present, and which she associated solely with Mulder. The softness of his skin, the hardness of his muscles, the rain of the shower spray delivering rapid punctuation on her back, the sluice of liquid trails down her breast, the feel of her hair plastered against her face, all made for a dizzying combination of sensations. Every second of it was noted in some part of her brain, to be retrieved at a later time and date for further enjoyment. She licked and nibbled at him, enjoying herself so thoroughly that she didn't even notice when his hands threaded through her hair. He kneaded her skull for a moment, and she moaned her appreciation. Another sensation. It was a complete surprise when he used that leverage to pull her away from him. "Okay...that's enough of that," he rasped, looking slightly unbalanced. She decided not to protest. She loved when he got that deranged look in his eyes. Suddenly, she shrieked. The hot water had been steadily getting cooler during their activities, and the last of it had finally given out. She was now being stung by extremely cold water. Reaching behind her quickly, she turned the water off, spluttering a little as some of it ran into her eyes and over her face. She stood, wringing out her hair. That done, she turned to face a grinning Mulder. Normally, she might have taken exception to his smirk, but she was far too eager to be fucked to pay such trivialities any mind. She took his cock in her hand again. "Let's take care of this, Mulder," she said breathlessly, motioning to open the shower door. He stopped her with his hand. His eyes gleamed. "Let's take care of it in here," he suggested, deliberately lowering his voice to a sexy pitch. But then, his voice was always sexy, she thought absently, as she let him gather her in his arms. He lowered his head so that she thought he was going to kiss her, and she closed her eyes in preparation. But the kiss never came. Instead, she felt him press his cheek against hers, felt his breath in her ear as he murmured, "What do you say?" He nibbled a little at her earlobe, then unexpectedly stuck his warm, wet tongue inside. She cried out from the delicious sensation and her nipples puckered further; she felt a flood of wetness arrive yet again between her legs. "Oh – okay..." He had her up against the wall before she had even finished uttering her consent. They seemed to have developed a thing for bathrooms and walls, she thought with as much amusement as she could muster under the circumstances. "We know how to do this, right?" he murmured, trailing little kisses along her jaw. "If I remember correctly, it goes something like...this..." Using his shoulders for leverage, she hoisted herself up – he helped her cause by grabbing her under her thighs and using his superior arm muscles to lift her. Wrapping her legs around him securely, she felt his cock seeking entry into her, and then he found his way – gently but firmly stabbing into her. It felt comfortingly familiar, having only been there a short time ago, and so very, very good. Unlike the animalistic nature of what had occurred between them in the bedroom, or even their previous up-against-the- wall experience, this time their lovemaking was slow, gentle. She was making love with Mulder - the last man with whom she would ever use that term. It couldn't be slow and gentle forever, of course, and she was just as happy with fast and hard. While he was ramming into her almost too forcefully, she glanced down at the area where they were joined. Perhaps it was a residual reaction from before. Even though she had witnessed this exact activity very recently, in no way did it detract from the impact of seeing, again, his shaft pumping in and out of her. She was close. So, so close. "Hey, could I get some attention here?" he joked, panting. With some difficulty, she tore herself from the sight and raised her head so that their gazes could meet. If she had possessed the energy or the concentration, she would have raised an eyebrow. "You =wanted= me to watch before," she reminded him. "That was before...I realized...you were gonna...start ...ignoring =me=," he said with mock accusation, his words punctuated by gasps of pleasure. "Why don't you take a look for yourself?" she suggested. She had an inkling of what might happen if he took her advice, and brought a hand between her legs. With one finger, she began to circle her clit hard and fast, panting as she did so. Mulder looked into her face for another moment, thrusting rapidly, and then, not letting up, he lowered his gaze. "Oh Jesus!" he groaned. "Scully, I...you..." he stopped, unable to continue the thought. She smiled. He had been right earlier. It was a beautiful thing to watch him take in their intimate actions. His eyes were as big as saucers. Was this how she had been? The expression on his face was one of rapture, fascination, and arousal combined. She found it distinctly pleasurable to be able to see it, and at the same time feel the pressure of him inside her and the furious movement of her finger working herself. Moments later she was brought to a panting climax, and a good thing, too, because Mulder slammed one last time into her, howling and yelling so loudly that it echoed and reverberated through the small bathroom. She was distantly aware of the fact that Mulder had gathered her into his arms and was stepping out of the shower. It took all the strength she could muster to get her arms around his neck. Using one hand, he brought a towel carelessly around them to get at the larger droplets of water on their skin. She was grateful for his strength, because she felt absolutely boneless. She understood that he didn't want to let her go, that letting go meant that they would have to disengage, but this was not going to work the way he wanted it to. She grabbed his arms and indicated that she wanted him to let her go. He resisted for a moment, then gave in to reality and set her gently on her feet. She winced as he slipped out of her; tomorrow was not going to be pretty. Tomorrow. Oh, God. They still had a case to work on. Mulder passed her a towel, which she took and briskly began to dry herself. And, if she admitted it to herself, to hide from him, as she thought about what the hell they had done tonight. You're turning out to be a regular little slut, Dana Scully, she fumed, flushing. Who needs professionalism? Who says it's really bad taste to sleep with your partner? Well, we're not really =sleeping=... Oh, okay, be an incorrigible wiseass now, too. She was disgusted with herself – she knew that much. She just didn't know what part she was disgusted with. He plucked the towel from her hands. "You're dry, Scully," he said with a little amusement. "Well, your hair's still a little wet..." He ran the towel haphazardly over her head, squeezing here and there in an attempt, she supposed, to dry it. "Okay, now it's just damp." He discarded the used towel to the floor. "Now what?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Off to bed," he said lightly. She felt disappointment seep into her. The last time they had made love in a motel, he had left her to sleep in his own room. When they did the deed at their apartments, he always slept with her. But then, it was probably a bit ridiculous to sleep on the couch after their activities. Here, there was a perfectly good extra bed waiting in the next room. In the larger scheme of things, it was probably much wiser. Keep things separate. There was no reason at all why they should cuddle after making love. That was what =normal= people did. They were just conducting a series of one- night stands. She didn't stop to consider the contradiction of those phrases. She was too busy feeling sorry for herself. Leading her over to the bed, he stripped off the top cover that was stained by the material evidence of their earlier activities. He lifted the other sheets and gestured silently. Sighing, she slid between them, still a little fatigued but not nearly as much as she had been before. She wasn't sure she'd be able to fall asleep at all now. She watched as he shut off all the lights in the room. "Good night, Mulder," she said in a small voice. Shut up, Dana, just shut up! Do you =want= him to feel sorry for you, is that it? She was shocked when she felt the bed move as a heavy object deposited himself onto it. "What – what are you doing?" She felt him move, heard the sheets rustling, and seconds later his warm bare skin was pressed up against her. God, it felt heavenly. He was emitting waves of heat already; she loved that about him. He nuzzled his nose into her hair. "Sleeping." "You are?" she squeaked. He shifted, bringing an arm around her, pulling her to him tight. "I'm sleeping here with you, Scully," he announced. He sounded commanding, but she could hear the underlying quaver. He was waiting for her to hand him his balls and order him to his room. "Don't even try to argue with me about this," he continued with false bravado. "I'm not going to listen." He sounded like one of her nephews, determinedly telling his parents that he was not going to bed until he finished his Disney video, knowing that it was only due to the indulgence of the authorities that he was actually getting to stay up, not because he held any sway. "Don't worry, Mulder," she yawned, trying to convey that she was too tired to do any ass-kicking this night. I wouldn't dream of it. They slept, entwined. ~~~~~~~~ August 25 8:12 a.m. On the road She was sitting in a car with Mulder, and he was driving. Such a scenario was hardly out of the ordinary. She was aching from their activities last night. She was sore in places she'd forgotten existed, and the muscles of her inner thighs positively protested any movement. Most of all, she ached between her legs. Now these details - they were unusual. At least, prior to the last six weeks. The soreness was almost pleasurable when she reminded herself that one day soon she'd no longer have cause to ever feel that way again. It felt unbelievably intimate to be sitting in a car with Mulder, not touching, not speaking, but feeling achy from having had intimate physical contact. Oh my God. We had sex while on a case. In the light of a new morning the excuses she had made to herself last night meant precisely squat. The lines were so completely blurred now as to be rendered invisible. What fucking lines? They had demolished them! Her mind suddenly reeled from the direct confrontation of this fact. The ache between her legs shouted something like "Duh!" but she was still flabbergasted by the realization their sheer audacity. Obviously, neither had a gift for thinking ahead. But then, Mulder was always impulsive. It was she who should have been more careful, more deliberate in her thinking processes. This was probably the most important rule they should have adhered to – but no, they had broken it. Saying each other's names during sex? How could that be helped, make up new names? That was ridiculous. Fucking once in a while at each other's apartments? Also not that big a deal. Home was home, work was work. They were fighting to preserve their =working= relationship. Having sex at the office? Okay, that was a huge mistake. But they had both agreed never to let that happen again. Looking at Mulder's relaxed face, it didn't look like he would advocate the same conclusion in this case. Mulder, noticing her twitching, glanced over. "You okay?" "Huh?" She glanced at him, a little distracted. "Oh - yeah. Yeah." We had sex while on a case, Mulder! She shouted at him silently. She decided not to make a fool of herself by voicing it out loud. He could hardly be oblivious to the fact. Unbidden, her traitorous mind recalled the vision of how Mulder had looked thrusting inside her. Oh God. A small whimper escaped. She really should not be thinking these things. "Scully?" "Sorry. I thought I saw roadkill," she quickly improvised. He was certainly behaving casually. As if nothing had happened. Mulder began to whistle. She stared at him in amazement. Apparently, Mulder was not as disturbed or concerned as she by the latest breach of their sexual "contract." He was positively =cheerful=, experiencing none of the agony she was putting herself through. He behaved as though he hadn't a care in the world. =He= wasn't having fits of uncertainty. Well, goddammit, if Mulder could be so casual about everything, then so could she. Right. Hadn't she said something like that before? While she ruminated, he pulled in front of the small diner where they'd had just about every meal for a week. Grabbing some breakfast, no doubt. "Be right back," he tossed, jumping out of the car quickly. The last thing she felt like doing at the moment was eating a carbohydrate bomb smothered in glazed sugar. The thought made her feel positively ill. But Mulder – there was no stopping that man's stomach. He returned scant minutes later, sporting a huge box that had to contain at least three dozen donuts. What the hell? At her look of amazement, he handed her the box and a cup of coffee. He started the car, and off they went again. "Mulder," she began, when he made no explanation, "what is this?" "A box of donuts," he said matter-of-factly, as if he did this everyday. "I just thought the boys might like some." She hoped she wasn't gaping at him, but couldn't be certain. The boys? The BOYS?? Was he talking about the same men who had so angered him yesterday that he had gone off on his own for the whole day? He didn't seem to think this was anything unusual, however, so she decided not to say anything. He had gone completely around the bend. There was no other explanation for it. But he had gotten her coffee, and for that, she was willing to forgive almost anything – even insanity. She took a sip. Mmm, he had made it just the way she liked. By the time she was done with the cup, they were pulling up in front of the building where the Yapavai County Sheriff's office leased their working space. He took the box from her as they made their way inside. "Hey, Barnes – thought you and your boys might enjoy some morning goodies," Mulder said to the wary man, placing the box of donuts on top of the filing cabinet. "Well, now, that's very nice of you," Barnes replied cautiously, looking at Scully. She shrugged; =she= didn't know what the hell was going on. Maybe he had poisoned them. Deputy Mikladen was there, along with a handful of other officers. They too seemed a bit taken aback by Mulder's good cheer, but dug into the box with appreciation. "Look, Mulder, I'm sorry about yesterday..." Mikladen began, but stopped when Mulder flung an arm out in a breezy gesture. "Don't worry about it," he grinned. "We're all on the same team, right?" Mikladen nodded his agreement. Finally noticing Scully, they greeted her with a round of hellos as each man dug into the box for a donut of his choice – a couple of people were already on seconds. She was still looking at Mulder with something akin to amazement. With casual off-handedness, Mulder then shared, "Oh, by the way – I know who your killer is." Barnes nearly choked on his glazed twist. "What?" Scully exclaimed, apparently speaking for all of them. "Well – Christ, Agent Mulder!" Barnes yelled. "Why didn't you say something? Who is it? Let's go bring his ass in." Mulder shrugged. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure he's still sleeping. He's the nightshift manager at Del's Liquor. He just got off work what, two hours ago?" "What? Are you sure? How the hell do you know this?" Mikladen demanded. "Just yesterday you didn't have a clue!" "I had a clue," Mulder said mildly. "I just didn't have the whole picture. The profile clicked for me this morning. I'm sure I'm right. I can even tell you where to find the murder weapon." He took a large bite of a jelly donut. "Where'd this epiphany come from?" Barnes asked. Even without the suspect in hand or any evidence further than what they already had, it was obvious that Mulder was believed. Scully wanted to know, herself. He said it had clicked for him this morning. When? Between getting out of bed and putting on his tie? It always intrigued her to witness Mulder's keen mind in action. He was a profiling wonderboy. She quashed the feeling of pride she felt starting in her chest. There would be none of that. Mulder shrugged again. "A good night's sleep?" His voice was casual but there was no mistaking his meaning. Scully flushed in embarrassment at the surge of memory of their shared pleasure. "I think that's all I needed," he completed softly. "Well, that, and I looked at your notes this morning, Scully." He grinned. The interviews. Sure, she did all the work and he took all the glory. But she hadn't found anything particularly noteworthy – they'd all been interviewed before. She gave him the eyebrow. "Okay...what happened?" "It was staring at me in the face the whole time," he said, shaking his head. "But reading your interview notes this morning..." He explained how it had clicked for him and she followed his thinking process, but something nagged at the back of her mind. Now it seemed kind of obvious, and that they should have caught the guy before this. She wondered if, despite their best intentions, they had been distracted by other... pursuits. But there had been plenty of other people working the case – if it was that obvious, any one of them could have made the connection. And it couldn't be argued that the very day after they had given in to their physical desires, Mulder had been able to finish his profile and come up with their killer. Maybe it was a good thing that they had slept together on a case, after all. Or perhaps she was just rationalizing their actions. They were quiet for a moment, then Mulder leaned down and whispered into her ear, "You helped me clear my head, Scully. Thank you." He turned away before she could form an adequate response. Scully stared after him thoughtfully. Mulder claimed that their activities had loosened him up enough to be able to concentrate on his profile, when in fact it was probably her interview notes that had prompted his sudden clarity. However, she was willing to admit that it was =possible= she had provided Mulder with the physical release he needed and it had indirectly lead to solving the case. Such a possibility was not without merit, and if true, went a long way to soothe her qualms about what she had allowed to happen the previous night – it meant their actions had actually helped rather than hindered. The question that disturbed her, however, was if he would have been so distracted and unfocused in the first place had they not been involved in this relationship at all. ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Eleven ~~~~~~~~ Mulder's Apartment September 28 10:14 a.m. He'd been prowling about his apartment all morning, trying to talk himself out of calling her. As usual. He was worried – there was no doubt about that. It had been a week since the incident when he thought he was going to blow things for sure. Afterwards, it had =seemed= that everything was resolved, but they hadn't seen each other outside the office since. He missed her. Sure, he saw her everyday at work, and things had appeared to be normal. Scully, especially, seemed to try hard to keep up the level of ease and friendliness that was normally there. Unfortunately, it only made Mulder even more anxious. Why should she have to =try= to keep that up? Wasn't it there of its own accord? He felt something punch him in the gut every time he saw her arrive at the office in one of her impeccably tailored suits, coffee cup in one hand, her briefcase in the other. He wondered if his worship was in his eyes. He bantered with her as he always had, and she resisted response as usual. But obviously, something was not right. She had lately felt the need to keep up a pretense of comfort she obviously did not feel. It wasn't anything she had said or done; it was simply something he felt. He had tortured himself all week guessing at why she would throw off such odd vibes, but he had been unable to reach any satisfactory conclusions. He'd hoped that the weekend would provide opportunity for answers, but Friday had come and gone, and she'd left with only a murmured "goodbye," without a single look back. Not once during the whole of the week had she mentioned anything about plans for the weekend. She was distant. There was no other word for it, and it made him very nervous. And more than a little scared. That was it. He tossed aside the basketball he'd been bouncing to keep himself distracted, and strode over to his desk, picking up the phone. Speed dial one, and it was ringing. And ringing. He hung up. Shit. Maybe she just wanted to be left alone. But why should she want that? he wondered, wounded. He hadn't been particularly pesky lately. At least, not that he remembered. He'd been giving her the space she obviously wanted. No eager, love-me-please looks thrown her way. Well, none that he was aware of. Still, if she wanted to be left alone, she would be annoyed by his intrusion, which would help his case not at all. Not if he wanted to find out what was wrong, and he desperately wanted that. He didn't know what =could= be wrong; everything seemed perfectly fine, in spite of his less-than-inspiring performance last weekend. He was probably blowing things out of proportion. She's playing it casual, you doof, he reminded himself. Just because he had ceased to care about the terms of the relationship they had embarked on didn't mean she had done the same. Scully lived by rules. She enjoyed them, and, in this case, had reasons for sticking to them. But damn if he hadn't tried his hardest to obliterate both the rules and the need to follow them. Scully was Scully, though. He loved her for it. Well, if she was being casual, he reasoned, then she probably wouldn't mind if he called. He simply had to behave in kind. He had to make calling her seem like not such a big deal - that was the key. Everything to do with her was a big deal to him, but he didn't want to scare her by announcing it too quickly or loudly. Obviously, she still needed to be worked on. Speed dial one again. It rang and rang and rang until her machine picked up. Where the hell was she? He slammed the phone down. She wouldn't have gone out with that bastard again. She couldn't – "Damn it!" he snarled, kicking his chair with enough force to break the delicate bones in his foot. Luckily his sock provided some buffer, and it was only incredibly pained instead of broken. Hobbling over to the couch, he sat down, massaging his injured appendage. When the throbbing had subsided somewhat, he looked under the hill of newspapers and other assorted junk on his coffee table until he came across the black leather journal. He picked up a pen, flipped the book open to a blank page and furiously began to write, not choosing his words with care. He just had to get things off his chest. **Fuck, fuck, fuck. All right, Scully, I know I made an ass of myself last week but damn it, this is not fair. I really hope you're not with him. Because if you are, I might have to take out my gun and commit a crime that you'll need to arrest me for. But actually, that's even more motive to do it, because at least then I'll know where you are and you'll be with me. You've turned me into a certifiable madman, Scully. I hope you're proud. I've always been thought of as a lunatic to others but this is the first time I've admitted to being crazy. And you're the cause. I've tried to take this whole thing in stride. I've tried to be casual; I've tried to treat this whole thing the way I know you want me to. But I can't. Instead of wanting you less, I only want you more. Is that why you're running the other way, Scully? You can sense this in me and don't want to hurt me? It's too late – I've fallen in love with you and I don't know how to fall out of it. Even if I knew how I wouldn't want to. Why would anyone in his right mind want to stop experiencing the wonderful, dizzying, exhilarating feeling of being in love with you? Well, as I've already admitted, I'm not in my right mind and right now I'm considering it. Maybe if I fall out of love with you I won't be so scared that you don't feel the same way. Maybe if I wasn't in love with you I wouldn't have to try so hard to make you fall in love with me in return. But then why would anyone like you ever love someone as fucked up as me? You deserve so much better. And if =I= wasn't the fuckup involved I'd tell you to run like hell the other way, and then I'd kick my ass. But I'm selfish, Scully. I've always been selfish when it comes to you. I can't help it. I look at you and I want to kiss the life out of you. I see someone else look at you and I feel so proud that I'm the one who knows you. I know what they think when they see you, Scully. They see an intelligent, worldly, beautiful woman with the strength of a dozen men. You're so much stronger than I could ever be. But I'm blessed because you've shown me your vulnerabilities. Usually not voluntarily and not very often, but I've seen them and I don't think very many people can say that. In those moments you let me in, I feel the entire essence of who you are seep into every corner of me. I see you – all of you. And you are beautiful, Scully. If I weren't such a greedy man, I'd take what you're able to give. I'd take my few moments here and there of basking in you, and run like hell with what I've got. But now I've experienced everything, and I want it all. I want to see your face every morning for the rest of my life. I want to spend every weekend in your company. And everyday for the rest of my life, I want to hear your voice before I go to sleep. I don't know if you want these things, Scully. I don't know if you want them with =me=. That uncertainty makes me feel crazy inside, as if I don't know whether I'm coming or going. You know, if you told me that what we have now is all that you can ever give, I would accept it. If you told me right now that you no longer feel attracted to me and want things to go back to the way they were, it would be difficult but I'd try to respect your wishes. But don't push me out of your life, Scully. That I can't do. I can't not have you in my life. I wouldn't know how to go about living it again. I know this is a big burden to put on you. I hate myself for it, at the same time I do everything I can to keep you with me. I'm weak. I freely admit it. I've got nothing to lose but you. You can't blame a guy for trying to preserve his reason for living, can you? Look at me – a couple of days of your distance and I'm already going out of my mind. I've tried calling you but you're not home. Where are you, Scully? I know I have no right to ask you that, but I'm asking anyway. I know I acted like a moron last week. I know I goaded you into going out with him. I was – I don't know what I was thinking. Part of it was just habit, and part of me wanted to provoke you into denying what I was saying. Stupid, I know. And I normally work so well under pressure. I know I went off the deep end. I know I scared you – hell, I scared =me=. I swear it won't happen again. You can see whoever you want to see, Scully, and I – Oh who the hell am I kidding? I'd want to hurt any man who comes near you. But I swear I'll try to hide it better. I swear I'll try. I'm not always clear-headed when it comes to you, Scully. You know that. Hell – everyone knows it, including Skinner and the shadow figures who have tried to take you from me so many times. What they never saw was that taking you only drove me more – there was a reason for me to keep existing. I had the only reason I would ever need – to bring you back. To make sure you're alive and safe. To make sure you're with me. In fact, there's no greater motive they could have given me to keep at it, those stupid bastards. But what they failed to do I've done to myself. Now I've driven you away and I don't know how to fix it. I'm drowning, Scully. I'd ask you to save me, but I'm afraid I'd pull you under, too. You're the only person I need. I know you don't want that, but there it is. I'll try for your sake to not need you so much, but it's your own fault, you know. I don't understand this latest bump we've hit. God, I hope it's a bump. I was a fucking idiot last week but you seemed to forgive me. I know my tactics were a little caveman-like but I'll try to control those urges. Just – don't pull away. Don't shut me out. You can't say that the last two and a half months haven't been amazing. I've never felt more alive. Or happier. You make me happy, Scully. That's not a crime, is it? I know it must seem like an affliction at times to have the weight of my happiness resting on you, but I hope that I've made you a little happy, too. I know you don't have any complaints about the sex. God, that part's incredible. You're the hottest, most sensual woman I've ever been with, and I thank the fates that have allowed me to experience that privilege. And you're gorgeous when we make love, Scully. I love watching you, seeing the pleasure on your face that I'm giving you. I want to be the only person to give that to you. I'll do it the rest of my life if you'll let me. But I won't accept that that's all you feel for me. I won't accept that the physical is all you want from me. Like what happened last week – surely you wouldn't have responded the way you did if you didn't love me, just a little. Is that a problem, Scully? Did what happen make you realize that you have deeper feelings for me than you want to admit? God I hope that's true. Are you taking this time to think about it, think about what you want from me, from this, from us? The possibility thrills me, but I'm more frightened than ever.** ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Twelve ~~~~~~~~ YMCA September 14 11:14 a.m. Sweat dripped off his face and his breathing was labored as he dribbled around a large body determined to prevent him from getting to the hoop. He spun around, then again, successfully diverting his opponent. An easy lay-up later, his team was again leading. Someone called time, and they all took a water break. It was usually the same guys, and while they never did anything together outside of playing ball, there was an easy familiarity and camaraderie that came simply from the good-natured competition they engaged in roughly once a week. Today, Troy Bruschard had happened to put his gym bag close to Mulder's, and Mulder tried to suppress his irritation. Bruschard was an okay guy and a decent ball player, but he rubbed Mulder the wrong way. They reached for their respective water bottles and began to gulp thirstily. When they each took a breather, Bruschard asked casually, "So is your babe of a partner gonna come see you today?" Mulder gritted his teeth. Bruschard had made no secret of the fact that he found Scully extremely attractive, and was constantly referring to her in ways that set Mulder on edge. Bruschard was not a bad guy. He had an unfortunate way of referring to women in a manner that obviously stemmed from personal insecurities – he probably thought it made him seem macho. But he was never intentionally rude, at least, not that Mulder had seen, and more often than not, Bruschard played the role of peacemaker when a scuffle erupted between players. Bruschard had a gift for easing tension with good-natured aplomb; he had a knack for diplomacy, and genuinely seemed to care about maintaining a pleasant dynamic within the group. Knowing this, Mulder found it impossible to be outright hostile to the guy. "She mentioned she'd be dropping by," he relayed reluctantly. She'd told him earlier that she needed to take care of some errands in the neighborhood, then she'd drop by and they'd have lunch. "God, if I worked with a piece like that, I'd never get anything done," Bruschard commented. Mulder just barely resisted to urge to connect his fist with the other man's face. "Who says I get anything done?" he joked, only half-paying attention. He was looking for a petite female with glorious red hair. This would be the first time she had come here since they had started sleeping together, he realized. That might explain his more-lacking-than-usual tolerance toward Bruschard. Mulder had once asked Scully what she thought of Bruschard, trying to gauge her interest. It was more for his own sake than for Bruschard's, of course. She had only given him a little smile and asked, "Why? Are you trying to set us up?" The idea had been so vile that Mulder had never brought it up again. Now he wondered, with a sick feeling in his stomach, if she had =wanted= him to set her up with Bruschard. After all, the other man was attractive, around Mulder's age, and had a steady job. The kind of guy he could picture Scully having a normal life with. It also made him want to smash things, but there was no denying that Bruschard was prime significant-other material for an attractive, single woman like Scully. They spotted her at the same time. Bruschard gave a low whistle. "My Saturday has just improved a hundredfold." Mulder stiffened. His had as well, but that didn't mean he wanted to hear the same sentiments voiced aloud by some other man. She was a vision in jeans, a tight-fitting white top, and boots that made a deep clacking sound on the basketball court as she made her way toward him. Calm down, he told himself. But the way Bruschard was ogling her was downright aggravating. If anyone was going to drool on Scully, it was going to be Mulder. Ignoring Bruschard, he grinned at her as she approached. Christ, even the way she walked turned him on. Was there a more delectable woman anywhere on earth? "Hey," he greeted softly, eyeing her possessively. If she took exception to that look, she didn't show it. She smiled in response, though he noted that her eyes seemed downcast. "Hey yourself," she answered, not meaning to sound sexy, he was sure, but her voice caused goosebumps to rise on his flesh just the same. "Hey Dana," an intrusive voice said brightly next to him. Don't call her Dana, he wanted to shout. But the thought of Bruschard calling her Scully was even worse. Don't you call her anything at all. Scully's glance flickered to his companion, and Mulder held his breath. He let it out in relief when there was no interest in her eyes other than her good manners forcing her to go through the pleasantries. "Hi, Troy," she replied. The other man grinned, obviously delighted that she had remembered his name. She's a law enforcement officer, Mulder wanted to inform the other man. She's trained not to forget names and faces. Bruschard asked casually, "So you two are partners...?" "Yeah, we work together," Mulder said shortly. Then venomously in his mind - as you perfectly well know. Something flashed briefly in Scully's eyes that could have been described as...hurt. He had to be mistaken. Why should Scully be hurt by something so innocuous? And true? He had said it out of habit, as well as a preemptive strike against further intrusive questions. Their relationship was nobody's business but their own. To his consternation and surprise, Scully then turned to Bruschard again, looking at him speculatively. "Right. And what is it that you do? I've forgotten." Had she deliberately injected that note of coyness into her voice? Surely it was just her manners that made her ask. Mulder didn't even hear Bruschard's response, so intent was he on reading Scully's behavior. Was she trying to provoke a response out of him? But why should she want to do that? "So you two aren't - ?" *You know perfectly well we aren't, you ass, since you ask every damn time. Well, we are, but you don't know that. Even if I want to shove that knowledge down your throat right now.* "No, we aren't. We work together, that's =all=." He was appalled by the words that kept popping out of his mouth. What in the world had come over him? Sure, he had said them countless times in the past, but never had he meant them less. Why was he being so fucking insistent, when the last thing he wanted was to let Bruschard think he had a chance? According to the blasted rules, he and Scully were free to be interested in other people. Just because he would never be interested in another woman again didn't mean that the same was true for Scully and other males. He suddenly realized: he wanted her to prove him wrong. He wanted her to tell him that she wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship with any other man. Tell this jerk to back the fuck off, he pleaded with her silently. Scully studied him with unreadable eyes. He didn't know what was going through her mind. "That's all," she echoed. He had never wanted to hurt himself more. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What was she supposed to say after he had made such an adamant denial? No, actually, Mulder and I are lovers? God, he was such a moron! He'd wanted her to voice that they were more to each other; he'd wanted to hear her say it. But now he had set back the efforts of the past few weeks, trying to ease her into the knowledge that he was in love with her. Was there a more miserable excuse for a man? He knew she wasn't ready to admit anything remotely the same; why did he have to provoke her like that? "Well, listen," Bruschard said enthusiastically, apparently not sensing the tension between the other two, "Would you come with me to this social function I've got for work tonight, keep me company? I always get bored as hell at these things, but I have to be there." Mulder was speechless with shock. Had he just heard right? Had this guy just asked his Scully out on a date, right in front of him? Scully gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, I don't think – " "Oh, come on," Bruschard persisted good-naturedly. "Just as friends. My date canceled on me at the last minute and she was gonna be the only diversion to get me through it. It'd be for a good cause. Mulder here can vouch that I'm a great guy." Mulder stared at Bruschard in bug-eyed amazement. First this guy had the balls to nerve to ask =his= woman to go out with him, and now he was using =Mulder= as a reference? He had to be out of his fucking mind! Scully would never go out with this guy. She didn't know him or care to know him. She was involved with Mulder. But he had the same urge to hear her say for herself that she wasn't interested. He deliberately closed off his expression, not wanting to influence her decision. If she truly wanted to see Bruschard, well, he wouldn't stop her. He'd go home and clean his Sig, but he wouldn't keep her from what she wanted. "Sure," he said hollowly, "A great guy." The little shit had probably made all that up on the spur of the moment. Scully wouldn't fall for such an obvious ploy. She was quiet for a long moment, looking at Mulder. He gave her a tight smile, pleading her in his mind to reject Bruschard already and not to torture either of them with the wait any further. Finally, she directed her attention back to Bruschard. Mulder almost melted in relief. Here's where she was going to let him down... "Sure, why not," she accepted softly, sending each man onto contrasting planes of joy. "Great, thanks, you're a lifesaver," Bruschard announced. "I swear you'll have a good time. We'll make it fun for each other." Scully gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and as she gave Bruschard her contact information, he was glowing with delight. Mulder gripped his water bottle so hard it collapsed in his hands. ~~~~~~~~ Outside Scully's Apartment September 14 10:43 p.m. Was it pathetic that he was sitting here in his car, in the dark, outside Scully's apartment, spying on her? Should it be troubling him that he was waiting for her to come home from her date so that he could haul her inside and remind her just who it was that she belonged to? Or what if she actually came home with Bruschard? Was it terrible that he was half hoping she would, so that he could tear the guy apart limb from limb, for daring to go anywhere near her? And then he would haul Scully into bed and reassert his ownership. What fucking fantasy world was =he= living in? Scully belonged to herself. She would be the first one to tell him to take a flying leap off the nearest multiple-story building if she heard him even remotely voice the possessive and jealous feelings rampaging through him at the moment. But there was no denying he was feeling them. He'd been sitting here for two hours, hoping against hope that the whole thing would be a bomb from the start and she'd get home early. As each minute ticked by his mood had gotten blacker and blacker, until he could barely think straight for the cloud darkening his mind. He reveled in the rage, because without it, he'd no doubt break down and sob like a baby. Why had she agreed to go out with Bruschard tonight? Was she genuinely interested in him? Dared he hope that it had anything to do with him? He heard Scully's voice in his mind, normally so welcomed, but this time forcing him to remember..."Not everything is about you, Mulder." "Damn it!" he swore, pounding the steering wheel. God, this pain in his chest was agonizing. He had to get a hold of himself. After a few more minutes, he was less explosively angry, but the hurt had not gone away. He had never felt as confused as he did right now, sitting alone in his car, staking out Scully's apartment. He had believed that he and Scully were closer than they had ever been – what had happened? Had that been an illusion on his part? Had she really only been using him for sexual release while looking for something else? Wasn't that exactly what she thought =he= was doing? A tap against his window nearly made him jump out of his skin. Scully. Shit, caught in the act. He had to remember he didn't have anything to feel guilty about. He wasn't the one who had gone on a date with somebody else. The reminder roused his ire again. He was not going to be made to feel bad about waiting for her. He wanted her to know that this had bothered him. She wanted his balls on a platter? She had them. But not if she had Bruschard with her. Then he wouldn't give either of them the satisfaction. He'd simply get back in his car with as much dignity as he could muster, drive home, try not to get into an accident on the way, and then crash onto his couch to wallow in pathetic self-pity. That was, unless he crossed a nice, tempting bridge along the way. Instead of rolling down the window, he opened the car door and stepped out. He wanted to have the semblance of the upper hand in this situation, and it would help if he could use his height to his advantage. She didn't look like the vindictive little bitch he had tried to convince himself she was. She just looked – tired. But he wasn't about to let her off the hook that easy. He needed answers. Craning her head to look up at him, she met his accusing gaze unflinchingly. "Want to come inside?" Damn it, his cock really did have a mind of its own. Even as upset with her as he was at this moment, his dick sprang to attention at her invitation with its unintended meaning. He gritted his teeth. No, he was not going to be distracted by her feminine charms, though she had those in spades. He jerked his head, looking for a sign of Bruschard, but the other man was nowhere to be found. He despised himself for the intense relief that flooded through him. Shit, she was already halfway to the building. His long strides caught up to her quickly. Once at her door, she dug through the small purse she had been carrying. "Shit...I don't have my keys," she said tiredly. Left in a bit of a hurry, did we? he thought caustically, but kept his mouth shut. Wordlessly, he dug into his pockets and took out his keys, handing them to her. "Thanks," she sighed, behaving as if this was all very normal. Opening the door, she stepped into her apartment, Mulder following silently. She switched on a lamp and tossed her purse and the keys onto the couch. He sucked in a breath when she took off her long black overcoat; underneath, she was wearing a long form-fitting dress, kind of a shimmery blue, with no sleeves and a neckline that plunged a deep V into her cleavage. She looked – stunning. Breathtakingly so. She stepped closer to him, having noticed his reaction. "What's the matter, Mulder? Don't you like it?" Bitch, he thought. Manipulative bitch. "Is this what you wore for him?" he asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. The thought of his Scully preparing herself, dressing up for some other man, positively nauseated him. She stared up at him with wide, sincere eyes. "I wore this for you, Mulder," she whispered, stepping closer, sliding her arms around his waist. He stiffened at her touch, not wanting to give in. He desperately wanted to believe her, to believe the beautiful lie she was spinning for him. Who cared about the dress? The fact was that he was with the woman he loved, and they were alone. "I was hoping you would be here," she confessed. "I needed you to be here..." She rested her face against his unyielding chest. He was thawing. This was =Scully=, he told himself fiercely. She didn't know the first thing about being duplicitous. "Why did you do it?" He hated the quiver in his voice. God, he was so weak when it came to her. "I'm sorry," she answered, sighing. "I just – " her voice caught. "I'm glad you're here." That wasn't an answer, but he closed his eyes at the sincerity in her voice. He believed her. Of course he did. "You can see anybody you want to see; it doesn't make any difference to me," he grated. Oh, that's a smooth one. That's why you were staked outside her apartment until she got home. She was quiet for a moment. Her answer, when it came, did not alleviate his fears very much. "I know I can. But I don't want to be with anyone but you right now. Is that okay?" He trembled. Was it okay? Was she kidding? "Jesus...of course, Scully." He hated himself for it, but he had to know. "How was your date?" "Boring," she answered without hesitation. "He was nice. But he wasn't you, Mulder. Though, God, I wanted him to be..." He was enthralled by the look in her eyes. If it was possible to feel cherished from a look in another person's eyes, then that's what he felt. He was as surprised as she by the ferocity of his kiss. He simply lowered his head and captured her parted lips with his; no preliminaries, and his tongue was thrusting into her mouth, her gasps swallowed by him even as they left her mouth. He could taste the wine on her tongue; he swept over it until all traces were gone. He wanted to eliminate all the evidence of her evening spent with someone else. Pressing closer to her, he heard her whimper when his arousal rubbed against her stomach, telling her blatantly what he wanted. She broke off the kiss and tugged on his hands, leading him to her bedroom. "Come on, Mulder," she urged huskily. He didn't need more encouragement than that. Once inside, she shut the door, enclosing them in darkness. A little moonlight greeted them through the window, but it was hardly sufficient. He was glad. He didn't want any artificial light encroaching on these moments; apparently, she felt the same way, as she made no move to turn on any lights. Scully maneuvered him into a large stuffed chair by the bed. He rested his hands on the armrests as he studied her with hooded eyes, his legs spread apart casually. That dress was unbelievable. It molded to every lush curve Scully possessed – and she had a lot of them. And then in a whisper of material, it simply wasn't there anymore. His breath caught in his throat. God, she hadn't even been wearing a bra. Her beautiful pink nipples grew hard under his gaze. It caused his cock to tighten painfully in response. Jesus, and the rest of her – those wispy black panties enticed him with what they hid, and she was wearing black thigh high stockings. No garters, but he was glad – here was the same idea but without the trouble. His Scully was a genius. She was still wearing her black high heels. He swallowed. She had really gone all out, hadn't she? Maybe she had expected to get lucky with Bruschard, he thought painfully. But no – she said she had dressed this way for him, hadn't she? His gaze shot to her face. A little smile crossed her lips. "For you, Mulder," she answered his unspoken question. "Just for you." She stepped closer so that she was almost between his thighs, then dropped to her knees. He stared in fascination at the way her pretty pink-tipped breasts jiggled in front of him. Her hand reached out and ran up the material of his shirt. He was glad he had left his jacket in the car – one less item of clothing to get in the way. He followed her hand as her fingers began to deftly flick open his buttons one by one, going down, down, down. More of his taut skin was exposed to view as she completed her task; when she reached the waistband of his jeans her other hand came around and helped pull his shirt out. Finally, his shirttails were unceremoniously flipped aside, and Scully ran her hands up his bare chest. Her fingers brushed against his nipples, which hardened at her touch. He still had not moved. She stopped running her hands over him and instead focused her attention on his right wrist, undoing the buttons at the cuff. He was a little confused when she began to roll the sleeve up, almost to his elbow. She did the same to the other arm. Then she ran her hands up his forearms. "God, you are so sexy," she breathed. His eyebrows rose, but he was willing to accept her praise. She appeared to have developed a fetish - he often did this exact thing while he was working. The thought was flattering, and very, very arousing. Without a word he used a hand to touch the side of one of her breasts. Her skin was incredibly soft. He ran his fingers forward until they were resting over the aroused peak of her breast. "More," she rasped, pushing herself into his palm. He was not averse to this plea; he gave her an obliging squeeze. He let her nipple pop out between two of his fingers, right above the webbing, and he contracted his digits, trapping it there. He was satisfied to hear her moan. Her hands went to the fly of his jeans. He shivered when her fingers brushed against his erection, straining to be let loose from its confines. The rasping of his zipper was overly loud in the silence of the room. He clenched his teeth and forcibly kept from crying out when she reached into the opening of his boxers to stroke him and then pull him out. His breathing was coming faster and faster as she ran her fingers lightly up and down his length. She wet her lips with her tongue. He was already hugely erect, but when he saw her do that, he seriously thought for a moment that he was going to embarrass himself. His dick twitched against her hand. She retreated, to grab hold of his jeans. "As good as you look in these jeans, Mulder, I think I want them off now." She was getting no argument from him. He waited for her to remove his shoes and socks, then lifted his hips as she pulled the heavy material down and off, flinging them elsewhere. "I think these have to go, too," she said without remorse. She tucked his penis back in, and he helped her ease his boxers off to join his pants. Those things out of the way, she drew her face close to his straining erection. He could feel her breath, hot and moist on him as she paused there for a moment, seeming content to look at him. Meanwhile he was feverishly anticipating the touch of her mouth. Even so, he jerked when he felt it; her lips at the base of his cock, light but insistent, sucking at his skin. His balls tightened to the point where it was almost unbearable, and then she cupped them in one of her hands. "I've never seen anything as beautiful as you," Scully shared, beginning to lick him. That's my line, he would have said if he had had the voice. Finally, she had kissed and licked her way to the tip of him. But where she would have taken him into her mouth, he stopped her by jerking away. "What's wrong?" she asked in confusion, a little hurt in her voice. She could see as plain as he that his cock twitching with desire and need. He told her with his eyes that he was in no condition to be subjected to more than one stimulus tonight; if she wanted her pleasure as well, she would have to stop. She smiled in understanding; he in relief. She stood, stepping away, and hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down, stepping out of them. Her shoes went next, then her stockings, peeled slowly down the length of her legs, making his mouth go dry and further fueling the fire running rampant through his veins. She motioned to step forward again, but he stood, towering over her; she had lost the few inches of height her shoes had afforded her. However, she didn't back down in any way – she simply looked back up at him, full of strength and resolve. God, he loved her. It would scare her if she realized how much. He captured her mouth in a bruising kiss, trying to tell her with his passion what he could not voice out loud. He wanted her to know on at least one level what he felt. Still kissing, they made their way over to the bed, falling onto it gently. He started to shrug out of his shirt but she stopped him. "Leave it on, okay?" she implored breathlessly. On, off, whatever – he was content having her in his arms. He rested his weight on his hands as he braced himself over her, devouring her with his lips and tongue and teeth. From her mouth to her breasts, he left nothing untouched. Suddenly and without warning, he forced her legs wide and pushed himself into her. She was scalding heat and moisture, enveloping him. He needed this. He needed her. He belonged to her. She belonged to him... She was more than ready for him. She was so wet, so hot, and so incredibly tight that he couldn't stop his initial invasion until she had taken all of him. He was buried in her so deep, as far as he could go. Moaning in surprise from his sudden and thorough entry, she gripped at his shirt with both hands, lifting her hips for a better angle of penetration. Christ, she felt so good that it took all his concentration not to come right then and there. He was gonna make this as great for Scully as it was for him; that was the plan. She still hadn't said why she had gone out with someone else, but what mattered was that she was with him now. He would use every opportunity he had to convince her that he was all she would ever want or need, ever again. His hips pumped against her in a rhythm he knew she liked, if her breathless little panting was anything to go by. She clawed his back with her nails, and he felt positively triumphant at the twinge of pain he felt. His hipbones ground against hers, their bodies slapping together in fierce emotion. He opened his eyes to glance down at her, and was a little unnerved by the fact that she was openly looking at his face, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. She must have seen something there, some kind of bleak need, because her next words cut him with their precision. "Oh, Mulder," she whispered. "Don't you know I'm yours?" He could not answer; he closed his eyes from the shock and regret of having been read so easily. But then, this was Scully – the only person who possessed such unfailing skill where he was concerned. "Mulder, Mulder," she murmured beneath him, letting go of his shirt and instead placed her hands on the hard planes of his chest, caressing him lovingly. Then, to his intense dismay, she reached up and brushed away tears he hadn't realized had fallen from beneath his lashes. Tonight she was his; this much was true. But he wanted to be with her every night, every day, until he drew his last breath. He wanted to have that right; he wanted her to want it too. Feeling a sudden undeniable urge to brand her as his, as if the very act of his body moving inside hers was not enough, he lowered his lips to the soft skin of her neck. A tangible mark, he decided, was just what was needed. He nibbled softly at first, tasting the salt of her perspiration there, reveling in the rapid beat of her heart right below the skin. He never once faltered in his actions – his lower body continued to move in an age-old rhythm even as he sucked strongly on her neck. When her climax hit, her inner muscles pulled at him and milked him, and the sensation was so unbelievably pleasurable that his first instinct was to clamp his teeth, trapping her delicate skin there. She cried out even louder, her whole body jerking up, forcing him in deep. He regained the presence of mind to let go of the flesh on her neck before he began ramming into her like a madman, any pretense at finesse abandoned in favor of the need to find his own release in her sweet depths. At last, at last, he was coming hard, exploding into her like a rocket, emptying into her until he was sure there was not a drop left in his body. He collapsed, spent, onto her, burying his face into the hollow of her throat. He felt her twine her arms around him, holding him tightly. He was probably crushing her. Rolling off with some reluctance, he couldn't help but be pleased by her little mew of disappointment. "Come on," he urged gently, pulling back the covers. His voice sounded odd, low and hoarse, and it even felt a little strange as the sounds found their way out of his throat. He realized these were the first words he had spoken since he had asked her how her date was. Damn, but that felt like ages ago. He wasn't sorry that that was the case. If he never felt as miserable as he did only an hour ago ever again, it would be fine by him. The time he had spent between leaving her at the YMCA – plans for lunch had been cast aside as he'd stalked out, angry and hurt – and seeing her arrive home alone had been some of the most wretched hours he had ever spent. And considering the horrors he had seen, some experienced first-hand, that was saying something. He took a moment to strip off his shirt, and then they slipped quickly under the covers, both reaching for each other and cuddling close. He was bathed in her scent, and he took a deep breath to get it all in. God, he loved sleeping here with her. He felt surrounded by her, secure and wanted. The important thing about tonight was that she had chosen him over Bruschard and a "normal" life. He knew she wouldn't have come home alone if she hadn't chosen to. He would have to be more careful in the future about the dangers that threatened to take her away from him. He had prevailed. This time. "What are you thinking?" Her arm was slung possessively across his chest; he rather liked it. "Um...do you know if the Redskins won their game today?" Oh, that's classic. Use humor as a defense mechanism, his psychology training mocked. She stiffened, then let out a huff of outrage before she sighed – in understanding if not acceptance. "They didn't play today," she stated flatly. He began hesitantly, "I was thinking..." Just say it, you coward. Scully, I love you and want to sleep with you in this bed everyday for the rest of our natural lives. "Yeah?" she prompted, yawning. "I was thinking..." He faltered again. He couldn't do it; he was too afraid of the possible consequences. She might make him leave, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize his chances of sleeping next to her tonight. It was a sure thing right now; if he said anything to alarm her, that could change in a heartbeat. "...that it's real nice being here," he finished finally. What a gift with words you have, his inner voice said sarcastically. "Real nice" – that was the understatement of the century. Scully didn't seem particularly disturbed by his choice of words, however. She only snuggled in closer. He glanced down at her, her head resting on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, and he spied a small smile touch her mouth. "It is nice, isn't it?" she agreed, sounding drowsy. Within moments, he could tell that she was asleep. Delicately, he brushed her hair back from her face, caressing the strands lovingly. He wanted to tell her he loved her, and he would - just as soon as he could be sure that she would reciprocate the sentiment and not leave him holding the pieces of his shredded heart in his hands. He knew that she knew he loved her – as her best friend and her partner. But she didn't know that he was =in= love with her, and there was a world of difference. If only he wasn't so damnably chickenshit. If only things were as black and white as they had meant them to be and rules and lines were easily adhered to and emotions were easily controlled. If only he wasn't so fucking scared of losing her. If only he was all doped up again, so the drugs would loosen his tongue up. If only this situation wasn't completely different from that time, and the words didn't mean so much more. If only he could stop with the "if only"s and grab life by the balls for once and tell the woman he loved how he felt. For once in his miserable life, reach out for happiness instead of push it away. "I...I love you, Scully." His voice cracked on the delivery, but he had done it. He had vocalized his feelings for her in her presence. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, to calm his racing heart. Christ, even his palms felt sweaty. He noticed that the hand of the arm around her small shoulders was tracing nervous patterns on her skin. He forced himself to stop. He heard the steady rhythm of her breathing as she slept on, and he stared morosely at the ceiling. That was good; good job, he told himself. Now if only he could do it while she was actually conscious. ~~~~~~~~ Scully's Apartment September 15 10:18 a.m. He woke with an erection and Scully spooned up against him. There was only one logical thing to do. Wrapping both arms around her just under her breasts, he kissed the top of her head in a morning greeting, sure she was still sleeping. Slowly, he moved a hand up to one plump breast, and caressed it until he felt the nipple harden against his fingers. He then performed the same task on its twin, and Scully shifted against him. He stifled a groan as her soft little ass rubbed against the rigid length of his shaft. His hand trailed down from her breasts over the firm muscles of her abs, into the thatch of curls shielding the part of Scully where he wanted to be most at the moment. He tested the waters and nearly growled with satisfaction. She was wet and ready. He glanced down at the top of her sleeping head. Maybe she wouldn't even notice. He'd be quick – no sense in troubling her. He closed his eyes and let out a silent groan when she enveloped him into her slick depths. He grabbed her leg, dragging it back over his hip as he continued to move gently in and out. His breaths grew shallower and more urgent as he thrust. The strain of being gentle and unobtrusive was tiring him out; he halted his motions to gather strength. "Why are you stopping?" she murmured, pushing back against him. All right, so he hadn't really believed she would stay asleep during the whole thing. But he felt guilty, anyway. "Sorry, Scully," he said, his morning voice rough and low. She twisted to face him, beautiful in her half-asleep state. "Mulder, as much as I love this position, I want to see you," she said. He obligingly slipped out of her so that she could settle onto her back before she pulled him between her legs again. He pushed back inside without missing a heartbeat, feeling inexplicably relieved to be in her again. His movements had just started again when the phone rang. Shit, it was Sunday – it was probably Scully's mother. Scully, however, made no motion to pick it up. "Shouldn't you get that?" he groaned. He continued to thrust, and she said in between breathy little gasps, "Very...funny...Mulder." "No, I mean it," he gasped in response. His thrusts grew arrhythmic as he tried to halt his body's natural instincts, but he found it difficult to stop completely. His hips stilled by the fourth ring of the phone. It was Mrs. Scully, he was sure of it. For some reason the idea that Scully should ignore her mother because of him was incredibly wrong. He ignored her dumbfounded look as he reached over a little ways to the cordless phone sitting on her bed stand. "What are you doing?" she cried, jerking her hips up to encourage him to begin the mating rhythm once more. "Scully," he gasped at the movement. "What if it's your mother?" Which it almost certainly was. He knew that Mrs. Scully regularly called her daughter around this time on Sundays, after she returned from church. "Mulder," she began, "I can call her ba – hello?" He had pressed the receiver to her ear and pressed 'talk' before she could finish her sentence. Still gasping for breath, he lowered his head onto the pillow, resting his cheek against it, facing away from her. He hoped their conversation wouldn't be too long. He didn't have unlimited reserves of willpower. His hair was damp from the sweat generated by their morning exertions. They were both sticky with perspiration, but the feel of her skin rubbing against his was simply divine. He felt her run a hand down the length of his back in a gentle caress. She rested the tips of her fingers into the dip of his spine, and he couldn't quite stop from rubbing against her. "Hello?" he heard her repeat. His lower body was tense as he forced himself not to start thrusting again. When she tightened her vaginal muscles for just a second to tease him, he decided that she was evil. He let out a tortured groan. He concentrated on taking deep, even breaths. It was an unbelievable feeling to be lying so still inside her, her inner muscles gripping him tight, while he tried to keep from moving. "Hi, Troy," he heard her say. What the hell? Why was that asshole calling her? He remembered that she'd never said what exactly had happened last night. So he hadn't come home with her, so what. Scully wasn't the type to sleep with a man on a first date. What about Ed Jerse? his mind taunted. She was pissed at me then, he responded defensively. And besides, he was fairly certain she hadn't slept with Jerse. She was pissed at you yesterday, too. Whatever – but she hadn't done it. He was the one in bed with her. He was the one =in= her. Then why the fuck was she on the phone with Bruschard? That asshole was the reason he'd postponed both of their climaxes? As much as it killed him, Mulder listened to her sweet voice talking to the other man. He had to know if it meant something. "It's so good to hear from you," she fairly purred. He jerked his head up sharply in an involuntary gesture to look at her. The look of smug satisfaction on her face quieted some of his worries. In fact, he was positively elated. She was just teasing him. Oh, what a wonderful feeling relief was. "Uh huh," she said. Mulder felt his brows draw together. What could they possibly be talking about? In his mind the conversation was clear. Bruschard: Let's go out again. Scully: No, thank you, and please don't call me again. I'm being fucked senseless by the only man I'll ever want. Mulder almost smiled. "Get off the phone," he murmured into her ear, taking her earlobe between his teeth. She looked at him with wide eyes, questioning with mock innocence why she would want to do that. Oh, so it was going to be like that, was it? Two could play at this game. He never took his eyes from hers as he raised himself up again. Moving his hips slowly, he dragged himself out of her, then just as slowly pushed back in till he was buried to the hilt. He heard her voice catch on her sentence. This was even better, he thought. Making love to Scully with that bastard on the phone, claiming what was his in a primitive display of possession. The fact that Bruschard wasn't aware of the slight only added to the satisfaction of doing it. Bastard. And, of course, there was Scully, who obviously wanted to provoke him. Perhaps into doing exactly this. Mulder couldn't keep back the grin. She grabbed one of his shoulders, trying to push him back. There was a slightly panicked look in her eyes and a becoming flush to her cheeks. *No* she mouthed, then her breath hitched and her eyes rolled back as he disregarded her request and surged forth again. "Hang up," he rasped softly. She shook her head and mumbled something into the phone. She returned his gaze stubbornly, determination gleaming in her eyes. He shrugged and tried to hide his amusement. He'd been playing nice, but obviously she had underestimated his resolve. He began to move again, this time a little faster. She swallowed; he saw her trying to control her response by gulping her breaths. "I...don't know," she responded into the receiver, in a voice that was barely there. His next thrust was a little harder than its predecessors, and she let out an involuntary sound of surprise. She shook her head frantically as his thrusts grew stronger and faster in pace, but the legs that had tightened around his waist, keeping him to her, belied the negative gestures of her upper body. He felt a familiar tightening in his cock as his body prepared for release. His eyes slipped shut, his lower body driving into hers with a single purpose. He no longer cared about Bruschard; Scully couldn't be too interested in the guy when she actively participated in his humiliation – and she was definitely active now, raising her hips to deepen his penetration, clawing at him with her free hand. The bed rocked and squeaked with the force of his efforts. He didn't even realize she had apparently hung up the phone until he heard it unceremoniously drop to the floor with a muffled thud. "F-finish your con...ver...sa...tion?" he managed to gasp in between thrusts. "Ah...sort of," she responded, sounding decidedly out of breath. "I don't think he'll be calling back," she finished in a rush. "Why?" Don't come yet. Don't come yet. "I think...the sound effects were...too much for him. I... tried to...stop - " She sounded contrite. Then she was thrashing against him, her nails digging into his ass as he moved frenetically against her. Her gasps of encouragement echoed in his ears. The knowledge that Bruschard had actually =heard= Scully fucking him danced around gleefully in Mulder's mind, making the inevitable arrive that much sooner. A few more rapid thrusts and he was gone, shooting into her with unbelievable force. He was dimly aware of the movements of his body; his mind was on another plane of existence. He felt as though he were floating, floating high in a place where nothing and no one existed but himself and the woman in his arms. "Mulder," he heard Scully calling. "Mulder, come back to me." Gradually his heartbeat slowed enough that blood was allowed to rush back into his brain. He was aware of the stickiness between his legs and that he was still ensconced inside her. His hair was flopping over his forehead in damp strands and his arms ached from holding himself up. His eyes refocused and he saw her precious, familiar face. "I'm here, Scully," he said. "I'm here." ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Thirteen ~~~~~~~~ Madhatter's Bar Washington, D.C. September 29 10:54 p.m. It was Sunday night and everyone had work or school the next day, but not one of the many patrons of the bar seemed too concerned. The push and shove of the bodies determined to be next served by the bartender, the dim lighting easy on bloodshot eyes, the din of the crowd as people raised their voices to be heard by their companions over the people at the next table – all this served to provide Mulder with the sense of anonymity he sought. He took refuge in the crowd, the noise, the complete lack of concern over who he was or why he was there. The cacophony of the many voices around him helped to dull the ones in his head, suppressing painful memories. But no matter what he did, one voice continued to ring clearly. It was both the one he wanted to silence the most and the one he welcomed despite the pain it brought. Mulder stared, unseeing, at the tabletop. He didn't acknowledge the other three occupants of the booth. "Hey buddy, I think you've had enough." Frohike plucked the shot glass from Mulder's unresisting fingers. His reaction was delayed. "Hey, fuck you," Mulder was provoked into snarling. "Who the hell do you think you are, my mother?" Waking from his stupor, he signaled the server for another round. "Luckily, I didn't commit =that= many sins in my past life," Frohike retorted. Mulder buried his head into the crook of his arm, which was resting on the table. He heard the Gunmen talking, but didn't care enough – and wasn't sober enough – to participate. Scully's voice resounded in his ears, despite the racket of dozens of drunk people. He kept hearing her tell him that it was all over. He wasn't able to suppress the small whimper that issued from his throat. "Man, if he starts to cry again, I'm gonna start bawling, myself," Langly asserted. He and Frohike were seated across from Mulder and Byers. Mulder thought he heard his name being called by a familiar, beloved voice. It didn't matter that she'd so recently hurt him; his heart leapt in hope. "Scully?" He lifted his head. Seeing that his partner was nowhere to be found, he resumed his former position. His vision swam a little, and he closed his eyes. The conversation continued over his prone form; he heard the words but didn't process their meaning. "Have we ever seen him this bad?" That was Byers. "How about five years ago?" Frohike suggested under his breath. "She was missing." Then, loudly, "Come on, you lush. Trying to drink yourself into an early grave? Taking the coward's way out?" Mulder only realized he was the one being addressed when the question was followed by a hard punch to his arm. He barely felt it. She had left him. Not completely – she =had= said they could remain friends. Or something like that. Scully was not above using trite phrases when it suited her purpose. Apparently, breaking his heart didn't warrant original phrasing. He'd been reduced to a chore. He could just see it in her Dayplanner – 10:30 a.m. Work out at the gym. 11:45 a.m. Rip out Mulder's guts. 12:00 p.m. Lunch. She'd been utterly uncomfortable the whole time, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the words spilling out of her mouth had cut him deeper and deeper until he was sure he was bleeding right before her eyes. He didn't blame her for not looking at him. He supposed he had made a rather pathetic sight. He'd known that she hadn't enjoyed hurting him, but she had obviously wanted to get away from him as soon as the distasteful deed was done, so he'd let her go. She didn't like messes. "It won't change our working relationship," she'd said. She was determined that their partnership would be as strong as always. That was something, he supposed. At one time, it would have been everything. Now, however, he knew exactly what he was missing and he would mourn that loss for the rest of his life. She had rejected him even before he had been able to offer himself properly. Before he could lay his life at her feet and say that it was hers. Now he would never have that chance. It was still true, but she didn't want to hear it – and that knowledge hurt in the most agonizing way. She'd made her wants clear. She had pushed him away, and it was obvious that that was where she wanted him to stay. She was more out of reach to him now than before they'd even become physically intimate. He had no one to blame but himself. He'd lost her, and it was the result of his own greed and stupidity. Their server returned with another round of drinks, but Byers quickly put them out of Mulder's reach and asked for four glasses of water. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad," Byers said. He sounded confident. "You've got to quit with this self- pity." "Yeah, man, you're getting us all down," Langly chimed in, obviously new to the act of offering comfort. Mulder ignored them. He hadn't wanted them here in the first place. All he'd wanted was to drink his mind into oblivion and find a cold, dark place to hide. There was nothing left for him now, nothing but an agonizing pain where his life used to beat. He had failed. He'd had a chance to make Scully fall in love with him and he'd blown it. The idea that he could =make= her do anything was preposterous, of course, but he had hoped a little persuasion would help. He'd allowed himself to hope, and for that, too, he was to blame. The pain he felt now was of his own making. That fact didn't dull the hurt, but at least it helped him focus his resentment. It wasn't Scully's fault she wasn't in love with him. And if alcohol would numb his ache, if it would send him away from a world in which Scully did not want him, he embraced the cure. He'd wanted more than he had a right to. He should have been content with what he'd already been blessed - he was the one she spent time with, he was the one she trusted. In fact, Mulder had made himself indispensable to her, slowly but surely cutting other people out of her life until he was all that was left. Her only friend. She had gone along willingly with this, he knew. Scully was not a woman to be manipulated. She had made her own decisions. Still, he had to admit that he had stacked the odds in his favor. He had made it difficult for her to do anything but turn to him. At first, he didn't even recognize that he was doing it. He would entice her with cases, knowing she enjoyed the challenge. He would deliberately provoke her, knowing how she liked to prove him wrong. At times, he would even grab for the most outlandish, far-fetched theory possible, because he enjoyed seeing that look of incredulity on her face. And because he knew that it kept her with him. When he'd finally realized what he was doing, it was too late. He was addicted to her like a drug addict to a fix and couldn't stop it anymore. There was no turning back, nor did he want to. He fed his addiction. It started with simple touches. Invasion of personal space. Days, months, years went by and he got bolder. Double entendres he half-hoped she would take seriously and half-hoped she wouldn't. Verbal declarations of his feelings that he felt safe uttering because he knew she wouldn't believe him. And aching, always aching to touch her. Some days, it'd been all he could do to keep his hands to himself. It was inevitable that a day would come when the temptation was too much, and when that day arrived, he'd given in with no real hardship. It had been surprisingly easy to get her to let him sleep in her bed. Then, perhaps it wasn't so surprising. Scully had a big heart, and she cared about him. He used to have nightmares a lot; she'd probably thought she was bringing him a little comfort, a little rest. Mulder never had nightmares when he was sleeping next to Scully. He wouldn't deny that that was a blissful thing. But it wasn't his primary motivation in seeking her bed. Mostly, he'd just wanted the intimacy. He'd taken advantage of her kindness. He'd only felt slightly guilty about it at the time. Now he was paying for his sins. She'd given him all of these things, and what had he done? He'd held these precious gifts in his hands and thought of what =else= he could have. His avarice deserved to be punished. "You guys get into a fight or something?" Langly asked. He didn't want to talk about Scully. And especially not with them. In spite of everything, he only wanted to talk to =her=. "Don't get yourself so down, buddy," Frohike said. "You and I both know that come tomorrow, you two'll have made up and be attached at the hip again." Was that how people saw them, as being attached at the hip? They weren't, were they? It was more like he had a vice- grip on Scully and wouldn't let go. He was reminded of the more literal times they had been attached at the hip, moving together in a universal dance. Wonderful, exhilarating moments he was not to experience again. Mulder would not be consoled. They didn't understand. How could they? They didn't know how badly he had screwed it up this time. Things would never be the same, and it was all his fault. He knew that letting his emotions get the better of him last weekend had been a huge mistake. He'd expressed his feelings for her with the most primitive of emotions – jealousy. She'd recognized it and had comforted him, because she was Scully. He'd hoped desperately that she would overlook his behavior. Everything had seemed all right; he'd gotten out of her hair the next morning as soon as he was able to bear leaving, but obviously, the damage had been done. She'd been distant the whole week and yesterday it had all come crashing down. He should've just stayed home, let her go out with Bruschard – nothing had happened there, anyway. But no – he'd gone and flipped out, sitting outside her apartment waiting for her like some damn stalker. The fact that she'd taken it well only served to make him feel like an even bigger asshole. "She deserves better than me," he mumbled sorrowfully. He sat up, but his shoulders still drooped. He couldn't seem to lift them for the weight they held. "Hell, we all know =that=," Frohike chortled. Normally, Mulder would have shot back an equally biting response, but this time his friend's joking response left him deflated. "Will you shut up?" Langly demanded, glaring at Frohike. "I'm telling you, I do not want to see this man cry again." It didn't even bother him that he'd been blubbering into his cups when they'd found him nearly an hour earlier. Who cared about appearances? The one person he wanted to care about him decidedly didn't. He didn't know how they'd found him, and at the time, hadn't cared enough to ask. Now, however, he found himself curious. Drunken oblivion still beckoned, but it wasn't going anywhere. He'd be there soon enough, but for now, he found himself distracted. He supposed he ought to be relieved; he was, instead, somewhat irritated. He =wanted= to sink away into comforting darkness, but this question begged an answer. "How'd you know I'd be here?" he questioned suspiciously. His head was starting to hurt – not a good sign. It meant he either needed to drink more or find the nearest bed and crash. He planned on doing the latter, but not before he'd done plenty of the former. "Ah – " Frohike began, then stopped. The three cronies looked distinctly uncomfortable. They were hiding something. Byers was the first to offer an explanation. "We come in here now and again. We were just as surprised to see you as you were to see us." Right. "Try again," Mulder suggested. Frohike and Langly erupted into what appeared to be a difference of opinion, talking in low, urgent voices. Both were obviously irritated. Mulder sighed, resting his head in his hands, and wondered when they were going to leave so he could kill his brain cells in peace. The throbbing in his head had worsened, his eyes felt dry and bloodshot, and he desperately wanted to quench the thirst in his mouth. Preferably with a few shots of tequila. The argument only got more heated and didn't seem as if it would be resolved soon. Ask a simple question... Mulder let it continue for a few moments longer while Byers tried to shut the other two up, but then he distinctly heard Frohike say, "She asked that we not say anything!" "She?" Mulder interrupted forcefully. Who else could 'she' be? "Scully?" Frohike looked tight-lipped while Langly looked triumphant. "=You= gave it away," Langly said smugly. "Look – " Frohike turned to Mulder. "Don't say anything, okay? We were asked that you not be told." He glared at Langly. Mulder hated himself for the joy that bloomed in his chest. Reality quickly squashed it. "She wanted you to check up on me? See if I had blown my brains out yet?" Letting the bitterness seep through was almost a relief. He'd been bottling his anguish, his hurt, his sorrow inside – he hadn't realized that it had needed expression. He supposed he could have written in his journal, but the sight of it now disgusted him, pained him. In it he had spilled all of his hopes, all of his dreams for Scully and himself. It reminded him of what a pathetic idiot he was. "She wanted to make sure you were all right," Frohike said, not bothering to hide the note of censure in his voice. "What'd you do to her, anyway?" Mulder was incredulous. "What did...what did =I= do to =her=?" The water arrived. Byers placed a glass into Mulder's hand and he automatically gripped it. Realizing what it was, he grimaced and let go. He needed something a lot stronger than H2O. Frohike frowned. "Look, I don't know what happened between you two, but she didn't sound good. She asked us to look for you, make sure you were okay." "How did she sound?" Mulder latched onto the detail, wanting to hear anything about Scully. "Like I said, not good," Frohike replied gruffly. Of course. He was being stupid. Scully was sensitive and caring. She knew he was hurting and probably a danger to himself. So she'd called the guys to check up on him, make sure he wasn't doing anything foolish. She couldn't risk finding him herself, of course. She knew he'd read too much into it, maybe have the breakdown he'd been so successful at containing in her presence in his apartment. "She sounded like she'd been crying," Frohike added reluctantly. What did it say about him that he was elated by this news? "Oh?" Mulder asked casually. He hoped it was true. Maybe she had changed her mind about what she'd said? Maybe she was regretting what she'd done? His tone apparently raised Frohike's hackles. The other man stated, almost angrily, "Yeah. She did. So let me ask you again: what the fuck did you do to her?" Mulder was immediately defensive, but the feeling died quickly. Scully may have been the one to end things, but the deterioration of their relationship certainly wasn't her fault. He'd been the one to push her into something she didn't want and hadn't asked for. He'd promised one thing, all the while deceiving her, manipulating her into accepting him in her life as a friend, a partner, a lover. He'd wanted to be everything to her. He'd probably been smothering her. No wonder she had wanted to be free of him. "We just..." He stopped. There was no way to explain things except to reveal all, and he couldn't do that. There had been an unspoken agreement that what he and Scully were – had been – to each other, was between them and them only. "Nothing," he said dully. "Everything's just as they should be." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Ah, bullshit," Frohike said bluntly. "That's why you're practically crying tequila. Sure." Mulder was silent. There was nothing else to say. He just wanted them to go the fuck away now. He ought to be celebrating the fact that she hadn't booted him out of her life for good. He should be celebrating what he still had. However, the urge to mourn what he had lost was too strong, so that's what he was doing. Perhaps she was mourning, too. If she was, he might still have a chance... "You're an idiot." Mulder was startled enough to stop staring at the tabletop and meet Frohike's gaze. Mulder blinked, then sighed. "I know." "No, I really mean it. You're an idiot." All right, now he was starting to take exception. He looked at his friend balefully. "I heard you the first time. I agreed." "But not for the same reasons. Look, it's obvious something happened. You had an argument, whatever, and now you're sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, when what you really should be doing is talking to Scully." God, even the mention of her name hurt, at the same time he wanted to hear it again. He was a sick, masochistic bastard. "She doesn't want to talk to me," he said hollowly. There was a moment of silence, then Frohike said, "I hope you're not serious." He exchanged looks with Byers. "It was pretty obvious to me that she wanted to talk to you herself, but thought you'd be more receptive to the likes of us." "She wanted to talk to me?" He despised himself for the hope he heard in his voice. He was being ridiculous, overly optimistic. What did they know? Frohike rolled his eyes. "Uh – yeah. You're the =only= one she ever wants to talk to. You =know= that. You're a bastard for making me say it. So pardon me if I don't feel overly sorry for you." "Well, right now I'm the last person she wants to talk to." He hoped he was lying; he hoped his companions would continue to feed the flame of hope he felt burning in his chest. "You don't believe that any more than we do," Byers replied in a calm voice. Was that true? There was no doubt that yesterday he had been in a very bad place. He'd gone into an anguished fit after she'd left - throwing things, kicking furniture, knocking things over, before finally crying himself into an exhausted, fitful sleep. When he'd woken it had been dark outside. That night – God, it had only been last night - he'd been a zombie, sitting on his couch, staring off into space, using his eidetic memory to recall every moment he'd shared with her over the last seven years, focusing most intently on the last few months. Dawn had arrived. He'd barely noticed, still lost in his memories. He'd fallen asleep sometime before noon, he guessed, and when he'd opened his eyes again his first thought had been that he really needed a drink. He'd gotten to Madhatter's just after seven, and had still been there when the Gunmen had found him. Mulder had thought that his despair was irreversible, too deeply embedded inside to ever be wrenched free. But apparently when it came to Scully, his heart knew no despair. It would always hold hope. His mind recalled Scully's behavior in the past two and half months in flashes of memory. Her insistence on the formation of the rules. The sight of her beautiful face as she'd made love to him with her mouth. Getting emotional and hiding in her shower for ages when they had made love while on a case. Looking at him with wide, wounded eyes before accepting a date with Bruschard. The way she'd ended things with him, unable to meet his gaze, and then afterward, leaving so quickly. The fact that she'd asked the Gunmen to make sure he was all right. Every one of those actions had meant something different to him when they had happened. Now, putting them into perspective, looking at each event as part of a greater whole, he realized they all had one thing in common: they spoke of deeper, hidden feelings. If he hadn't been so busy trying to act casual and indifferent around her, he might have seen that sooner. They'd been cracks in her defensive armor. He realized now that he might not have been the only one presenting a front. Mulder stared into his glass of water, concentrating. A review of the facts was necessary. He was certain that she didn't know he was in love with her. If she'd known, he would have been afforded more pity. He had been a little too convincing in his nonchalance – and she had been a little too willing to believe. Ironic, he thought with a wry twist of his lips, that this would be the time she would choose to believe him. If she didn't know his feelings, she couldn't be repulsed by them. That didn't mean that if she =did= know, she wouldn't be, but he wouldn't dwell on that for the moment. It wasn't why she'd broken things off, and that's what he needed to discern. It would have been a possibility, but now there was only two other reasonable explanations for why she had felt the need to end their physical intimacy. One would be that she had simply tired of it. If that was the case, there was nothing he could do. Yet he didn't believe that her passion for him had dissipated. Their last sexual encounter had been as full of passion as it had been from the start – and she had initiated it. In spite of his brooding, possessive behavior, she had welcomed him into her arms and her bed. It'd been his own mortification of his actions that had sent him fleeing from her apartment – not hers. The other explanation was the one he hardly dared let himself entertain – that Scully loved him in return, loved him with the same mindless, breathtaking, uncontrollable feeling that he did her. Which meant that she had done what she'd done out of a desire to keep herself from being hurt. It pained him not a little that the woman he loved believed she had to protect herself from him. It seemed so clear-cut. Obvious. Yet had it always been so apparent? Or had the reality of losing her combined with Dutch courage enabled perception skills that had been overwhelmed by doubt and fear? The idea that they had both been hiding things – feelings – from one another struck Mulder as both ironic and deeply distressing. If he was wrong, then so be it. But he wasn't about to let pride and misunderstanding throw away what he had with Scully. It was up to him to make things right, if in fact things were wrong. He wouldn't lie to her anymore; he would come clean with the truth and take the consequences like a man. He had always told her the truth, and now realized how wrong it had been of him to keep this from her for so long. If she =was= in love with him, she was probably trying like hell to fall out of it. He certainly couldn't let that happen. Lucky for him, falling out of love wasn't a thing easily accomplished; he ought to know. And of course it wouldn't be for Scully, either, whose loyalties were fierce and unwavering. She was so strong...protective...loving. All of a sudden it hurt to breathe. He didn't belong here. It wasn't right that he was in a bar indulging his sorrows when he could be striving for the greatest joy he would ever know. He ought to be with Scully. "I've got to go," Mulder said abruptly. He picked up the glass of water and gulped it down thirstily. His headache was now only a slight ache behind his eyes. The rushing adrenaline in his system allowed him to barely notice it. He felt wide-awake and more alive than he had felt in days. When the one glass was gone and he still felt thirsty he grabbed Byers' glass and downed it, too. His friends watched his actions with open-mouthed amazement; yes, it was quite a change from his quiet contemplation just moments before. He'd thrown some bills on the table and was out of his seat before his companions had even realized he was going. "You can't drive in your condition," Frohike said, dogging his heels. "Wait!" Mulder shrugged off the restraining hand. Not a difficult thing, considering how much taller he was than the other man. He had to see Scully. He pushed past the throng of people, jostling alcoholic beverages in hands, and earning glares from the bar's patrons as he rudely shoved past. He ignored them all. He had to get to Scully, and all these people were in the way. He heard Byers call, "Mulder! Let one of us drive you!" Mulder ignored that. He felt perfectly sober, certainly enough to operate a car. The night was cold, the wind whipping up something fierce. There was a thickness in the air, and Mulder thought absently that it forebode rain. Getting into his car, he drove quickly to his place, doing ninety on the freeway, and on the surface streets he ran several reds and ignored stop signs. It was wasting a lot of time to drive from downtown Washington to Alexandria back to Georgetown, but there was no help for it. There was something he had to get. Fortunately, the local cops weren't out in force tonight. Once in his apartment, he scrambled around frantically, looking for the leather-bound book. The place was a mess. The last time he'd seen it, he'd hurled it away from him in a fit of rage. He hadn't wanted to be reminded of what the journal contained, what he'd written on the pages like a lovesick puppy. There it was. He could see its black edge poking out from beneath a trail of paper and magazines. It was askew, open to a random page where it had fallen. He bent and retrieved it quickly, noting that some of the pages were bent and wrinkled. His bold black scrawl filled half of it. He was out the door two seconds later. It was drizzling, but Mulder hardly noticed. He drove determinedly to Georgetown, focused on only one thought. He would be with Scully soon. His heart beat excitedly within his chest, knowing that he would be in her presence shortly. He would get to see her bright, beautiful face and breathe in her wonderful scent. And he would get to talk to her. He would get to tell her that he loved her. His car quickly ate up the miles. About two miles from her apartment, two things occurred in quick succession that nearly undid all of his plans. The drizzle had gradually grown stronger, and at that point, the heavens opened up in a sudden torrential onslaught of rain. Not long after that, his car died. Luckily he'd noticed something amiss and had pulled off to the side of the road before it became fully nonfunctional. He cursed, trying the ignition again. Nothing. This was a bad omen. Perhaps he was making a big mistake. Maybe the fates were trying to tell him that this was not the time to confront Scully with his feelings, no matter what his heart craved. Maybe he was wrong and she didn't want to see him. Maybe the idea that she actually reciprocated his feelings was only a pipe dream. Mulder contemplated for a moment, doubt beginning to seep in. He thought he had perfectly good reason for going over to Scully's – but he'd been drunk. Did his reasoning =really= make sense or was it only the ramblings of someone who'd had one too many shots of tequila? His gaze caught the gas gauge and he almost grinned in his relief. It wasn't fate working against him - it was only his own idiocy at work again. The car was dead for a reason no more complicated or nefarious than because it was simply out of gas. He got out of the car, the rain slanting down mercilessly upon the streets of DC. He tucked the journal close to his body, protecting it as best he could. It was only twenty minutes. He would run. ~~~~~~~~ Scully's Apartment September 29 11:01 p.m. There was something comfortingly methodical about doing laundry. No strenuous thought processes were required of her, yet it kept her busy and helped pass the time. Scully sorted the most recent load after tossing everything onto her neatly made bed, folding up articles of clothing with systematic precision. She set aside the items that needed to be ironed. The wait was excruciating. Frohike, why haven't you called? Haven't you found him yet? She needed the distraction to keep herself from looking at the clock every two minutes. She'd gotten it down to about every five minutes now. Earlier, she had needed some kind of diversion from thinking about Mulder at all, and she'd spent the entire day finding things to do in order not to dwell on those hurtful thoughts. Lunch and some shopping with her mother had taken care of a large part of the day. Once or twice she had zoned out from the conversation and returned only to find her mother looking at her strangely. She'd quickly covered up, citing exhaustion for her lack of concentration. After those slip-ups, she'd determined not to arouse any more suspicion from her mother, and to do all she could to distract herself from thoughts of Mulder. She'd suggested that she and her mother have dinner together as well, desperately needing someone else with her, keeping her attention from straying into forbidden territory. Time alone was too dangerous, too tempting. That was proved two hours ago when she had returned to her apartment after dinner. She'd given in to the impulse that had plagued her all day, and dialed Mulder's number. Her heart had been in her throat; what would she say? Why was she really calling? In the end, her jitters had been for naught – he hadn't picked up. Either he wasn't home or he wasn't picking up his phone; she'd still wanted to make sure he was all right. In a way, she felt relief. Hearing Mulder's voice might very well snap the thread of control she was so tenuously holding on to. So she'd called the Gunmen instead. It had been a rather rash decision; she probably shouldn't have gotten them involved, but at the time it had seemed necessary. She needed to know. Frohike had answered. She'd asked him, hesitantly, to check up on Mulder for her. Such a request had immediately roused all sorts of questions about Mulder's safety, whether something had happened, if he had gotten himself into some kind of trouble. She had declined to answer. "Would you find him for me, please?" she'd implored. "I know it's a lot to ask...but it's very important. Please tell me as soon as you know he's all right." Perhaps it was something in her tone that quieted any further inquisition. There had been a beat of silence before Frohike had answered, "I care about him, too. Consider it done; I know of a few places he might be." That had been over two hours ago. Since then, she had done two loads of laundry, the bookshelves and countertops had been dusted, the kitchen was sparkling, and there wasn't a single piece of furniture out of place. The apartment was immaculate, and she was fast running out of things to do. She needed distractions to keep herself from worrying. Time was passing by at an unbearably slow rate, and more and more, she was allowing herself to remember the events of the day before. The worry of not knowing if Mulder was safe allowed memories to seep in...she was no longer able to solely concentrate on =not= thinking about him as she had previously done. Scully dragged out the ironing board. Filling the iron with a bit of water for steam, she plugged it into an electrical outlet. While she waited for it to heat, she sorted the wrinkled clothing into an order in which she would iron. The folded clothing she put into the appropriate drawers, the towels and sheets into the linen closet, and what needed to be hung up was efficiently speared by hangers and placed in her spacious closet. The one thing she had not done was vacuum, because she was afraid the noise would keep her from hearing the phone ring. Once the iron was ready, she took the first item – a shirt – and diligently began to press out the wrinkles. A billow of steam rose up to bathe her face in the heated evaporation, but instead of turning away she remained where she was, letting it hover over her. She welcomed the moistness now condensing onto her skin; she pretended for a moment that it was she who was bringing herself this wet relief. She ignored the dryness of her eyes. It was an odd and frustrating thing, but she had not been able to cry. The aching tightness in her chest begged for release, but curiously she had not been able to shed any tears. Prior to the official end of their physical relationship, Scully had cried. "Too much" was what she had told Audrey. Now she was unable to do it at all. She had experienced dry sobs, and real tears had been elusive. Now she was numbly resigned to the fact that the physical release of crying was denied her. Perhaps when it had all sunk in, that it was really over – maybe then the tears would come. But it was possible she would never know what it was to cry, again. She tried to concentrate on the shirt she was ironing, but felt her eyes glaze over and was unable to stop it from happening. She was no longer seeing the iron, or her hand holding it... He hadn't made a scene. He'd sat there on his couch, unmoving and silent. She hadn't been able to look at him. She couldn't even remember the words she had used. She hadn't planned to do it that day, but her session with Audrey had invigorated her resolve. Even with the other woman's caution to proceed carefully, Scully had known what she had to do. She'd felt then that she was as strong as she would ever be, so she had to take her chances and do it while she could. God, it seemed an eternity since then. Could it have been only twenty-four hours ago? Armed with a false sense of strength and her self- preservation instincts, she'd knocked on Mulder's door with purpose. All had crumbled to dust when he'd opened the door, smiling hugely and looking at her with eyes filled with happiness that she'd come to see him. He'd led her into the apartment, offering coffee and conversation. Her heart in her throat, she'd followed his movements with hungry eyes. She'd told herself that she was being ridiculous, that she would have cause to be there again, that she was doing this =so= that would always be possible, but her inner self wasn't listening. It kept memorizing every detail of her lover. Every one of his actions made doing what she had to do as difficult as possible. He'd run a careless hand through his hair, making it peak adorably, before giving her a sheepish smile and apologizing for the mess. He'd brewed coffee, taking out mugs from the cupboard, adding cream and sugar in the amounts he knew she preferred. Every action was familiar, endeared to her aching heart. He'd offered her an apologetic grin, holding out a mug. "Sorry if you get some grounds in there; I need a new coffeemaker." His jeans had been worn and comfortable-looking, his gray t-shirt clean and hanging loose. His feet were bare, sexily so. Scully had swallowed, berating herself for finding even his feet incredibly attractive. She'd considered for a brief, wonderful moment that she didn't have to do this. He would never know. They could carry on as they were, take things as they would come. He's not in love with you, she had reminded herself. This is killing you, little by little, and if you let this continue, if you don't get out now, when he ends it, it =will= kill you. You won't be able to handle it then – you'll be in too deep. You'll lose it all. People work through things like that, she'd tried rationalizing to herself desperately. Perhaps she could confess her feelings. If he didn't feel the same, they could handle it. They could try and forget it ever happened. Then he had asked her why she was behaving so oddly, why she was looking at him so strangely. His query had prompted her to remember why she had to do what she had gone there to do. Last weekend had shown her that she was weak, that she had come to expect things from Mulder that he wasn't ready to give. Might never be ready to give. A slight burning smell distracted Scully from her reverie. Her eyes refocused on what she was doing, and saw that there was now a light brown stain in the shape of the iron on her snowy-white shirt. "Shit," she muttered, trying to work up the energy to care more. She tossed it aside and picked up another shirt. This time, she'd keep her mind more on her task. Who was it that had said friends were forever, but everything else was transient? Especially lovers. They'd seated themselves on his couch; he'd gone silent. Her hands had been shaking slightly, and she had gripped her mug tightly in order to stop the giveaway reaction. He hadn't said a word through the whole thing, the whole spiel she had made. Her voice hadn't been steady, and she had felt like vomiting the whole time, but she'd gotten her point across. Even when she had finally stopped speaking, he hadn't jumped in with any arguments or demanded more explanation. It had been incredibly painful to accept that he wasn't going to try and convince her to change her mind. She'd expected him to at least voice objection because he enjoyed what they =did= have together, if only on a physical level, even if he wasn't emotionally invested. To try and preserve that much of it. Perhaps he had sensed how close to the edge she was. How desperately she wanted him to convince her that things would work. He had probably sensed her need, and had shied away from it, realizing that she had gotten too close and her backing away was the only viable solution. Perhaps he had been relieved. She had not been able to look at him almost the whole time she had been there – aside from her stolen glances while he'd been making the coffee – and when she had finally dared to look up, the expression on his face had caused her chest to contract so tightly that it had been impossible to breathe for a few moments. The depth of hurt there, the presence of betrayal in his eyes, had felt like a physical blow. She had begged without words for him to understand. In a moment of weakness she had almost given in to the urge to fling herself into his arms and plead for his forgiveness. Such an action would have been disastrous, Scully now acknowledged. He probably would have demanded explanation for why she had ended things if she hadn't really meant it, and she would then have either confessed all – ending things anyway, but badly, or she would have made something up, and things would have gone back to the way they were before. Luckily, the reason she had to do it was never far from her mind, and it was one she would gladly suffer excruciating pain to preserve – their partnership. Last weekend he had shown a possessive streak, but that was not what had disturbed her about the incident. It had been her response to him and what she had allowed herself to reveal by it that had shaken her. She'd basically told Mulder that she wanted no man other than him; that she was in love with him. God, she'd even told him that she belonged to him, thinking at the time that it was what he wanted to hear – which it probably was, but his desire for this affirmation had stemmed from territorial motivations. She, however, had pretended that his primitive actions had been prompted by caring rather than his alpha male instincts. Unfortunately, she hadn't shaken herself out of her fantasies until after she had showered and returned to the bedroom to find an already-dressed Mulder pulling on his shoes. He'd been flustered, embarrassed, and barely stammered out an apology before he'd taken himself off. To say reality had slapped her in the face would be to phrase it nicely. Obviously, he'd caught a glimpse of her true feelings, and his immediate reaction had been to run like hell the other way. She'd accepted then that the lines were blurring too much for her; if she had any hope of recovering her equilibrium she had to end things. The entire week after that weekend, he'd tried his utmost to be engaging, to behave as though everything was normal. As if she hadn't handed him her heart and he hadn't politely refused. If she hadn't been weighed down with the knowledge of what she had to do, she would have basked in his attention. Contrarily, it was actually his casual, friendly behavior that provided the final straw. It was so damn =obvious= that he cared nothing for her the way she did him; he couldn't be so nonchalant and blasé if he did. It was what he had said from the beginning: he wanted to be friends with a little sex on the side. He was completely capable of separating the two. She'd finally had to admit that she couldn't do the same. She couldn't be his friend and fuck him impersonally once in a while. She was in love with him, and it was killing her that she made love to him while he had sex with her. The hurt and betrayal she'd seen in his eyes she'd believed stemmed from his feelings of personal unworthiness. Mulder was at the same time both the most egotistical and also the most fragile person she had ever known. His capacity for self-recrimination was truly extraordinary. The idea that she would be one more person to contribute to this diminished self-image had made her nauseous. She'd quickly explained that her decision was not the result of anything he had done, and in fact had nothing to do with him at all. He was by far the best lover she'd ever had; she had simply reached the conclusion that it was just not a good idea to keep mixing their professional relationship with a personal one. They'd tried it and it wasn't working out. She had said something like that. She'd stayed as long as she dared, until she'd felt as though she was choking on his hurt and hers. The faster she got out of there, she'd told herself, the faster they would both be able to recover. He would get over it in a matter of days; it would take her longer. It would be easier for her to start killing the feelings when she saw how well and truly he had gotten over it. His hurt won't last long, it's his pride suffering, she'd convinced herself. She'd reminded herself how casual and aloof he had been during the whole of their physical relationship. That reminder had given her the strength to propel herself to the door and out of his apartment. After she'd left, she had driven straight home. Considering her state of mind, it had probably been a miracle she'd gotten both her car and her person home intact. Unable to cry and unwilling to allow herself to drown in thoughts about what she had done, what she had said, what she could have said, his reaction, and all the minutiae that was there to be analyzed and dissected, she'd soon left again. A walk would help keep those hurtful thoughts at bay. She had been surprisingly successful. It was as though her mind had set up a block and refused to let her remember in detail anything that happened before she had arrived at her apartment that afternoon. She suspected that she hadn't been prepared then to fully digest what had happened. If even one thought had escaped, she likely would have crumpled right there on the street. Returning hours later, it had already been dark, and Scully had been so exhausted from the day's events – such strong denial took a lot of energy – that she had crawled into bed and immediately fell into a dreamless sleep. When she had awakened this morning she'd felt like a ton of bricks had dropped onto her head during the night. Every part of her ached, but what hurt most of all was the empty gaping hole inside of her. It'd once been filled with hope and love – two things not easily replaced. She had dry heaved into the toilet, and considered calling her mother to cancel their plans. She'd realized, however, that her mother would provide company and a good source of distraction. Even after the all-day excursion, Scully had been unable to banish the look of hurt on Mulder's face from her mind. The image haunted her. She knew he was upset. His hurt didn't stem from the same place that hers did, but it was pain just the same. And she loved him; she needed to be sure that he was all right and not doing something foolish out of a perceived sense of having done something wrong. She'd told herself she was probably flattering herself in her assessment of his emotional state; he was likely lying on his couch, remote control in hand, watching TV, without a care in the world. Even so, she had called the Gunmen, because she had to be sure. It saddened her that she had had to send them out to make sure he was okay, instead of being able to do it herself. The point of what she'd done had been to =preserve= her relationship with Mulder, not destroy it. So why did he feel lost to her? Why did she feel more distanced from him than ever before, more than when he had believed she'd betrayed him, more than when Diana Fowley had reappeared in his life? Perhaps because this time, the distance was of her own making. With sudden, horrifying clarity, she recognized that despite her naive hopes, their friendship could never return to the way it had been. Such a thing was impossible, not with all they had done and been to each other. =She= was now incapable of seeing him as anything other than the man she loved, and in all likelihood, that was always how she would see him. They couldn't go back, and now, because of her, they couldn't go forward. Scully felt an unbearable tightening in her chest, and almost choked on the tears she couldn't shed yet felt locked somewhere inside of her. Her ironing done, she went into the kitchen to distract herself from this new realization eating away at her soul. Had she done it all for nothing? Had she given up something real for something elusive? The reality of their physical intimacy for the continuation of a friendship that was altered and could never be the same again? She poured herself a glass of water with shaky hands. The sight of her coffeemaker sitting in the corner reminded her of Mulder and the fact that he needed a new one. Picking up her water, she went into the living room and settled onto her couch, willing the phone to ring. When it actually did as bidden, pealing loudly in the quietness of her apartment, she started, and the water sloshed around in the full glass, threatening to escape its confines. Setting it down quickly on an end table, she was able to pick up the phone after only one ring. "Frohike?" "Hey, Scully." He sounded hesitant. Her brow knitted. "Did you find him? It's been over two hours." She couldn't keep the worry out of her voice. "Um, yeah...we found him. He was ah – drinking." Scully gripped the receiver tighter to her ear. Mulder had been drinking? Over her? "Where are you? Is he with you?" "We're still at the bar – Madhatter's. He was a little too fast for us and we couldn't catch him when he left." "He's gone? Where is he now?" There was a beat of silence on the other end, then with obvious reluctance, Frohike shared, "I think he's going over to your place. He left about five minutes ago." Her breathing quickened and butterflies appeared in her stomach. "He's coming here? Why?" She wasn't ready to face him. Why was he coming to see her? "Don't get mad, Scully...but it sort of slipped that you were the one who asked us to find him..." Frohike trailed off. She closed her eyes. Of course. It would have given Mulder the idea – correctly – that she wasn't sure if she had done the right thing. If he had it in his mind to persuade her to give things another try, she didn't think she was strong enough to refuse. "What did he say?" Holding her breath, she waited for Frohike's answer. "I believe he said something to the effect of: 'Why? She wants to see whether I've blown my brains out yet?' " "He was upset?" She was a terrible person, but she was glad that he wasn't taking their separation lightly, even if it wasn't a separation in the strictest definition of the word. "You could say that. Look, he was kind of messed up. He got real quiet and then he just up and left." "Did he say he was coming here?" "He didn't say that specifically, no – but it was pretty obvious to us that that's where he'd go." Frohike's voice lowered, grew more serious. "He seemed like he wanted to be with you, talk to you, about something important. I don't know what's going on, but...won't you talk to him?" Scully swallowed the lump in her throat. Mulder must have been in a bad way when they'd found him for Frohike to sound so concerned. And for him to make such a request of her indicated that he knew she was partly to blame for Mulder's condition. His condition – this wasn't the first time she'd known him to get drunk. Oh God. "Did he take a cab?" she asked, concern deepening the natural alto of her voice. Frohike hesitated. "Ah – he had his car. We told him he couldn't drive in his condition, but...well...you know how he gets. We said we'd drive him but he wouldn't listen, and..." It was obvious Frohike didn't want her to be upset with them for letting Mulder go off half-assed and drunk. "I know," she sighed, conveying that she understood his dilemma. When Mulder got a bee in his bonnet, deterring him from his intended goal was next to impossible. It was one of his most attractive qualities. He never gave up. He approached life with a single-minded purpose that was breathtaking at times. She looked at the clock on her mantle. It was 11:36. It wouldn't be too long before Mulder arrived. Half of her dreaded his appearance for what it would require of her, while the other half desperately needed to know that he was physically safe and wanted to see him as soon as possible. A few words of thanks, and she hung up with Frohike. Now all there was to do was wait. She busied herself by rinsing out her mug, then went around the apartment straightening items that had already been straightened a number of times in the past couple of hours. When after fifteen long minutes he still hadn't shown, she sat down on her couch. No position was comfortable for long, and she felt highly tense. Her nerves were stretched taut imagining all manner of scenarios that could present themselves once he arrived. What would he say? How would she respond? Yet there seemed to be a block in her brain that refused to allow her to dwell on any one possibility for long. The butterflies in her stomach kept distracting her. She noted that her hands were shaking and clenched them into fists in an effort to cease the involuntary movement. Nervously anticipating his arrival and at the same time wondering where he was and why he was taking so long, imagining all sorts of horrific possibilities, was draining, and her composure was fast slipping. It didn't take this long to get to her place from that bar. Twenty minutes later, she was calling all the area hospitals, asking about car accident victims, automatically citing all of Mulder's physical statistics while inside she screamed at the possibility that he could be hurt. No one matching his description had been admitted to the hospitals she'd called within the last few hours. However, that didn't mean something bad hadn't happened. It had started to rain not too long ago, upping the chances for a car accident to occur. It was, of course, possible the Gunmen had gotten their information wrong and Mulder wasn't on his way over to see her at all. At this point, however, she could settle for nothing less than to know for herself that he was all right. She called his apartment and got no answer. Perhaps he had gone somewhere else entirely. She didn't know where that might be, but she would worry about that when the situation presented itself. Perhaps he was home and wasn't answering his phone. In that case, she had to go over and make sure for herself. She didn't even care at this point what he would think of her intrusion. Another bridge she would cross when she got to it. Not knowing if he was all right was doing serious damage to her mental and emotional state. It was sapping her already depleted reserve of strength. Amidst all the horror her brain kept conjuring up, an image cropped up again and again, breaking her heart and making her even more resolute in finding him. She kept recalling Mulder's beautiful, blinding smile yesterday when he'd first opened the door to see her standing there. Scully didn't bother to change, remaining in her sweats and t-shirt. She stepped into her tennis shoes and grabbed her keys from the coffee table. She pulled her jacket hastily on, not caring that it was bunched up and tweaked in places. She opened the door...and found Mulder on the other side, fist poised to knock. Even overcome by relief and elation, she could only stare up at him for a few moments. The shock of his appearance left her somewhat dumbfounded. The state of his appearance probably also contributed to that. He was soaked. His hair was drenched, causing rivulets of water to streak over his face and drip from his chin. He apparently hadn't shaved in days, the dark stubble on his face almost menacing, as it indicated his state of mind – that the last thing he was thinking of was being civilized. His shirt was so wet that it was plastered to his body, and he held an object in his hand. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his face long enough to discern what it was. Mulder met her unblinking gaze with one of his own. It was then that she noticed his eyes – large, bloodshot, and a little wild-looking. They seemed to be drinking her in, and she leaned into him slightly, as if offering more. The sound of his voice when he finally spoke provided a marked contrast to his untamed countenance, and the sexy, familiar tones sent shivers racing down her spine. Calmly and without breaking eye contact, he asked, "Are you going somewhere, Scully?" ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Fourteen ~~~~~~~~ Scully's Apartment September 30 12:37 a.m. He wondered if he had made an enormous mistake by coming here. He was feeling a bit warm and flushed. Had the alcohol he'd consumed compromised his thought processes? Isn't that what alcohol did? True, that he'd felt sober when he'd left the bar. True, that he'd felt sober driving around DC and Virginia. And true, that he'd felt stone sober running the thirty-odd blocks to Scully's apartment. But now that he was there, he was suddenly assaulted by a wave of dizziness. Whether it resulted from nerves or the alcohol in his system, he couldn't be sure. What he did know what that his first sight of Scully could be likened to the advent of sustenance to a starving man. He drank her in, noting every feature of her face as if he had not seen them in years. She was even more beautiful than his tortured mind had allowed him to remember. After a while, he noticed that Scully was still staring at him, as he was staring at her, and neither of them had said a word. Doubt and uncertainty began to seep in, threatening his fragile bravery. He felt brittle, and he waited for the words from her that would splinter him into a thousand shards. Yesterday, Scully had gone to his apartment with the intent to break their relationship apart; he had come here to put it back together. It was right that he should be the one to do so; the whole situation was his fault, after all. =She= didn't know why he was here, however, and was probably wondering with dismay why the hell he had shown up at her door - and how she was going to politely get rid of him. Two minutes, Scully, that's all I need, he thought. It would only take that long for him to spill his guts and for her to respond. If she never wanted him to darken her doorstep again, then he wouldn't. He would leave quietly, not make a scene, wait until he was alone to express his anguish. Even now, he was on the alert to make tracks, if necessary. He didn't want to be a source of aggravation for Scully. He finally took in the detail that she was dressed to go out - her keys were in hand, and she'd opened the door before he'd even knocked. "Are you going somewhere, Scully?" he asked, for lack of anything better to say. In a way, he felt almost calm. In fact, it was amazing how calm he felt. The heart that had threatened to jump out of his chest all the way over here was no longer pounding a mad beat. His breathing had slowed, and his vision was somewhat glazed. He felt - resigned. He could almost swear that he felt nothing. One last plea for mercy. Was this how the condemned felt when the executioner lowered the axe? Scully was apparently spurred into action by the sound of his voice. She was suddenly a flurry of motion. Grabbing his wrist, she pulled him into the apartment and shut the door. Well, at least the door wasn't shutting in his face. And he had lied. He didn't feel nothing. On the contrary, his skin burned where she touched him, sending tiny flames of heat to his sensitive nerve-endings. The rapid beating of his heart started up again, causing the blood to pulse in his temples. He had to close his eyes from the sensation; it made him dizzy. He began to shiver from the combination of the tangibles that assaulted him, including the fact that her heated apartment made his dripping-wet self suddenly feel very cold. "Mulder," Scully murmured, caressing his wrist ever so slightly, and he thought he detected concern in the action and in her voice. He opened his eyes again to meet her eyes, dark with worry. Without a word, she let go of him and left him standing there as she quickly made her way out of the room, disappearing into her bedroom. He didn't know what to do with himself. He was very tired and wanted to sit down, but didn't want to mess up her couch. Her apartment was even more immaculate than usual - and that was saying something. Why did he suddenly feel so uncomfortable in the place where he had always felt the =most= comfort? Scanning the area, he noted with sorrow that everything was perfectly in place. The surfaces fairly gleamed. Scully had always been neat, but not like this. He doubted there was a trace of dust anywhere. He'd only been here a week ago and she had already cleaned up after him. Scully was moving on; did he really want to mess up her neatly ordered life with his presence? And shouldn't he have thought of this before arriving here, now dripping water onto her carpet? Perhaps he ought to leave. Leave, before she came back from whatever it was she was doing in her bedroom. The water stains on he carpet would eventually evaporate. It would be as if he had never been there at all. His mind chose that moment to remind him of the object he held clutched in his hand. He stared at the journal, not recognizing it for a moment what it was. He then recalled the reason why he had raced out of Madhatter's like a madman, why he had driven like a maniac back to his place, and why he was now standing inside Scully's apartment. Now that he was here, secure in the knowledge that she was close by, he began to take notice of a pressure in his bladder. It'd been there for a while, but he'd relegated to the back of his mind due to more pressing matters at hand, but it was definitely becoming a concern now. He'd consumed a remarkable amount of alcohol and a lot of water in short succession soon thereafter. The combination was enough to get him moving. "I'm going to use the restroom," he called out timidly. If things had been normal, if he had been comfortable, the idea of telling Scully that he was going to go pee, like an 8-year-old child, would have been absurd. Under the current circumstances, however, it felt necessary. "Okay." Her reply was muffled. He wasn't sure why he was hesitating. Go already, he told himself. What are you waiting for, a commendation? His clothes were uncomfortably damp, and he wished that he'd been a little less hasty before barreling over here without a plan...or an umbrella. The bathroom was neat and clean, just like the rest of the apartment, and it smelled like flowers. It seemed incredibly appropriate that it should smell like springtime in Scully's bathroom. And she had liquid soap. Of course she did. Much more hygienic to have liquid soap. He looked up and caught his reflection in the mirror, noting without surprise his bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks. Physically, he felt enormously better after relieving himself. Except, now that he'd "broken the seal," he'd have to pee every hour for the rest of the night. Returning to the living room, he wondered what was taking Scully so long. What was she doing? On second thought, perhaps the better question was, what was =he= doing, standing in Scully's living room soaked to the skin and having no idea of what he was going to say to her? He'd reached some conclusions in the bar that now seemed laughably unrealistic. Was he really going to risk what they had left for =might be=? He realized fatalistically that he was. He'd taken risks before, big risks that included giving up the stability of the career track he'd been on for the chance to find out what had happened to Samantha. And yet he'd turned around and given up the person he'd thought was his sister for Scully. Even then he'd known that he couldn't live without this woman. And there were other risks he'd taken, with his life and with his career, that no sane person would ever have. But now all that seemed but practice for this moment. The biggest risk he would ever take, because it meant more to him than anything had ever meant in his life. Not surprisingly, he was suddenly gripped by a paralyzing fear, the fear of being rejected. He didn't think he was strong enough to face Scully rejecting him - again. It would be more pain than he believed he could bear. He looked at the journal again. Perhaps he could just leave it for her. He'd still be taking the risk; he just wouldn't have to see her make her decision in person. He could postpone having his heart sliced into ribbons. If she liked what she read, she would contact him, tell him. If she didn't, she wouldn't have to say anything – her silence would be answer enough. But that would be taking the coward's way out, and Mulder was not a coward. Usually. In any case, though his false bravado was slipping away, something purposeful remained, determined to see him through this. Despite the nervousness churning in his stomach and the fear that gripped his insides, he felt physically incapable of leaving voluntarily. Scully was here. How could he go? These thoughts were soon overshadowed by one that crept into his consciousness unexpectedly. He missed her. Already the few seconds she had been gone was too long - he wanted to see her again. As if reading his needy thoughts, Scully reappeared sans jacket, bearing towels and a neat little stack of clothes. He recognized them – they were his. He supposed it was something that she hadn't returned all his things to him the day she'd gone to his apartment and handed his heart back. "Come on, Mulder," she said softly, and he had a momentary compulsion to crawl into the cradle of her arms and bawl. His ears burned to hear the sound of her voice saying his name again. Or it didn't even have to be his name; he wanted to beg her to just talk to him, and never stop. She placed the bundle on the couch, then walked over to him, taking his hand and leading him further into the living room. He now stood next to the end table by the couch. He stared down at the objects on the table. "Your phone is off the hook," he said. It was a jarring aberration in the immaculateness of the rest of the apartment. "Oh," she said, staring at the phone for a moment before quickly securing the receiver into place. She seemed flustered by this minor detail; it confused him. "Let's get you out of those wet clothes, Mulder." He watched as her tiny fingers deftly undid the buttons of his shirt. When that was accomplished, she slid the shirt over his shoulders, running into problems when it wouldn't slide off. The buttons of his cuffs were still securely fastened, keeping the material together. She gently took the black book from his hand. Mulder opened his mouth to say something, panic rising in his chest - but she merely placed it on the coffee table without giving it a second glance. At last, his shirt was deposited in a wet heap to the floor. "I'm sorry for messing up your carpet," he said in a small voice. She looked him directly in the eyes, the first time she had done it since she'd found him standing at her door, and there was something there that held him captive. In a moment it was gone, replaced by typical Scully pragmatism. "Don't be silly," she said firmly. "You're not ruining it, and it wouldn't matter if you did." Perhaps it was pathetic, but he found it extremely wonderful of her not to mind if he ruined her carpet. It was also promising - that, and the fact that she hadn't ordered him to leave. She obviously still cared about him on =some= level, even if it was only friendship, so perhaps she would be willing to listen to what he had to say without dismissing it out of hand. She began to rub him briskly with a towel, and a tingling sensation assaulted the affected skin. She was gentle yet decisive in her actions. She went up on tiptoes to reach the back of his neck, and it brought her achingly close to him. If he leaned down just a few inches, he could touch his mouth to hers. He was so very close to her...only a few inches... "Okay," she rasped, stepping back once more. She handed the towel to him. "Can you manage the rest yourself?" If not surprised, he was still crushed that after all they had been to each other, all they had done together, she was now inserting this distance, this need for modesty. Or perhaps she simply didn't want such an intimacy. So he nodded, clutching the towel, and she turned her back. There were things that he was supposed to be telling her, important things that had the power to change the very way he approach life from this moment on. But he couldn't find the voice to say them out loud; he didn't even know =how= he was going to express himself. He was afraid that it would come out wrong, that she would not be convinced – or worse yet, wouldn't allow him the opportunity to finish before he got it all out. He needed more time to think things through, and so he held his tongue. He reached down to untie his shoelaces before stepping out of his shoes. His socks were uncomfortably damp, and he was glad to strip those off. He quickly undid the buttons of his jeans, feeling the wet, uncomfortable material abrade his skin as he removed it. His boxers went next, and he hurriedly ran the towel over his exposed skin, rubbing the damp spots quickly, thinking mournfully that it had felt so much better when Scully had done it. She'd brought replacement boxers, a t-shirt, socks, and sweats. All he donned with haste, except for the socks because he didn't want to waste anymore time. All he wanted was for her to turn around again. "Okay, Scully," he said when he was done. She turned around, moving closer to him and put a hand on his chest. He held his breath, but all she did was apply a gentle pressure, making him move backwards, eventually causing him to fall backwards onto the couch. Seating herself next to him, she then turned sideways to face him. Picking up the towel again, she used it to rub vigorously over his hair, mussing up the damp strands, massaging his skull in the process. It felt unbelievably good, and God, she was so close. He could smell her warm fragrance, and closed his eyes while he breathed her in, so that he could concentrate on the one sense without being distracted by the others and therefore, appreciate it better. It felt so good to be cared for like this by her. Yet, wasn't that why he never worried about getting himself into one scrape or another? Because he knew she'd be there to care for him? Or perhaps it stood to reason that he even did those things in order to achieve this exact end? Mulder had never considered before that perhaps she was tired of doing it. Maybe she didn't =want= to do it. Jesus, was it always about him? Was he such a bastard? The answer was a glaring yes. He'd been the one to suggest that they alleviate their sexual needs together, with the full intention of tricking her into loving him...needing him. He had never fully realized prior to this moment exactly how selfish he was when it came to Scully. She deserved to know that about him. He owed it to her to admit it outright. He didn't even realize she had stopped drying him until he felt the soft touch of her fingers on his cheek. He reopened his eyes, staring immediately into hers, which were filled with concern. "Are you...tired, Mulder?" she asked softly. Scully motioned to move her fingers away from his face, and out of an instinct to keep her close, one of his hands grabbed hers quickly as it retreated. Holding her hand there, their gazes still locked, he rubbed against it, hearing the slight rasping sound his stubble made against her palm. She flattened her hand against his cheek for a moment, even going so far as to slowly run her thumb back and forth against his skin, before she gently but insistently tugged, wanting him to let her go. He did so, with reluctance. He would let go of her hand – for now – but letting her go entirely was another matter. He'd just have to make her listen to him. And he knew she =would= listen to him, if he could stop being so clingy and allowed her room to breathe and think. He resisted the urge to grab her to him. Sliding down from the couch to the floor, she positioned herself between his knees. Her expression was clear and unguarded. "You didn't put your socks on, Mulder," she reprimanded lightly. "Your feet will be cold." His toes reflexively dug into the carpet at her words, and he thought about how nice and soft the carpet felt under his sock-donned feet. His apartment had hardwood floors, and he'd never much thought about the difference before. Now he knew that carpet was far superior. Of course, he'd grown up with carpet and he hadn't felt this way about it then. Maybe it was just Scully's carpet that was better. He remained still as she put the socks over his feet, her soft touch inadvertently tickling the soles of his feet. He enjoyed the way his toes warmed almost immediately. Even through the thick cotton material, he could feel the lightness of her touch. She placed a hand on his knee. "I'll make hot chocolate. You want hot chocolate?" It didn't matter that the whole situation was rather bizarre and unreal. He nodded, trying to contain his enthusiasm. It wasn't for the hot chocolate, that was for sure. She was offering him a drink! He could stay! Somewhere inside him, a little boy danced and rejoiced. Not only was Scully herself prolonging his visit, but now he had more time to think about what he was going to say to her. He decided that it would take him quite a while to finish his chocolate. "Okay," she said, looking hesitant for a moment. She opened her mouth, and it seemed as though she was going to ask him a question, but then closed it again. Instead, she said, "I'll be right back." Mulder followed her movement away from him, trying to communicate with a desperate look what he found so hard to do with his voice. She didn't turn around, however, so this attempt was wasted. Watching her as she bustled about the kitchen, opening cupboards and getting milk from the fridge, he reflected on how domestic it all felt. And how wonderful that was. He knew he was an interloper, however, and the cozy warmth he felt being there was superceded by the cold weight of the truth that settled in his stomach. He wistfully thought about what he would have done only a scant week ago, had he found himself in this position – he would have gotten up from the couch, followed her into the kitchen, and then wrapped his arms about her waist, burying his face in the side of her neck, as she went about preparing the hot drink. She would complain that he was making the process take twice as long, but as always, would make no real attempt to make him detach himself. The longing to experience that was so great he had to clench his fists to keep himself from getting up and doing it. Now he suspected he wouldn't be able to get within a foot of her without being told to keep his distance. The thought was utterly depressing. So why, exactly, was he here? His glance strayed from Scully to the journal sitting on the coffee table. She hadn't made any note of it at all - that was strange, wasn't it? Did she suspect what it was, and wanted to avoid talking about it? Yet how could she know? Most likely, she'd simply dismissed it. She had other things on her mind - like why the hell he'd shown up on her doorstep in the first place. Yet if she was concerned about that, wouldn't she have demanded an explanation from him at the beginning, instead of offering dry clothes and hot chocolate? When he returned and was once again settled on the couch, he reflected on how incredibly good it felt to be here, so comforting. Yet it felt wrong, as if he was being intrusive. He had no right to impose on her like this, basking in her care. Perhaps if he were here on a legitimate basis, as a friend or as her partner, the right would be his. But he wasn't, and she still didn't know the truth. He felt like a fraud. He would be honest with her. He would come clean, as he'd originally planned when he'd raced out of the bar like a lunatic. He wouldn't stay in her apartment and force his company on her under specious pretenses. He didn't want to think that his presence here wasn't entirely wanted, that it was only tolerated because he had put up a false front. Scully returned with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. His attention was brought once more to the fact that she was dressed to go out - she was even still wearing her shoes - and that he might have interrupted her plans. But it was almost one in the morning. Where would she be going? Maybe he didn't want to know. He accepted the mug of chocolate that she held out to him, and had a brief flash of memory: he, holding out a steaming mug of coffee to her yesterday in his apartment. Now, he was made miserable by the reminder of what had happened afterward. Staring at her tennis shoes, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Scully. Are you going out?" She sighed. He watched her still-shoed feet make their way over to the couch. The cushions moved a bit as she sat down, so close to him that the material of their respective sweatpants brushed together. "Mulder," she began, sounding hesitant. "I was going out to look for you." She placed a hand on his arm. "I'm glad you're all right," she finished quietly. His head turned sharply to look at her, and his gaze immediately caught hers. Her luminous blue eyes were filled with relief and...something else. She gave him a tiny smile, and he could have sworn that her eyes were brighter than usual. And were they glistening, just a little? He felt a tiny bit of hope reassert itself in his chest. "You were going out to look for me?" He attempted to sound less delighted than he was. He took a sip of his drink to hide any emotion he might give away on his face. Hot. Ow, really hot. Okay, now his tongue was burnt. As if he wasn't already having enough trouble using it. He quickly set the mug down next to the phone. She looked away, at the same time taking her hand from his arm to clasp it defensively to her other hand, which rested in her lap. He noticed that her mug of hot chocolate was sitting on the coffee table, steam rising steadily. It was apparently forgotten by Scully. "Of course. I know you know I asked the guys to see that you were okay." He winced at the remembered hurt. "Why did you do that, Scully? If you wanted to know I was all right, why didn't you make sure, yourself?" It was a baldly inquisitive question he wouldn't have dared ventured if not for his suddenly inflated sense of courage. It was odd how it came and went. The second she relented a little bit, the second Scully gave an inch, he took a mile and more. But now that the question had been posed, he couldn't take it back; he had crossed a line. If he wasn't sure about what he wanted to reveal tonight before, it was now too late. The ball had been put in motion. His pulse fluttered erratically as he waited for her response. "I couldn't," she said in a barely audible voice, still not looking at him. Scully had a beautiful profile, but he wanted to see her face. His fingers itched to reach for her chin, to turn her toward him, but he dared not touch her, for fear that she would retreat even further. He had to tread carefully, consider his actions, bide his time. "Why?" he asked, awaiting her reply with both dread and anticipation. There was moment of silence, and when she spoke it wasn't to answer but to counter with a question of her own. "Why did it take you so long to get here, Mulder?" She finally turned her head to pierce him with the clear intensity of her eyes again. His breath caught. Leave it up to Scully to cut right to the chase, even though she couldn't know she was doing it. It was his turn to avoid her gaze. His glance slid away, landing once again on the journal, almost directly in front of him on the coffee table. The urge to pick it up and shove it into her hands was nearly overwhelming. What he'd written in there would tell her all she needed to know. It would be so easy to let the journal do his work for him... yet something in him rebelled against the idea. It wasn't right. He had let her know in various forms, had told her a thousand times in a million unvoiced actions, how he felt. Other people had come closer to saying it for him than he had - at least, to her awake and conscious form. It was well past time that he spoke for himself. "Aren't you going to ask me what I'm doing here?" He ignored her question for the time being. Turning his head, their gazes locked once more. "Are you drunk, Mulder?" He was frustrated by the question, though it was posed so gently. "No. I'm not. Scully, I don't think I've ever been so sober." "But you've been drinking," she stated matter-of-factly. "I had a few drinks this evening, yes," he said. That seemed ages ago. The only drug affecting him now was her presence. "But I am not inebriated." She leaned close to him, sniffing. Their gazes caught and he met hers steadily. "Tequila?" she asked. He sighed. She knew his drink of choice; that was just a lucky guess. "Yes. So? Aren't you wondering why I'm here?" Scully sat back and did not break their gaze. "I gathered you wanted to talk to me about something." He could lose himself in those eyes. He could, and he wanted to - but more than that, he wanted to be welcome to do so. "I do," he answered. Now that the moment had arrived, he faltered. "There is something I want to tell you." He cleared his throat, as his voice had cracked on the last word. She regarded him patiently. "Just tell me, Mulder." Her voice shook, just slightly, and for some reason that was all the encouragement he needed. Taking a deep breath, he screwed up his courage...and all that needed to be said spilled forth in a rush from the deepest recesses of his heart. "Scully, I came over to tell you that I love you, that I've loved you for a very, very long time but only had the guts to tell you once before and I was disappointed but a little relieved that you didn't believe me. I'm was afraid then and I'm afraid now, and I don't know why I found the courage tonight to do this, maybe it's because I've been drinking, maybe it's because I know what I'm missing now and can't take not being with you anymore. But it doesn't really matter why because I've finally said it, and I'm sorry if you don't want to hear it, Scully, but I thought you should know, I thought you should know that I love you." He was beyond the point of caring that his confession came out in long disjointed sentences and sounded like he was babbling. He didn't care that he was almost crying. He didn't care that his heart was jumping from his throat to his stomach and back, or that his pulse was hammering so strongly that he thought he might have a heart attack. Those things were the least of his worries. It was painful not to be touching her, and though he had already blurted out the most relevant news, the words kept spilling from his mouth, running out of him like rainwater, cleansing and pure. It felt so good to finally tell her the truth that he couldn't stop. "Scully...I'm in love with you and I won't apologize for it, I won't apologize for the truth - but you deserve the truth and there it is, I'll say it again: I'm in love with you." There was nothing left to do now but hold his breath. He could hear the mad pounding of his heart within his chest, felt the blood pumping like quicksilver through his veins, as he waited for her reaction. It was the most torturous moment of his life...he was laying it all out there. He was completely vulnerable; he had placed his heart in her hands, and now waited to see what she would do with it. God, after this week, nothing would ever faze him again. She stared at him with an expression that could only be construed as shock. She was silent for so long that he felt dread begin to seep from his abdomen, radiating out to all of his nerve-endings. Suddenly he felt like vomiting. God, he'd been so wrong to come here and foist all of this on her. How was she to respond to such a declaration from him, if she didn't feel the same? Watching her try and couch a response in nice terms was a hundred times worse than having her flat out reject him. A thousand times worse. He'd been an utter fool; an impassioned, reckless fool with a penchant for believing in all the wrong things, including the beautiful lies he was prone to spinning for himself. The flame of hope flickered and died in his chest. He swallowed convulsively, willing the massive aching in his heart away. How could he have been so unthinkingly selfish as to come here, so wrapped up in his own need that he'd actually believed for a few hours that she would welcome it? Obviously, she didn't feel the same or she would have said something by now. Fuck. He had just made up his mind to get up and walk out, intending to give her all the space she wanted, determined that he would never again overstep her boundaries, that she would never again have to ask him for his distance, when Scully made a sound. For a moment he thought he had imagined it when she didn't say anything further, nor did her expression change, and he bitterly castigated himself for this additional evidence of self-delusion. God, was it his fate to be continually tormented by this stubborn hope that refused to die? Wouldn't he ever give up? The fight was lost. He had lost. But then the sound came again, it wasn't his imagination, and it unmistakably came from Scully. She was looking at him with wide eyes, and her lips had parted slightly, though she had yet to utter a recognizable word. "Mulder - " she began, a catch in her voice, and he noted that her eyes had begun to glisten again. She unclasped her hands, and reached out to once again place her hand on his arm. Her fingers was shaking slightly...in fact, her entire body seemed to be trembling. They noticed this at the same time, and immediately she withdrew it. She was hurting for him, hurting for what he was doing to their relationship. He hadn't realized how much of an anchor her hand had been until she removed it; he instantly felt bereft, lost and adrift in a situation he was floundering in. He felt moisture begin to pool in his own eyes, and he fought to keep them in check. She didn't need to deal with his tears on top of everything else. "I know," she began shakily, then stopped and took a deep breath. "I know that you're upset..." "I'm sorry, Scully," he blurted before he could stop himself. The tears spilled in spite of his attempt to reign them in. "I...I can learn not to show it so much. I can pretend I don't love you; I can hide it, I swear. I won't mention it ever again, I promise." This last ended on a small sob. "I promise, Scully." Of its own accord his hand reached out to implore her, yet even then knowing to keep his distance, not daring to actually touch her. Through the hot wetness of his tears he suddenly saw the tear tracks running over her cheeks. God, he had made her cry. She reached out and took his hand, and in spite of his pain, he felt an inordinate amount of relief wash over him, bathing his senses with its sweet presence. She didn't hate him. Her voice was steady when she spoke, if a little deeper than usual. "Mulder, I'm glad you love me, and I don't ever want you to feel the need to hide it." Her voice lowered even further, making it harder to catch her words. "I love you, too...you know I do. But as for being in love with me...you only think that right now, because of all that's happened." He saw more tears slip down her face. "You're overemotional - " She stopped. With her other hand, she touched the tips of her fingers to her wet cheeks. "I'm crying..." she breathed, as if it were the most stunning revelation. He had been too stunned by what he was hearing, unsure he was hearing her correctly, to speak for several long moments after she informed him that he was not really in love with her. Clutching her hand in his, he now burst forth with a forceful, "No!" He stared at her accusingly. "You don't think I'm capable of knowing when I'm in love with someone? You think I've carried over residual feelings from what we've been doing for the past couple of months, that that's all it is? "I =am= overemotional right now, but it's because I'm scared shitless. Of losing you. How can I lose you, Scully?" What was with him tonight that he couldn't shut up? "I need you, I want you to know how I feel, and I am =in love= with you. I may never have felt this emotion before, but I can recognize it. It =is= like everyone says..." His throat had progressively tightened during this rant, until it became difficult to continue. "...you just know," he finished in a whisper. Mulder searched Scully's face for some sign of realization, of acceptance. He was further frustrated when none came. He never imagined that the hardest part would be to convince her of his love; it wasn't as if he hid it particularly well, judging by how easily other people were able to read him. Apparently, "other people" did not include Scully, which was ironic considering how well she was able to read him in every other situation. She was shaking her head; he grew desperate. He clutched her hand tighter, drawing it near to his heart. "How can you not know?" he asked, blinking rapidly, inadvertently dislodging some previously unshed tears from his eyes. God, if he lost her because of his own stupidity, of his own actions...he would never forgive himself. He had to make her understand. "Scully...Scully, you know that I asked you to make love with me because I wanted that intimacy with you. I wanted to be as close to you as a human being could possibly be to another. Each time we made love, I felt close to you. I felt so close to you." He tried desperately to control his panic, needing more than anything to make her listen; it had never been more imperative that she believe him. She reached out to tenderly brush the tears from his cheeks, but he was too caught up in his confession to analyze what that meant. He continued, "It was wrong to deceive you like that, and I am so sorry, Scully. I only did it because I wanted to make you fall in love with me, I wanted you to love me in the way that I loved - =love= - you." "Why didn't you just tell me?" She didn't take her gaze from his face, but neither did she joyfully embrace him. He wasn't in the clear yet, but she was giving him a chance to explain himself. This opportunity he grabbed and hung on to for dear life. "Scully..." He looked down, not being able to look her in the eye, but refusing to let go of her hand. "I didn't want to overwhelm you," he explained in a low voice. "I knew you didn't feel what I felt for you. I didn't want to risk our friendship, not knowing how you felt." He squeezed her hand. "You know our friendship is the most important relationship I have, Scully. The most important," he emphasized fervently, daring to glance at her before looking down once more. "My plan was...my plan was...not great," he finished lamely. "I wanted to be the best lover you'd ever had. I wanted you to enjoy our physical intimacy, and accept the idea that I could be everything for you." He looked up again, pleading silently for her to understand. "I can be everything for you, Scully. Please let me try." Why wasn't she saying anything? Maybe he was being too obsessive, too suffocating. As hard as the words were to get past his mouth, he said them. "You don't even have to love me back, it would be o-kay," he forced out. "And I won't be so needy, Scully. You think I can't do it but I can! Whatever you want, I can do. I can give you as much or as little as you need. All I want is for you to be happy..." He was desperate for her concession. Surely she couldn't turn him down now, could she? "You were happy with me, weren't you?" he asked, hesitating. She smiled, and it was a beautiful sight to see. It reached her eyes. "Yes, I was happy, Mulder," she answered. "See? See?" he jumped in eagerly. "I can do that. I can do it forever." His other hand came around to grab her hand. God, he was holding her hands. For a moment he was completely overcome by the simple joy in having her hands enveloped with his - it was as if all of the compassion and strength she was capable of was imbued in the small capacity of her palms and fingers. "So you were pretending not to love me, so that you could get me to fall in love with you?" she asked matter-of- factly. He mulled that over. "Sounds like crap when you say it." It sounded familiar; he thought he had said that to her before. "It made sense at the time," he defended himself. Inside, he was doing somersaults. This was very, very good. She didn't sound upset or angry, and she was allowing him to hold her hands. Dared he hope...? Suddenly she began to laugh, much to his consternation. He was just starting to feel the first stirrings of hurt beneath his confusion, when she explained. "You're an idiot, Mulder." Her smile was securely in place, her eyes now shining with amusement instead of tears. She reached over to give him a quick peck on his temple, and he got the feeling it had been an impulse she wasn't able to control. He felt a sense of deja vu. Hadn't he already heard that once tonight? "Yeah, that seems to be the general consensus." He was a little too confused by the sudden turn of events to fully process the fact that she'd just kissed him. That made her laugh again, and he smiled uncertainly. The air in the room was so much lighter than it had been only moments before. He was glad, of course, that she was finding merriment in this situation, but where did that leave him? How was he supposed to respond? "Want to share the joke?" He hadn't meant to sound so irritated, but he couldn't help it. He'd just spilled his guts in the most daring move he'd ever made in his life, and the woman he loved was laughing - and it seemed, at him. "It might only be amusing to me," she said casually. "Try me." A red eyebrow arched. "Temper, temper, Mulder. I won't tell you if you keep pouting like that." She smiled. "Ready?" At his nod, she continued conspiratorially, "Here's what's funny: if you hadn't been trying so hard to keep me from seeing that you loved me - which you did very well, by the way, I commend you on a fine performance - you might have caught that I was doing the same thing." He played her words over in his head a few times before he would let himself believe what she was saying. Scully apparently did not feel the need to practice the patience she had so recently preached to him, and grew annoyed waiting for his response. "Should I rephrase that into simpler terms?" she asked sarcastically. He nodded; he was still too overcome by what he was pretty sure she'd just admitted, and wanted her to relay the message in no uncertain terms. Her face grew serious. Removing her hands from his, she placed her hands on either side of his jaw and drew his head down to hers, so that their foreheads and the tips of their noses touched. Looking directly into his eyes, she whispered, "I'm in love with you, Fox Mulder." Crazy, overwhelming, exhilarating euphoria burst open in his chest. It was only natural, with their faces so close, that he should close the distance and kiss her fiercely, so this he did. It was passion and frenzy and need, all combining into the sweetest, most intense kiss he'd ever known. She loved him. She'd said she loved him. And now he was kissing the woman he loved, and it was even better than that - the woman he loved was loving and kissing him right back. He broke the kiss to whisper, "I feel like I'm dreaming." And in fact, he felt dizzy and out of control, as dreams were wont to be. Suddenly he felt a sharp, stinging pain on his shoulder. "Ow!" Mulder jerked back involuntarily, staring at Scully. "What'd you pinch me for?" "Just reassuring you that you're not dreaming," she answered. "And punishment was in order. Who said you could stop kissing me?" He grinned, delighted. So the slight throbbing on his shoulder was a love wound. He could live with that. That's what he got for falling in love with a redhead. "I'd kiss you for the rest of my life, if I could," he said with feeling. "Do you always have to be so extreme, Mulder?" "Always," he answered unrepentantly. "But that's why you love me, isn't it?" "I'm sure you know it's one of the reasons why I love you," she replied, smiling. "What are the others?" he asked eagerly. Looking at him from beneath her lashes, the look she gave him was mysterious. "I can't divulge all my secrets at once, Mulder." He considered whining, but thought better of it. He had the rest of his life to learn them all. This caused his face to split into a huge grin. "Okay...then tell me you love me, again." "You love me again." "Scuh-leee." "All right. I love you." "Again." "I love you." "Again." "At this rate, you're going to get sick of hearing it." He was amazed by the very idea, and such was evident in his voice when he said, "I could never get sick of hearing you saying that to me, Scully - never. I love you. Okay, your turn." "Mulder." She was exasperated, he could tell. "When you were a little boy, you wore out your new toys in the first week you got them, didn't you?" "No," he said seriously. "Any toy I liked to play with over and over, I took very good care of." He kissed her softly. Looking directly into her eyes, he promised solemnly, a catch in his voice, "I am going to take such good care of you." She maneuvered herself so that she was sitting on his lap. Her hands were resting on his shoulders, but one lifted to trail up over the side of his neck, and then further up to cup his cheek. "You already do," she answered simply. He noticed that her eyes were watery again, and quickly moved to kiss them closed. "Don't cry anymore, Scully. I hate to see you cry," he confessed miserably. "Mulder...I'm glad I'm crying." She attempted a smile, and it only made him more confused before she elaborated. "I wasn't able to cry before this, and I felt like my grief was choking me. Your being here like this...just being =you=, it touches something inside me, and it lets me open up. Thank you," she whispered. "You're welcome," he said tentatively, still not completely certain that making Scully cry was ever a good thing. When she opened her eyes once more, Mulder saw with relief that the threat of tears had dissipated. She sniffed, and her face was adorably pink from emotion. He felt her trace the tearstains on his own face. "And I hate to see you cry, too, Mulder," she said in a gentle voice. "We've cried more than our share in this life. So we'll just have to make sure we do less of it from now on." "Okay," he agreed quickly, relieved. "And no more hiding things from each other." "Of course not." He was appalled by the very idea. "I wouldn't have done it, except - " "Yes, yes," she brushed him off. "We've already established that you're an idiot." He hoped he didn't look as crestfallen as he felt. "But I'm not," he protested, before amending, "Or if I am one, you're one too. You were doing the same thing, =and= you went out with some other guy! Besides, I was the one who came here to spill my guts; =you= were the one who ended things between us!" The reminder of the torture he had gone through the day before was enough to make him truly distressed, not to mention the reminder of her quasi-date with another man. He never wanted to feel as he'd felt on either of those occasions ever again. He pinned her with an accusatory gaze, even as he wrapped his arms around her to pull her close. "You know you nearly killed me, Scully. Why did you do it?" A guilty look stole over her face before it was replaced by a glare. She clasped her hands around his neck. "What do you mean, why, Mr. Let's-Have-Sex-To-Relieve-Stress? I had to protect myself from being emotionally traumatized!" "Emotional trauma? What about imposing all those stupid rules on our fledgling relationship? You were determined not to feel anything!" "That's right, I wasn't - not with you running around assuring me every five minutes that all you wanted from me was sex!" "I didn't just want sex! I was in love with you, dammit!" he shouted. "Well, how was I supposed to know that? You did everything you could to hide it from me," she said in rebuttal. "Well, maybe I didn't want to get hurt." "Well, maybe =I= didn't want to get hurt." They were both breathing hard. There was silence as they both brooded, and Mulder wondered in panic if Scully had now changed her mind and decided she was mistaken and couldn't be in love with an idiot like him, after all. Why couldn't he just keep his damn mouth shut? How had they degenerated into yelling at each other, anyway? He was just about to apologize when Scully said thoughtfully, "I think we just had our first romantic- associated fight, Mulder." "Yeah...so?" he asked warily. Here it came; she was going to announce that their personalities were too different, that this wasn't going to work...all the things he knew weren't true. He gripped her tightly to him, and mentally prepared for the argument he was sure would be occurring momentarily. There was one thing he knew for sure: he wasn't letting go. It was then that he noticed she was holding onto him just as firmly, allowing him to relax...a little. Scully was nothing if not clever. He had to be prepared for anything. She smiled brilliantly at him, the appearance of her teeth lending feral effect. She drew seductively nearer, bringing her mouth close to the skin of his neck. He could feel her warm breath on him, and goosebumps rose all over his body. "You know what happens after a fight, don't you, Mulder?" she murmured. He blinked. She definitely didn't sound mad. In fact, that tone of voice was rather familiar...one that his cock immediately recognized, as it twitched to attention. "What?" he rasped. "You know." She adjusted herself so that the swell of her bottom brushed up against the front of his sweatpants, and he groaned. "Make up sex," she purred against the side of his neck, her lips just touching the skin there. "It's required." He shivered, involuntarily bringing one of his hands around to the rapidly swelling hardness at the front of his pants, while keeping his other arm around Scully. At least he was wearing sweats. The restriction wasn't =too= uncomfortable ...yet. "If you s-say s-so," he said cooperatively, his eyelids dropping down. She was obviously pleased with his reaction because she nibbled lightly at his neck before placing her hand over his, encouraging him to cup himself fully through the material of his sweats. "Will you indulge me in something, Mulder?" she breathed into his ear, and he trembled. Oh, Scully, I would do anything for you. "A-anything," he promised. He'd never been more serious in his life. With effort, given how strongly he was holding her, she moved away from him. He tightened his grip, intending to pull her close again. She firmly resisted, and reluctantly he stopped exerting pressure. She took her hand away from his, and now they weren't touching at all. Collapsing his weight fully against the cushions, he reluctantly removed his hand from the front of his pants, feeling somewhat conscious about it now that they were separated. "Okay, then...I want to go to your place." She licked her lips. He was dumbfounded. Why in the world would she want that? It was so much nicer here. It was so Scully here. Although, that was probably not a very good bargaining point. And besides... "We're already here. What's wrong with here?" Scully rolled her eyes. "We =always= do it here." "So?" He was defensive. She made it sound as though he was a boring old man, set in his ways. He thought he was pretty adventuresome - he just liked making love in her bed, feeling surrounded by her. "And, no we don't." "Usually," she dismissed. "But we're already here," he repeated, staring at her. Why wasn't she using =reason=? She leaned forward into his space again, then straddled him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, rubbing her breasts against his chest - an obvious ploy to make him forget his arguments. It worked, and he saw small sparks as his brain short-circuited. All thoughts of resisting further were decisively tossed to the wayside. "I want to make love on your couch, Mulder. I've always wanted to, and it's the one place we haven't done it yet. Isn't that strange? Don't you think it would be appropriate for us to christen the last place we haven't made love on the day we cleared up all these misunderstandings?" She felt so good, sitting on top of him like that. Her mouth was so close. He wanted to kiss it. But she kept talking. "It would be a symbolic gesture of all we've been through to reach this point." He was distracted by the bottoms of her feet, which were normally sources of delight for him – Scully's skin was so soft there – but what he liked to see was frustratingly out of sight. "Scully, you're still wearing your shoes." She sighed in exasperation. "Do you ever listen to anything I say?" "Every word," he swore. "You know I love listening to you. You want to go to my place and make love on my couch," he relayed smugly, still having no idea why. He wasn't sure she was making any sense to herself, either. His arms reached out, his hands pushing on her tennis shoes to get them off. She swatted at his hands. "Stop that. If we're going to your place, I'll have to put them back on." "But I want to feel your feet." "Do I know about this fetish?" "I don't know." He stopped his attentions to her shoes for the moment, nuzzling his face into her breasts. "You know about this fetish, though." He felt pretty damn gratified when she moaned. "Yeah, I know about that one," she gasped. Mulder ran his hands over her calves, up the sides of her thighs and then under, to cup her gently rounded bottom. "What about this one?" he asked, rubbing his nose against her nipple. "Uhm...uh hum...yeah..." Already she was becoming incoherent. He grinned to himself; he'd get them to stay here yet. He hadn't expected a counterattack, but should have. If he'd been in any position to do so, he would have expressed his admiration at her skills. As it was, he could only witness as his resistance crumbled in the wake of a far superior warrior. There was, however, still one soldier standing proudly at attention, who loved the enemy too much to fight her, who wanted to make love, not war... She grabbed the back of his neck, pushing his face firmly into the soft, sweet-smelling mounds of her breasts as she gyrated her hips against him in a circular motion. He jerked up involuntarily, his cock hitting the area between her legs, and he saw stars, it felt so good. When her hand reached between them and cupped his balls, he was done for. "I want to go to your place," Scully stated again, gulping from her own arousal. She was more in control of her faculties than he was of his, however, and he did not begrudge her this. The great thing about these power struggles was that he inevitably lost most of them, but he wasn't really losing at all. There were only winners. One last attempt before he waved the little white flag. "Why, again?" She rolled her hips again and he groaned. "There are several reasons, actually. First is that we've never done it there and I think it's about time we did. Second is...second is..." He wasn't really listening anymore; he was too busy trying to capture her nipple between his lips. It was tricky, being as how said nipple was hidden behind a t-shirt and her bra, both rather slippery for his task. "Second is that I think it would be...uhm...symbolic." Symbolic of what? And did he really care at this point? If indulging her in this meant that much to her, then he was thrilled to do it. Ecstatic, even. His mission in life was to make Scully happy. "Get your coat." ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Fifteen ~~~~~~~~ On the way to Mulder's Apartment September 30 1:45 a.m. In the end, it was really an impulsive decision, borne of too much unhappiness and guilt being swept away in a sudden onslaught of overwhelming relief and joy. Scully knew that Mulder didn't understand why she'd insisted on leaving the comfort of her apartment to go to his place. She wasn't sure she completely understood it herself. All she knew was that it felt imperative that they make love there. She knew he enjoyed making love at her place because he liked being surrounded by her things. Normally, she didn't mind this. In fact, it was sweet and flattering, and didn't cost her anything to indulge him. Now, however, she felt the need to be surrounded by =Mulder's= things, to be encompassed by =him=, after coming so close to nearly losing him. Perhaps it was selfish – but dammit, Mulder was hers now and she was allowed to be selfish. There were, of course, many questions that still needed to be asked and answered, but at this point, the only things that needed clarification were just details. And those could wait. After what she had been through on an emotional level the past few days, there was nothing more she wanted or needed at the moment than to feel the physical proof that Mulder was with her. Really =with= her, in every way. Eventually, she wanted to talk. To discuss all the details, to iron out all the things they had done wrong to get themselves to this point. But when a loved one is almost lost to you, do you =talk= about such things when first they are returned? No. You hug them. You kiss them. You reassure yourself that they are alive and healthy and safe in your arms. You want to hold them and never let go. She wanted to run her fingers over his skin and convince herself that his presence wasn't a figment of her imagination. She wanted to hold him close to her and make him promise that he would never, ever leave her. But most of all, she wanted to feel what it was to make love to Mulder knowing that he was =making love= to her. Of all the sexual positions they had tried over the last few months, of all the locations and explorations of each other's physical needs, she had never once been able to experience their intimacy with the knowledge that what they were doing had anything to do with love. Her natural defense mechanisms had seen to that. But now she would know what it was like. And she would get the opportunity to purge what had happened in his apartment only a few days ago, which, she realized, was partly her motivation for making them take this ride. They would get to dispel bad memories of the location and replace them with good ones. She felt that this cleansing was the most important thing in the world. Apparently, Mulder felt similarly. He was maneuvering the car as if prepping for the Indy 500. On the best of days, he wasn't a cautious driver, but tonight he was a menace. Normally, she would have rebuked him with a look, but tonight she was in as much of a hurry as he. Still, he seemed to sense her innate wariness - either that or he knew her well enough to know that she would be far from pleased by his maniacal driving - and quickly reassured her, "I drove like this on the way to your place; there wasn't a cop in sight." The last thing she was worried about was a ticket. It was their lives that were in jeopardy. Well, that was an exaggeration – Mulder was actually an excellent driver and she trusted him implicitly. However, this did not diminish the strain she felt when he nearly sideswiped a vehicle, and narrowly missed a street lamp, both of which had the singular misfortune of being on the same street Mulder had chosen to take. Luckily, the lateness of the hour and the chill in the air kept any would-be late-night strollers from making an appearance, although it had stopped raining. It would certainly be a risky move, with Mulder at the wheel in his current state. It was flattering, however, to see the evidence of how much he wanted her. He was risking life and limb to have her, and quickly. Well, either that, or he needed to pee again. The problem was, she had never been much in doubt as to whether Mulder wanted her. She knew he did, with an intensity that at times took her breath away. To know that he loved her...well, that was something she had only let herself consider in the deepest cavities of her heart. And soon she would know what it was to be made love to by Mulder, while being able to openly acknowledge that he loved her. She believed him. There was no way they would be where they were if she entertained even the slightest doubt. Mulder wouldn't lie about something like that. Other men would and did all the time; false words of love were uttered with appalling ease. But not Mulder, the silly man. He was much more apt to tell her that he =didn't= love her when he did, out of misguided notions. Deciphering how Mulder's mind worked often proved to be an exhausting yet fascinating exercise. She was sure this time would prove no different. When he had begun his awkward confession, part of her had already known what was coming. She had anticipated it with fervent hope and abject dread. The reason for the hope was obvious. The dread was in knowing that she wouldn't be able to accept his confession of love at face value; no matter what, she would have to be convinced. For even though Mulder would never knowingly lie about loving her, she had to believe he was susceptible to the fairly common affliction of believing himself to be in love when in fact he was not. It would be all too easy to mistake his affection for her as a friend, and her role as a convenient sexual outlet, for love - especially when those things seemed threatened, as they certainly must have when she had ended things between them. But for once she was more inclined to believe him than not, and when she had searched his face for evidence, she had been confronted with the truth. It was all there in his eyes - all the love in the world reflecting back on her. Mulder's eyes had always been open windows to his soul, at least for her, and he had never been able to hide anything from her there. At least, not when she was looking. These past few months, she had been so afraid of what she would see there that she hadn't really looked at all. She chastised herself for it now, for had she had more courage then, they would have both been spared a lot of heartache and pain. "Okay, Scully, come on," Mulder urged breathlessly, practically vaulting out of the now-unmoving vehicle. She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed they had arrived at their destination. Walking as fast as she could, she was still no match for Mulder's long, hurried strides. He kept one hand on her back while the other tugged on her wrist – once or twice, she was even in danger of tripping, but his hold on her was such that he easily lifted her for that fraction of a second and preempted any possible accidents. At any other time, she would have given him her blistering opinion on what she thought of his manhandling ways, but she sensed his urgent need, and rather reveled in it. She would not be reprimanding him for wanting her too much, not tonight. Perhaps not ever. The elevator buttons were abused. Though announcing with their lit faces that the desired destination information was received and acknowledged, they were punched several more times by an impatient male finger. "Come on, come on," Mulder muttered, as the elevator doors slowly closed. For her part, Scully was not immune to the electricity that sparked in the air between them. She was glad that he was constantly touching her; if he didn't maintain contact, she would have to. The elevator doors finally opened, and she and Mulder cleared them in record speed. However, halfway down the hall, he suddenly stopped short. "Shit, I left it in the car," he muttered. "Left what in the car?" she asked, tugging him further down to his apartment, not really caring. She was more concerned with the fact that his attention was no longer concentrated on getting her naked and writhing on his couch. Could it be that her feminine wiles were slipping? Had the confession of her love somehow made her less attractive as a sexual being? She had gotten them to his front door. His gaze dropped down to her lips, his eyes darkening with intent. Her heart thrummed excitedly at the look on his face. "Never mind," he said, split seconds before his head dropped and he touched his lips to hers. The kiss deepened immediately as Scully eagerly opened her mouth to allow him entrance. It had been less than an hour, but it felt like an eternity since they had last kissed. His tongue swept in, dueling with hers in a wet greeting. He was fierce in his possession, rubbing his tongue gently, lovingly, against hers, then running it along the roof of her mouth and along her teeth. He was re-familiarizing himself, she realized - and knew that the past week had been a long time for him, too. It was unbearably touching, and the movement of his tongue inside her mouth was a heady feeling in itself. She felt herself turn into a puddle of goo, and would have slipped right down to the floor had his strong arms not caught her and kept her upright. Mulder made a frustrated sound in his throat, and broke the kiss, chest heaving. She whimpered in disappointment, not capable of more sound than that, though she wanted to question why he had halted the proceedings. Without saying anything, he suddenly grabbed her behind her thighs and lifted her legs up to wrap around his waist, her back supported by his apartment door. She understood at last that it was a matter of leverage. He'd probably gotten a cramp in his neck from the position they were in before. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands went about her waist, and he captured her mouth again for a second round. The desperate urgency of the last kiss was missing from this one, but it was no less fierce. She sensed that his need to reclaim her mouth as his territory had abated, and she took this opportunity to do some reclaiming of her own. Just a few hours ago she had believed she would be denied this pleasure for the rest of her life. The recollection prompted her to cherish this experience all the more, sucking on his lips as if her very life depended on it. She echoed his movements from only a few moments before in his exploration of her mouth, touching her tongue to every crevice inside his mouth that she could reach, until he groaned, the sound reverberating into her. It was a wonderful sensation, to feel his need and his love blend into that involuntary sound. He was pressing her so hard against the door that she was sure the imprint of "42" would be branded on the back of her head for a week. But stopping was not to be considered, not for such a trite, unimportant reason. Mulder had patiently allowed her exploration, his tongue only giving a gentle caress now and again against hers as she went about her business, but apparently he had grown impatient and wanted back in on the action. When her tongue darted forth again, he immediately slanted his mouth at an angle that would allow deeper access for them both. She was clutching his neck so hard that she thought she surely must be strangling him. However, since he wasn't complaining, she didn't let up - she suspected that this anchor was the only thing keeping her body from utter liquefaction. He trapped her tongue between his lips and began to suck voraciously, nipping lightly now and again with his teeth, and she felt a rush of hot liquid between her legs. It had been pooling for some time now, and had probably already soaked through her panties and perhaps even through her sweatpants. Wouldn't it be embarrassing if he pulled away from her sporting a big wet stain on the front of his pants from her? If it hadn't already happened, it would happen soon enough if they kept this up. Her eyes, which had been closed so she could savor their kisses without distraction, popped open. Her brain registered that they were in his hallway, for heaven's sake, and despite the late hour could be discovered in this compromising position. "Mulder, we should get inside," she said. But as he still had hold of her tongue, it sounded more like "Uh-her, ee ooh eht enhie." Keeping one arm around his neck, she used her free hand to push uselessly against his shoulder. He didn't budge an inch, and she decided that this was one of the times his superior strength was less a turn-on than it was a source of aggravation. Without other recourse, what she did was dive back into his kiss. She coaxed him to relinquish control, which he did, and she could now break the kiss at any time. She could break the kiss at any time. Come on, woman, break the kiss! But they were kissing so languidly now, so sweetly, that she was extremely loath to end it. The distant sound of the elevator doors was processed. The idea that someone would see this very private moment spurred her into action. She broke off the kiss abruptly, a loud popping sound resulting from the action, followed immediately by a loud sound of protest from Mulder. She unwrapped her legs from his waist, preparing to slide down to the floor. She found herself embraced in a viselike grip as Mulder let go of her hips only to wrap her securely in his arms, leaning in close, making it impossible for her to move down any further. He was pressed up firmly between her legs, and she could feel the hardness of his erection lining up with the part of her that strained and throbbed for him, and the sensation made her groan. "What are you doing?" Mulder asked, his voice slightly tinged with panic. "Where are you going?" She had to move her head to the side so that she could focus on his face, he was so close. "Mulder, we're in your hallway," she hissed, believing that whoever the elevator doors had opened for would spot them any second, if it wasn't already too late. His relief that she hadn't changed her mind and wasn't planning on leaving was almost palpable. She almost smiled. "So?" he asked. "I think someone's coming. I heard the elevator," she shared. He, of course, had no shame, and turned his head to look down the hall toward the elevator. She buried her face in his neck, mortified. She could hear the grin in his voice as he whispered, "There's no one there, Scully." Her head jerked up. "Are you sure? I thought I heard the elevator..." She turned to look for herself; indeed, the hallway was empty save for the two of them. "Well, all the same, I think we should go inside now," she said firmly. His eyes danced. "Mmm, good idea." He backed up a little, and the sudden lack of support caused her legs to slide downward with appalling abruptness. When her feet hit the floor, her knees felt rubbery and weak, and nearly gave out on her. She slammed her palms back against the door to keep herself from collapsing into an ignominious heap in front of Mulder's feet. He noted her difficulty with amusement, damn him. "Need some help?" he offered. She itched to wipe that smug smile off his face. All in due time. "I'm fine," she said. "Want to unlock the door?" The trembling of his fingers belied his smug tone. After several aborted attempts at inserting his key into the lock, she finally had to say it. "Need some help?" "Shut up, Scully." At last, the key slid into place and the door was opened. Scully wondered if a tsunami had ever been recorded as having gone through a residence before. If not, Mulder's apartment would be the first. It was a complete disaster, worse than she had ever seen it. She could barely see the floor for all the things covering it. "Ah – okay, then." She wasn't quite sure what to say. She had the feeling this had something to do with what had happened Saturday, but she didn't want to bring that up, both because she didn't want to remind either of them of that awful time, and because possibly it had nothing to do with...this...at all. She had never seen Mulder's cheeks warm to that color red before. He'd been rosy from drinking, but this was another flush entirely. He was obviously embarrassed. "Sorry about the mess," he mumbled, bending to pick up some scattered paper. He wouldn't look at her. She shut the door, since he had apparently forgotten all about it, and righted a couple of chairs. "Mulder - " she hesitated. She felt like she had to say =something=, but didn't quite know what. Suddenly making his way to her, he took her in his arms. His closeness caused her to forget what she was going to say, if in fact she was going to say anything at all. "I don't want to talk about it," he declared. "All right. We don't have to," she agreed softly. His arms tightened until she was pressed against him in a tight hug, her arms wrapped around his waist. "I missed you," he said, and she could tell that he was trying to rein in his emotions. "I missed you a lot." Scully felt her own eyes grow damp. God, it had been such a relief to finally be able to cry back at her apartment, and now she couldn't seem to stop. All it had taken was Mulder. It was truly a magic hold that he had on her, this ability to make her express emotion when she had taught herself at an early age to be reserved. She always =felt= the emotion; she just found it difficult to express it sometimes. Not with Mulder. With Mulder, it all just ran out of her. It embarrassed her at times. But she wouldn't change how he was capable of affecting her, for the world. She almost smiled. "Did you know that you're capable of supernatural powers?" There was silence, then: "What?" She'd thrown him. What a nice change from the way things normally worked between them. "You. All this time you've been searching for proof of extraordinary powers, and here you've possessed them the whole time." He finally let up on his hold, so that he could look down and see her face. "I've never looked for proof," he said in an affronted tone. "That's your job. I just contend." "You mean you make wild assertions and pull theories out of your ass," she retorted. His pearly whites made an appearance. "Yeah." She rolled her eyes, then stepped away from him to make her way over to the couch. Seating herself, she burrowed in as far as she could burrow into leather, then raised an eyebrow. "Well? Are you going to stand there all night?" "Maybe. I have a pretty good view." "You'll have a better one if you come closer," she promised. She saw the front of his pants react to her statement, and she smiled in what she hoped was not too predatory a manner. He swallowed - she could see his Adam's apple bob even from where she was. Slowly, he made his way over to the couch, then knelt down next to her. "You're really good at this," he sighed. "You always win." "I have lots of motivation...I get such a sexy prize." She put a hand on his chest, looking at him hungrily. He let out a squeak, then cleared his throat. "I don't know if you're ready for your prize," he said nonchalantly. "It may be too...potent...for you." She responded to the sexy undertone of his voice. "Oh, really? I think I am, but how do I know for sure? I wouldn't want to be prematurely...worn out." Mulder seemed to consider for a moment. "That is a very good question. I think a series of experiments will unearth your answer for you, Dr. Scully." Tricky devil. "Hmm. What kind of experiments?" "Well...they're rather - risqué." She couldn't help it; her eyebrow shot up. "Oh, really?" "Yes. Perhaps too avant garde for you." Even though she knew he was teasing, she rose to the bait. "That's twice you've questioned my stamina. I think I'm fully capable of what you have in mind." It was his turn to raise his eyebrows, and his eyes twinkled. "Now you have me intrigued. But saying the words is easy. How do I know you'll actually go through with it, when push comes to shove?" She reached out to trace the outline of his lower lip. "When push comes to shove, you can bet I'll go through with it," she answered huskily. Scully saw a dull flush splash Mulder's cheekbones, and felt enormous satisfaction. She had made him blush! She'd actually made the king of innuendo blush. He cleared his throat, recovering quickly. "I'm glad you said that, because this involves...the removing of clothes." She nearly laughed at the way he managed to sound scandalized, appalled, and excited all at once, when she knew he only felt the last. "Oh, my," she played along, trying her best to sound shocked. "You mean I have to take off my clothes? All of them?" He nodded vigorously. "Yes. All." "I don't know. What if I get cold?" "I'll keep you warm," he assured her. She suppressed a shiver from the promise she saw in his eyes. "I believe you," she answered faintly. "All right, so - whenever you're ready," he said, obviously trying to hide his eagerness. Not so fast. "What about you?" "What about me?" "Well, it doesn't seem fair that I have to be the only one who's naked," she pointed out reasonably. "Oh." He looked genuinely sorry that she had thought of this. Then he brightened. "You won't be the only one." "I won't?" "I plan on joining you, eventually." "Eventually." She did her best to sound skeptical of such a plan. Luckily, she had had a lot of practice. She gave the appearance of considering whether this was a good deal for her. "Scuh-lee," he whined. "This is =my= fantasy." She found him irresistible when he whined like that, though it would be disastrous to let him know that. So instead, she questioned with amusement, "This is your fantasy?" "Yes. Well, one of them," he amended. She had always been curious about this, and now she was in the perfect position to find out more. "You have fantasies about me?" she asked innocently. "You have fantasies about me on this couch?" Mulder laughed in genuine amusement. "You're kidding, right?" Scully shook her head. It was something she had =assumed=, but how could she know it if he had never told her? He answered solemnly, "I have had fantasies about you while I was on this couch, yes. I have had fantasies about you =being= on this couch, yes. In every way you could possibly mean that question, the answer is yes." He didn't look ashamed at all. She was entirely too thrilled with his answer. "Well...to be fair, I've also had fantasies about you being on this couch," she admitted. He had the cheek to be sarcastic. "Gee, really? Is that why we drove all the way here even though we had a perfectly good couch and bed where we were?" She frowned, putting her index finger against his lips. God, she loved the way that felt. Apparently, so did he, because he quieted immediately and didn't move. "I'm not finished. I've also had fantasies about you while sitting on this couch." His eyes widened just a fraction. "You have?" he asked against her finger. "When?" "Oh, lots of times," she said airily. "While we're working?" "Mm hmm. Especially when you're wearing your glasses," she revealed with a teasing smile. "You like the Clark Kent look, huh? What about when we're watching TV?" "Yup. The thoughts in my head are much more interesting than anything on television." "What a coincidence. Mine, too," he revealed, unabashed. "Even while we're eating pizza?" "Especially then." She grinned. "You always get tomato sauce in the most...fantasy-inspiring places," she shared. "Like...your lip..." She used her index finger and ran it down his pouty lower lip. "Your chin..." The finger then trailed down to that location. "And I just want to..." She leaned forward and flicked her tongue lightly against his chin, causing him to jump in a most adorable way. Scully leaned back, suddenly blase again. "And...I have fantasies about you fantasizing about me while you're on this couch." She gave him a look of triumph. Beat that. "You fantasize about that?" he squeaked. "I imagine that when you're thinking about me, you're also engaged in...other activities at the same time. Am I right?" "You have no idea." She smiled. "That's what I thought," she said in satisfaction. She was feeling just a little bit gleeful. And smug. "Well then, since we're both here, it looks like fate has presented us with an unprecedented opportunity." "And that would be...?" "To make each other's fantasies come true." Her mouth went dry. His words weren't entirely unexpected, but their effect was not diminished one iota. She was intrigued, excited, and wary all at the same time. She had always wondered exactly what kind of fantasies Mulder had about her - and now, not only would she know, but she would get to experience them firsthand. She couldn't quite suppress the shiver that ran down her spine. However, she thought she managed to sound quite calm when she spoke. "Who goes first?" The idea of telling him about the things she fantasized, before he shared his with her, wasn't very appealing. She felt a little shy of this prospect, in spite of all they had already done with each other. Amazing. She quickly amended, "Never mind. You go first." He seemed to hesitate. "It's actually...pretty simplistic." Scully was relieved. She smiled encouragingly. "That's okay. Mine are usually simplistic, too," she confessed. "To tell you the truth, just the act of making love to you here would pretty much fulfill every one of them." Hers, too. "That's sweet, Mulder. But I know there must be...specifics involved." She looked at him expectantly. Taking a deep breath, he began, "You're naked." "Already? No striptease or anything?" "I told you it was simplistic." "All right. So I'm just...naked. For no apparent reason." His eyes glinted wickedly. "Oh - there's a reason." He moved away a little. "So? Take off your clothes." "Wait. I want to know what's going to happen," she argued. "Scuh-lee." He rolled his eyes. "So typical. I'll tell you as we go along. It'll be more fun that way." She bit her lip, considering. "All right," she said grudgingly. "But if you drag out a chest of electronic devices, I'll have to hurt you." "The key word here is: simple. The only device you'll be handling...is mine." He parted the lapels of her light cotton jacket and brought his thumb to one of her hardened nipples, pressing firmly through her t-shirt. The action was so unexpected that she gave an involuntary jump as a tide of warmth flooded the area between her legs once more. Since this only added to the evidence of their earlier activities out in his hallway, she was made aware that her panties were getting very uncomfortable. It would actually be a relief to take them off. She was also amused that they had embarked on this sexual adventure when they were both decidedly at their most unglamorous, sporting comfy sweats, t-shirts, and tennis shoes. "Okay, Mulder, I can live with that," she replied in a low voice. She began to remove her jacket. He got up, and it looked like he was going to leave the room. "Where the hell are =you= going?" "I'm not supposed to be here," he explained in a reasonable tone of voice. "I just...find you here." "You just find me here. Naked on your couch. Like that's plausible." He sighed. "It's a =fantasy=. And it's not plausible?" She thought about that. "Well..." "I've been away for a long, long time," he added. "You have? Where have you been?" "It doesn't matter. But you haven't seen me in a long time. You've been coming here to feed my fish." "I see. I'm dumping fish food into the tank, and then I think, what the hell, I'll just get naked and sit on Mulder's couch." "Now you're getting it!" He grinned, not fazed at all by her teasing. "=And= you think, what the hell, why don't I just masturbate?" "I think WHAT?" "You're such a naughty girl." "I don't want to – " she protested. She wanted =him=, not herself. "Pleeeease, Scully," he pleaded, widening his eyes to form that look she couldn't say no to. Mulder always indulged her when she asked the same of him. Wasn't it fair for her to return the favor? It wasn't as though she wouldn't enjoy it. So she wanted =him= more. So what? She would still have him... "Okay." He fairly glowed with delight. "I'll be in the bedroom. When you're done undressing, lie down on the couch, so you're facing my desk. You can't see me. Oh, and Scully..." His voice grew husky. "Don't worry, you won't be alone for long..." She was amused in spite of herself. As he retreated to the bedroom, she made short work of disposing her clothes. As she had suspected, removing her underwear was blissful. The evidence of her desire had cooled, the cold wetness pressing against her skin uncomfortably. She was a little embarrassed by how much of it there was, making the insides of her thighs sticky, but figured that was probably good for what Mulder had in mind. Settling herself onto her back, she wondered what she was supposed to do now. Sure, she knew the technicalities of what she was supposed to be doing, but it just seemed a little - crude. Simply reaching down there and doing what she had done a thousand times before didn't seem right for this occasion. She wondered what it would be like if Mulder really were gone for a "long time." What was a long time? A week? She tried to imagine not seeing Mulder for a week. Her brow furrowed as she tried and failed to imagine such a scenario. She remembered that they had been away from each other the past couple of days, and that had been torture. Two days, and she had been frantic to see him, to hear from him. But that wasn't really a "long time" by normal standards...so, three days, maybe? A week? A week was a reasonably long time, wasn't it? So if two days was bad, think of what a week would feel like... Scully found herself actually missing Mulder. It was ridiculous. He was in the next room and she was missing him. But she wasn't supposed to know that he was in the next room, she told herself. To her, he'd been gone for a week. A week without seeing his face, hearing his voice, breathing in his scent. Oh, God. She bit her lip. It was ridiculous that she was missing him, really ridiculous. But it wasn't as though he were gone for good, no. He would be back soon. She was simply keeping his fish company, providing them sustenance while Mulder was away. In fact, they probably ate better when he was gone than when he was actually there. Well, ostensibly she was here to feed his fish. More likely, she was here because she wanted to surround herself with his things. If he'd been gone for a week that meant she hadn't had sex in a week, at least. It was funny, but she'd gone years without it and had been perfectly fine. She hadn't missed it...well, at least, not the way she did after she and Mulder had started sleeping together. Now she felt deprived if she couldn't have sex with him, which had actually only happened a few times - when she had gotten her period, and the past week or so, when she thought she'd never get to make love with him ever again. So Mulder had been gone, she hadn't gotten any in all that time, and now she was alone, horny, and missing him. Of its own volition, her right hand trailed down her chest, passing the valley between her breasts, past her stomach, down, down, until she could feel the coarse texture of the hair between her legs. So close to where she wanted to touch herself, but not yet, not yet; it wasn't the right time yet. Her other hand lightly clasped her neck, then traveled down to her collarbone, and she splayed her fingers before finally moving lower, over the soft skin of her left breast. Her fingers teased at herself, circling the area around her nipple but never actually touching it. Her eyes still closed, she pretended that it was Mulder's hands on her, Mulder's fingers that finally pinched her nipple between his fingers and tugged. She heard a moan and realized that it was hers. The fingers resting in the curls down below, which had been patiently waiting for further orders, were put into action. She touched the soft skin of her femininity, moaning softly again at how good it felt. Mulder, it's Mulder, she told herself, missing him. But Mulder's fingers weren't so small; Mulder's fingers weren't so soft. They were deliciously rough and big – big enough that when he slid his fingers inside her she actually felt stretched. Certainly more than when her fingers were doing the job. And he had a callus on his trigger finger that provided the most wonderful friction. She shivered now as she imagined that finger sliding into her, rubbing her insides in all the right ways. Hearing her own gasping breaths, with no Mulder groans to complement them, jarred her out of her illusion and she was disappointed to find that it was only her own fingers moving in and out of herself - not nearly as satisfying as when Mulder did it. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, willing herself to delve back into the fantasy. "Mulder," she murmured, as if the mention of his name would conjure his presence. And suddenly it was as though she could feel his light touch gliding over her body, hovering for a moment over her breasts before gliding like a ghost down to where she craved his touch most. She could almost smell his scent, almost hear his deep breathing as he concentrated on moving his hands over her. She withdrew her fingers. "Mulder...?" His name was but a breath of air as it passed between her lips, and her eyelids felt too heavy to open. Yes, yes, it was his hand there, parting her sweaty thighs further, opening her up with his warm dry fingers. She moved her lower body, desiring a more substantial touch. "Keep your eyes closed," he whispered, and his voice seemed to come from the edge of her consciousness. She did as he asked, although she wasn't sure if the voice had come from somewhere in her own mind. Her phantom Mulder's touch was still too light. She wanted more. She needed more. Moving her hips insistently, she pushed down, and was finally rewarded for her efforts. That finger, the finger with the callus he probably didn't even know was there, was sliding into her, rubbing against her, making her feel so good. It was soon joined by another, both moving in and out of her body at a leisurely pace. Her right hand, the one that had so recently been doing what his fingers had taken over, was lifted into the air. Before she could process what was happening, he had taken her middle and index fingers – still covered in her juices - into his mouth. It was incredibly hot in there, his tongue slick and soft. He scraped his teeth against her knuckles, then sucked strongly. She moaned. The fingers that had been keeping a slow thrusting rhythm into her sped up, and she could hear the wet sounds her body made as it was repeatedly invaded by his long digits. The physicality of it felt unbelievably good, and coupled with her emotions, escalated too quickly. She was torn – her body craved the release, while she wanted the feeling to last longer. But she didn't want him to stop, either, so she tightened her inner muscles around his fingers, releasing slowly, repeating the action a few times. He read her body language with efficiency, and slowed his movements. She wanted to see him, but was afraid to open her eyes. It was odd, but though it all felt incredibly real, what if he wasn't really there? What if she had only dreamed the past few hours, and was really lying in her own bed at home, waiting to wake up from this wonderful fantasy back into a world in which Mulder would never, ever do these things to her again? If this was only a dream, then she wanted it to last a few moments longer. An eternity longer. Yet almost against her will, her eyelids cracked open. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Mulder, so real, so vibrantly real, kneeling next to the couch. And he was looking right back at her. He'd been reading her face the whole time, she realized, even as his fingers had pleasured her. His mouth went slack, and she slipped her fingers out, bringing her hand up to his unshaven cheek. He leaned into it, staring at her with those intense eyes of his, so dark, and made even darker by the fact that somehow, all the lights had been turned off. The only source of illumination came from the moonlight that shone through the window in front of his desk. "You're here..." she said, and was mortified to feel the dampness return once again to her eyes. "I will always be here," he answered, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the quietness of the room. "You'd better be," she said. Then, "Where are your clothes?" "I imagine, where I left them." She remembered that they were supposed to be acting out a fantasy. "Aren't you cheating?" she asked. He shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. "I...sped events up a bit. It's my fantasy." "You keep using that excuse." "When it stops being applicable, I'll stop using it," he said in a reasonable tone of voice. It was a pity she so seldom heard it. "Besides," he added, lowering his voice, "you were having so much fun out here on your own that I got jealous." She laughed. He leaned down and spoke directly into her ear in a low, sexy tone. "In my fantasies, only I get to have extended time pleasuring you." A tremor ran through her entire body, causing her nipples to pucker even further. "Isn't that...kind of...selfish?" she gasped. "I guess it is," he admitted, now trailing open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. "Don't you know I'm very selfish when it comes to you, Scully?" He was down to her breasts now, and he licked at a nipple. "I'll work on it." "I don't really m-mind," she said magnanimously, then promptly forgot what their conversation was about as he sucked her nipple into the hot cavern of his mouth and used his tongue and lips to bring her to new heights of ecstasy. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, which were deliciously strong and smooth. Mulder had great shoulders. He leaned over to give equal attention to her other breast, and she took the opportunity to run her hand up the back of his neck, into the lush softness of his hair. It was unfair for a man to have hair this soft. It felt so good between her fingers that she didn't let go even when he began to move lower, kissing the valley between her breasts and then over her stomach, lower and lower until there was no mistaking his intentions. Oh, God, with that mouth of his, and with his talents in using it, there was no way she would be able to postpone an orgasm; she was too close to it already. She wanted to wait for him. Yet her legs began to shake slightly, and her heart rate sped up in anticipation. "M-mulder," she began, but couldn't find the voice to actually hinder his progress. "Do you know how wet you are for me, Scully?" he whispered, having reached his destination. Before she could answer, the flat of his tongue was firmly pressed against her, and the sensation caused her to jerk against his face. He began to lap at her softly, much like a kitten with a saucer of cream. Scully found it impossible to speak. Her vocal chords were paralyzed; or rather, the part of her brain that normally operated them was concentrated on something much different. Mulder was playing with her now, licking and sucking at her with just enough pressure to make it feel good, but not enough to bring her over the edge. He kept this up for some time. The sensations would build and build until she was sure there was no postponing the inevitable, ready to float in a sea of bliss... But then he would prove her wrong, retreating from his efforts, allowing her to return to the plane of simultaneous torture and pleasure that made her think of being on a roller coaster in that breath-stealing moment just as it was about to plunge back down to earth. Any time her body tensed up to prepare for orgasm, he would slow his movements and move his head away so that her feminine core was exposed to the cool air of the apartment. It would take the edge off her need, until he brought his mouth to her again and it started all over. For a long time the only sounds that existed were the sound of Mulder drinking from her steadily dripping fountain and the sound of her small gasps as she tried to control her response. It was true that she hadn't wanted to orgasm yet, not without him, but she was aroused almost to the point of pain. Her clit throbbed so heatedly that she thought she would explode soon. She eventually became so sensitive that even the slightest touch brought more of the pleasurable ache, making it more difficult to keep from climaxing. Mulder seemed to realize this, and went out of his way to keep from touching her there. After long torturous minutes of this, he saw fit to slide his tongue into her, making her cry out, and her hands flew to his head to keep him there. Her inner muscles involuntarily contracted, and were disappointed to find that they were not clutching at a more substantial appendage. She groaned her pleasure and her disappointment. "Please...please..." she whimpered, hoping that Mulder would understand what she wanted, because it was simply beyond her to ask for it more intelligibly. He ignored her at first, continuing to delve in and out of her with his tongue, making her muscles respond as if they were having intercourse. It was wholly unsatisfying, for even as his tongue whetted her appetite, it was far from stimulating her hunger. But then he ceased, sucking at her one last time, and proceeded to slide back up the couch, deliberately rubbing his naked body against hers. Her nerve endings were on the alert, and with every scrape of his chest hair against her sensitive skin, her body was subjected to an intense tremor of need and desire. She ran her hands over the hard planes of chest, then over the smooth expanse of his back as he drew closer. Mulder was so big that for the two of them to fit on the couch, they had to lie on their sides, and Scully's back was pressed up against the back of the couch. Mulder settled himself between her legs, drawing her right knee over his hip. She was exposed in such a position, and could feel his hardness seeking entrance to her body. She eagerly attempted to meet it, rotating her hips and causing him to groan. But he didn't enter her as she had hoped. "Mulder - " She bit her lip in frustration, trying to get him to comply. She slid her arms over his shoulders, clasping her hands behind his neck, attempting to draw him closer. "Shhh." He brought his index finger to her lips, which she promptly sucked into her mouth. He tasted good – warm, salty, and she could taste traces of herself. "Want to know what happens next?" She opened her mouth, and his finger slid out. "I =know= what happens next," she stated a little impatiently. "But you're not cooperating." He grinned, the bastard, seemingly unaffected by the same need that coursed through her veins. "Oh yes," he breathed. "That will happen. As soon as you beg me for it." Her eyes widened slightly, and she let out a puff of air. "That won't happen," she stated haughtily, even as her heart pounded in her chest and she formed the words in her head. Mulder appeared undeterred by her statement, even going so far as to widen his smile in delight. "I'm disappointed, Scully," he purred, and she knew it was a blatant lie. It was obvious her response was exactly what he had expected. "I guess I'll have to work for it, then." His hand came between their bodies, sliding down to the curls between her legs. Oh no. Not that again. She couldn't take more of that. No more teasing. If he started his pleasure-and-retreat tactics again she was going to cave, anyway. So why delay the inevitable when she could have what she wanted right now? She swallowed and licked her lips. He followed the movement of her tongue with hungry eyes. It bolstered her courage. He was not as indifferent as he acted, and she wasn't really "giving in." And it was his fantasy, after all, and she had promised to fulfill it... "Wait." He stopped her as she was about to speak. "Not because it's part of the script, Scully," he rasped. "Only if you really want it." His fingers drew nearer to the spot that craved his touch and her clit throbbed painfully in anticipation. Was he kidding? "I do, Mulder," she answered, tossing all pride to the winds. "Please give it to me." He raised an eyebrow, mischief dancing in his eyes. Obviously, now that he had her, he was going to exploit his advantage. " 'It'? Maybe we're not thinking of the same thing. What exactly is it that you want?" In her head, she promised thousands of Mulder-humiliation scenarios to come, but at the moment he had the upper hand, and sometimes, giving in wasn't giving in at all... "Your =cock=," she whispered, gyrating her hips against him, causing his jaw to drop and a small sliver of saliva to appear at the corner of his mouth. "In me." Recovering, he closed his mouth and said, "Whatever you want, Scully." He positioned himself at her entrance, and already she was contracting her muscles, as if she would somehow be able to draw him inside her when he wasn't paying attention. Slowly, inch by thick inch, he eased his way into her. Farther, farther, more, more, more... She gasped. There was so much of him, and every bit was stretching her, testing her limits. God, how many times had they done this, and still it affected her in this way? The feeling bordered on too much, and she pressed back against the couch in an effort to escape from the near- overwhelming sensation. But she had nowhere to go, and he kept pushing into her, inexorably forging his possession. He was so hot and hard, as if he was made of fire-warmed steel. She melted around him. And then he was pushing against =that spot=, and she couldn't get him close enough. "You feel incredible, Scully," he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he dropped his forehead against hers. She kissed his closed eyelids softly. "You're the one who feels incre...ohhhh," she ended on a moan as he began to move, thrusting in and out with an insistent rhythm before slowing his pace. His eyes opened again, and his lips twisted into a cocky smile. "I thought I'd taken care of all that wetness down there, but you just keep generating more, don't you, Scully?" An answering smile played on her lips and her lashes lowered in modesty. "Actually, it's you who keeps generating more," she countered in a low, sexy voice, and was rewarded by a fierce thrust. "Sorry," he whispered. "Couldn't help myself." "It's okay," she gasped. "You can do it again if you like," she added generously. He did, and she showed her thanks by covering his mouth with hers and engaging him in a long, drugging kiss. Her eyes drifted shut; it was increasingly impossible to keep them open. They kissed; they made love; Scully couldn't imagine any moment more perfect than this. "I want this to last forever," Mulder groaned. Eventually, their languid rhythm was no longer satisfying, and they moved harder against each other. But their position wasn't conducive to more vigorous lovemaking, and Scully soon found herself sitting up on the couch, Mulder pulling out of her. It made her feel empty, and she immediately demanded his return. "Before you know it," he promised. He knelt onto the cushion between her legs, and maneuvered them so that she was sitting on his lap, his cock pressed up between them. "Put your arms around my neck," he said, and she complied straight away. He placed his hands on her knees, pushing them up and out until they were pressed up against the back of the couch. She was completely spread open to him. Positioning himself at her entrance once more, he leaned forward to say in her ear, "Now I've got you exactly where I want you," and promptly thrust back into her. She cried out in surprise. God, that felt amazing. She felt taken. There was nothing she could do to control his movements. He had enclosed her in his embrace and everywhere she turned, everywhere she looked, was Mulder. He pounded into her, and all she could do was tighten her arms around his neck and hang on for the ride as she was rocked against the couch again and again by the driving force of his hips and lower back. Her own back was sticky with sweat, and the feel and sound of it rubbing against the leather material of the couch only added to the eroticism of what they were doing. Without the resistant friction of the leather, the power with which she was being shoved up against it would have had her sliding further and further upwards. But as it was, the laws of physics kept her in position to receive more of the same. As much as she loved relinquishing control to Mulder, she soon decided that the time had come to take some of it back. Her arms slipped from his shoulders, sliding down the taut, hard muscles of his straining arms, down to his wrists. His hands were still firmly pressed against her knees, holding her open as he moved with fierce purpose, inside her. Her hands reached his hands, and her light touch caused him to still his movements. "Mulder," she said softly, her fingers playing with the skin on the back of his hands. He was out of breath. "What's the matter, Scully? Don't you like it?" His brow creased in uncertainty. "I love it," she replied fervently. "But now it's my turn." His hands loosed their grip, and her knees straightened once more, resting against his hips. In one fluid movement, she managed to turn them around so that he was now the one sitting on the couch with her straddling him, all without breaking their connection. "That's better," she said in satisfaction. "This is...rather nice," Mulder murmured, jerking his hips up and causing them both to gasp. "Amazing – you're even capable of topping my fantasies." She only smiled as she began to move on him, easing him out and then taking him back in. Soon she was bouncing up and down on his lap, and he was thrusting his hips up to meet every one of her downward strokes. His hands clutched at her hips, pulling her down on him hard. She was sure she'd have bruises from his fingers in the morning. She couldn't care less. They slammed against one another, each forceful movement eliciting cries from them both. Scully felt the beginnings of the vibrations traveling through her inner muscles that signaled her oncoming orgasm. She licked his lips, coaxing them apart so she could slide her tongue inside. After several moments of gasping into one another's mouths, Mulder gently broke the kiss. "Scully," he breathed against her lips. "Hmm?" She could barely concentrate. Perspiration was trickling into her eyes, making it hard to see. All she could think was, don't stop moving, don't stop moving, don't stop moving... This was without a doubt the most beautiful love they had ever made. So this was what it was like. She sighed blissfully. "Scully." Her name was more insistent-sounding now. Mulder was looking at her with such intense concentration that she was concerned. "What, Mulder?" she asked, pulling back a little so she could see his face more clearly. It was physically impossible for her to stop riding him, so she didn't, but she slowed her pace, and he matched her effortlessly. "Okay, at this point..." he said in a voice that betrayed his need, lifting his hands from her hips to hold her face, his eyes dark pools of quiet desperation, "...you always tell me that you love me." Oh, Mulder. She was sure that he could see her love shining from her eyes even in the dark, even with her back turned from the only source of light into the room. "I love you, Mulder," she said, kissing him gently. The heartfelt truth in her words softened her tone to barely a whisper of breath against his lips. "I love you." His eyes closed. "God...oh GOD Scully..." And he convulsed, shooting into her with a force that made her glad she had such a tight hold on him. Feeling Mulder's hot fluids warm her insides was incredibly stimulating, and she couldn't quite bite back the moan that rose in her throat. She held on as he continued to jerk against her, not ceasing his rapid thrusts, and this, combined with the sheer intensity of his orgasm, set off her own. As she came, she distantly heard Mulder chanting, "I love you, Scully...I love you..." Her own climax had been postponed for so long that when it finally happened, rushing through her body in wave after wave of intense pleasure, it was more powerful than she had ever before experienced, or even imagined was possible. Colors exploded in front of her eyes in a shower of brightness and light, right before the world went a blissful black. Dimly, as if she were somebody else, she recognized that her cheek was pressed against Mulder's. She wasn't sure if the wetness she felt was a result of the tears raining down his face, or hers. After a time, she recovered enough to lift her head, and reached up to brush her hair away from her damp face. She couldn't help but notice that he was looking at her with a sweetly adoring expression, and she was sure he would see the same look on her face. "I love you," he said fiercely, hugging her to him hard. "I know," she murmured, licking at the salty skin over his collarbone, then snuggled against him with a contended sigh. She felt him moving around, rearranging limbs that were too heavy for her to move – including her own. Then he was standing, lifting her into his arms and carrying her into his bedroom. Settling her onto her feet, he made sure that she could stand up on her own before he moved to the closet. "Let me get you some pajamas," he said. "I need underwear." The pair she'd been wearing was somewhere out in the living room, and she didn't feel like going out to find them. It'd take her a month to find them in that mess. And she didn't like wearing clothes without her underwear. "Forget it. No pajamas." She yawned. Mulder turned around, a pair of flannel pajamas in his hands. "I know you like sleeping in your PJs, Scully. Um...you might find some underwear in that drawer over there." He brought a hand up to scratch his head. "What?" "They're clean," he added quickly. Now she was seriously annoyed. He had =women's= underwear in his drawers? If he thought, even for a second, that she was going to wear panties that had been owned by some other woman in his life - possibly Diana Fowley - he had another think coming. And she didn't even want to know what it said about him or his relationships with this past woman - women? - that prompted him to keep the underwear to this day. If it wasn't so late, and if she wasn't so tired, and if she wasn't sure that she would be seriously sore tomorrow as a result of their activities tonight, she might have given in to the impulse to go ballistic and demand an explanation. As it was, ripping Mulder a new asshole would simply have to wait until tomorrow. But she had to see exactly what the hell he thought he was doing, having women's underwear in his possession. Perhaps seeing the evidence would rouse the energy for her to chew him out. Without a word she stalked over to his chest of drawers and yanked the first open, where she knew he kept his boxers. Her head lowered, her hair falling like a curtain over the side of her face so that he couldn't see her expression, she allowed herself a smile - a huge smile of relief and mild irritation. They were hers. All of her missing underwear - save the one pair that had been torn - were sitting, nicely washed, in Mulder's underwear drawer, right next to his boxers. She should probably be disturbed by this discovery, but the relief that he hadn't been keeping some other woman's panties in his possession overshadowed any immediate feelings of aggravation. She was instead only mildly exasperated, especially when she remembered all the times she'd thought she was going crazy, hunting for her underwear high and low, thinking she'd misplaced them. Now she was compelled to ask herself the same question she had asked only moments before, only now the query sounded much different. What did it say about his feelings for her that he would do such a thing? Suddenly she felt giddy. Still looking into the drawer, she tried to mask the smile in her voice when she spoke. She aimed for stern. "Mulder, is there something you want to tell me?" "Uh..." Was that fear on his face? She thought she heard him swallow. Yes, that was definitely fear. She had never seen him look so guilty. He must have known that she would be less than pleased, but had decided to reveal all in spite of it. From the look on his face, he obviously thought that she was going to start cursing a blue streak, raining all sorts of wrath upon him. For some reason, that caused laughter to bubble up inside her, and she was soon overcome with giggles, her annoyance having long since faded. He crossed over to her as she pulled a pair of panties out of the drawer, still smiling, and put them on. Standing before her, he used his thumbs to tuck her hair behind her ears, then gently caressed her face with his fingertips. "I just wanted to have proof...that we were real..." God, she had been on an emotional roller coaster tonight. She alternated between wanting to cry and wanting to laugh with every new revelation. Now, she was overcome by an emotion that made her throat feel thick. He helped her don her pajamas as if she were a little girl, then led her over to the bed. Tucking her securely into the voluminous softness of the covers, he kissed her brow as she wriggled around contentedly. The coolness of his sheets felt heavenly against her heated skin, and it all smelled deliciously like Mulder. Mulder surrounded her. She had all she could ever want. It was an effort to keep her eyes open; she felt incredibly drowsy. But she didn't want to fall asleep before he got into bed beside her and she could feel his arms sliding around her. She could hear him moving around the room, and wondered what he could be doing. "How long have you been in love with me, Mulder?" she asked, trying to keep herself awake. She didn't know where that came from, but now that she had asked, she was interested in the answer. She yawned. He didn't answer right away, probably mulling the question over, and she had to ask herself if his answer mattered. What if he said 'last week'? Would it mean any less than if he said 'five years'? Drawing close to her side of the bed, he studied her with those thoughtful eyes of his as she struggled to keep hers open. "I think..." he hesitated. "I think since I was a single-celled organism, Scully," he answered finally. "As long as I can remember." As he kissed her brow and she drifted off to sleep, she thought dreamily that that was a very good answer. ~~~~~~~~ Mulder's Apartment September 30 7:48 a.m. Something had woken her. It wasn't the heavy arm that was draped across her stomach, or the soft breathing in her ear. She recognized Mulder in those things, and they were only comforting. No, what had prompted her sudden leap to consciousness was a nagging concern. Something wasn't right. Her eyes flew open and a quick glance at the clock told her that they were both going to be late for work this morning. She hated being late. Quickly, her mind flew through her daily calendar – well, as quickly as the fact that she'd just woken up would allow – and breathed a sigh of relief that they didn't have any meetings this morning. She was just about to turn to Mulder and poke him in the shoulder when she noticed the object next to her head on the pillow. It was a piece of paper folded in half, standing on top of what looked like an open book. Grabbing the piece of paper, she unfolded it and read Mulder's bold scrawl: "No work today. Let's call in sick." She smiled. Fine by her. It would look suspicious for them both to call in a sick day, but who cared? That worry over, there was still the mystery of the book. She squinted and recognized Mulder's writing on the open page. It was his journal. First, she was surprised, because she hadn't known that he kept a journal. Second, she was somewhat wary because it was obviously there for her to read. Some images clicked in her mind, and she recognized it as the same item that he had brought to her apartment last night. Had he meant for her to read this then? And how had he placed this here without her knowledge? She didn't know the answer to the first question, but to answer the last, she remembered that she had been out like a light after his answer to her question of how long he'd been in love with her. In the light of day, she flushed in remembrance. God, what a stupid question to have asked. All things considered, it would have been an easy task for him to retrieve the book and place it here for her to find in the morning. But he hadn't had it when they had entered the apartment yesterday – she ought to know; she'd had her hands all over him and was sure she would have noticed a journal in his pants. Then she recalled his muttering something about having left something in the car, and the pieces of the puzzle all fell into place. Okay, now that that little mystery was solved – back to the journal. Did she really want to read it? Perhaps the real question was, now that she knew of its existence, and Mulder's obvious desire for her to read it, how could she not? Carefully sitting up, she ignored the tightening of his arm and the soreness of her muscles. Looked like she'd be spending the day recuperating. Taking the journal, she fluffed her pillow up against the headboard and rested against it. Mulder made little sounds in his sleep, and she leaned down to kiss his sweet- smelling hair. She knew that as long as he had her to put his arm around, he wouldn't wake until his body had gotten the rest it needed. How convenient for her. Calming the little flutter of excitement in her heart, she started to read the page he'd left open for her. It began, "If ever there was a person who loved another on this earth, Scully, I love you." Her face split into a wide grin. Every book should start out like that. ~~~~~~~~ Epilogue ~~~~~~~~ Mulder's Journal September 30 In the early hours of the morning **If ever there was a person who loved another on this earth, Scully, I love you. I know that the first thing you're going to think when you wake up this morning is that we need to talk. You're right. I love talking to you, Scully, and I'm always amazed that you'll waste your breath talking to someone like me. I can only assume that you thrive on aggravation. You're wondering if what happened last night – well, this morning - was something that happened out of desperation or maybe you dreamed it. Or maybe it's just me, because that's exactly how I'm feeling right now. I'm watching you sleep, and I can't imagine a more beautiful sight than you in slumber, Scully. I'm afraid to join you there, because I don't want to wake up in the morning and discover that I've only dreamed all this. I once read something of yours that you never meant for me to see. So I think it's only fair that you get to read this equivalent, which I hope will put to rest any outstanding fears that you might have about how I feel. I can't imagine that anyone could doubt it, but I've made a royal mess of things when it comes to you. It saddens me to think that of all the people in the world, you're probably the one who needs this confirmation most, because of the things I've said, the things I've done. And I am so sorry about that, Scully. I am so sorry. You once told me, "Believing is the easy part." I didn't agree with you then, but...you were right. Believe that I love you, Scully. It's very, very easy. When this all started, it made so much sense, huh? Well, as much sense as two deluded individuals like us could make. Hey, Scully – you're the logical one, you should have seen through all the smoke. All right, you can let go of the family jewels now – I know it was all my fault. Thinking back it was all so stupid. Like "Three's Company" meets "I Love Lucy." Hmm...does that make sense or only to me because it's almost four in the morning? Can't blame us for our hubris, though, right? We're both reasonably mature, strong-minded, stubborn people. If anyone could make it work out, we could, right? So we set up all those rules, thinking we'd be able to compartmentalize, making each other miserable, when all the while we were in love with each other. God, I like the sound of that. We are in love with each other. So simple. So easy. Luckily for us, rules are made to be broken. And every rule we made was worth breaking, Scully – every single one. But you know what? I'm glad we had to go through all that heartache and pain to make this work. No, hear me out – it's not just middle-of-the-night delirium talking (at least, I don't think so). It made us think about the choices we were making, and whether what we had was worth fighting for. We've come such a long way...and I think we've earned the right to be happy. I'm only going to bed now because I have something to look forward to: waking up next to you. And I know I'd let my heart bleed every last drop of blood that it did these past few months, and re-shed every last tear all over again if it meant being able to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. Because it turns out that I'm a very simple man, Scully, with simple needs. All I need is you by my side. I hope that after you read this, Scully, you won't have any doubts about how I feel about you, how much I ache to hold you close to me and show you all the love in my heart. For now I'll let the words written here speak for me. Promise me you'll wake me when you're done, because no matter how much I seem to be enjoying my sleep, I assure you that I'm dying to wake up and see your smile. Oh, and Scully – I know I've asked a lot of you lately, and I must seem like a pretty greedy guy, but I have one more proposition for you. I'll give you the biggest, brightest, most deliriously happy smile you've ever seen...if you'll wake me with a kiss.**

[thisis4fanfiction]

Visitor by The Dragon Lady

Dana Scully woke up to feel a hand trailing its way up and down her thigh. Or at least she thought she woke up... but when she looked down, there was nothing there. Her brain quite fuzzy, she simply sighed, concluded this was some sort of lucid dream, and relaxed back into her pillow, letting the feelings course through her. The hand traced lazy lines, going from her hip to her knee, sometimes outside, sometimes inside her thigh. Never stopping, yet not moving outside those boundaries. Slowly, its territory expanded, grazing the soft, warm skin behind her knees, which made the hairs on her body stand on end. Then it traced the curve of her calf, adding a little pressure, making the caress almost into a massage. Suddenly, she felt a second hand on her other leg, moving up in sure strokes, stopping to tickle her behind the knees, then moving up to the small enclave where her leg met her rear. Tracing light circles there, making her writhe - unable to decide if it was tickling or exciting, but whatever it was... it was *erotic*. She sighed to herself, enjoying it immensely. This was the most vivid wet dream she'd ever had, and she hoped with all her might that her alarm clock wouldn't pick now to ring. Slowly the hands moved up further, caressing her hips, her waist, the flat of her stomach, brushing lightly against the curls of hair, always stopping just short of where she wanted them to go. Exploring, almost tentative, yet tender and possessive at the same time. *Dana, you are most assuredly sleeping,* she thought, *if you're contradicting yourself so thoroughly on the way those hands feel.* While the hands continued to send chills up and down her spine from the caresses, she felt a mouth kiss her, near her navel. That made her let out a slow, drawn-out breath. *Mmmm... why can't I dream something like this every night?* She thought. The mouth moved higher, stopping at each rib to lay out a small pattern of kisses, which the hands then followed in some strange form of connect-the-dots. It was driving her wild. The heat was pervading her system... making her blush, causing her to breathe faster, sensitizing her nipples until they were aching peaks, begging to be touched... and her wish was soon fulfilled. The hands, which had been climbing steadily upwards, happened upon her breasts. At first they stopped, as if it were too personal an act to touch her there, but then slowly, lightly... almost shyly, began to trace the curves, explore the softness, sense the contradictory hardness of her nipples - alternately tracing circles around them or flicking them lightly. Dana didn't think she could stand the sensation. The stroking was creating an electrical reaction within her that made her hips arch upwards involuntarily. And when the mouth finally descended on the small dip above her collarbone, tongue oh so gently tracing the contours before exploring its depth, she could no longer hold back a moan of desire. The heat, which was high before, was getting dangerously close to the boiling point. She was aroused. She was beyond arousal... she wanted resolution, and that very rarely happened in her dreams, leaving her flushed and frustrated when she woke up. "More..." she uttered out loud, hoping that whatever disembodied hands she'd imagined would somehow also have a pair of ears that would hear her pleading. In response, the rhythm of caresses increased. Spread-out fingers followed the sides of her ribs, turning at the shoulders to go up and down her arms, paying special attention to the sensitive skin just above the elbows, nearest her body. At the same time, the mouth began another onslaught; licking, then kissing across her collarbone, then following her pulse all the way behind her ear where she could feel its breath - making her shiver in a way she never had before. The tongue tracing all the lines inside her ear, teeth nipping gently against the lobe, then soothing with a kiss, sucking lightly, as if the mouth didn't want to let go of her ear. In the meantime, the hands had begun to head downwards again, following her contours to once again rest on the flat of her stomach, rubbing and teasing her, venturing as far as the soft curls, tantalizing, merciless. Finally, Dana couldn't handle it anymore. Twisting this way and that to try and move the persistent hands, she finally began to beg. "Please..." The hands stopped. "No, don't stop. *Please* don't stop. I can't take this anymore... take me all the way. I want you to.... I *need* you to..." She had barely said those words when the hands began to move down further, passing through the barrier of curls to reach the moist, heated skin below. She wasn't sure how to react - whether to moan from pleasure or to sigh from relief. What finally came out was something of a compromise... a breathy moan that seemed to come from deep, deep within her. The hands spread her thighs apart, allowing better access to the soft, silky folds. They traced their outlines, occasionally venturing deeper in their exploration, and coming back moistened with her desire, only to begin to trace again, not allowing her to build too quickly. Dana was paralyzed. The sensations going through her were so powerful that she was losing herself, focusing only on the hands, and their ultimate targets. It was almost mystical, as if her spirit had descended in the depths of herself, to pool at her center. She felt one finger reach deep within her, testing her openness. As if satisfied, she felt it withdraw only to have two fingers slowly penetrate her. She twitched involuntarily, not believing that something so intense could happen. She didn't want to wake up. Didn't *ever* want to wake up. She just wanted to stay in this imaginary world, content to feel the fire spreading through her, content to writhe in pleasurable agony. Just when she thought she couldn't possibly feel anything more powerful, the fingers began to slide in and out of her, creating a rhythm that had her hips undulating reflexively. And that's when the thumb found it. Her most sensitive spot, a bundle of nerves creating havoc in her. Shocked by the feel, she let out a startled cry, circling her hips to incite the thumb to tease, circle, rub faster. She could feel the tension building, felt her stomach muscles tensing as she lifted herself, pulling her shoulders off the bed. It was incredible. There were no words to describe those sensations. She'd been made love to, but never with such intensity, with such results. She was trembling and breathing faster, tensing more and more, feeling the moment approaching. "Faster," she gasped, her voice barely audible, and as the thumb responded, increasing the pressure while circling ever more quickly, she felt herself arch upwards. This was it... the release she had been pleading to have, and as she felt herself clench around the fingers she dropped her head back, gasping. Time seemed to stop as she lost contact with the exterior world, losing herself in the pulsing and the electricity. Slowly she started to relax, lowering herself back to her bed. Her skin was flushed and covered with a thin film of sweat. She was breathing quickly, and there was a pleasant warmth in her lower abdomen. "Wow!" was all she could utter. Yes, she'd had dreams like this, but *never* this intense. This was going to be one for posterity, and as soon as she had recovered she would make sure her diary got every last sensual detail. Dana felt the fingers slowly exit her, despite the tightness she still felt. *What's going to happen now?* She thought. The other hand, which had been inactive during the last portion drew a lazy line upwards, starting from her navel - the mouth's original contact point - and stopped on her face, caressing her cheek. Slowly, it drew a finger lightly across her lips, making them ache for another touch, and then retreated as she felt the mouth place a light, tender kiss on her lips. It was a parting kiss, as though the hands and mouth had done their job, and were now moving on. The hand slid off her cheek slowly and she lost touch with those ethereal instruments of pleasure. Dana waited, almost expectantly, but the touch did not come back, and she finally drifted down into darkness, returning to what she later explained to herself as a deeper state of sleep. A dreamless sleep where she temporarily forgot about what had just happened. *** At 6:30 am her alarm went off and she reached out to press the snooze button, not quite yet ready to join the world of the conscious. Rolling back to the warm spot in the bed, she stretched languorously and yawned. As per her usual morning ritual, she searched her mind to remember the previous night's dreams. With a smile she remembered the 'encounter' she'd had the night before. Lightly, she recreated some of the caresses, remembering the feel of the hands and that sensual mouth on her body. She guided her hand downwards, reaching her center, to find it still quite moist. That had been *some* dream to make her react physically. Sighing softly, she let herself drift off again, only to be roused a few minutes later by the radio as her alarm went off again. The soft rock station was playing one of her favorite songs from Phil Collins: In The Air Tonight. It made her laugh, the way some of the words were so reminiscent of her dream. The telephone picked that inopportune moment to drag her out of her reverie and re-introduce her to the much-less-fun real world. Taking in a deep breath to brace herself, Dana got out of bed and walked over to the living room where her cordless phone was demanding attention. It was her mother, telling her that she wouldn't be able to visit her this week, as her neighbor had fallen ill, and she was helping nurse him back to health. *Great,* thought Scully, *that means I'll be alone tonight, again.* Her somber thought suddenly got much lighter as she thought of the possibility of having another such dream. Yes, it would definitely make up for her mother's inability to visit... **** "Morning, Scully." She looked up to see her partner, who was holding a cup of coffee for her. "Hi Mulder. And to what do I owe this visit?" He gave her one of his boyish grins. "What? Do I have to explain my motives to my favorite partner?" "Only partner," she corrected, "no one else want to have anything to do with you." She winked, to take the sting out of her words. He gave her his patented abandoned puppy dog look, and broke out into a grin again. "Ooohhhh.. I'm hurt. So, how are you this morning?" "I'm fine. Thanks for asking." "Actually, if I do say so myself, you look positively glowing. What's your secret?" "Nothing special... I went to bed early and got a good night's sleep." She gave him one of her enigmatic smiles. No way was she going to tell *him* about that dream. "Well, you should do that more often... Makes your skin radiant." She blushed. Why was he in such a good mood? "You don't look too bad yourself... What happened, did you get an 'unwrap it yourself' singing telegram?" He laughed at that. She saw a flicker in his eyes. He was keeping something from her, she was sure of it. "Better..." "Okay, what?" She bit. Why not... he seemed like he was bursting at the seams. Something *had* happened, she just didn't know what. "Oh, it's not important." "Sure, fine, Mulder. You still haven't told me why you came to visit." "No reason actually. I just thought you might like some coffee. That's all." "That's all? No tips on the latest mutant? No latent government conspiracy? No little green men?" "Nope." She smiled. He was *definitely* acting out of character. But unfortunately, she didn't have the time to try and figure him out. "Well, Mulder, as much as I'd love to socialize right now, I have some pressing autopsy reports to finish up, so I'll have to wish you a nice day, and see you along." "Fine... dump me... see if I care." He winked at her, and moved to leave. Right before he exited her office her turned around and opened his mouth, as if to speak. He stopped. "Yes, Mulder?" "Oh, nothing Scully. Nothing." He exited, and that was the last she saw of him all day. ******* Dana had a hard time falling asleep that night. She chalked it up to the tension from her workday, but deep down inside, she also knew it was anticipation of what might happen tonight. Would she have another of those dreams? Would it be as intense, or more along the line of her regular dreams? Could she handle the disappointment if last night had been a once in a lifetime occurrence? *Get a grip!* She told herself. *You'll never get any sleep if you don't calm down.* She started to do some breathing exercises, tricks she had learned a long time ago when she had taken a course on relaxation techniques with Melissa, who had dragged her out to them. Vaguely she remembered Mulder telling her how he'd started taking some similar classes recently, although his goal seemed different than hers had been. She let her mind wonder at the possibilities as she felt the familiar heaviness of her limbs, and then simply blocked all thoughts from her mind as she drifted off to a peaceful slumber. The hand came again. She could feel it caressing her cheek, tracing the contours of her face, exploring every detail as if it were trying to memorize her features. Dana simply sighed and let herself become overwhelmed by the sensations. She kept her eyes closed this time, knowing that she wouldn't see anything if she opened them... in her dream that is. The mouth came soon afterwards, following the exact pattern the hands had traced moments earlier, covering every inch of her face before landing on her lips. Scully gasped. This time the mouth did not just graze her lips lightly. It was insistent, possessing, hungry. It nudged insistently, demanding silently that she open up to it, and she did, gasping at the feel of a hot tongue exploring her. She fought back, her own tongue dueling for contact, demanding entrance to that mouth so that she too might explore. And as this exchange was taking place, a new factor came into play. Dana gasped as she felt a body, most definitely a man's body, lower itself on her. Quickly she broke contact of the kiss, opening her eyes and looking down to see nothing there. Yes, this was a particularly strange dream, but she wasn't about to try and wake up because the hands, which had stilled at the kiss, were now working overtime on her sides. She moaned lightly at the feel of the caress, and closed her eyes again. Fine, if she couldn't see anyone, then she would just have to fill in the blanks and imagine someone. A smile crossed her lips as her partner's face began to materialize before her closed lids. Mulder? *Why not,* she thought to herself, *it's not like there's any chance of this ever happening to us anyway, so why not just go with the flow for once. This is safe, it has no consequences, I say go for it.* She was aware of a much smaller voice in the back of her mind warning her this was not a good idea, but as the body began to move over her, the voice lost all importance and was forgotten in the rush of heat. The hands, which had been busy at her sides, started migrating upwards, reaching her arms and slowly nudging them over her head. She felt fingers interlace with hers, holding her prisoner as the man's body adjusted to a new position over her. She felt his knees slide down to kneel at each side of her thighs, his body pressing down more strongly against hers. A cry of surprise was wrenched from her as he began to rub against her, skin gliding against silky skin (she had decided to not wear anything to bed that night). As the combined caress from his weight, his muscular texture and the sparse, springy hair on his chest worked its magic, Dana felt a throbbing heat work its way from her lower abdomen to all parts of her body. Instinctively, she began to match his movements, twisting, arching, looking for new ways to try and touch his body without using her hands, which were still interlocked with his well above her head. continued in part 2 *********** FoLC, DueSer and X-Phile Relationshipper From: nlemie@po-box.mcgill.ca (The Dragon Lady) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Visitor (NC-17) Part 2 of 4 Date: Sun, 14 Jul 1996 17:34:18 -0500 Disclaimer in part 1 Visitor by The Dragon Lady (nlemie@po-box.mcgill.ca) His mouth, in the meantime, had not been idle. He had been kissing her passionately, causing her to respond likewise, seeking desperately to feel the depths of his mouth, taste the furthest corners, memorize all the details. Always probing, further, deeper, as if she needed to reach his inner core. Suddenly he broke contact, retreating slightly as if examining her face, and Dana smiled as she imagined hazel eyes looking deep into hers, waiting for the final permission, for her to grant final and complete access to her body. Her smile widened, and she took the time to take a breath, then a sudden fever overtook her and she quickly cried out "Yes!". She wanted more, and if he was waiting for permission, she wasn't going to take another second to give it. "Now, take me. Please don't stop." The onslaught began again, more feverish this time. His hands glided back down her arms and stopped only when they had reached her breasts, now quite sensitized from the earlier body contact. She felt his hands cupping, massaging, tracing each hard nipple, keeping the contact to a feather-like touch. Driving her wild with the desire to feel a more fervent caress. She arched her back, trying to push herself into his hands, but he responded by backing away, not allowing her the satisfaction of full contact. She whimpered faintly, trying to get her point across, but unable to formulate the simplest of words. In a last desperate attempt she felt for his head, and pulled his sensual mouth down to her peaks, pressing it there, forcing him to respond, which he did. First he kissed each nipple lightly, making contact even more softly than the fingers had. Then he slowly, deliberately passed his tongue over her hardened nipples, allowing the cooling moisture to work its magic. Finally, he began to suckle, nip and soothe, causing Dana to writhe uncontrollably under him. She wanted more... she wanted much more, and as her hands were now free to roam she began to explore his back, feeling the muscles move under her hands as he busied himself on her breasts. She continued to move lower, feeling the curve of his lower back, the touch of firmness of his rear, the softness of the skin on his thighs... Slowly she felt her way towards his front, feeling his arousal quite clearly, tracing his length, stroking him, reveling in the silkiness which sheathed his hardness. She could feel him tremble lightly, and she knew that her ministrations were having the desired effect. She reached back up to his face, plucking him from her breast to pull him back to her mouth, hungry for another kiss, and wanting much more than his caresses. As he was kissing her again, she reached down yet again, guiding him to her, inciting him to enter, ravish her, possess her in the fullest sense of the word. He froze for a second, as if unsure of this... as if he'd gone too far. Dana simply took his hand, guiding it to her entrance, showing him how ready, how needy she was; allowing him to trace her folds a few times before she pulled him away, wanting much more than what his hands could offer. She cupped him again, decidedly positioning him right at the entrance, holding him there so that he knew there was no other option. He stopped kissing her, leaning his forehead against her tenderly as he finally began to enter her, penetrating slowly, giving her time to adjust, giving her time to feel him take her. She reached down and pulled on his rear, making him enter her faster, pushing him as far as possible in into her, wanting the contact to be absolute. She held him that way, imprisoned, unable to move, just wanting to memorize the feel of her stretching around him, suddenly wishing fervently that this *were* Mulder instead of a fabrication of her unconscious mind. And at that second he began to move... to pull out slowly only to plunge back in. Dana met his thrusts, lifting her hips to meet him, needing the contact, wanting the greatest depth, feeling herself moving instinctively. She reached for his head, which had been resting lightly next to hers, cheek against cheek. She pulled his face to hers, kissing him with every ounce of fervor she had, wanting him to thrust deeply into her mouth in the same way he was possessing her below. She was opening herself fully. Wanting the merger to be complete, visualizing her partner melding with her, inseparable, permanently recreating the sensations which were coiling in her. Tightening. Spiraling upwards. Dizzying. Unstoppable. And as she felt herself finally slipping over the edge, she heard her voice, at a distance, crying out his name. "Mulder!" Then all was lost, and she began a creature of light, warmth emanating from all over her body. Floating, unable to concentrate on anything but her pulsating, vibrating core. She never wanted this to end, never wanted to come back to earth. Always, forever, this release. Finally the intensity began to decrease, and she could feel herself breathing heavily. Trembling, she clung to him, feeling that he was releasing as well, feeling his tightness, his spasms. Hearing not a cry from this imaginary man, who was holding her in a way that felt so real. Exhausted, she collapsed back down - letting the mattress cradle her tired limbs. Yes, this was *definitely* better than reality. If she never had any other dream but this one, she would be a happy woman. She felt him begin to relax, lowering himself and putting more of his weight on her. She reached up again to wrap her arms around him, cradling his head, letting it drop high up against her chest, so that her chin was touching the top of his head. She ran her fingers through his hair, feeling the silky smoothness of his short, well-cropped locks. Again, this reminded her of her partner, and she made a mental note to be careful and not get too involved in her descriptions. It would not be healthy if she began to fantasize about him while she was awake too. Sighing, she let her hands fall back down, unable to combat the lethargy that was creeping over her. She would be going back to a deeper stage of sleep soon. Trying to stay conscious, she wondered what the chances were of having two such dreams two nights in a row. What had she done to induce these? Unable to actually formulate an answer she relaxed, letting her mind wander, then slowly cloud over. She felt him stir, slowly lifting himself off her. She tried to pull him back to her, but he intercepted her arms. He kissed her softly, as he had the night before. Bidding her good-bye. The separation was unbearable and she felt tears begin to escape from her still-closed eyes. A trembling hand wiped them away, and caressed her cheek softly, letting the length of his fingers trail down to her chin as if he didn't want to lose contact either. Finally he broke away, and she felt him lift off her completely as if he were floating off. Dana touched her cheek where he'd placed his last caress and continued to cry softly. This whole experience was too much to fathom. It had felt so real. Yet it was a dream. Such an amazing dream... Unable to explain how this could be she smiled to herself and reached for her arm. A pinch should be sufficient to prove her theory. After all, she *was* a scientist, so this would be just the proof she needed. She touched her forearm and took a good sized fold of skin, squeezing tightly. She froze. That had hurt. Wait a minute! You're not supposed to feel the pinch when you're dreaming. She broke out into a cold sweat. It *had* to be a dream. Come on! Otherwise it would mean... that would have been... Her mind was unable to accept the idea that something else could have happened. Despite her work with the X-Files, she refused to believe that this could have been a ghostly encounter. It just wasn't *possible*! She had been dreaming, and she would be waking up. Any second now... She waited and nothing happened. She sat up in bed the rest of the night. Unable to sleep. Waiting for the moment when her eyes would open into her dark bedroom, confirming her theory. Unfortunately, they never did, and as the light of dawn began to filter into her room, Dana dragged herself out of bed and into her shower, preparing for the long day ahead. ********* Fox Mulder walked into his office with a smile on his face, a bounce in his step, and a song in his heart. He took one look at his partner, who was already in and waiting for him, and froze. Her eyes were red-rimmed, sunken, and with dark lines underneath. Her nose was reddish as if it had been running, and her mouth was drawn into a tight line. It looked as if she had been crying, or as if she were sick. She was immersed in a file, unaware of his arrival. He walked towards her, waiting for her to acknowledge him. When she didn't he walked right up to her and put his hand on her shoulder to get her attention. What he wasn't expecting was the reaction he got. Scully jumped out of her chair, let out a yelp and dropped the file on the floor, letting the pages fly all through the office. "Whoa! Take it easy! It's just me." He tried to say in soothing tones. "Oh, Mulder! I'm sorry. You sneaked up on me and I jumped. I'm sorry. Here, let me pick up this mess." He held her back as she went to kneel down to pick up the papers strewn across the floor. "Scully is something wrong?" "No. Everything's fine. Why would you say that?" She didn't meet his gaze, and that only made him more suspicious. "Scully, look at me." She stopped and turned her gaze towards his. He looked into her eyes, trying to find the key to her discomfort. Trying to see what was really going on, because she obviously wasn't just going to tell him. "I'm fine, Mulder. Really. I just didn't get much sleep last night." Which was all perfectly true, she kept repeating to herself. But she wasn't about to tell him why she hadn't gotten much sleep. Despite Fox Mulder's propensity to believe, this was *way* beyond the scope of reality, even for the X-Files. "Is that all? Really? You know, Scully, I call myself your partner, but I like to think I'm more than that. I'm your friend. If you need to talk to someone, I'm here. You know that, right?" She tried her best at smiling. Of *course* he was her friend. All the more reason not to tell him that not only had she been having strange visitations for two nights in a row, but that the night before she'd actually fantasized it was him touching her in such an intimate way. Friends just didn't think that way about each other. And as much as she wanted this man, and as deeply as she realized she loved him, she couldn't risk finding out he didn't love her that way. When she didn't answer him he simply took that as her way to distance herself from him, so he backed off. "Well, okay, Scully. Just as long as you know that.... You don't look so good. Would you rather take a sick day? I could hold down the fort. There's no pressing investigation. Go home and sleep." "NO!" "Huh?" *Now* he was puzzled. What had he done wrong? "I mean no..." She faltered, trying to get herself out of this situation. "I'm not sick, and I'm not tired... Yes, I didn't get much sleep last night, but I really don't think I could fall asleep right now." *And risk the chance of another 'visitation',* she thought. "You sure?" "Yes, I'm sure. I think an investigation is what I need; to get my mind focused on something new. That should help me get some sleep tonight." "Well, you're out of luck, Scully. There's not a case in sight. There are, however, lots of reports to write up, and you and I both know how soporific that can get." He grinned widely. She smiled back. Perfect. There was nothing like boring, mindless -yet intensive- work to make you stop thinking about things. Scully grabbed a half dozen folders, went to the small desk she used temporarily when working in Mulder's office, and activated the computer. Nine hours later, after having stopped for a lunch break, it was time to go home. Dana wasn't sure the last report would even be coherent. Her thoughts had gotten quite jumbled towards the end. Her eyes were closing of their own volition, and her head was just starting to fall towards the keyboard when she heard Mulder's voice right behind her. "Okay, Scully. It's time to call it a day. You look absolutely beat, and this type of work has me climbing the walls. Those reports will still be there tomorrow morning. Come on, I'll take you home. You're in no condition to drive." He handed her her purse and coat, then walked back towards his desk to pick up his own coat. She tried to mumble an excuse to stay longer but he wouldn't hear of it. He ushered her out of the office before she could string together a complete sentence, and pushed her down the hall towards the elevator. Once in his car, he took the time to look at her again, asking once more if she was alright. "I'm fine, Mulder. How many times do I have to tell you?" "As many times as it takes until I get the truth from you." She met his gaze and gave him her best authoritative look, trying to make him stop pestering her. He finally caved in and turned his attention to driving. The ride was quite silent... Scully not willing to let on anymore as to what was going on with her, and Mulder unsure how to approach what was obviously wrong with his partner. He pulled up to her building and got out, opening the door for her like a perfect gentleman. He walked her up to her apartment and waited until she had unlocked the door before he turned around, leaving without saying good-bye. Suddenly faced with her empty apartment, Scully panicked. "Mulder, wait!" He turned back towards her, expectantly. "It's early yet... would you like to come in? We could order something, watch an old movie, play a game, or something." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. Although this wasn't unusual practice, it surprised him that after such a silent day and car ride over that she would suddenly be so anxious for company. "You sure there's nothing wrong, Scully?" "Nah. It's just that I had nothing planned tonight, and it's Wednesday... there's nothing good on TV." He hesitated a moment longer, then finally gave in. He had anticipated ordering something at home anyway, and this way he might actually have a chance to find out what was wrong with her. "Okay. Sounds like fun." He smiled, and noted her smile back in relief. The pizza was finished, they had played three games of Scrabble, and were well into their game of Trivial Pursuit when the clock struck ten. Surprised that it was so late, Mulder yawned, stretched, and got up to leave. It was late and his partner hadn't been sleeping well, so she should be getting to bed. "Aw, come on, Mulder. The game isn't over yet." "Nah. It's no contest, I could beat you at it any day Scully." He taunted. "Could not!" "Could too!" "Prove it!" "Well, as much as I'd love to, it's late, and you really look like you could get some sleep. I've been sleeping like a baby for the past few nights, and I feel like a new man." He saw her eyes cloud over when he mentioned her sleeping, then pick up when he mentioned sleeping so well. "Fox Mulder... sleeping like a baby? What's wrong with this picture?" Mulder laughed. Okay, so usually he didn't sleep that well, but he'd just recently learned how to remedy that. He'd been taking a course in relaxation techniques from a friend of his. "I've got a friend who does meditation, relaxation, and all sorts of neat stuff like that. He's taught me a few breathing exercises and mental tricks. It's been working like a charm. In fact, every night I just keep feeling better and better." He wasn't about to tell her that part of the reason for this was some dreams he'd been having. No way was he going to share those with her! "Lucky you!" She faltered. Obviously she had let something slip, something he hadn't been meant to hear. continued in part 3 *********** FoLC, DueSer and X-Phile Relationshipper From: nlemie@po-box.mcgill.ca (The Dragon Lady) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Visitor (NC-17) part 3 of 4 Date: Sun, 14 Jul 1996 17:36:23 -0500 Disclaimer in part 1 Additional R rating for language in this section. Visitor by The Dragon Lady (nlemie@po-box.mcgill.ca) "What do you mean?" "Oh, nothing. It's just that in our line of work full nights of sleep are so rare that you're lucky to be getting some." "Scully, you and I have been pulling the same hours for months now. There's no reason why you couldn't have gotten a good night's rest... At least, no work-related reason." She stopped, volunteering nothing further. "Scully... is something happening that I should know about?" He tried to pry this from her as gently as possible. "Are you having nightmares? ... experiencing flashbacks?" He hated having to bring this up, but her abduction was something they never talked about, and if she was starting to remember something and it was terrifying her, he needed to know. "Oh, no... no!" Her gaze was quite sincere, so he let that pass. Okay, so something *else* was wrong with her. "Well, if nothing is wrong, then I guess I'll be calling it a night." He saw the flash of fear go through her eyes again, despite the fact she tried to disguise it. Mulder made like he hadn't seen it, moved towards the door, hearing Scully get up to come and lock up after him. At the last second, he turned around, grabbed her by the shoulders and stared her straight in the eyes. This had the desired effect. Scully, having not expected this, was completely off balance. He took this opportunity to ask again. "Scully, what's wrong?" "No- No- Nothing, Mulder..." "Don't lie to me. I can tell. Now, please... what's wrong?" "I told you, I can't sleep." "Why? Why can't you sleep? Is it nightmares? What is it?" "It's not nightmares. Really Mulder, it's... it's..." She faltered as her eyes began to mist over with tears. He wasn't letting up, and she could no longer hold up the mask of bravery. "Tell me, Scully." His voice was soft, so full of emotion and caring that she finally broke down and began to sob. She pulled away from his grasp and ran over to the couch, hiding her face in his hands. Ashamed that he would see her like this... again. She saw his blurry shape approach from the corner of her eye and moved over so he would have room to sit. Her crying wasn't showing any signs of letting up. He reached for her face, forcing her to turn towards him. He slowly pulled the hair away from her eyes and gave her his most honest, most tender, most caring look as he asked again, gently. "Tell me..." Scully couldn't resist him anymore. She had fought with the fear, and didn't want to face it alone again. Slowly, through much crying, pausing for air and then finally hiccuping as her tears started to subside, she told him the whole story. Told him about the first visit, the hands and the mouth. Told him about how she'd thought it was a dream, despite it's vividness. Told him about the second visit, about the actual feel of a man's body pressed against her, about the tenderness with which he'd made love. About the way she had finally pinched herself, to prove it had all been a fabrication of her semi-conscious mind, and then of the gut-wrenching fear when she had realized that she hadn't been dreaming, hadn't been sleeping. It had all happened, and she didn't know what to do about it. She didn't have an explanation for it, and she was too afraid to try and find one. Too afraid to go back to sleep. All this time Dana hadn't looked her partner in the eyes, preferring to examine her hands, her feet, the pattern in the carpet... anything to make sure she wasn't distracted while she told her story, because she had been sure that if she'd stopped she wouldn't have been able to finish. Finally, once she had told him everything, she took a deep breath before looking back into his face to see his reaction. Would it be incredulity, interest for a possible X-File, disgust that she had actually enjoyed the experience, sympathy for a friend who was at her wit's end? What she saw was none of those. Fox Mulder's eyes were as round as saucers, and his mouth was hanging open. It looked as if he weren't even aware that he had probably stopped breathing from shock. His hands were hanging limply at his sides, and he looked about ready to pass out. "Mulder.... Mulder? Mulder!" Dana tried to snap him out of whatever it was that was happening. "Mulder can you hear me? Mulder what's wrong?" She took him by the shoulders and shook him. He seemed to revive a little with that treatment. He closed his mouth and blinked, then took a deep breath, seemingly bracing for something. "Scully... I ... I ... I don't know what to say." She didn't like his reaction. Something was definitely off, and she was almost worried to ask. Her partner had barely flinched when he'd seen desecrated graves. This had to be *real* bad. "Scully... I'm sorry. Really, really sorry." "Sorry for what, Mulder?" He got up to leave, but she pulled on his arm and forced him to sit back down again. "What do you have to be sorry about? It's not your fault." He flinched visibly. "Mulder, as much as I'd love to try and find a rational explanation for this, there isn't one. I have had some sort of visitation, and as clever as you are, and as knowledgeable of X-Files and other mysterious phenomena as you are, there's nothing you could have done to prevent this. Now what we need to do is investigate what is going on and see if we can get this to stop." He got up and started pacing the room, muttering incoherently. "I can't believe... this can't be... I don't understand... this doesn't normally happen... he should have warned me... heck, I've seen it myself..." Scully followed his back and forth progression in front of her couch. He knew something, and she needed to find out if she wanted to ever have a decent night's sleep again. "Mulder... whatever it is... *tell me*! It can't be any worse than it is now!" He froze like a deer caught in headlights. Suddenly, he sprinted towards the door. "I have to go Scully. You'll have to trust me on this. It won't be happening again." She jumped up and ran right past him, blocking the door. "And just how do you propose to do that? By calling the Ghostbusters? Mulder, if you know what it is, tell me!" "I really don't think you want to know." It was her turn to grab him by the shoulders, and she pushed him into the wall. "Mulder, you're not going anywhere until you tell me everything you know." She pulled out her gun to prove her point. "Now, you know I don't want to use this, but I need answers desperately, and you have them. Please... tell me. What was it?" He looked into her eyes, pleading with her to let him go, looking more like a trapped animal every second. "Mulder, what was it? Answer me!" He flinched, then took in a shaky breath. His head dropped and he seemed to withdraw into himself as he uttered one syllable. "Me." "What?" "Me, Scully. It was me." She let him go; unable to fathom the response she'd just gotten. It made no sense. "This is no time for jokes, Mulder." "Believe me, I wish I were joking." "But- That's- It's impossible, Mulder!" "No, it's not." "Yes it is. I think I'd have known it was you. As much as you may like B movies, there's no such things as making yourself invisible." "Don't do this, Scully." "Don't do what? You drop a bombshell, saying you're the one who's the invisible nightly visitor! What am I supposed to do????" He sighed, shaking uncontrollably. "Just let me go, Scully. I swear it won't happen again." "No way! Not until you explain how it happened in the first place... and that's assuming I believe your story... which I don't! What did you do, Mulder? Study from a ninja? Buy some invisible paint from ACME? Cast a spell?" "Astral projection." "What?" "You heard me. Astral projection." "Mulder, there's no such thing - " "Isn't there?" He bit back, beginning to regain control of himself. "Then *you* explain what happened last night and the night before that..." She just stood there, unable to speak. Unable to rationalize away the events. And then suddenly it wasn't so much that the events *had* happened, it was that he had made them happened. "You bastard!" She yelled at him. "You son of a bitch! You did this to me!" She punched him in the jaw, felling him with one hit. He slammed into the floor, groaning. Scully moved away from him, running into the kitchen, trying to keep a distance from him even though she wasn't thinking very clearly. She felt abused, violated. He had come unbidden, and done things with her that she had not wanted him to know about. *Oh god!* She suddenly thought. *I cried out his name! How he must have laughed at that!* She began to cry again, silently, not wanting him to have the satisfaction of hearing her. She was sitting on the counter in the darkest corner of the room, facing the door. She saw him push himself off the ground and get on his feet unsteadily. He walked up to the kitchen door frame. "Don't come any closer." "Scully, let me explain." "Explain what? How you had your way with me? How you willingly entered my home, and did things to me without my consent?" She saw the life in his eyes die away. He was breaking into a thousand pieces, yet she didn't want to stop him. He had brought it upon himself. "I didn't know..." That was all he said, but it was enough to make her stop and look at him. "What? You expect me to believe that?" "Scully, you're my partner, my best friend... you're *more* than that! Do you honestly think I would hurt you on purpose?" She stopped for a second, honestly pondering the question. Before that night she would have answered immediately, unhesitatingly. No. She had trusted him implicitly, which made this hurt that much more. "I trusted you with my life. But not anymore." His face paled even more. He was hurting. She could see that, and that didn't make sense, but she was too hurt to try and figure it out. "I trust you too. I've told you, you're the *only* one I trust. I would *never* hurt you." "Then why did you do it?" "I didn't." Her temper flared again. "You just told me you did! Don't insult my intelligence." "I mean I did... but I didn't." "Oh, is that anything like being dead, but not dead? You either did it, or you didn't, and you already told me you did." She spat at him. "Scully please... let me explain. All I ask for is five minutes. Listen to me for five minutes, and then you can shoot me. I probably deserve it." "Don't tempt me." She bore her angry gaze right into his, analyzing his reactions. Despite her better judgment, what she read there seemed like the truth. Some of her old 'partnered' persona came through and she softened just a touch. "Alright, you have five minutes. Walk back into the living room and sit on the couch." He did so immediately, looking quite relieved that she had complied with his request. She followed him from a distance, choosing to sit on the chair across from the couch. "I guess there's only one place to start... from the beginning." She held back a bitter retort, preferring to keep her silence while he started his narrative. "You know that I often have problems sleeping... Most of the times it's nightmares, or else stress from the job... my mind racing through facts or seeing those horrible crime scenes again and again. Needless to say I don't get much rest, and while it's never bothered me that much before, I had begun to really resent not being able to sleep properly." "So finally I gave in and went to see one of my friends, Mark, who practices many relaxation and meditation techniques. He also does astral projection. He taught me some of the basics... breathing techniques, visualizing my relaxation, the Chacras... how to open them, how to gather energy into them. I was kind of fascinated. I'd always wanted to try something like that, but I didn't think that I could do it." "Anyway, after a few lessons, he told me I had enough and that I should go home and practice the exercises. He warned me that this was a slow learning process and that while I would feel the benefits of the relaxation techniques almost immediately, it would take a long time before I'd be able to enter the proper state to project my astral body. That was a week ago." "So?" Scully interrupted, eyeing the clock. He had two minutes left. "So I went home and practiced the techniques. However, we worked late, and so the only time I had to practice was right before bedtime. I guess I was so exhausted that by the time I'd begun to relax properly and work with the Chacras, I fell asleep." "You fell asleep?" "Yes, every time I tried. But..." "But?" "After the first couple of nights, my dreams began to change. I dreamt... or now I realize I *thought* I dreamt... that I was actually projecting my body. For the first couple of nights, I just floated around D.C. I didn't really make anything of it. I've had dreams of flight most of my life. These felt more vivid, but I figured it was because I was more relaxed when I fell asleep." "And then what happened?" Scully was beginning to see the picture. Now she was curious to hear the end of his explanation, no longer mindful of the clock or the time he had left. "And then the next night I decided - keep in mind I was sure this was a dream... perhaps some form of lucid dream..." He stopped and looked at Dana, as if waiting for confirmation. She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. She had thought the same thing during the encounters. "Well, then I happened upon your building and I found myself inside, looking at you sleeping. This, again, wasn't very different from other dreams I'd had." He stopped and blushed a deep crimson. This was more than he had ever wanted to share with her. "I'd had... encounters... with you in dreams. So this wasn't anything new... Only more vivid." It was her turn to blush. She'd had some too. More times than she wanted to admit. continued in part 4 *********** FoLC, DueSer and X-Phile Relationshipper From: nlemie@po-box.mcgill.ca (The Dragon Lady) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Visitor (NC-17) part 4 of 4 Date: Sun, 14 Jul 1996 17:37:15 -0500 Disclaimer in part 1 Visitor by The Dragon Lady (nlemie@po-box.mcgill.ca) "So to me, all I did was dream. And I woke up well-rested. Nothing was wrong, as far as I could tell, until I saw you in the office this morning." His voice trailed off as he finished his story. There was nothing more he could say. It was up to her to decide if she forgave him. After a long pause she spoke up. "So you're saying that you weren't aware you were floating around outside your body?" "Not consciously, no. And I certainly wasn't expecting it either. I told you what Mark had said. It wasn't supposed to happen for weeks, if at all." Dana finally looked into his eyes, trying to read him. After a long search, she realized he was telling the truth. He had never wanted to hurt her, and he was deeply sorry that he had. Sighing, she let the last of the resentment drain out of her. Deep down she had known that Mulder would never have purposefully hurt her. Still, it was the most bizarre tale she'd ever heard, and she'd heard plenty. The difference was that this was Mulder who was telling it, and she no longer had a reason not to believe him. He had opened himself fully to her, revealing things she knew he didn't want her to know, and he still looked like he was ready to pull out his gun and shoot himself at her command. Slowly, carefully, she reached out to push the hair from his forehead, then wiped away the tears which she hadn't even realized he'd been shedding. She wasn't sure how to make him understand that she had believed him, that she wasn't angry at him anymore, that he was forgiven. Searching for a way to put that across, she decided to try and lighten the mood. "So, you see me in your dreams?" She laughed nervously as she saw him turn a shade of pink she'd never seen on him before. He shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. "Well, I guess I should have known you'd have figured it out sooner or later." "Why didn't you tell me?" "What?" "You heard me." He laughed at that. "How? What did you want me to say? 'Here, Scully, these are the plane tickets for the case in Idaho, oh and by the way, I make passionate love to you in my dreams' Let's get real, here! You would have knocked me out." "Well, I did anyway, didn't I?" She moved to touch his jaw, which had begun to swell and was turning a shade of purple in the spot where she'd punched him. "You have a point." He cracked a grin of his own, moving out of the way before she touched the sore spot. "You're the psychologist... I'm sure there could have been a way." "Sure there was a way... in fact, you don't want to know how many scenarios I've run through my head, trying to find the proper way to tell you. But in the end it was the fear that stopped me." "Fear of what?" "Fear... of rejection... that you'd laugh at me... that you'd want to get a transfer... that you'd never want to speak to me again... But most of all it was the fear..." He stopped. She reached for his chin, forcing him look directly at her. "Fear of what?" "Fear that you'd say you wanted the same thing from me." She froze. Hadn't she feared the exact same thing? Hadn't she wondered what she would do if he wanted her too, wanted to take her in his arms, kiss her, make love to her. Fear of the consequences if they actually went through with it. "And now that I know, what happens?" He paused, considering her question. "Nothing has to change, Scully. Just push it out of your mind, and I'll do the same. I've lived this long with the thought, I can keep on going. No matter what happens, I don't want to lose you as a partner, and I'll do anything to make sure that doesn't happen." Tears sprung to her eyes. He had said that with such fervor, with such emotion. She wasn't sure how to respond. The only thing she knew for sure was that she didn't want to lose him either. "What if I'd said I feel the same way?" She surprised both of them with her words. He stared at her, eyes wide, analyzing her to see what she meant. Trying to figure out if she were teasing of if this meant what he hoped it meant. "Scully, if you're pulling my leg... let me tell you, this is a really rotten time to do so." She put her hands to his face, cradling both his cheeks. "I'm not teasing. I mean it.... Think about it Mulder... Do you remember last night?" "All too vividly," he conceded, obviously trying not to. "Alright then... think back to the moment, right at the end... what did I say?" He frowned, unsure he wanted to think back on that moment of passion when the object of his desire was right in front of him. Taking a deep breath to try and relax, he closed his eyes and thought back to the moment. He had been teetering close to the edge, feeling her tense, arch up towards him, and then she'd cried out, allowing him to finally let himself release. What had she said? He tried to search his memory, fighting with all his might to recall what she had cried out in the throes of passion. Suddenly one word sprung to mind. "You said my name!" She blushed again, for the umpteenth time that night, as she smiled shyly, unable to meet his gaze. "Yes, I did." He was speechless. The situation wasn't feeling real anymore... it was like he was back in one of his dreams.... where Scully told him everything he wanted to hear. "I think I'm dreaming..." "Go ahead. Pinch yourself." "Huh?" "To see if you're dreaming. Better yet.." She leaned in towards him. "Let me do it for you." She reached her hand around him, aimed for his posterior and took a good pinch. He breathed in sharply... not so much from the pain as from the sensations her hand had caused as it traveled over him. "See? You're not dreaming." She smiled. "Well, that's not proof enough for me." "Oh? What else do you need, Mulder?" "You." He reached out for her, taking her face in his hands and lowering his lips to hers. Her mouth was soft, sweet, intoxicating. He pried her lips apart, probing deeper, feeling a need to reach deep inside her. Stopping to gasp for air, he pulled back. Staring into her eyes he smiled, then asked. "Well, what do you think?" Her eyes were glazed over. She took a moment to refocus, and then the searing heat that her eyes gave off as they traveled all over his body made his temperature rise several notches. "I think.... that if I'm dreaming, this time I *really* don't want to wake up." Scully answered, leaving him pondering about the previous times. "Trust me... this is no dream." She stopped and looked at him in a resolute fashion. "Mulder, I want you to hear me. I believe you. You didn't do anything on purpose. You didn't want to hurt me, and I trust you. You have to believe that." He smiled, obviously touched by what she had said. "Thank you." Just two little words, but the best he could come up with. Long drawn-out sentences could not have explained what he was feeling any better. "Besides..." Dana continued, giving him a sly look," you're a pretty good kisser, and if memory serves... you're an amazing lover." She didn't even have a chance to gauge his reaction. He just reached out and pulled him into his arms, then stood up and headed straight towards her bedroom. She let out a little cry of surprise as he dropped her on the bed, busying himself with his shirt buttons, which he was undoing at a speed which amazed her. Pulling off both his jacket and his shirt he advanced towards her, taking her breath away with the passion she saw in his eyes. He lowered himself onto her gently, giving her time to adjust under him as he began to work on her blouse. Her limbs seemed detached from her body, and all she could do was watch as he slowly undressed her. Little by little pieces of clothing began to litter the floor... shirt, blouse, pants, skirt, socks, shoes, pantyhose, underwear. They made a colourful pile of rumpled cloth, carelessly tossed together as their owners occupied themselves with more pressing matters. Dana's hands, which had seemingly been paralyzed moments earlier, had now taken a mind of their own and were traveling over her partner's body, exploring the muscle, the sinews, the curves, and the flat planes. She could feel his silky skin, its warmth an invitation to further exploration. She spread a hand across his chest, feeling the springy softness of the sparse growth tickling her. Suddenly it wasn't enough to feel him with her hands. She wanted to taste every inch of his body. Re-explore the curves, knowing that this time it was for real. She reached up to hold his head, first kissing him thoroughly before moving on to drop light kisses on his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his chin... she could feel the stubble of his day-old beard rubbing against her skin. She headed for his ear, nibbling the contour, tasting the lobe which she flicked playfully with her tongue, reaching behind the ear to the warm spot where she could feel his pulse racing. She started to descend, tracing a path to his shoulder before she stopped, her neck straining from having to reach upwards. She got a good grip of her partner and pushed off the bed, effectively rolling him over with herself following. Now sitting comfortably over him she re-started her exploration of him as she registered his grunt of surprise. Fox Mulder had not been inactive. After having divested himself of the cumbersome clothing he had begun his own thorough exploration of his partner... realizing how this last word had taken on a new meaning. He had begun to run his hands over every inch of her body, exhilarated by the memory of her curves, and even more excited to know that this was no longer a dream but a reality they both longed for. He had shivered at her touch, feeling a faint stirring that moved from the point of contact and spread throughout his body, pooling in his lower stomach and groin. He had then felt overwhelmed when her mouth had begun to explore him as well, leaving him almost weak from the touch. It was for this reason, he rationalized, that he had been unprepared for her following move as he landed on his back. A little frustrated, he was about to say something when he felt her mouth descend on him again, beginning to follow the muscles on his chest, stopping at his pectorals to lightly lick a nipple, as if testing for a reaction. His groan of delight surprised him, if not her, and seemed to encourage her to continue this treatment. She began tracing circles around the small, hard protrusion, then suddenly took a quick nip, followed by a soothing kiss before she favoured his other side, leaving the cooling saliva to wreak havoc on his nervous system before she returned for another round. Having lost all ability for coherent speech, he simply grabbed her arms and lifted her bodily off him as he guided her to his side, turning to face her. She gazed at him questioningly as he slowly lowered his head to her breasts to give her the same treatment she had just given him. She lost all muscle control and let her head fall, gasping as the sensations built, making her heart flutter and her temperature rise. It was getting hot in here... very hot. She pulled his head away from her, giving him a look of utter and complete desire as she leaned in to kiss him again, passionately, until they both needed to come up for air. Not stopping, she began to run one hand along his side, pausing to tickle, to feel, to arouse... She gasped in shock as she felt his hand reach out for her, mirroring her every move. And so they began a game... one would caress, kiss, massage, explore, and then move back while the other repeated the same move. It was quite exciting, enabling one to feel immediately what the other had felt. Soon their caresses began to reach a fevered pitch, the one existing only to please the other. And then it was no longer enough. She wanted to feel him inside her, and he wanted to lose himself in her. Yet Mulder was still hesitant. He still had residual guilt from the previous nights and he wanted to atone for this as best as he could. As he heard his partner utter a few words, begging him to take her - now - he shook his head softly, rolled her onto her back and traced a line of kisses down towards her stomach. He continued downwards, glancing quickly over the curls to reach down between her thighs. She was hot and she was moist... most definitely ready for him. He dipped down and quickly darted his tongue over the soft, swollen folds. She reacted instantly, letting out a soft cry and arching upwards as her stomach muscles clenched, then unclenched. He held her thighs with his hands, opening them a little more as he leaned in, intent on giving her as much pleasure as he could. She began to moan softly, turning her head from side to side, writhing beneath his ministrations. She was trying to say something, but apparently she was unable to do so. Fighting with herself to move, Scully finally managed to take a deep breath and lift herself into a semi-seated position. With the last of her strength and willpower she took her partner's head in her hands and guided him away from her. She looked at him softly as she met his questioning gaze. "No. Not this way... We do it together." He simply nodded his acceptance as made his way back up towards her, leaning down to kiss her. She stopped him again. "Not this way either." He looked at her, utterly confused. She giggled softly as she took his arms and guided him onto his back as she raised herself to reach over him. "You were on top last time... now it's my turn." She saw the devilish grin as he understood her, and then agreed with her suggestion. Smiling down at him, she reached back to cup him. Feeling his hardness, his readiness, she wasted no time. Repositioning herself so that she was kneeling on either side of his hips she grasped him fully as she guided him into her, descending slowly... observing the reaction on his face as she did so. He closed his eyes and breathed sharply, tension etching its way across his face as he felt her slowly enclose him. She could feel him enter... feel herself stretch to accommodate him. As an experiment she consciously contracted her inner muscles, just to see what he would do. He took another sharp breath and twitched, his eyes flying open to look at her. She smiled back reassuringly. When she was finally pressed down on him, with him as far into her as could be, she leaned down to kiss him, letting the hair cascading about her face tickle his chest and neck as she reached for his mouth. His arms wrapped around her torso in a fierce hug, betraying the emotions and feelings which were coiled tightly inside him. He then released her, letting his hands roam down to her rear where he began to lift her up and let her fall back down... enticing her to begin the rhythm. She complied, raising herself to only lower herself back onto him, reveling in the sensations as she felt him thrust into her. Oblivious to everything except the feel of him inside her and the feel of his hands as they traveled over everything they could reach. He let her set the pace, lifting up to meet her as she began her descents. He wanted her. He needed her. He was lost in her and he felt himself drowning in the pleasure. He was barely aware that he had spoken as he breathily asked her to keep going. He would shrivel up and die if she stopped now. He felt her increase the pace, heard her ragged breathing, felt her pulse as he caressed her throat or her heartbeat as he ran his hand over her chest. They were unstoppable now. A train without brakes, a tidal wave... roaring onwards. He heard her begin to gasp, feeling her approach the end... the release they both sought fervently. Dana was now concentrating only on the feel of her hands against her partner's body and on the escalating rhythm of their joining as she instinctively increased the pace of her thrusts, pushing down, further, faster. She felt her stomach muscles clench, felt her breath catch, and then lost herself as she began to rock with spasms, heat and pleasure coursing through her as she tensed, crying out. After a moment she began to relax, collapsing onto her partner who was still moving under her. He heard her gasp, felt her tense, and then saw and felt her release as she clenched spastically around him, driving him very near to the edge. He was close... so close... He continued to thrust his hips upwards, and as she began to fall on him, exhausted. He felt himself let go... releasing... flooding her... losing touch with anything but the intense pleasure and the feel of his arms wrapped around her. She looked into his face as she felt his release, seeing his face tighten into an expression mirroring pain as he slipped into a world of limitless pleasure. She caressed his sweaty brow, giving him time to relax, to take a deep breath and collapse back onto the mattress. Then she leaned in on him, pressing herself against him, not wanting to let go of the feeling of his body against hers. He wrapped his arms tightly around her again, taking the time to regain his breath. Unwilling to open his eyes, as if afraid that she would no longer be there... That this would be another dream and he would wake up alone in his bed. In a dark, messy apartment, with the traffic noise and the bubbling from the aquarium as his only companions. She continued to caress his face, stopping occasionally to retrace her steps with her lips. Finally he opened his eyes. He looked up at her with dilated pupils, his expression unreadable. She smiled down at him. "Hi." She said, shyly. "Hi yourself." He replied, a grin playing across his face. "Well?" He smiled, then burst into a chuckle. "What can I say, Scully? You've once again surpassed my expectations. Not only that, you've gone beyond my wildest dreams. There are no words to describe how I feel right now." She smiled down at him, touched and warmed by his words. "How about you show me then?" His grin widened. "I'd love to. Just give me a few minutes to get my breath, and then try and stop me." "I wouldn't dream of it..." She teased as she leaned down to place a tender kiss on his lips. He responded in kind and they held each other as they proved once again the depth of their emotions. Scully didn't get much sleep that night either, but she was quite relaxed when she got up the next day... and the day after that... and the day after that... The end.

[thisis4fanfiction]

Time by Terma99

"If you don't follow me up here Scully, I'm going to be very disappointed." "What the hell's up this hill anyway?" "It's a surprise." He held his hand out to her, "c'mon." "A surprise?" She wasn't sure she was going to like this. It most likely involved something unexplainable. Of all the hills in San Francisco to investigate, Mulder had chosen the longest and seemingly steepest of the lot. A hill in San Francisco is not just any hill. San Francisco hills are infamous for being the most treacherous, 4-speed roll- back collision hills in the nation. Perilously narrow streets made narrower by cars forced to street park at perpendicular angles to the curb--on roadways so steep, the narrow homes lining them are split level starting with one story and ending with two on the downhill side. And this hill was certainly living up to that reputation. "Mulder, I'm tired." "You won't be if you give me your hand and come on up here." "You're not going to tell me, are you?" she said reluctantly, trudging up the sidewalk to him and accepting his hand. "Where's the fun in that?" Fun indeed, Scully thought, as she let him half drag her up the hill, holding her arm up every now and again like a parent encouraging a toddler to keep up. Dammit, his legs were longer and she was stuffed. She had just finished eating about half her weight in lasagna, and polished off more than her fair share of a bottle of Niebaum/Coppola Cabernet. Hill climbing wasn't the first thing on her mind right now--crawling into a warm hotel bed and nodding off for ten or so hours before their flight back to DC tomorrow afternoon was. But if she had to characterize this evening, she'd have to label it fun. Fun was a rare thing to experience with her normally laconic partner. Fanciful in wit but often distant in emotion, tonight he was an unusual blend of playful and courteous. Should she dare say even gentlemanly? He'd even paid for their dinner of all things. She supposed she should be getting wary and just call it a night before his attentions reached a dangerous level, but something in her right now just didn't care about all the professional appearances crap. They were off the clock and he was her friend, her best friend, and tonight they were just having a hell of a good time. He was a man, why shouldn't he treat her like a lady for once. If you can call dragging a very full, slightly tipsy lady up one mother of a hill at ten o'clock at night gentlemanly. With more than a little effort, Scully managed to reach the peak of the hill without collapsing in a panting heap. Alcohol did not do much for strengthening the physique for endurance. To her utmost dread, she realized Mulder was tugging her towards an alley-like path to the right--a path that quickly ascended into a long steep stretch of stairs up into the woodsy hillside. "Whoa, hold on," she dropped his hand and bent at the waist a bit, laying her hands above her knees, catching her breath. He turned and gave her a disapproving look. "You're not going to give out on me now," he insisted. She lifted her head. "Why not?" "Because I'm counting on you." "Counting on me for what? To train for the triathlon?" "No, to follow me up this damn hill." "Could we settle for a shorter hill?" He set his hands on his hips and leered playfully at her. "No, I need us to ascend *this* hill in particular." She thought to make a remark about this being an alien abduction site, but instead resigned herself to... "I'll make you a deal. You tell me what's so great about this hill and I'll consider making an attempt to climb it for you, okay?" "Don't you trust me, Scully?" "No. Next question." He laid his hand over his mouth, thinking. "All right then, what if I told you there was an amazing feat of human engineering up here that just couldn't be missed...would you come?" She arched her back and eyed him with a dubious expression. "That's the best you can do?" He shrugged his shoulders. She felt her heart rate slowing back down to a more acceptable rhythm and air returning to her lungs. "Okay, if we go at my speed, I'll follow. But what do I get if this isn't the most amazing thing I've ever seen?" "You get to kick my ass for dragging you up here." She laughed, "For that, I'll try anything." She entered the alley with him and at the top of a second torturous flight of stairs, the path turned into a pleasant red brick-lined walkway winding up the hillside in a long circle, past the front doors of some fine whitewashed stucco homes. "People live here?" she wondered, amazed at the hike it would take in from the street, not to mention the perilous parking situation. "They certainly do, some of the most expensive homes in the City." His voice was warm and low just above her ear. He walked close to her, his hand lightly brushing across her shoulders as they made the climb. His faint possessive touch made the mild wine-induced buzz she was experiencing take on a whole new flavor. She supposed she should make an attempt to step away, but the notion soon lost to the pleasant awareness gathering within her. An awareness she had felt before not so long ago in a vacant hallway in Arlington. It had never really left her altogether, just gone dormant for a while. Experience told her that watchful eyes were everywhere and danger imminent, but somehow wandering recklessly with him around this distant city made her feel exempt from all of that. The day to day peril of their occupations was 6,000 miles away, and tonight the still San Francisco spring air was lulling her into a protected universe where only the present mattered, not the perilous trenches of the past or the uncertain wavering future. Her mind only wanted to focus on the feel of his fingertips brushing the hair from the back of her neck as they moved along. The path ended, opening up to a roadway lined with parked cars, lights on, people inside, all waiting to drive up the hill. Mulder took her hand again and led her across the street between two cars to a cement sidewalk circling the edge of the steep hill. "Final climb, Scully," he said, nodding to the cars. "See why we walked?" The cars weren't the only pilgrims making the ascent she noticed, several other humans were joining the climb now, too, almost exclusively in pairs--male-female, male-male, didn't matter, all were most certainly couples. Scully gave her partner a wary look. "You're not taking me to a makeout spot, are you?" He did his best to look appalled. "Wha? Scully, where's your head? I'm taking you to see a tower." "A tower?" "Yes, in fact, there it is." He pointed to her left. Just clearing the trees was an enormous white glowing tower rising two hundred feet straight up. Tall, thin and narrow, its rounded cap was rimmed by stars flashing in the clear night sky. Mulder stopped them a moment to fill her in on a bit of SF history. "Coit Tower was built in 1933 by a Mrs. Lillie Hitchcock Coit in memory of her dearly departed husband. He was the City fire chief for 40 years. The tower is symbolic of a firehose--see what love can do?" Scully raised an eyebrow over her shoulder at him, "It looks like a penis," she said flatly. His mouth dropped open. "Scully, you aren't making this very easy for me, you know." "Making *what* easy, Mulder?" He appeared to attempt to make a glib come back, but only his twitching lips tried to make the sound. He gave up, shutting his mouth tight and took her hand again instead. "C'mon, I'm not through with you." "You mean this isn't the part where I get to kick your ass?" "Not even close," he grumbled, leading her away from the glowing phallus and out toward the edge of the rounded parking lot. As they cleared the distance, Scully was suddenly overcome by the view. "Oh my god..." she breathed, as Mulder pulled her forward toward the viewing ledge. Coit Tower sat atop Telegraph Hill, one of the tallest, narrowest hills in the City. At its peak where they now stood, one could see far into the night over San Francisco and the surrounding bay. Mulder took her hands and half lifted her up onto the wide ledge next to him so she could see from the bright pastel-lit apartment rooftops of Pacific Heights and Russian Hill, out over the Marina's sail boat slips to Fort Mason, jutting out into the water in front of the red glow of the distant Golden Gate Bridge. Panning across the bay waters to the flashing beacon of Alcatraz, they could see over to the far Oakland city shoreline and white cable lights of the Bay Bridge. A near-360 degree view speckled with red and green port and starboard lights of freighter ships and smaller craft navigating the dark shallow waters of the bay, their lonely horns bellowing across the waves. Below them and around them, people huddled in twos on the grassy slope or sat upon the ledge, some peered into the night through binoculars. A very popular spot indeed. Scully tore her eyes away from the view long enough to look up at her partner, her mouth still slightly open in amazement. She was about to make a comment to that effect, but instead found herself taken aback by the brilliant green glint in his sleepy eyes, lit by the white glow of Coit Tower. Mulder wasn't looking out to sea at all. He was looking at her, only her. He still held her gently by her wrists and she felt herself suddenly shook by a nervous tremble. "You cold?" he asked quietly, his careful gaze unrelenting. "No," she managed. "Well, come here anyway," he said, pulling her into his arms and wrapping her inside the edges of his leather jacket. He held her close to him and she let herself be surrounded by his welcoming warmth, her arms circling around his waist. She felt her trembles ease and her nerves calm. It has so easy to be in his arms. She had certainly been held by him before and she realized now how much she had missed it. But again, this was a very different situation--she wasn't dying or about to leave him. She was just here with him sharing an evening, and for once really genuinely enjoying his company. Why shouldn't she enjoy being close to him as well? She sighed quietly and relaxed even further against him, allowing herself to revel in the mild musky scent of him intermixed with the thick essence of leather. She closed her eyes. For several long minutes they stayed like that. His hand gently stroking her back in lazy circles. She didn't move, but presently he lowered his head and she imagined she could feel him smiling into her hair, planting a gentle kiss there. "Still feel like beating the crap out of me?" he asked, his voice muffled by her hair. "Hmm, thinking about it..." she answered, her voice taking on a drowsy quality that had nothing to do with tiredness. He pulled back from her slightly, and lifted his hand to tip her chin up to him. She met his deep gaze, watching his eyes dance across her face with expectation. He was going to try that kiss again she mused, a strange calm taking her over. He'd been trying all night she realized--dinner, wandering about North Beach in and out of absurd novelty stores, fumbling through Washington Square Park in the dark, and finally climbing the ridiculous hills to this place--all a plot to get her close enough to kiss. She wasn't about to disappoint him. The curiosity was too much to bear another near-miss. She held very still and let him guide her lips gently against his, warm and soft, just a glancing touch that didn't pull back but hovered, just a fraction from contact before moving in again to gently press against her. Hardly a kiss at all, she dimly thought, but somehow appropriate. His hands were cupped about her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks lightly. After a few moments he pulled back to gauge her response. The newly awakened part of her wanted to slug him for being so damned reserved, but she knew the insecure percentage of his character was waiting for her to give him further instruction as to what direction this little experiment should take. She gave him his answer in the form of a warm smile and a verbal gibe. "Is that the best you can do?" He pursed his lips in annoyance. "Yeah, that's what I thought," he murmured low, as he pulled her to him, burying his hand in her hair and bringing her mouth to his. His second attempt was better--much better--as his mouth came down on hers with a considerably less-guarded touch. He pressed and moved deliberately against her, separating her lips and moving to envelope her top lip between his before making a clean sweep of her lower, plumper lip, pulling it into his mouth, running the leading edge of his tongue across it, getting a good taste of it, before ending with a tiny nip. He tipped her head back to look at her, still holding a palmful of her hair, his expression more assertive. "Better?" he asked. They were suddenly startled by a blaring horn not six feet away. Turning, they saw a pile of young adults bouncing out of the back of a pickup, running toward two twenty- somethings embracing in the blaring truck's headlights. "Hey everyone," one of the gang was yelling between horn blasts. "Our friends just got engaged!" A number of couples paused in their own romantic endeavors to applaud the starry-eyed duo still held close to one another in the glare of the lights. Scully gave a little laugh and dropped her nose to Mulder's chest, shaking her head. He held her close, chuckling himself. "I think this place might be a bit *too* romantic," he admitted. "Well, subtlety was never your style, Mulder," she said, giving him a squeeze. "Maybe we should go," he decided, and pulled away from her. He jumped down off the ledge and turned, motioning her forward. He grabbed her at the waist and lifted her down. She took the opportunity to circle her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek, not yet ready to separate for the evening. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were getting attached to me," he teased, returning the kiss on her forehead. "Don't piss me off, Mulder," she reminded him, blithely. "Don't worry," he said, gathering her arms gently from around his neck and taking her hand. "The night's gone pretty well so far..." So far? she wondered, eyeing him carefully, walking with him back across the lot toward the tower path. There was going to be *more*? She felt her breath catch in her throat as it constricted. She looked sidelong at him and he must have been reading her thoughts because he was giving her a smug grin. Against her will, she felt the fear once again whispering to her, breaking up her otherwise pleasantly contented demeanor. What was he up to? Certainly he didn't presume he'd be taking her back to the hotel and getting her in the sack that easily? Well, maybe he could, she admitted to herself. But, *still*. She must have been tensing up because he now looked concerned and shook her arm by the hand he held to loosen her up. "Hey Scully, don't lose me here. We're just going for a walk, okay?" "We've been going for a walk all night," she said, her voice sounding tighter than she wanted it to be. He squeezed her hand gently, "Walking's okay isn't it? Maybe another kiss or two if I'm lucky?" She relaxed then. This was Mulder after all, not some gropey blind date. He'd been perfectly behaved with her for almost six years now, what on earth did she think she had to worry about? For god's sake, this man dragged his ass to Antarctica for her. He was certainly going to behave if she asked him to. The real problem was she wasn't sure she wanted to have the option. A large part of her just wanted him to pounce and have it done with already. He'd been driving her nuts for far too long with his little off-color comments and long soulful looks. She was in love with him, she knew that--had been for a very long time, too long. Why then did the thought of giving herself up to him terrify her so much? Was she afraid of disappointing him? Maybe, maybe that was it. Or maybe it was the thought of stepping ahead before either one of them was fully prepared to deal with it. They walked in silence for a while back down the hill. Downhill was certainly more manageable than uphill--and easier to think, more oxygen going to the brain. His expression was unreadable now as he strolled along beside her, giving her some mental space. The only difference from their trek up was the way his thumb was gently caressing the back of her hand as he held it, swinging his arm a bit. He certainly seemed relaxed. Maybe he was faking it. "Mulder?" His eyes dropped to hers again. "Yeah?" "You okay with this?" she asked, for nothing else than just to feel him out a little. To see if he was experiencing any of the same confusion she was. "Yeah Scully, I'm okay with this. I'm *very* okay with this," he answered her steadily. "You don't think we're going to regret this tomorrow?" He gave her the same look he had a minute earlier to loosen her up. He shook his head. "Taking you to dinner and dragging you up Telegraph Hill for a little smooch? No...I'd never regret anything about tonight; you know that. We're not breaking any laws here...it was just our time, that's all." He certainly had a way of summating everything so simply she thought with envy. Why did it have to be so much harder for her? She couldn't be nearly as complacent about this whole thing, her mind working overtime to try and suppose the whole thing out. "Well, suppose this evening winds up being well, more than a... more like a...*situation*," she finished with a frustrated release of breath. "You propositioning me, Scully? I think I can have you written up for that." "Dammit Mulder, stop being so..." "What?" "So sure of yourself." She stopped then, hands crossing her chest, glaring up at him. "Whoa woman. Get a grip. You're going rabid on me here." He took her hand and brought it to his lips. She immediately loosened and felt herself calm a few pegs. "I think I've got something figured out," he said, dragging her knuckles across his lips. "You're fine as long as I'm touching you." She sighed and let her hand smooth over the side of his face. "Touch me, then," she said softly, and he obeyed. Taking her by the waist, Mulder pushed her gently back against the brick wall and with full intent, proceeded to indulge himself in her mouth. Long, slow, delicious open kisses, his tongue sliding against hers, tasting her, brushing his fingers over her face, slipping an arm low, drawing her closer to him. His lips played against hers in a teasing rhythm for a while before pressing hungrily to her again, exploring the soft recesses of her mouth. His kisses tasted pleasantly of mint and dry wine and something else altogether uniquely him. She was enthralled by it--by discovering him this way. Scully felt her hands rising up around the back of his neck, encouraging him in his endeavors, freely releasing the confines of her mouth to him. Everything within the reach of his lips was his for the taking. She was losing her fear quickly as the deep pull of lust began to take over her trepidatious mind. She soon felt herself issuing a pleasant hum, lost in the play of his lips to which he responded fervently. After a dizzying length of time, he released her, letting them catch their breath. "Feel better?" he murmured, rubbing his forehead against hers, his mouth moist and beautiful, still just a few inches from her lips. She was breathing as if she had just climbed another hill, nodding she answered, "Much better. What took you so long?" "What took me so long?" he asked, pulling back and smiling at her. "It was you giving me the look of death all these years." "The what?" "You heard me, a guy knows better than to try and shag his partner nowadays." "Are you saying the thought's crossed your mind before?" "Do you really want me to answer that?" "Yes." "Okay, yeah, I always thought you were pretty hot." "Always--you're saying from the beginning?" "Sure, from the beginning." She dropped her eyes then and began to giggle, shaking her head. He reached out and touched her chin, raising it to look at him again. "What?" he asked, trying not to laugh. "Oh no Mulder, you don't get it. You could have had me so easily back then." "Excuse me?" "When we were, um, first together. You were, well, pretty impressive. And I was very, very young." He crossed his arms and dipped his head to her, incredulous. "You've *got* to be kidding." She opened her mouth as if to debate him, and then snapped it shut and smug. "'fraid not." "Jesus Scully, I was an ass back then. Running off, keeping you in the dark. If that was a turn-on, well then how do I rate now on the Dana Scully desire scale?" "Who said this has anything to do with desire?" she asked, batting her eyes at him. Baiting him was becoming much too enticing right now. "Sometimes I think you deliberately try to make me crazy." "Well, then maybe you should do something about it." "Like shutting you up? I can handle that." He bent down and before she could get away, grabbed her below the waist, unceremoniously throwing her up and over his shoulder and trudging down the hill toward the private walkway. She squealed, bouncing half upside-down, his shoulder digging into her abdomen, suddenly exasperated by her predicament. Thrown over the shoulder like a sack of potatoes, indeed. "Shit Mulder, put me down!" she yelped, slapping his back as the brick walkway bobbed perilously several feet beneath her. When did he get so tall? "What? Can't hear you?" "Mulder, you heard me, put me down!" "Sorry, can't do that." Dammit, why wasn't she armed right now? This was worse than a blind date. Definitely entering strange waters here. "Mulder...I'm serious..." she said lower, in an attempt to actually sound serious. "So am I," he replied, sliding her back onto her feet and pulling her into one of the whitewashed Telegraph Hill doorways--right onto someone's front porch. There was a bench in the arched alcove in front of the heavy oak front door. Mulder took a seat and reached out to her. "Sit down," he commanded, with an alluring mix of mischief and desire in his eyes. "Mulder, we can't stop here, this is someone's house," she whispered. "So?" he argued, looking up at the front door. "Looks pretty quiet to me. Have a seat." "You're taking up the whole bench," she whined, looking over her shoulder back toward the brick path in time to see two people walk by, oblivious to them in the shadows. "That's the whole idea..." he took her hand and gently eased her down into his lap, settling her legs across his. "I still don't think this is a good idea," she said, despite the fact her traitorous hands were winding their way up his neck and back into his hair. It felt just as silky and wonderful as she ever imagined now that she was able to really get her fingers into it. His eyes, darkened by the shadows, were busily scanning her mouth as his hands came up from her waist and slipped up into the back of her loose sweater, sampling the smooth skin of her back. She issued a little moan and her lips parted as she leaned forward into his kiss. God, he felt good. A little too good for her calculated and controlled sensibility. She couldn't remember the last time making out with someone felt like this. Or even the last time she'd been kissed properly, or if she had *ever* been kissed properly. The muscles in her limbs were already turning to mud, not to mention the alarmingly advanced condition between her thighs. What the hell was he doing to her? Maybe trust had something to do with it. This really was spinning out of reason a lot faster than she had ever anticipated, but it wasn't something she wanted to let go of either. She was in too deep now to call it off. Front porch or not, she fully intended to see this through to the end--her passion-starved body wasn't going to have it any other way. Good lord, was she actually considering fucking him right here in his lap, just inches from where these fine folks picked up their morning paper? Mulder was right, where's your head? "Mulder...?" she breathed, trying to gather a cohesive sentence as he went to work gnawing her neck, his warm hands lushly kneading the flesh on her back. "Um, I think we need to... uh, wait...maybe take this somewhere else." He mumbled something against her neck...it sounded like an annoyed groan. "I'm serious, I think...oh god, don't...I think we're going to need a bed." There, well-said. Jesus, he was running his tongue under her ear. "Mulder...?" He was in no mood to talk and stole her next words with a rough and thorough sweep of her mouth, pressing his lips tightly against hers rooting for the closest fit, one hand escaping her sweater to tangle into the back of her hair. He drew her even closer to him, pressing her tightly into his lap leading her to discover *exactly* how okay he was with this. So maybe sex in public wasn't such a bad idea after all? She made a reach for his fly. That, for some odd reason, stopped him cold. He took her hands and gently held them together against his chest. He surrounded her with his arms, tucking her under his chin and began rocking her, shushing her, stroking her hair. She was still wiggling in his embrace as he tried to bring her back down a little, kissing the top of her head. Calming her. "Scully, I want you to listen to me for a moment," he said, with a rough edge to his usual throaty half-voice. "Hmm...?" she murmured, swiveling in his grasp, trying to free herself to get another taste of his mouth. "Listen to me," he said beseechingly, holding her shoulders and dipping his head to look closely at her. The normally soft hazel of his eyes were drenched into deeper hues by the pull of his arousal. "I need you to make a decision for us." She stared back at him, dazed, taking a minute to try and shift gears. First he wanted her to let go of reason, now he wanted her to stop and think in some kind of rational manner while her thigh was taking a perfect reading of his pulse through his jeans? What the hell? "Okay...what?" "I need you to think very carefully and tell me if this is what you really want." Her sharp and somewhat hurt intake of breath forced him to rephrase his question. "I know you want this--believe me, I know. What I need you to realize is that if we let this happen tonight there's no going back. We...*I* can't pretend like it never happened." She opened her mouth to try and make a statement, but words escaped her right now. Yes, there would be no going back. She was sure she knew that. "I don't think I want you to leave this all to me," she said. "I'd agree, but we both know between the two of us...you're the more sensible." She sat still for a moment and let her mind begin to ponder the significance of this night. He'd been playing it nonchalantly only to put her at ease--now she understood his stakes were much higher--he was much more terrified than she was. "I see," she said, and sat up straight, moving out of his lap and taking a close seat next to him, wiping her mouth dry with the back of her hand. His eyes followed her, desperate but committed to whatever response she would give him. "I suppose we should think about Monday," she said, coming more fully into control. He took her hand suddenly and held it firmly in his. "No, not that. I'm not asking you to rationalize this or analyze the details. Don't let your mind or body decide--neither one is very reliable about these things. We've let our rationalizations bury us long enough--don't listen to the reasons, listen to your feelings. What is Dana Scully telling you to do?" She closed her eyes and just breathed slowly, trying to find herself deep down under the hurricane of lust raging within her. This wasn't exactly the best time to bring this up. Still, she did know the answer, she'd known it all along. She opened her eyes and began to speak, staring at the swirling patters in the white stucco wall. "I believe I'm telling myself what I've always known from the beginning. That I'll follow you into whatever danger or challenge might present itself to us. I know my place is with you --it's where I belong; it's where I feel right, complete." She turned to face him directly. "The truth is Mulder, the farther and harder I've tried to distance myself from you, the more miserable I've been...we've been. I know we belong to one another--I've always known that and I don't, I can't believe that expressing this connection we have is in any way going to change that. If death, separation, suffering, insanity--if none of these things has broken us--how could love possibly break us? How could love ever come between us? That doesn't make any sense to me. "So to answer for you, yes--I think you were right--there is nothing wrong with what's happening between us tonight--it was just our time." His face, which he had been patiently holding very still for her to finish her thoughts, softened then into something one could only describe as utter adoration--if an expression taken from so close to the heart could possibly be conveyed in this manner. "Well come on then," he said standing, taking her hand. "Let's let this happen." ********************** TIME (2/4) by Terma99 See part one for info: Missing chapters? Go to: www.geocities.com/hotsprings/8334/fic.html ***************************** Scully stood and let herself be pulled forward into his fierce hug, his nose and lips falling to the base of her neck, nuzzling her. "There's something I have to warn you about Scully," he said in a rough voice, nipping the side of her neck. She arched her back, pressing into him. "What?" "I like to use my mouth......a lot." She sighed, shuddering in anticipation. "Think we can get a cab out here?" Walking all the way back to the hotel seemed an impossible venture to her, given the general fluid condition of most of her lower body. "Hold on--let me see..." he was digging into the pocket of his jacket. Presently, his hand emerged fingering a key. "Maybe we could try this," he said, handing it to her. She responded with a wary look. "What is it?" He shrugged, "It's a key, Scully." "I see that. To what?" He nodded at her to take a closer look at it. It had lettering on it, 371 Coit Terrace. Abruptly she turned to look up at the door. 371 was the number stuccoed in tile to the right of the frame. Giving him a raised brow, she tried the lock. It clicked heavily, and she pulled the iron latch upward, opening the door. Inside was nothing short of amazing. Coit Terrace residents certainly lived a cut above. The moonlight pouring in through the tall arched multi-paned windows illuminated the rough white adobe walls and terra-cotta tiled floor. She stepped in, raising her eyes to view the open double story entryway that led to the left, down into a sunken living room tastefully decorated in turn- of-the-century Mediterranean handcrafted wood and ceramic. To her right stood a wide, half spiral staircase which snaked its way up to the open beams of the second floor landing. Mulder leaned back into the heavy wood door, hearing it groan and latch into place behind him. He reached his hand back and fitted the bolt, his eyes never leaving her. Inside. They were inside the door. He hadn't even thought to hope for it, even if he had spent the better part of yesterday planning for the possibility. Scully was ahead of him halfway into the foyer, looking up at the high ceiling down to the long walls where dark woven tapestries were hung with iron rods. Her pretty rose-red lips were opened in awe. "Mulder. How on earth?" He smiled at her, "Impressed?" "Your mother?" "Sort of, a friend of the family." "Some friend. Do they know you've absconded with their key?" "*Yes.* They heard I was coming out here and asked if I could check on the place. The house is empty at the moment, furnished for sale purposes." Scully whirled around, giving him her best by-the-book stance. "And you figured you could just bring me here?" She couldn't help but make this difficult, could she? He wasn't backing down now, no way. Quickly, he tried to reassemble one of his best adventurous smirks from their early days--whatever worked for her. "Come on Scully, don't you want to find out how the other half lives?" She raised her chin, her face becoming a sexy mixed expression of skepticism and daring, "I think I could manage breaking a few rules." "That's my girl," he grinned, stepping forward, taking her arm and leading her deeper into the house. She looked impressed, very impressed. Something in his chest cavity was doing back-flips. Tonight was going well. He could almost not even allow himself to believe it. He'd gone from rigid and scared to manic relief in a matter of seconds sitting beside her on that little bench, inches from freedom. He had asked the question, and if he could trust his ears to be honest, it seemed she wanted this as every bit as much as he did, and for the same reasons. For months now, his faultless memory had tortured him with replays of an event which was born of a desperate impulse. He had been angry and frightened, she couldn't possibly have been telling him what he was clearly hearing. She was leaving him, and at all costs that was not something he was willing to accept. Leaving, moving on, wasn't a choice they had anymore. He had tried to communicate that fact--that there was no more *him* without *her* anymore. He had bared himself to her and she had done the most remarkable thing, she had reached for him. Through her tears and frustration, she had reached for him, and he could not help but to move his uncertain lips to hers. His memory was true, her mouth just parting to accept his kiss, he was sure of it--it had haunted his dreams. So cruel to be that close to just miss and be left wanting and empty to start all over again, like so many passions in his life. He almost expected San Francisco to fall into the sea up on the hill tonight when he moved to kiss her. He had wanted to sing with joy when his gentle brush made its final contact. His gamble was paying off. Her heart was opening to him through the promises she had shown him; from the softening of her voice, to the sweetness of her mouth, to the way she pressed to him as he touched the silky warmth of her skin. He was thrumming with anticipation, but consciously willing himself to stillness--to take each offering as it came, to let her bloom slowly for him into wantonness, a metamorphosis he never dared to imagine he'd witness. And yet it was happening, and he didn't want to miss a beat of it. She was discovering the kitchen now, running her hand over the dark hand-thrown ceramic tiles and steel fixtures. She came to the double fridge which was humming dully, and in curiosity, jerked it open. She turned to him with a quizzical eye. "You don't bother to stock your own home this well Mulder. When did you manage...?" she stopped herself. She just discovered she knew. "You didn't have an old VCS parole hearing yesterday, did you?" He glanced shyly at the floor. "Nope." She smiled suspiciously, turning to close the chilly door. "I thought you were gone quite a while. What else did you buy?" He tapped a cabinet confidently. "Just a few essentials for a decent breakfast...or midnight snack...or both." She nibbled her bottom lip warily. "You *are* being cocky about this." "On the contrary, Scully, I'm scared as shit. But at least I won't starve if you make me sleep on the couch." She tilted her head in consideration of the option, and he snorted in disgust. "You wouldn't really do that to a guy, would you?" "I don't know--you haven't showed me the bedroom yet." He took her hand and tucked it in his arm leading her back out into the foyer. Leaning close to her ear he whispered, "That's the next stop on the tour." She dropped his arm when they reached the foot of the stairs and ran her hand over the decorative ball at the end of the railing. "Up the stairs?" she asked, tossing an impish look back at him to make sure he'd follow close. Mulder encouraged her with a smile and vigorous nod as he climbed the stairs after her. He was smiling a lot now he realized, growing more hopeful, less guarded, less suspicious. She had done this to him, in her own time she had turned him into a creature he could almost stand. He loved her so goddamned much it captured his breath. She was simply everything, and tonight he wanted to lose himself in her and in letting go be transformed and found complete. He was following her upstairs, watching her round little ass as it ascended above him. God, the things he wanted to do to her, show her, confess to her--it made him dizzy to try and make order to the chaos that was unfolding. So instead he disallowed himself all contriving and structuring--free falling in the jump of his life. Scully stood at the arch that opened up into the second floor master bedroom and took inventory of the layout. The room was long and narrow. At one end stood a large rough stone fireplace and wood pile, in the center of the room were a set of overstuffed linen chairs and low glass table. Just beyond them was a sliding glass door which opened out onto a small deck. At the far wall to her right, under a round plate-glass window, was a large, high bed with a beige comforter tossed with earthtoned pillows of various sizes up against a rough-cut hardwood backboard. The room was both organic and comforting under the shadowy glow of the moon. Mulder's hand was stroking the back of her neck. "How'd I do?" She nodded her head sighing, "Not bad at all." She couldn't look at him just yet. Standing at the doorway to a bedroom in which they were certainly sharing the rest of the night together, took her back a moment. She needed some time to center herself. "Ladies' room?" He pointed to a door just behind them in the hall. "Give me a minute." "Sure..." Scully shut the bathroom door behind her and closed her eyes. She couldn't deny it, she was scared. It seemed far too many things hinged on this evening--it had been too long in coming for it to be easy. She felt flushed and cold at the same time; her body wasn't operating in a manner she was accustomed to. He was right, as soon as she left his arms she felt like she was going to fall apart, come undone. To do this, to make it complete and join with him, required a certain abandoning of the self. A self she had closely guarded for many years--a self that had grown used to certain sacrifices. No, she corrected herself, she hadn't completely sacrificed her sexuality, just made it more personal. And she had to admit, Mulder held his own vaporous presence in that sexuality. She was extremely attracted to him and always had been, even if he drove her absolutely nuts with his single-minded recklessness, so unlike her own sensibilities. She had to admit--it held a certain appeal. But still, they had found it easy enough to channel those unspoken energies into their work. They had created a special type of intimacy over the years that hung balanced on a delicate thread they each knew the dimensions of so well they could navigate around it undisturbed, without drawing undue attention to it. And that would have gone on indefinitely, had she not broken the spell by trying to leave him. She wasn't even sure if she had really meant it. She said the words as if someone else had spoken them. She had tried to leave him before, more times than she could admit. But something in the end made her stay, and now she knew the identity of that thing --love. They had achieved an understanding of one another that made their separation an impossibility. She had to trust him to take her the rest of the way. There was no direction but forward. She opened her eyes and forced herself to look in the mirror. The reflection matched the face she was accustomed to seeing, aside from the flush to her lips and cheeks brushed into her pale skin by his kisses. God, just thinking of them made her pool with desire. Ahh, that was it--she could survive this if she concentrated on the pleasure it would bring her. What he could do to her. The thought of allowing him to release that drive and passion he held within him on her both thrilled and frightened her. She shook her head, she didn't want to think anymore--the decision had been made. She hurried and finished with the facilities, noticing with a smile that he'd stocked the bathroom as well with a few basic amenities. She couldn't remember any man ever making such careful plans for her before. She made use of the new toothbrush and dragging her fingers through her hair, turned and opened the door. The bedroom was empty, but a fire had been lit, running ripples of ruddy color across the white walls and thick matte carpeting. She welcomed the added warmth on her hot and cold skin, the heat helping to thaw her nerve-chilled hands as she came and sat on the woven sheep's wool circle before the fireplace, and waited. When Mulder came back into the upstairs room, he was taken aback. Scully was flickered by firelight sitting, hugging her knees, as she turned to look at him where he stood in the doorway, captured by the vision. She was so small, slight, sitting under the rising chimney of rough cut stones. Somehow she had grown smaller, more precious in the last few hours. A tiny gemstone that at last had thrown off its cover of dust opening its inner radiance to him. Despite the alluring memories of their earlier caresses, he was almost afraid to touch her now, that she would continue to shrink into an infinitesimal spark like the condensation of space narrowing to a vanishing point. She was everything, breath and life and darkness all in one. She was the gauge by which he weighed the passions of his life--and after tonight there would be just one. She would draw everything, already so close to owning him whole. She had his heart, and now his body dared to follow as far as they might go. She smiled at him, and neither the shadows of the big room nor the murky light from the night sky could hide its brilliance. He went to her, drawn by it, and sank to his knees behind her, brushing his hands over her shoulders. She moved into his warmth, nestled between his thighs as she leaned back against him. His hands moved up her neck and into her hair, stroking it, smoothing it between his long fingers. It was softer than he imagined and stronger as he gathered it and pulled it gently from side to side as if he was trying to uncover the source of the swirling colors--copper and amber upon red. She gave a low hum, and he felt something in his chest rise at the sound. He was enthralled by every new sound she uttered. After all these years of hearing every word, every emotion, every tone her voice could utter--her sighs and soft moans were entirely new to him--an expressive foreign language he ached to learn and master. He could tell by the way his hands trembled as he drew her hair through his fingers that tonight was going to be like nothing else he had ever experienced. It was going to defy experience --transcend him from the base and carnal lust surging through him into something blessed and pure. Making love with her would be like a kind of holy communion, a healing of the soul. She was healing him even now as she let him stroke her hair--pulling the broken pieces of him together--the isolation of the child, the outcast of the man, brought home here in this stranger's house tonight. His hands reluctantly left the silky tresses and settled into the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders, pressing and drawing easy circles with his thumbs into the muscles beneath --tracing the tendons and brushing the skin. His attentions earned him a different sound, a relaxed sound, and she eased more fully against him, more than happy to continue his gentle kneading as her eyes closed and her breathing deepened. His touch had drawn her into a light doze. Through half-closed eyes she could see the color of the fire blur and mix with blackness as she drifted. She wanted to sleep lightly, letting him roam her body with his strong and tender hands--releasing all her insecurities and fears with his touch. She wanted to come to him pure and resolved, with no questions, no regrets. He moved back and lowered her weakening form down onto the plush rug under them, turning her onto her side and stomach so he could continue to press circles down either side of her spine, careful not to break the spell in which she seemed to be captured. He lay down next to her, his left arm pillowing them both as he held her, touching her, his hip to hers, letting her rest in a feathery slumber. From here he took the opportunity to sample the generous scent of her hair. How she created that heavenly bouquet he'd never know--like rain and autumn leaves tossed with the fire color of strands that flurried about her face in the wind. He placed a small kiss just above her ear. She sighed and nestled into him, content. He relaxed completely, framed next to the small radiating warmth of her body, and he too felt the pull of sleep take him forward under the yellow-orange glow of the fire. *************************** TIME (3/5) by Terma99 See part one for info: Missing chapters? Go to: www.geocities.com/hotsprings/8334/fic.html ***************************** The merest brush of her hips against his groin brought him back easily to wakefulness. Mulder blinked the unconsciousness from his head and glanced at his watch. Almost an hour had passed. He breathed deeply and hugged her tighter. She mumbled something about carbon paper in a sleep-thickened tongue. She was waking and he decided to welcome her back with a feathery kiss to her temple. "You awake, Scully?" he whispered into her ear, kissing the lobe. Her eyes fluttered open to him--then suddenly went wide, her body tensing, startled by the foreign location and the close proximity of her partner's face inches from hers. Unabashed, he caught her full on the mouth with a kiss and memories of the evening came flooding back to her at the touch. Her mouth parted and her tongue willingly slid over and over his in a thick wet dance. She smiled sleepily at him, when at length he drew back to look at her. "I thought I was dreaming," she said, a little embarrassed, snuggling into the crook of his arm as he planted a row of kisses across the top of her forehead. "It's not a dream," he breathed between kisses. "No it isn't. It just feels that way," she sighed, hiding a bashful smile. He turned her then, lying behind her so they both could gaze into the cracking wood of the fire. "This is nice Scully," he said. "Being close to you like this." She moved a little pleasantly in his arms, telling him she felt the same, suddenly overcome by a monstrous yawn that quaked her body. She covered her mouth with a hand. "I guess I'm a little tired," she admitted. He breathed a silent laugh into her ear, "That's fine, just fine. Go back to sleep." "Hmmm, " she closed her eyes. As pleasant as the allure of sleeping soundly in his arms on a sheepskin rug appealed to her right now, she really didn't want to spend any more time on it. There were far more active fantasies to fulfill, to seek out. She felt a stirring within her. "I thought you had more on your mind than just sleeping tonight," she said. He drew a slow breath, searching for an appropriate reply. "I do. I could, " he said, teasing the back of her neck with his nose. She wanted him to say the words, to put to language his obvious arousal waiting so patiently next to her, hard and still. "So what *do* you want to have happen tonight?" He sighed, planting a kiss on her shoulder. "Right now I want you so badly I can't see straight. But I'd consider myself the most grateful sonovabitch alive if you'd just let me hold you like this until sunrise." She twisted to look at him with a little smile. That was a good answer. "Maybe we can try for both," she said, and lowering her eyes, she reached for him, and brought his mouth to hers. Their kiss was mild at first, but stealthily advancing. He was seducing her with his lips--each kiss intensifying and deepening--both taking their time to enjoy the sensations of expressing themselves to one another. Scully's sweater was inching up, exposing the pale skin of her stomach and he bent to kiss her there, savoring the taste and tactile flutter of her skin as it responded to his touch. He moved his body, rolling her to her back and settled himself between her legs. Although they were still clothed, the position drove an intense tingling throb into her lower body. She could feel him hard against her thigh as he began to move in mild thrusts with the tempo of his long slow kisses. The action broke her voice into a low sob as he released her mouth long enough to drag his lips up and down her neck. She couldn't help but lift her hips gently in time to his seductive pulse. She wanted more, so much more. This was like a sadistic practice run, just introducing their bodies to the promise of pleasure that lay ahead. She found she wanted it so badly her head was beginning to ring. She would have to speed things up before it deafened her, and half shoved him off so she could grip the end of her sweater and pull it up over her head. He backed off, propping himself up on an elbow, a curious smile on his face mixed with mild awe as his eyes ran up and down her newly exposed chest and belly. "You, too, Mulder," she ordered between breaths. "Lose the shirt." He pointed a silly finger at his chest. "Me? You want me naked, Scully?" She rolled her eyes at him, both irritated and aroused. "Yes. Now." No mistaking the demand in her voice. He knew it was better not to get on her bad side--he'd been there enough times already. And right now he'd do anything to keep on her naked side. His shirt and undershirt made a short flight across the bedroom floor together where they flopped in a heap. That won him a genuine purr from the woman sprawled beneath him, as she traced the angles of the bone and muscle of his chest with her fingertips. She looked very pleased. "Come here," she sighed, and he lowered himself back into position, his arms slipping under hers, his hands cradling her face for another kiss. Her hands slid up over the smoothness of his back, coming to rest with a push in the well at the base of his spine to which he responded with another thrust between her thighs as she lifted her hips to meet him in time. He was kissing her chin now, whispering to her in small words she could barely hear--telling her how beautiful she was, how warm, how wonderful, words lost as he nibbled his way up the side of her jawline to her ear, stopping for a little nuzzle before touching his lips to her nose and the closed lids over her eyes. He moved to the hollow of her neck, spending a moment there to dip the tip of his tongue into the pulsing dimple. Her fingers wound themselves back into his hair as she coaxed his lips lower to her rising and falling chest. Shifting, he settled himself in for an examination of her torso, kissing the top of her breasts still held secure by her pale lace bra. He nuzzled the pliant flesh with his nose, getting a good sense of the texture and fullness. He ran his mouth over the lace, dragging his lips across it until he discovered a rising nipple, which he took between his careful teeth for a moment, driving the rough material across her tender point. She arched into his mouth with a moan, wishing he would simply remove the confining garment and let her feel the full value of his mouth on her, suckling her with abandon. At some point in the future she'd want him to go slow, very slow. But not tonight. For now the waiting had been enough. "Mulder...?" He peeked up at her. "Let me up." He looked confused, and sat up watching her as she quickly removed her shoes and pants. Her pleasant female body was softly curved and firm in all the right places. He was still, enthralled by the creams and peaches of the surface of her skin set mildly against the pale pink of her bra and panties. "Let's get this thing moving along," she insisted, and leaned up and kissed him, reaching for his hardness, pressing and squeezing it with the palm of her hand through his jeans. Mulder lay his hand on the tight slope of her belly. His eyes were a fuzzy dull olive as he looked down at her, absently drawing the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. She was touching him, acknowledging him, and inside his lust-addled brain he could feel himself slip. He was beginning to lose it--becoming over-saturated with wanting her to the point of confusion. If he didn't clear his head and get her hand off his dick soon, she'd have this over and done with in a minute. No good. He wanted this to last as he had promised himself, always. At least just this once...then, she could take him over however she liked, rake him over the coals, whatever. But not this first shot. He took her by the shoulders, shaking his head. "Not yet, Scully, I think at least one of us should be the designated driver tonight." "I thought you were complaining about poor vision," she teased, still stroking him, pining for a look at the goods. He stopped her hand and brought it to his lips. "I can still feel my way around," he said, and stood up, bringing her to her feet. She sighed, not wanting to leave the lassitude of the fire- warmed rug. She quickly dispelled her regrets as he came to stand behind her, undoing the clasp of her bra, letting it fall silently to the floor. He covered her bared breasts with his hands, cupping them and kneading them gently as he rained kisses along her shoulder. In front of them just a few feet away, Scully could see her reflection in the dark glass of the sliding door. She could see him standing behind her, his hands on her, covering her and beginning to draw light circles around the center of her breasts--loose orbits that retraced, drew closer, until the pads of his thumbs made final contact with the tips of her raised nipples, flicking over them a moment in a flutter, before pulling back to begin the orbiting tease again. She leaned her head back and to the side and he met her halfway with a kiss, bathing her mouth in time to the rhythm of his hands. She lifted her arms over her head to grasp his face, to hold him close. She moaned into his mouth as her over-sensitive nipples were subjected to one last round of torture before he released her, and coming around, kneeled before her and slipped her moistened panties to the floor. She gladly stepped out of them and mewled sweetly as she felt his warm tongue return, tasting the sensitive skin of her belly. Her fingers wound in his hair urging him lower, wanting him, needing him to taste her arousal. "No wait, come over here." He stood suddenly, a wild look to his eyes, and turned her purposefully, her back to him. "Against the glass." She obeyed, stepping a few feet forward to stand naked and tense in front of the glass door. She pressed her palms against the chilled pane, watching him carefully in reflection against the backdrop of the clear night sky, the descending rooftops, and the dark waters of the bay below. Mulder stood behind her and began to run his hands slowly down from her shoulders to the curve of her waist, over the swell of her hips and back, just feeling her skin gliding under his fingers, getting accustomed to her shape. He soon left her field of vision, dropping down to his knees, his hands coming to move freely over the soft firm curves of her ass, squeezing the rounded flesh--passing over in smooth circles to the top of her thighs like a sculptor evening his work. Then he ran his hands lower, down her thigh, just brushing, and back up before shifting and paying equal attention to her other leg, his hand moving dangerously close on the upsweep to the flurry of tight curls at her apex--just teasing the threads with no more than an accidental glance. His touch was maddening. She could feel herself hot and swollen. She needed him to acknowledge her arousal, feel it, brush it between his stirring fingers. She moaned, and leaned forward against the glass, needing the firmness of the pane to help support her weakening limbs. She gasped as the taut hot tips of her breasts collided with the chill of the door. She undulated against it, the coolness easing the ache in her nipples, smoothing them flat against the slick dew-kissed surface. She needed his touch so badly she was ready to beg for it, plead with him to pull her in. She moaned again, her breath tracing a billowed pattern across the window, desperate. In his own time he moved his lips to the sensitive flesh at the inner edge of her thigh, using his nose to nudge her apart finally allowing his tongue access to her slickened opening. She arched in response to the sudden contact. Yes, this was going to be good, so good. He took a few long loving tastes of her, sampling her flavor, kneading her ass. She arched further, as best as she could in her position, to grant him greater access to the source of her hunger. His tongue obeyed, dipping into her, laving the rim of her core in a tantalizing circle. Teasing her open, inviting another slick taste. His lips murmured something against her as he dipped once more into her, deeper--his warm tongue fluttering inside her, and with a final kiss pulled away. She whimpered in disapproval. "Don't worry," he whispered below. "We're just getting acquainted here." She unstuck her breasts from the glass and turned her head, trying to get a look at him, but he was shifting position under her, moving to lean his back against the door, grasping her at the hips and pulling her forward and lowering her curls down onto his face. She issued a low hard groan as his lips and tongue spread her open, settling on her hot throbbing clit--kissing it, tugging it into his mouth for a quick hard suckle before releasing it to fall back into the securing folds. Then slowly and carefully, he began to move the length of his tongue against her, bathing the swollen folds to either side of her burning center, just glancing the frenzied point with each pass. She should have known he'd be good at this, as his fingers moved in to pull the skin a little smoother, accentuating his long wet caresses. She was drowning in sensation. It was so long since she'd had a man pleasure her this way. So long she didn't even remember it being anything like this--a thousand times more gratifying than any touch she could conjure herself. The feel of being so intimately tasted, kissed, and devoured by a man, this man, was overwhelming. Why on earth had they waited so long? God, if she knew it could have been like this all these years, they would have had considerably fewer arguments. Leaning forward, she rocked her face back and forth against the glass, cooling the burning skin of her flushed cheeks. That was better, but it did nothing to soothe the driving heat building below. He was making her hotter, fuller and wetter with each incredible stroke. He must he drowning, she realized and looked down a moment--his eyes were closed, the back of his head thudding dully against the glass. A soundless vibration was issuing from somewhere deep in his throat as he went about his task, thrilling her with its subtle tactile effect. She pressed her face back against the pane, dazed. It was unreal seeing him there, her partner, doing this to her. Unreal. Before she could muster another thought his hand moved and a selection of fingers slipped inside her, thrusting cautiously in and out, easing the almost sharp ache of her interior muscles --neglected for so long, their stimulation driving the registering sensations on her clit to an even greater volume. She was grinding into him now, her almost continuous moaning clouding and obscuring the glass. She was making entirely too much noise, but she didn't care, this was too good, too unfuckingbelieveably good to censor--an expression of primal need given in absence of coherent language. God! what he was doing to her, reducing her to. His pressure was increasing, and somehow one long slim finger had found its way deep and up to an erogenous zone she didn't even know she had. It was flooding her with an intoxicating mixture of dark gnawing pleasure and tender pain. Just a touch too deep, but so good, so very, very good. She groaned against the glass, pressing into him, begging him with her hips at all costs not to change a single damn thing he was doing to her. She could feel her climax building from across her lower back and up her spine, the tug of impending dissolution. Fuck! She needed this, wanted this more than she could have imagined. The fog across the glass from her last tearing moan was dissolving and she could see out across the tiled deck to the front windows of the house next door. To her shock, she could just discern the outline of a single figure standing in the window, dark and motionless. Was she really seeing this? Was the neighbor really watching them? It made her shudder with dread, but at the same time there wasn't anything in the world that she could do to tell her body to move, to delay even for a second the gathering of the storming climax that was threatening to consume her. So close, so close. Get a good long look buddy, because this is how to please a woman, really take her over. Oh God! No! Her palm made damp contact with the glass, sliding in a smear. It had to happen soon. Please let it happen, please. The sweet pain of waiting was becoming unbearable. Something about the way he was reaching inside her was delaying the inevitable, distracting it from gathering completely into the tight center of burning nerves his tongue was continuing to bathe so thoroughly, so deliberately. And then he pulled back, his internal probing suddenly ceasing, his mouth focusing and coming down hard on her clit, merciless. She bucked and screamed as the storm clouds burst below and shuddered through her. Yes! That was a scream, and slapped her palm again hard against the door as she came, her hand stinging, threatening to rattle it off the track, or shatter it into a thousand glinting pieces. She didn't care if the walls fell in, she was no longer responsible for it, taken over wholly by some violent enrapturing force. She was falling, dropping to the floor and he was there to catch her, to hold her as her body trembled and lost shape. His wet lips brushed against her cheek and he held her to him entangled together, stroking her back. Waiting patiently, securely for her to come back into herself. ***************************** TIME (4/5) by Terma99 See part one for info: Missing chapters? Go to: www.geocities.com/hotsprings/8334/fic.html ***************************** "Wow," he said after a few silent minutes, giving her a squeeze. "You've *got* to let me do that again tonight." "What? God, Mulder, no. You're going to kill me if you do that again." A few stray stars were blinking across her field of vision. Shit, had she ever come so hard in her life? She didn't think so, but then thinking was a bit shaky right now. Maybe it had just been too damn long. Maybe it was both. Right now she just needed to breathe. He was wearing an endearingly goofy grin. "I didn't think you had that in you, Scully." She tossed her head back, raising her storm-tossed blue eyes to his, trying to assemble some composure --he was getting too smug far too fast. She licked her lips seductively, "There's quite a few things about me you don't know," she said, even if he had just minutes ago uncovered about every last one of those things utilizing a bare minimum of appendages. So what, let him think for the moment this kind of thing happened to her on a more or less regular basis. Lie and let him think he didn't just spoil her for any other man in the world. He couldn't know could he? His eyes were softened into the gentlest look she had ever seen him give her. It was too much, she closed her eyes. No she couldn't pretend with him--he knew her far too well. She wound her arms around his neck instead and let herself be surrounded by him, belonging to him completely. "The object here tonight is see exactly how many times you can let me hear you make that sound," he paused a moment, leaving a tiny kiss on the top of her head. "By whatever means necessary." She cupped his face, kissing his cheek and then the underside of his chin, unusually smooth for after midnight. Some agent she'd turned out to be--not taking note of the five o-clock absence during dinner. The sweet bastard had shaved for her. "First of all. It's about time you started playing fair, Mulder." "What do you mean?" "You're overdressed for this occasion," she said low and snaky, letting her eyes drop to the crotch of his jeans. Still, she kept herself from making a grab for it. He'd asked for the initiative after all--the control. She looked into his eyes letting see full well the restlessness there. "Hmmm..." his voice rumbled warm in her ear. "Are you ready for me, Scully?" She twisted in his arms. "What do you think?" He moved his hand and resampled the wetness between her legs. Bringing the tip of his finger back to his lips with a kiss. "I'd say so," he said grabbing her, and quickly rose to his feet lifting her easily and taking a few steps toward the bed, tossed her down on it with a lively bounce. She giggled, rubbing her back against the downy bedcover. He turned away from her and took little time to remove the remainder of his clothes, giving her a nice view of the backside before making a similar bouncy trip to the bed next to her. Suddenly he was all there before her. Every inch of him, naked and seriously aroused. Despite the distant familiarity, the image didn't fail to startle her. She was staring blankly, holding herself still; "mild shock" was her internal doctoral diagnosis. Or maybe this was more like that thrilling pause when you first realize you're finally getting that shiny new bike for Christmas, or a pony. Yes, a pony. Oh God, don't laugh, she chided herself. Laughing would not be good right now--worse than staring. She bit her lip, hard. He did the laughing for her. Her expression must have been priceless given his reaction to it. "Well?" he asked, rubbing an eye. She cleared her throat. "Well," she repeated in a professional manner. "Nice." "Nice?" He rolled his eyes, letting his head thump back against the pillows. She gave him a stubborn look, trying to recover from her discomposure. "What are you used to hearing?" "I'm *not* going to answer that." "Are you going to let me touch you, then?" she asked impatiently. He looked amused. "Certainly." She made a dive for it. "Wait--" He caught her wrist. "Go easy on me, okay? It's been awhile." She smiled, sinking down onto the bed on her side, her nose even with his hip, answering his gaze. He looked unbearably innocent right now, his hair mussed, his eyes dark and soft. She began to stroke his abdomen. "How long has it been?" He raised his brows in mild surprise, his lips eventually parting into a smile that eclipsed hers in brilliance. "I don't think so... you first." "Ah...I'd say..." she had to pause to count. Since the day she met him, but that was probably more information than she wanted to give out right now. The idea of it gave her pause. *Had* she been saving herself for him? She hadn't thought about it that way before, but it appeared to be true. "...at least five years or so..." she answered quietly. He looked puzzled as if he was about to question, but thought better of it. She knew what he was assuming. She may have artistic evidence of her little sidetrip in Philly, but not to the extent he had obviously considered. "You...?" she asked shyly, somewhat nervous that she'd pressed him on it. If his answer wasn't what she'd expected, they'd have to start a whole new conversation. He narrowed his eyes a moment in thought. "About the same, I think." "You think?" He chuckled, "Okay, I can name the exact day, hour, and minute if you wish, but I thought I'd be more subtle. I'm not exactly dating material you know. Besides, I already had a woman in my life," he said, the end of his sentence growing lost as he touched her arm with the back of his finger. Shit, he kept coming up with all the good lines. It didn't leave her much room to improve upon. She wanted to tell him how she felt, that he meant so desperately much to her. But he knew. She could tell by the way he answered her regard, fondly reflecting the trust and understanding they both held for one another. So instead of words, she decided it might be better if she just showed him, and moved her lips to the fuzzy place below his belly. Mulder was caught in a helpless trap. So much for being careful-- the woman was heading south drawing a very dangerous path down his abdomen with her ripe wet mouth. He propped a pillow behind his head settling himself for a good view, for what he could hold out for at least. He quickly set his mental sensation alarm on autopilot as she took him in hand with her small soft fingers, caressing his length. Her hand flowed up to the tip, sliding over the pool of ready moisture, polishing the end with her palm. He couldn't help but let slip a moan at the introduction of a foreign tactile sensation teasing his cock. But that moan soon expanded into a gasp as he saw and felt her mouth open to take him in. He had to shut his eyes a moment to scramble for dominance over the rush of fantasy-fed feral instincts running amuck through his mind. So much for letting off a little steam this morning, the reality of experiencing his richest self-gratification scenario was putting all his careful promises and preparations to task. He shook the indecent thoughts clear and reopened his eyes to match a factual visual to the thrilling sensations running through his groin. It may have been awhile, but his body seemed to remember what to do by the way it took care to shut down most of the vital systems in his body in favor of providing the nerve endings currently experiencing the tantalizing skill of his partner's tongue and lips with maximum serum levels. It wasn't long before his sensation alarm began to blare wildly as he watched her lips slip once again down and over the tight textured skin his erection, and he cursed it for a snooze button. It is abominably unfair a man has to hold out for the full course while a woman can gleefully set a speed record for orgasmic frequency with honors. "Scully." All he got in answer from her was a stifled moan, the vibrations of which worsened the urgency of his condition. "Scully...shit! Stop...!" He jerked back, freeing himself from her, and she raised her flushed face to him in dazed confusion--her lips parted, puffed and rosy. "Too much?" He was lying panting, staring at the ceiling, thinking hard about some really bad head wound special effects he saw in a recent late-night B-movie. Come on, come on...blood, puss, maggots, blood... "Mulder...?" she was crawling back up to his face, sounding a bit worried. He was blinking and taking deep breaths. Thank god...the gore was working. He glanced at her, peach-pink breasts were bobbing at just eye level as she wiggled toward him, filling his field of vision. Crap. He closed them again. "Hey, you in there?" She tapped his forehead with the back of her fingers. "Just barely..." he sighed, opening his eyes with a sheepish grin. "I'll be lucky if I survive this." "You'd better Agent Mulder, because I have plans for you." "Really?" he said, his hazel eyes darting across her face. "Really," she mimicked, flopping herself across his chest. "Not until you give me a chance to get to know you completely," he laughed, catching her at the waist, flipping her onto her back and playfully capturing her arms back over her head. "I missed a few parts earlier." She was pinned under him wiggling, a devious smile on her flushed face, her hair a blaze of red across the pillows, her breasts peaked and rounded by the positioning of her arms. He was arrested by the vision. Dana Scully, naked, aroused and waiting eagerly under him in his bed. Well, his for the night at least. Until something caught him as well, and he eased back, softening. She watched him as he loomed over her. His expression suddenly changing into a mix of sorrow and devotion--a small sigh escaping his mouth through his parted lips. He released her wrists and pressed her readied nipples into the soft palms of his hands. He held them there a moment still and uncertain, a shadow of emotion flickering over his face. He looked pained, and his hands moved back to the safety of her hips even if his eyes couldn't help but continue to take careful inventory. "What is it?" she asked, quietly. His lips began to move but no sound emerged and he looked away from her toward the window for a few seconds before finding the words--his voice fragmented and almost lost under the dying cracking of the fire. "In all my life..." he whispered. "No one has ever known me like you do, Scully." He looked down at her with saddened eyes, brushing the hair from her face. "No one...I want you to know that." Despite her best efforts, Scully felt the beginning moisture of tears stinging her eyes. She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb nodding gently. "I do know that, Mulder. I do." A tear slipped itself out from her lid and rolled down to the pillowcase with a pat. He used his thumb to wipe the moisture from her cheek, calming their emotions before they took the night over. "Come on, partner. There'll be time for that later." She nodded, smiling. "I know...kiss me...now." He did, sliding himself alongside her, taking her head in his hands and cherishing her lips with his. Beautiful kisses made more tender by the way his fingers stroked her cheek, chin and temple. He sat her up and undid the bed, pulling back the comforter so they could slip inside between the gentle folds of the brushed cotton sheets, loosely draping the lower half of their bodies. When he was finally able to set her mouth free for a moment he turned his focus to the full seduction of her breasts. Kissing and nuzzling them with his lips and nose, suckling the rosy tips in cadence to her light amorous sighs, sliding her hips against him, brushing the hot restraint of his erection against her open thigh to the point of exquisite pain. He met her with his eyes-- dark and ready. She gave an almost imperceptible nod. It was long enough, they'd dragged this on for more than forever--it was time. He shifted between her thighs and descended, sheathing into her slowly, his breath leaving him as he became rapturously enveloped by pure velvet warmth and wetness. He backed off and pushed forward again, gently. He knew she wasn't very accustomed to this and he was fully aware of their proportional discrepancy. He did everything he could to not be overcome by the amazingly intense sensations registering below while taking careful note of her expression. She was looking up at him dreamily expectant as they made this final connection. She was so filled with love and desire right now that it took her a moment to comprehend his hesitation. She almost laughed but thought better of it. Instead she bit her lip and smiled up at his far too serious expression. "It's okay Mulder, I'm fine." He looked at her a second, puzzled, then dropped his head with a chuckle mid-push, hovering over her like an insect. He lifted his head shaking it and met her eyes again all seriousness effectively wiped from his face. "Jesus Scully, I'm supposed to be having the most incredible fucking experience of my life here and you're cracking me up." She laughed then, a full belly laugh and he withdrew collapsing next to her, dropping his face into the soft valley between her breasts--kissing and nipping her warm pale skin between chuckles. She held him close against her while they let their nervous tensions transform into a cascade of mirthful laughter. Somehow necessary and redeeming and moreover made their impending connection all the more enthralling. Presently their giggles ceased and became replaced by a returning course of deepening breath and sighs. He was continuing to nuzzle and fondle her, taking a nipple into his mouth. She licked her lips, "Maybe we should let me get into the driver's seat for a while." He looked up at her, the tip of her breast still disappearing in his mouth. "Sure, be my guest," he mumbled, releasing her and eyes wide, watched her as she sat up and pushed him back onto the bed beneath her. "Let me take care of this." She moved and straddled him, sliding her wetness up along the hot length of him. He hissed and shut his eyes a moment against the sensation. She was kneeling over him, her hands running up and down his chest as she rocked her hips against him, over his pulsing cock lying flat against his abdomen. He released a shaken breath and opened his eyes. The vision was amazingly sexy, her leaning over him, letting her breasts swing gently forward and back in time with her hips. He reached up and moved his hands over them, cupping them and teasing the nipples. She leaned into his touch with a sigh and ground herself against him more forcefully. As incredible as it felt to have her sliding over him, he was reaching the edge of his patience and preyed she could sense it and deliver him from his waiting. She could, she did, and she ran her hands low, raising her hips, taking him in hand, and descended upon him in one long downward motion. He whispered her name, he was inside her, completely utterly taken up by her, surrounded by her deepest embrace. She paused to let them savor the moment, their eyes locking in acknowledgment and acceptance before moving slowly up and down adjusting to the feel of him. How could she forget this? Nothing in the world was a proper substitute for a long stiff cock driven hard inside her. She thrust against him, wanting him as deep as possible in her --easing the aching flesh and muscle, opening her again, releasing her, making her whole. He was perfect for her-- long and full--perfect. It amazed her. It was stirring her to deep arousal frighteningly fast--that and the divine thrill of witnessing his response. He was breathing in short pants, his head tilted back slightly, lips parted, his eyes growing blurry and disjointed as she savored him within her. He was moaning with each descent of her tiny body, so sweet, so tight, he couldn't believe the intensity of the sensations. He wanted to weep with it was so good, so perfect. He ran his hands up and down her thighs, encouraging her. It had been forever since he had been with a woman. And longer than that since he had been this completely taken in by one body and mind as she moved him inside her--controlling the pace of his pleasure. She was increasing the tempo now, moving a hand to stroke the glistening folds between her thighs. He could feel her fingers brushing against him as he slid up into her. Taking her ass in his hands, he met her with a slow thrust of his own as she arched upwards moaning with sensation as she adjusted the pressure and angle of his cock to her liking as it stroked in and out of her. She was biting her lower lip, her eyes a rage of blue fire-- she cried out his name and surged with wetness. It was so good, each sensory input driving like fire into his spine--her eyes, her hands, her sounds, her body, over him, making love to him, flooding him with its intensity. He was experiencing a sense of completion, of contentment he had never known before--it filled him and surrounded him, driving him gloriously mad. With deep regret he soon came to realize it couldn't go on this way forever--the high limit of his control had somehow long passed. "Scully..." he rasped. "I can't...I can't last much longer in this position." Her face was a cloud of pleasure as her fingers moved more rapidly against her clit. God, she was beautiful, so beautiful. He felt a quickening, he couldn't stand it another minute, couldn't hold onto himself for another moment--he had to finish, had to release. "Please..." he begged her, but his plea was lost in the deep heavy groan that ripped from her throat as she arched, throwing her head back and thrusting down furiously against him, her fingers a blur, her hot slick walls contracting around him. The force of her orgasm was more than enough to drive him over the edge as he grabbed her hips for one, two, three, more hard thrusts as the world disassembled and fell away into shattered bits of memory. He cried out, gripping her tight as his body emptied into her in long thick pulses. Mulder blinked, his skin cooling, taking a clean breath. That was good. That was so very, very unbelievably good. Not the marathon he had fantasized, surely, but what can one expect from five years of longing and abstinence? Besides they had the rest of the night for all-out fucking. This was, he hoped, an introduction. And a fine one at that. Thank god she had the presence of mind to find her own climax. Lord knows he didn't. He wasn't driving anyway. Good call, Scully, good call. Thank you for not making me look like an ass. She was already groggy with spent lassitude and had fallen forward boneless against his chest as he held her, stroking her back, taking stock in the aftermath of the event. Fortunately for her it isn't considered rude for a lady to passout after sex--it was, in fact, a kind of flattery. After several minutes of hazy recollections, he reluctantly pulled her off of him, settling her sleepily into the pillows while he set about trying to wipe things up a bit with his undershirt, returning it to the floor with a toss. He reached down and retrieved the tangle of coverings and sheets that had wisely retreated to the foot of the bed and fluffed them up and over them, curving himself snugly behind her, his arm tucking possessively around her waist, and in a manner of minutes joined her in a peaceful oblivion. ************************* Some hours later Scully woke from a half-dream to feel someone kissing the dip between her shoulder blades, feather light, almost ticklish. She wiggled a little to shake it and realized she was being held securely against a long warm body. She fought off sleepiness long enough to register by scent the body as familiar. Then she remembered. Her eyes opened. She was sleeping in a strange bed, quite naked against an equally naked and notably aroused government employee. Who it seemed was making it his official business to make long sniffly noises across the skin of her back. "Mulder...?" "Hmm...?" another sniff. It tickled, and she wiggled under him. "Why are you sniffing me?" He reached up, cupping her breast, "You smell good...you smell like sex." "I what?" "Like sex, like us...like fucking." She giggled. "You're tickling me." He tucked his head between her neck and shoulder, breathing into her ear. "Maybe I need to be a little more direct then," he said, pressing her the rest of the way onto her stomach, urging her legs apart with his knee. And quite suddenly, but with care, she gasped as his newly resurrected erection found it's way up and inside her. "Mmm...that's better," he whispered in her hair, beginning to move slowly, very slowly. She sighed. "That's an interesting way to wake someone in the middle of the night." "You like that?" he asked, taking little nibbles from her shoulder blade as he slipped a long arm down across her belly and into the forest of damp curls below, searching and selecting just the right rhythm and pressure to apply to her swelling clit. "I could get used to it...oh, that is nice..." she made a yummy sound and adjusted herself slightly to the side to take him in more completely, meeting his languid thrust. He groaned against her shoulder, biting a little harder. "I'll have to get a muzzle for you Mulder," she observed drowsily. "I think that one might leave a mark." He grumbled, kissing the spot now, flicking it with his tongue. "I warned you about this..." he hissed, nipping her again, but with more care as he began to pick up his rhythm. "I can't help it...you feel so damn good..." "Hmm...you feel good too." She was rather enjoying the overpowering feeling of his weight and presence pushing her into the soft sheets from behind, but she wasn't going to let him know that. She wanted to see exactly what he was capable of and she thought she knew how to get them there. "...But I could do with a bit more...ah...effort." His hand left her moist thighs and squeezed her breast teasing the stiffened nipple between his finger and thumb as his nose rooted through her hair, inhaling deeply. "Effort...?" he asked, dreamily. "Yes...I want you, Mulder. Hard. I want you to really fuck me," she smiled, feeling him start at her choice of words, hiding her blush in the pillow. God, this was fun--better than novelty stores. At first all he was able to manage in response was a series of noisy pants as he was struck by a powerful rush of additional blood to his groin and an overwhelming urge to push deeper, faster. "This is going to be over really fast if you keep talking to me like that," he said gruffly in one breath, struggling to rein himself. "You don't want me to talk?" She said in a calm, discerning voice-- not dissimilar from the way she would address one of his manic theories, arms folded across a stiff impenetrable double-breasted pantsuit--hiding at all costs the simmering pleasure he was stoking inside her. "No," he managed to squawk, answering her far better with a more forceful thrust of his hips. Damn her, she wasn't even breathing strangely, and he was being nearly strangled by the feel of her beneath him, the intense need of her--fit so unbearably warm and snug around his straining cock. "Why?" "Scully..." "What?" "Scully...shut-up." "Whatever for...?" That was it--he'd have to kill her now. "Because...I'm trying to see things through here," he panted, as he lent one frustrated forearm out to toss the sheets off of him before they became damp with sweat. Increasing his pace, he let his fingers drive in time against her clit, hard. Not even a peep. Christ! Was she even in the same bed with him? "See what through...?" "I'm trying...to make you come." If she didn't shut up soon and let him concentrate she wouldn't have the pleasure, and he'd probably have the beginning foundations of a complex. "You are, though." He groaned, quickly losing track of the argument. Shit, he was actually getting off on it. "What...?" "Making me c..." the rest of her sentence was lost in a long whispery hiss as she backed herself into him, grinding into him, riding it out. Her contractions vibrating generously around him as he instinctively impaled her in counterpoint. He was at once all too shocked to truly savor the experience. Where the hell did that come from? Where was she hiding it? Enough of this. Time to get serious. He pulled out and roughly flipped her over onto her back meeting her serene flushed expression with his hard desperate one. He took only a moment to dive back into her, letting himself seek out his own gratification in her intoxicatingly slick depths. She was without a doubt the most seductive arousing thing he had ever had opportunity to seek absolution in. He let himself drop all restraints and maddeningly pumped into her toward is own end. She seemed to have no complaints and he growled in approval as she lifted her hips and gripped his ass, rising to meet his quickening pace thrust to thrust. He doubled his efforts, and by his blurry estimation perhaps burying himself in her a bit too forcefully for her size, but he almost couldn't control himself at this point. She was amazing, just amazing to him. He'd never thought in his wildest wet dreams she'd be so open, so willing, so intensely fuckable. Speech had completely escaped him so he devoured her lips with a kiss, trying to convey his gratitude with a tenderness sorely lacking in his lower body at the moment; to somehow begin to communicate how very much he needed this, wanted this like nothing else, and how ethereally kind she was to give herself up to him in this way. But she knew, she knew in the way his eyes drank her in and the way his arms gripped her tightly that she was the only thing he really needed, really wanted to push away the shadows of his past. She was his to seek solace from and she hoped she had the capacity to fill him to bursting. He dropped his head, screwing his eyes shut, and she felt his lower body go rigid as a long gravely sound issued through his clenched teeth as he came. A few sloppy thrusts followed, and with a huge exhale, he collapsed on her, bathing her insides, his golden skin dewed with sweat. He slipped to the side to ease his weight off of her, but she held his head close against her breast, stroking the damp hair at the nape of his neck, kissing the top of his head. He was breathing in shudders, overcome and temporarily incapacitated by his efforts. "I'm sorry....I just.." he tried to explain in an uneven tone. "Shhh..." she breathed. "Don't be sorry, silly. You're wonderful. I wanted you to let go...it was beautiful. You're beautiful." All he could do was wrap his arms tightly around her--she was too good, too good, he didn't deserve her. He held her close, waiting for his welling emotions to reverse and wane, waiting until he could find his voice again. ********************************* TIME (5/5) by Terma99 See part one for info: Missing chapters? Go to: www.geocities.com/hotsprings/8334/fic.html ***************************** He was asleep beside her--really asleep. Scully smiled, waking, stretching her pleasantly aching body, listening to him breathe. His closed face reflected the picture of someone engaged in a thorough exploration of unconsciousness. She touched the hair that fell in a faint curl across his eyebrow, moving it back so she could and lie there with an unobstructed view. She loved watching his face--from his soft lashes, to his adorably disproportionate nose and the voluptuous curve of his singular mouth--an unusual combination of features that taken one at a time would be ridiculous on another, somehow parried and accompanied one another into beauty. He was beautiful; she meant it. And he was hers, really hers--all of him. She felt a peaceful sense of relief that went well beyond sexual gratification of the thought. There would be no more hiding or restraining her emotions. She could relax into them and enjoy them for once without the all too familiar frustration she'd felt to some degree ever since she met him. What had she said to herself then, silently...when he first looked over his shoulder at her through those adorable spectacles? "Damn. He's beautiful, and I'll have to look at him everyday and pretend I don't notice. Why couldn't they get me someone wrinkly and bald?" Quickly followed by, "God, he's arrogant. Maybe if I do look at him I can keep from shooting him." That hadn't stopped her though, she reflected ruefully. She'd left her mark on him, in more ways than one. They both had. Her stomach made a gurgling sound, and she tried to shush it. She didn't want to wake him, not while he was so still, so peaceful. He rarely found peace and she wanted to give it to him so very badly, the giving of it settling her own unrest and fears. I have this man, she told herself. I have him completely and he does me as well. We are indivisible--no one can touch us as long as we stay connected, intertwined. I have his trust and his knowledge, he is my guide and my inspiration and a damn fine lover to boot. Lover--she liked that word, the physicality it represented, and felt a twinge of body memory flow through her. She could still feel him in her as if he had never withdrawn. Her muscles were molded to him now and pined to be filled again despite the protest from the sensitivity of the flesh. She paid it no mind, he felt too good for the tenderness to hurt. Her stomach stubbornly interrupted her thoughts again. She sighed defeatedly. She was surprisingly hungry even if she had stuffed herself silly at dinner. I guess we worked it off, she mused. Well, there *were* rations downstairs. She supposed she could sneak down there and fumble around for something. She leaned close to him and gave him a "be right back" peck on the nose. He didn't move. Scully slipped off the bed and began to search the moonlit floor for recognizable articles of clothing. Bits of it seemed to have floated everywhere. If she had known about this little event she would have brought a robe, which would have made stumbling around in the dark a bit quieter. Ah...! She found his long sleeved shirt, still buttoned and pulled it on over her head. The fabric gave her a tactile thrill as it settled over her bare breasts. Hmm, it smelled of him, too. Of course she smelled rather Muldery herself, but wearing one of his shirts around the house had always been a secret urge, and she wasn't about to deny herself anything. Satisfactorily dressed, she slipped downstairs. The sheets beside him had barely cooled to room temperature before Mulder's extra-sensory alert system began to nudge at him. His body thoroughly engaged in sleep, it took some coaxing before his arm wearily slid forward to inspect the scene, sliding across the sheet, searching, reaching emptiness. His eyes and head rose in concern. She wasn't next to him. He sat up, suddenly awkwardly awake. "Scully?" Maybe she was in the bathroom. He closed his eyes, rubbing them, trying to pick up a sound. His nose came in first with useful information. He smelled something. Something good. Something frying. He'd probably best go investigate. Mulder pushed to his feet and looked around for something to put on, trying to create some semblance of decency. He stretched his back, feeling a little snap as something settled back into place. Idly scratching his chest, he scanned the room. He felt good, tired, but good, pleasant even--a certain brand of pleasantness he hadn't had opportunity to experience in quite sometime--coupled by the sweet almond scent of a woman rubbed into his skin. Frustrated by the scarce selection of clothing, he chose a small knitted blanket from the bedcovers which he threw over his shoulders and headed for the lower floor. The lights were on in the kitchen and the aroma and sizzle of eggs and potatoes floated into the foyer. He peered around the corner to encounter the vision of Dana Scully clad only in his shirt, sleeves rolled up, ass peeking from under the tails as she reached up to grab the paprika from an overhead spice rack. She unscrewed the top in one full twist, shaking lightly, stirring a yellowy concoction in the pan briskly with a pancake turner. After letting his eyes take their fill of the presentation, he made a noise in his throat and stepped in as to not startle her. Despite his latent and persistent horniness, he was surprisingly hungry and wondered if she didn't mind sharing. She turned to him in mild surprise. "I see I've woken the dead." He faced her remark with an identifying nod. "You're cooking," he emphasized, as if her domestic display was certainly a momentous occasion in itself. "You're naked," she answered, eyeing his unusual attire. "Someone stole my clothes." She looked down at herself, a bit embarrassed at him finding her this way. "You going to arrest me?" "I would, but I left my handcuffs in my other pants." That got him an eyebrow as she lifted the pan from the stove, clicking the heat off. "Good thing, that. How do you like your eggs?" "Cooked." "We got 'em," she said, spilling a mixture of scrambled eggs and diced potatoes onto a large plate. He took a seat up on a stool at the central counter, wearing the blanket draped over his shoulders. He could easily imagine this little scene playing like some soft-porn nuptial drama. Wouldn't that be perfect? The little wife half-naked greeting him with a steaming pan of eggs... Whoa. Hold on. Did he just upgrade his fantasies to marital? God, he really did have it bad. Funny what a decent helping of consensual sin will do to a guy. He lifted his eyebrows and accepted a fork from her eagerly. She took a stool across the corner of the counter from him and they stabbed and nibbled at the lumpy mixture in unison, feeding one another an occasional bite. They were some damn fine eggs, too--infused with herbs and spices. Mulder never had the pleasure of being fed by her before. He wasn't even aware she knew how to turn on a stove. Scully certainly had her share of little secrets. As cliched as it might sound, he felt as if he was seeing his partner clearly for the first time. Scully was looking up at him thoughtfully as she tangled forks with him over the last few bites. Let it not be said they didn't have a reputation for putting away food--another aspect to their inherent competitiveness--fighting over the last scrap of take- out like a couple of hounds sometimes. Pre-dawn breakfasts were no exception, as he tagged her fork with his, stealing the final wiggly yellow lump, popping it in his mouth with a grin. "Did you ever imagine, Mulder, when you were young, what being an adult would be like?" He blinked at her, surprised at the sudden reappearance of conversation. They'd been silent during their egg and potato duel--a comfortable silence only long- term couples have learned to appreciate. She handed him a tall glass of reddish-looking juice and he took several gulps of it before answering. "Sure, what kid doesn't..." he replied, curious as to the aim of her introduction. "What I mean is, I always thought being an adult was about having total freedom--being able to stay up late to watch old movies without being told to go to bed, or to have my own money to spend on chocolate eclairs at the bakery..." she trailed off, her expression growing solemnly wistful. She stared at her hands, opening them. "You're never really told the whole story..." He let the corner of his mouth rise to lighten the heaviness he saw there. "You mean the part about how one third of your yearly income will one day go toward mollusk reproductive research?" She answered his quip with a faint turn of her mouth. "Yeah, something like that." "I think we all wind up a little bitter about the reality of becoming responsible for ourselves," he offered. "Having to make decisions and take risks without having anyone to really fall back on when you fuck up. I guess for me--I just don't really look that far ahead. It makes screwing up that much easier to live with." She nodded in agreement to his assessment of his reckless nature, and her expression warmed as she met him eye to eye. "The amazing thing is Mulder, when I look at you sitting there in that silly blanket, sharing this plate of eggs with me in this strange kitchen--I feel it. I feel that imaginary reality I pictured when I was a kid. I feel that freedom. You give me that, the strength to make myself believe I can do anything. I think I lost that somewhere along the way. YouÕve brought me back and...I've wanted to thank you for that for a long time now," she finished softly, her eyes regarding him tenderly. He didn't move at first, just parted his lips slightly. He wanted to crush her to him and whisper wild and desperate confessions in her ear, tear himself open and let spill out a gush of raw humanity; but feared his own sanity in the end, and instead fell back on a familiar deflective tactic, the safer move, for now. "I think that's the most incredible thing anyone's ever said to me, Scully. Well, at least just after sex, anyway. I mean it's usually, 'Where the hell is my underwear?' or 'Can you pay for my cab?' --Ow!" She whapped him on the head with the oven mitt, with a full smile that brightened the sky-blue of her eyes. "You're terrible, I never should have agreed to be assigned to you." "What? And miss out on all the finely-tooled madness? Come on, you can't do any better than me for livening up the work day. Especially now." "I wouldn't be making that assumption quite so fast. There's to be no inappropriate behavior within the confines of the Hoover Building." He gave an exaggerated sigh, dropping his head into his arms. He peeked up at her, pushing his lower lip into a pout. "Not even after five?" "Nope. Sorry. The desk stays in pristine order." "What about the parking garage?" "You'll have to hold it until you get home." "Road trips?" "You'll have to consult with me on a case by case basis only." "You're an evil, evil woman, Scully." "Tough. Be lucky you got me to this point at all." "I am, I am. Weekends?" She nodded once, "Sure." He reached out and took her hand, lightly stroking it with his thumb. "How about after this week we dig into our backlog of vacation hours and I'll drive you to the coast for an extended weekend of indecent behavior?" "You're buying?" "Absolutely." "I could get used to this." Scully leaned forward on her elbows across the edge of the counter and gave him a gentle kiss, just their lips touching, lightly. The way she leaned in, allowed him an amazing view down the partially unbuttoned front of his shirt, occupied by the finest pair of breasts he'd managed to get his mouth around in a very long time. He licked her lip with the tip of his tongue while his fingers brushed the soft material over her breast. She pressed into his hand with a small whimper and he wasn't too surprised to find himself stiffening in response to the sound. She separated from him and peered down into his lap. "That didn't take much," she teased. "You complaining?" "No..." she replied, and slipped down off of the stool with a dangerous look in her eyes. Mulder felt his pulse leap in kind. She was up to something. She stood next to the counter, pushing their plate back and beckoned him to her with a crooked finger. He slid to his feet, letting the blanket flop onto the floor as he crossed to her. She sighed and raised her arms and he lifted his shirt up and over her head. She stood before him all skin and supple curves, her nipples pointed and eager. "Ready for round three?" she asked demurely. "Sure," he whispered, unable to get the required air supply to his vocal cords. Mulder's jaw almost made contact with the floor when she turned and draped herself down onto the countertop, her stomach to the tile, her little ass wiggling invitingly as she took a step apart exposing the swollen pink flesh of her sex, poised wet, and ready for business. Sweet mother of god! Still a few hours until sunrise and she had already knocked out half of the top ten in the Fox Mulder Fantasy 500. Then again she figured in most of the top 100 anyway. Time to invent some new ones and see if they floated to the surface before sun-up. And he had been worried about this? She blinked at him, biting her lip like she was just a little bit shy, but not too ashamed to beg nevertheless. He moved to stand behind her, dipping his fingers between her dampened legs and she lifted her ass on tip-toe to meet his touch like a dog longing to be petted. Damn! She was sexy as all hell. Fortunately his cock knew exactly what to do and made a quick aim for her--up and in, locked and solid. Wow, the noise she made at that point was one he'd be replying for the next several months. He pulled back and moved into her again, all the way in to the hilt, and yes, she made the noise again, like a drowning seal--if seals could drown. He was immediately grateful for the incredible view this position granted him. Fifty yard line full score seating of everything that really counted. Damn! This round was gonna be good. His video cabinet would certainly require dusting over the next several months, years maybe if he was truly lucky. He took full advantage of the situation as he savored the stimulating visual effect of his cock disappearing into her just inches away in full florescent illumination. Thank god someone'd paid the electric bill. Low strangled sobs began to rise from the counter beneath him. She was writhing there, her voice rising in volume, beginning to generate this unholy noise to his quickening thrusts. Whatever it was, it sounded good and it was coming this way. He gripped the flesh of her ass more forcefully and retooled his pace, driving into her in a slow forward motion ending in a tiny jerk at the end of each thrust. That seemed to do the trick, she bucked against the little extra effort in each stroke, her moans elevating, sounding gradually more pained and desperate. God, what an amazing thing sex must be for a woman, to be able to enjoy it in so many flavors. Careful and slow, to hard and furious, they each created their own color of orgasm in a woman, and he was so pleased to discover Scully was no exception to this. He wanted nothing more from life than to seek each variation out, start cataloguing them, giving them names--developing a connoisseur's eye, selecting a menu for each and every all- night bought of pleasure he'd experience with her from a richly styled palette. Her cries were strangling themselves into what sounded like the tight wail of frustration, so he picked up the pace a bit, running his hands over the smoothness of her back, glad for once to have been sated enough times already tonight to finally get a grip on the kind of attention she needed. Ah, that fit the bill, her moans were lower again, rougher, and her hips were rising up off the counter to meet him in collision pound for pound. He decided to test the waters a bit and leaned forward, slipping his hand over her hip, trapping her clit in a vee, between two fingers, adjusting the aim of his cock a bit deeper and higher towards a spot he thought he'd found earlier when he had her up against the glass. She growled in approval and he began to tease her center of pleasure in earnest, raising its sensitivity. Her moans came up in pitch but grew longer, more forceful, thickened. He guessed that was a good thing and kept it up, just dragging and squeezing the skin to either side of her clit with each pulse. Suddenly her hand came over his and forced his fingers down on her nub hard, grinding down onto its leading edge in a flurry, then a pause, then another flurry. Okay, he thought he remembered that one from somewhere deep in his past and took over for her. Her back arched up, almost knocking him over as she reacted to the requested stimulation. He held her at her hip as she slid herself further up on the counter into an arched pose. Evidently this adjustment was the right move because she began to shutter from ass to shoulders as he crushed her clit between his fingers then released, crush and release. Her head shot back as she writhed. "Oh god..." she moaned low and dark. "Oh god, don't stop...don't stop." Thank god myself, he thought, because his lower back was beginning to seriously protest this new position. "Don't stop..." she cried in a more primal, torturous groan, thrusting herself back against him hard. Jesus, it didn't even sound like her. Barely sounded human. And it must have triggered some deep seated bestial tendencies in him, because her transformed voice was driving him suddenly and violently toward the edge. Shit! Not now. He'd be damned if he missed this one. Her hungry pleads were becoming more and more manic as he thrust deeply, trying to disconnect himself from the burning ache in his groin. Please god, I'll never ask for another thing as long as I live if you'll just make her come. Make her come. Please make her come. He felt it might be time to reconsider his religious convictions when in just another moment she jerked up onto her elbows in an even tighter arch and let go a full throated howl, her entire body wracking with a spasm as he shot into her as fast and hard as he could without dropping her, his own climax peaking and ringing in his ears as it flashed over him like whipcrack. "Fuck...!" he cried, as he caught the counter's edge to keep himself from falling full-force on her where she had collapsed, leaving breath trails on the dark stone. Yeah, that was original, he thought--the muscles in his arms and legs shaking from the strain--time to work on the orgasm vocabulary. And if he was not mistaken, he'd probably just damned himself to hell for asking god to finish her off for him. Smooth, buddy, smooth. Shit, who was trying to kill whom here tonight? "Mulder...?" "What?" he panted, dragging his nose across her shoulder blade, still wavering in a post-climatic haze. "I need to get down." "Sorry." He did his best to stand on his own legs, and pulled back and away so she could straighten up. His brain was beginning to function at the closest it had ever come to total meltdown. He could hardly grasp what had just happened. How could *that* be right? How could he have possibly just bent his partner over a kitchen counter and fucked her senseless? She stood up, running her fingers through her hair and pulling his shirt back over her head and down over her hips. He thought if she had a purse with her she'd probably daintily re-apply a touch of lipstick, too. "Mulder, you're staring." He shook his head a little. "Sorry..." "Stop apologizing already, " she said with a lift of her chin, as she began to gather up their plates and wash them under the spray of the sink. "You have nothing to be sorry about. Believe me." He realized he was just about fucked stupid by now and in an effort to ground himself, tried to be useful, handing her cups and plates to wash--careful not to speak until at least a few multi-syllabic words came to mind. He watched her, awed by the simple way she had slipped in and taken him over so easily. He wanted to tell her he loved her now, but after some thought decided against it. Probably not the best time to bring it up while standing buck-naked, hair askew, next to a dribble of come on the floor of a stranger's kitchen. Despite that, the words wouldn't sound right and he'd probably choke on them on the way out, messing it up. He'd tell her soon, though, and he'd do it right--buy her something nice, or take her someplace beautiful, or both. For now he caught her soapy hand and brought it to his lips, pressing into her palm, the bubbles tickling his nose. She rose up and kissed his cheek. "Grab a towel," she whispered. "You're drying." ***************************** A thudding woke them both. Sitting up in the bed in the yellow glow of morning, Mulder tried to make sense of the sound. It was coming from downstairs. For a minute he felt panic, was someone letting himself in? "Mulder?" Scully sat up, too, trying to cover herself with the rumpled sheet. The thudding stopped. "Oh. No it's okay, Scully," he said, rubbing his tired eyes. "It's the hotel. I had our bags sent over." "Oh...What time is it?" He flopped back down on his back, closing his eyes again, not wanting to let go of sleep just yet. She reached over and took his arm, reading his watch. "Mulder? What time is our flight?" "Hmmm...?" "Our flight. It's 9:25" "What?" his eyes were quickly reopened, the look of panic returning. He examined the face of his watch. "That's not good." "What are you saying?" "We've got to hurry," he muttered. Throwing the covers back, he scrambled to a half-standing position, giving his exhausted body a moment to catch up with his spinning head. And if he wasn't mistaken, he appeared to be sporting another goddamn erection--the origin of which didn't appear to have any correlation to sleep, which he was sorely lacking in. Scully was immediately on her feet and not just a little pissed, as she fussed about, gathering her scattered articles. "Shit Mulder, I thought you were in control of this situation." He raised his brow at her. "In control? Right. I gave up somewhere around, 'fuck me hard, Mulder,' I think." "I *said* that?" "Uh huh. That was you, I'm pretty sure." "Where the hell is my bra?" He smiled ironically, slipping his jeans up over his hips--now this morning was beginning to wax familiar. Except maybe this time he had a chance in hell of seeing the girl again. No, he had more than a chance, he was willing to bet his life on it. He'd try to spend every weekend for the rest of his life with her if he had any say in the matter. Maybe she'd even give into the "rules" a bit over time. His cock jumped at the thought--not the desk scenario again. He'd really have to clean-up the fantasy rack if he valued their partnership. Mulder dragged their bags in and up the stairs while Scully got first round of the shower. A duel cleansing was certainly out of the question, she informed him. No need to be any later than they already were. Too bad, he'd have to pick up on that particular activity later. He couldn't complain though, he had plenty of activities to reflect on over the next six hours. She emerged from the shower, towel about her head, in time to catch him attempting to reassemble the bed. "What are you doing? We can't leave those here." He shrugged, a rumpled sheet still gripped in his hand. "Any ideas?" She had a point, the maid wasn't going to be arriving any time soon. "We'll have to take them with us." "What?" "I'm not leaving that for someone to find in six months, Mulder," she said exasperated, tugging the fitted sheet from the bed. That was certainly an odd party favor to take along with them. She was right. He hadn't planned for laundry. He thought he'd better leave her to her cover-up mission and retreated into the shower. The hot spray pelting his skin helped ease the soreness in various parts of his body. He felt like crap, but for once had no regrets. All he had to do today was get their butts on the plane, doze, watch badly edited movies, and eat peanuts until they reached home. He wondered if Scully would mind a sleep- over tonight--in the literal sense, okay, maybe a little prodding before bed. Hmm...not likely--it was a school day tomorrow after all. Why couldn't he fall ass-over-teapot for a less responsible woman? Now he'd probably have to wait a whole week before he got her naked again. He sighed, turning off the water and reaching for a towel. He didn't think he'd make it that long. When he emerged, still a bit damp around the edges, he was met with a perfectly re-set bedroom. Not a lint ball out of place --even if the comforter was now only covering a bared mattress. They could bill him. He dressed quickly, glancing around admirably, he wondered if she thought to wipe down the glass door for "prints." Probably not, he smirked. Now, that was one way to leave a calling card for the new owners. "Mulder...!" Jesus, he was getting bellowed at already. He supposed that was an acceptable sacrifice. He heard the oak door open, and grabbing his bag, hurried down, taking the stairs two at a time. She was standing flushed and impatient at the door, her face free of makeup, her hair a half-assembled swath of damp waves. Christ, she'd never looked more gorgeous. "The cab's been honking for five minutes." Without giving it a thought, he grabbed her arm and covered her mouth with a rough kiss, pressing her to him until he felt her stiff resistance falter and her mouth part under his--refusing to let her go until he got a satisfying taste of her, parting with a loud smack. "Let's go already." "One last thing, Mulder..." "Yes?" "You'd better have booked us seats together, because I plan on passing out in your lap for the next six hours." He could get used to this, he decided, smiling to himself as he took one last look into the foyer before pulling the door shut against the yellow glow of the early sun streaming in from the high windows to the abandoned tile floor below.

[thisis4fanfiction]

This is Heaven by J Hallmark

Snowsdon Falls, Maryland "This is Malcom Wells, you might want to hear his story." Detective Reynolds lowered himself into his chair, addressing the two F.B.I. agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. His eyes went up and down Scully's form, an appreciative smile on his face. It died when the partner caught his eye, not sharing in the masculine evaluation. Touchy, he thought, must be boning her himself. "Mr. Wells, can you tell us exactly what happened?" Scully sat down in front of the nervous-looking man. "Well, it was weird. I called this woman up from an ad in the personals and we agreed to meet at her place. When I got there, she offered me a drink and so of course I accepted and then everything gets kinda hazy. I just remember that I couldn't stop myself. She was pretty, but I don't really remember what she looked like exactly, just that she was pretty and I tell you the sex," he stopped and nervously shifted his eyes away from Scully. "The sex was incredible. The best I've ever had. I've never wanted to touch or be touched more. It seemed to go on forever. I couldn't even think of stopping, even when it started to hurt and --" "Hurt?" Mulder interrupted. "Where did it hurt?" "Uh, well, my brain, my heart, my blood, my, well, you know," he looked down, a slight flush lighting his face as his gaze shifted over Scully. "And that's when the earth moved." Scully looked up at Mulder, knowing that he was already looking at her, a wry smile on his lips. "I assume you mean the earthquake, Mr. Wells?" Scully was proud of him, there wasn't even a quaver of laughter in his voice. "Yeah, the earthquake, things started falling and suddenly it was like, whoa, what the hell is going on here? My body was aching everywhere, I felt like I was going to die or something and she was just writhing on the floor, like in this parody of an orgasm. It was spooky." Mulder lowered his head, a slight, quick smile on his lips. "Spooky," he muttered under his breath. "Yeah," Wells looked at him. "Spooky. Well, anyway, a friend of mine is a cop and I was telling him about this and when I said the part about, you know, I thought I was going to die, he said I should come down here and tell you people this story. He said some people have been found dead, apparently because of sex. So, I thought maybe he was right, maybe this woman had something to do with it." Mulder and Scully stepped outside of the office. He leaned in close to her. "Scully, has the earth ever moved for you?" Ignoring the question, Scully looked down at the slip of paper with a name and address on it. "Christiana Finn. Let's go check it out." She walked away, leaving Mulder to follow. ** ** ** There was no answer at their knock, so Mulder tried the knob. It was locked. "Damn, we have to get a search warrant. Wait," he headed back towards the elevator and pushed the down button. The doors opened with a hiss. "What, Mulder?" She stepped into the elevator with him. "Maybe there's a kindly landlord or lady who will let us in." Ten minutes later, Mulder, Scully and the kindly landlord stood in front of Christiana Finn's apartment. "I haven't heard her or seen her in about a week. That's why I'm letting you in and you're F.B.I. and all, I wouldn't want the I.R.S. coming after me." Scully looked at Mulder behind the man's back, her eyebrows raised. "I.R.S." she mouthed silently. Mulder shrugged his shoulders, if it works, the move implied. The door opened and they stepped in. Mulder turned to face the landlord. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Krisloff, but we'll take it from here. If we need anything else we'll let you know." "Okay, sure." Krisloff backed out of the room, eager to be back to his football game. The room was obviously deserted and by someone in a hurry. There was a half-full glass of wine on the coffee-table. Three lights were on despite it being 2:00 in the afternoon. A few clothes were scattered here and there as if someone was packing in a hurry. The two agents walked around the room. Scully tripped over a high heel lying on the ground. She stumbled against a small table, her hands reaching out to steady herself. Her fingers brushed against a small clear vial resting on the table. She pulled her hand back, feeling wetness on her finger. Almost against her own violition, she brought that finger to her lips, tasting the liquid. She felt a sudden, pleasurable heat warm through her body. Mulder came up behind her. Scully had a sudden urge to rest against him, run her hands through his hair, over that tall, lanky body, feel him inside her. She licked her lips, suddenly dry and banished her unruly thoughts. "What is it?" Mulder asked softly. "I don't know." Her voice sounded unsteady even to herself. She reached into her pocket for a prophylactic and put it on. "It's a vial, containing some sort of liquid." She picked it up and brought it to her nose, sniffing gingerly. Nothing, she held it out to him, he took a whiff and shook his head. "We'll take it back to Washington with us. Find out what it is." Mulder stepped back and continued looking around the apartment. Scully took a deep breath, trying to control the beating of her heart. What was wrong with her? "Hey Scully, you said you didn't detect anything unusual in the victims, right?" Mulder called out. "Right." She turned towards his direction. "You were there with me at the autopsies, saying that they died from sex is a stretch. I don't know how they died. I can't really find a cause. I mean, yes, all of them were found without clothing and they had all recently had sex, but still that isn't a cause of death." Mulder walked back into the living room. "Well, they called us in on this because of the Kindred case, but I have to agree with you, I don't think they died from sex. But then what did they die of? And does Malcom Wells' story have anything to do with it? Does this Christiana Finn? Wherever she is. Maybe, we'll get some answers when we find out what's inside that vial." ** ** ** Scully paced back and forth. She felt hot, cramped and hungry for something. She looked over at Mulder, God, he's beautiful, she thought. He was speaking, but the words were flying so high over her head she couldn't have figured it out even if she were 10 inches taller. He stopped speaking, those lips were silent, beautiful, full, sensuous lips. She walked over to him, she just couldn't resist, those lips beckoned. She sat down on his lap. He spoke again. It was complete gibberish. "Stop speaking. You're distracting me." She reached out a finger and traced his lips, murmuring softly, almost a whisper. "You have beautiful lips." She bent down, her hair brushing along the side of his face. Her lips touched his. Mmmm, she moaned. Perfect. Just Heaven. She pulled away, and lightly licked her lips. She stood up and walked back over to the table. She picked up the toxicology report. "Mulder, do you think that this has anything to do with the Kindred case? There was no increase in pheremones in any of the 5 victims here in Snowsdon falls and I hardly think that Christiana Finn is Amish." Mulder just looked at her. He was sure his mouth, his beautiful mouth, he thought wryly, was still hanging open. Did Scully just kiss him? Did Scully just do what she just did? "Scully, did you just kiss me?" "Yes." "Why?" "Because you have a beautiful mouth and I just couldn't resist. Are you going to answer my question?" He shook his head. "What question?" Scully sighed in exasperation and set the file down. "Nevermind, I'm tired, you're tired, we'll discuss it on the plane. I'm going to sleep." Mulder smiled faintly, "'Night. Don't let the bedbugs bite." She smiled back and then left his room. Mulder closed his eyes, relieving the feel of her against his thighs, the feel of her fingers on his lips, the kiss. Simple, brief, barely a touch and yet he shook him more than he could have ever possibly imagined. I'm gonna have great dreams tonight, he thought. ** ** ** Washington D.C. Mulder groaned inwardly. I hate paperwork, he thought as he sat at his desk back in D.C. in the good ole basement, home of "the F.B.I.'s most unwanted." He stretched and reached for a pen, then Scully walked in. He looked up cautiously, wondering if she was going to pull any more funny stuff. That beautiful mouth comment affected him more than he had cared to admit at the time, not to mention the kiss, but a night of restless turning and erect dreams about his partner sent a stunning realization to his brain. He wanted Dana Scully. As a woman. And what a woman she was. Of course he had noticed it before, but it had been separate from, well, from real life. She was carefully categorized in "the untouchable department" and that was that. Sure, a stray thought crossed his mind now and then when she was looking particularly delectable, or whenever she made those long-winding scientific statements of hers. Those never ceased to warm the temperature a tad bit. And of course he loved her. That went without saying. Literally. He had never said that he loved her, but then nor had she. But it was there, they both knew and that was enough. But now, actual serious sexual contemplation had entered the equation and it was becoming a little more difficult to maintain a friends-only demeanor. Of course, he could handle it. He had managed to submerge practically every sexual thought about Dana Scully for four years now. Just because, those sexual thoughts were increasing by the second and were a lot higher in pornographic content than before didn't mean he couldn't handle it. "Good morning, Scully." "Morning, Mulder." She was wearing that tight, white blouse. It stretched just so across her chest. Funny, he thought, I never realized that I noticed that before. And ooh, she was wearing a skirt, the Man upstairs must be in a good mood. Scully walked over to her desk, carefully setting down her cup. "Mulder, do you have the file for the Snowsdon case? I want to read over the accounts before writing my final summation." "Yeah, sure. But I'm still looking at it, give me a couple minutes. Just relax, drink your coffee, read the paper." He looked up with a smile. She smiled back. It was that smile. He looked down, suddenly disconcerted. Scully favored him with that smile rarely, very rarely and she just beamed it at him ... over coffee and a paper. Weird. He shook his head and then returned his attention back to the file. A couple of minutes later, Scully cleared her throat and Mulder looked up. "Yes?" He inquired. Scully slowly twirled a lock of hair in her little finger, she moistened her lips. Mulder felt a slight reaction in his nether regions. "Do you think I'm attractive, Mulder?" She asked softly, her voice just above a whisper. "Uh, yeah, yes," he swallowed nervously, wondering what brought this up. "I think you're very attractive." Scully pushed herself away from her desk and rose. She walked towards him, Mulder watched her come to him and for some reason a little fire began to light in his stomach. He took a deep breath. She leaned upon his desk, her hands resting flat. Mulder was treated to a sudden, tantalizing glimpse of pale breasts emeshed in white lace gaping from her vee-shaped bodice. He tried to look away, really he did. But the opportunity was there, so ripe, so available and fitted so well with the recent train of thoughts concerning his partner, he just couldn't. He might as well enjoy it, he thought. "Attractive in what way?" "What??" He tore his eyes from her decollatage, embarassed to realize that he was openly staring. "In what way?" Scully repeated. She straightened up and Mulder could semi-concentrate on the question. "You're beautiful. And sexy." Did I just say that? he thought. Was that rampant lust and sincerity rumbling in my voice? He cleared his throat and attempted a joke, hoping to break the tension whirling warp speed around them. "What about me, in the immortal words of Rod Stewart ... Do ya think I'm sexy?" He leered. She laughed, a silky, throaty laugh, that stopped him cold, mid-leer. "Oh Mulder," she walked around the desk and leaned against him, bending down to whisper in his ear. She loped her arms around his neck, her fingers just brushing against his belt. "You're so sexy, you make me purr like a kitten." Before he could react, Scully straightened up and headed back towards her desk. She sat down, and picked up the phone. A couple of seconds later, her no-nonsense voice filled the air, typical Scully as she discussed slicing and dicing a corpse. Mulder stared at her, open-mouthed, lust flushing his face. He shook his head and stood up, carefully holding the file in front of his pants. The bathroom was a good place to be right now, he thought. And that's where he went. ** ** ** Mulder changed the air conditioner temperature from medium cool to very cool. Hope that helps, he thought. He walked back to his chair, trying to avoid the sight of Scully sitting at her desk, her legs crossed across the desktop, her eyes closed, her lips parted. He wasn't doing a very good job. "Down boy," he murmured beneath his breath. This was getting to be rather hard, no pun intended, haha, he thought. Sitting down at his desk, he took a deep breath and picked up the file on the Snowsdon Fall disappearances. He opened up and began to read. His concentration was going swimmingly until he felt her behind him, leaning over his shoulder, her breath soft and tantalizing against his neck. He felt her breasts push and press against his linen shirt. He groaned mentally as Malcolm Wells' account swam before his eyes, words like "I couldn't stop by myself," "the sex was incredible," "I've never wanted to touch, to be touched more," jumping out in sharp focus. Scully pulled away, Mulder breathed an inward sigh of relief, then she pushed back down, sensuously sliding against his back, a light purr escaping from her throat. The sigh heightened to a delicious moan. "Scully," he whispered. He cleared his voice, and arched his back away from those luscious, questing ... "Scully, would you please stop that." His voice trembled. "What?" She replied in a perfectly normal voice. She moved from behind him and pulled up a chair, sitting next to him. "Mulder?" He closed his eyes briefly and then looked at her, fighting for normalcy. He lost, but hey, he thought, it was a valiant effort. "Yes, Scully?" His voice still trembled. "You look tense," she murmured, her pink lips pouting just so. "Let me help calm you down." Mulder was lost in her eyes for a moment. He tore his gaze away, down, to those lips, soft and pouting and lush and imminently kissable. "Oh My God!!" he cried as her fingers found him through his trousers and molded to his rapidly hardening erection. "Scully -" He sharply exhaled. "What are you--" her fingers found his zipper and a little tug and he was free. "Oh God!" She was bending down, before he could utter another word, another syllable, another sound, all he saw was the crowning auburn of her hair, and then, they were on him, those lips. Those soft and lush, Oh My God, his mind moaned, or was it his lips? Then a sound like a purr, a tiny mewl ... it came from her and he, he was coming right now. She was purring like a kitten. Her lips, her tongue, her fingers, the soft pads of her fingers, the brush of her silken hair against him. His hands gripped the desk, his fingers searching for something to hold on to. His eyes closed, his fingers stiffened, then relaxed, over and over, his breath came in short pants. His mind was whirling, Scully, Scully, Scully, Scully, it sang, over and over and over again. The pleasure, God, it felt ... she felt so good. Up and down, she stroked him, licked him, sucked him dry and time stood still and then he was flying and one last stroke, one last pull of those lips, those perfect lips and he came crashing down. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't speak, he couldn't move, all he could do was glory in the glory of the perfect blow-job, delivered courtesy of, Oh My God, Scully. She straightened up. And she smiled. Smiled. Scully smiled at him, warmly, casually. She licked her lips and casually redid his pants. She smoothed her hair and reached for the report. "Mulder, I think that once we find out what is inside that vial found in Finn's apartment we may find out what it was that happened." She looked up at him, his eyes closed, his features flushed. "Mulder? Are you alright?" He nodded absently, his eyes still closed. She got up and walked over to her desk. "Why they bothered to call us ... I really don't see a connection between this case and the Kindred case." She suddenly stood up from behind her desk and set the file down. "Unless ..." She walked over to the file cabinet and sought the Kindred file. Mulder sat at his desk, his mind racing, trying to make sense of the fact that his no-nonsense, practical, sexy (where did that come from?), mind-altering (from the nether regions, his mind replied), uh, sensible partner had just given him the most incredible blow-job of his life. He wondered if he was losing his mind. Where did this come from? He thought. All day, well, yesterday too, if you count the "you have beautiful lips" comment from the motel, she had been acting amorous, but almost as if she didn't realize she was acting amorous. Maybe, she's just trying to drive me crazy. With Lust (with a capital L.) With wanting. For her. For Scully. Dana Scully, his partner. His partner, who for the first time he was really seeing as more than a partner, but as a woman, an incredibly seductive, beautiful, blow-job-giving woman. Whoa! Maybe sexual thrall did have something to do witht his case. Maybe something happened there, but that didn't make sense. He was there at the autopsies. He was there when they searched Christiana Finn's apartment. He was there at every crucial point of the case. How could she have been affected and not him? Maybe this is her not-so-subtle way of telling me that she wants me. Yeah, that's it. I mean, it's not like she hasn't acted jealous around other women. Maybe, hell, I don't know. He buried his face in his hands. "Mulder." He looked up, warily. She stood before the file cabinets, holding a case file in her hand. She beckoned him with a toss of that glorious, silky-soft, red hair, hair made for running fingers through and smelling and savoring the feel of it brushing over his naked fle-- "Mulder! Come here." "Coming." Oh yeah. He walked over to her, tentatively, half-hoping, half-dreading she would jump him. Hope, because, he really, really wanted her to. Dread, because if she didn't stop what she was doing, he didn't know how much longer he could keep from grabbing her and taking her right then and there. Jumpme, jumpme, jumpme, jumpme, jumpme, he silently begged. "Mulder, look at this." He came up behind her and for the first time since they met, he felt nervous about standing too close to her. "Scully?" he questioned softly. "Hmm?" "Did you see or mess with anything in Snowsdon Falls which might explain how you've been affected?" She straightened up, her back brushing against his check, waves of her hair brushing against him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "What do you mean? You were at the autopsies and I was careful with everything? Why would you think I'm affected in anyway? He stepped back and laughed in more than a little disbelief. "Scully, sex may very well be a factor in this case and you just gave me a blow-job! A tremendous one at that, I might add." Scully turned to look at him, "Mulder, you were tense, I was just helping you relieve some of that tension. I was just supposed to sit there while you squirmed like a caught rat and attempted, badly I might add, to conceal your hard-on?" She shook her head faintly, and rolled her eyes before turning back to the file in her hand, her back once more facing him. "Excuse me? Am I missing something here? What you just did was a kind act of partnerly friendship? I don't think so --" "-- Mulder, just drop it. Look," she held up the file for his perusal. "I don't see any evidence of connection, I thought maybe the time frame was similar, but it's not. Do you see anything?" Mulder peered over her shoulder. "Just down your blouse." He muttered softly. She stiffened and her nipples suddenly stood on end. A soft moan escaped her. She leaned against him and Mulder dropped the file. She reached out for his hand. He was frozen, barely breathing. She brought his hand to her blouse, impatiently maneuvering his hand underneath the vee-shaped neckline. She squeezed his hand, squeezing her breast, the lace of her bra, a friction against her sensitive flesh. Scully released his hand and reached behind to hungrily run her fingers over him. Mulder shut his eyes, his hand still. She arched forward, her breast filling his cupped hand. That was it. He lowered his hand, quick as lightning and turned her to face him. He pulled her into his arms, his fingers thrusting through her hair, cupping her head in his hands, tilting her lips, those lips to his own. Heaven. He was in heaven. The feel of her lips beneath his, soft and open. He nibbled her lower lip, she moaned. His tongue slid into her mouth, urgently coaxing, hungrily caressing her own. Mulder lowered Scully to the ground, not caring or even noticing the chill of the floor. He was too hot himself. His hands reached for her skirt and jerked up the material. He reached between her legs, and almost cried. Damn pantyhose!! He broke from the kiss, "Scully -" but she was already reaching in between them, jerking at the offending nylons, as desperate to have him inside of her as he was to be inside of her. As she fought the clingy material, Mulder feverishly ripped at buttons and zippers, letting out a little yelp (not quite a girly scream, though) when he caught that rather sensitive portion of his anatomy in his haste, the thin cotton of his underwear not quite protective enough. Sudden, soft, small soothing hands helped ease the discomfort And then he was poised above her, there was no hesitation, he was so hard, so fair to bursting that there was no time for distrust, no faltering, no question. He plunged into her. She gasped, arching up to him, he moaned. Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyeyseyseyes, he cried mentally as he slid in and out of her, deeper and deeper, in and out, sweat beading his upper lip. She was so tight, so hot, so moist and wet and perfect, God, she felt so good. Her arms clutched around his neck, her fingers digging into his shirt. He pulled back, holding back as long as he could (not very long) and then dove into her welcoming flesh. A loud cry escaped her as climax rolled over her, he groaned, thanking God mentally for being a man. Mulder pulled away from her, looking down at her flushed features. Scully smiled. She reached up a hand and lightly ran her fingers over his face. He smiled back. "Damn, that felt good. Am I crushing you?" She nodded slightly. "Sorry." He pulled himself up off of her, adjusting his clothing. He offered his hand and helped her up. She fixed her clothing. Smiled at him. The Scully smile, but with something a little more. He felt a little tingle. She bent down to retrieve the file. "Mulder, do you see a correlation between the two cases at all?" She looked up at him, completely at ease. "Scully, forget the case. Let's get out of here." "Mulder? Where are we going?" He took the papers from her hand and set them atop the file cabinet. Her grabbed her hand and pulled her towards their desks. "Get your purse, let's go to my place. I want to make love to you properly." Scully stopped and tugged her hand free. "Mulder, you don't have a bed." "Who needs a bed? I have a futon and a really comfortable couch." Scully sent him a look, and then walked around the desk. She opened the bottom drawer and pulled her purse out. "Let's go to my place instead." Mulder looked at her for a second. She stood there calmly, her clothes a little rumpled, her hair disheveled. Her lipstick was pretty much gone. And she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. Her red hair, tousled true, but still soft and glinting with a haloed glow. Her eyes, wide and so blue, he was drowning, lost for a second. Electric, dreaming sky blue eyes, still misty with desire. Her pale face flushed, her cheeks pinkened, her lips, lush and luscious and pink and ripe and everything wonderful that lips could be. He reached out for her and pulled her into his arms. She looked up at him. He lowered his head, slowly, and his lips brushed against hers. His hand moved to the side of her face. His finger came to rest by the bottom of her mouth and gently he tugged at her lower lip before reaching down for another kiss. Softly, tenderly. His tongue licked out, tasting her lip, tasting the salty texture of his finger. She sighed softly into his mouth. He dropped his hand, resting it against her hip. He opened his mouth, breathing in her breath. His lips caressed her lips, his tongue gently playing with hers. She leaned against him, her body soft and liquid against him. She felt so right. This was so, so right. He pulled away, slowly opening his eyes. "Okay, your place. Let's get out of here." ** ** ** Fox Mulder stood before Dana Scully in her sun-lit bedroom. Clothes, he thought, we have to get rid of the clothes. He was nervous, he couldn't believe it, especially after what had just happened in the office, he was actually nervous. Scully apparently wasn't. She turned away from him and calmly pulled the sheets back. She fluffed the pillows and then turned back to him. She reached for the top button of her blouse and began, one by one, to undo them, a little bit of heaven uncovered with each flick of her fingers. She shrugged the blouse off, never taking her eyes from his, that enigmatic Dr. Scully smile playing on her lips. She reached behind her and undid the button and zipper at the back of her skirt, down it went. Then those damn pantyhose, Mulder felt a sudden, stupid urge to do a victory dance at their removal. He resisted. She pulled her bra off. Heaven help me, he silently beseeched. She pulled her panties off. He couldn't think. He found himself completely incapable of thought. Completely. She stepped up to him, her breasts lightly brushing against his shirt. He sucked in a breath. Scully undid his tie, little red martians dancing merrily on a sea of black. She undid his buttons, tugging his shirt front out of his trousers with a slight tug. She pushed off his shirt, running her hands over his back, then grazing her fingernails across his chest. He moaned softly. "Scully," He breathed. Scully unlooped his belt, unsnapped his snap, unzipped his zipper ... his pants slid down. She pulled at his fruit of the loom underwear. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wished that he was wearing some sexy briefs. Oh well. She knelt before him, bending down at his feet. She looked up "Sit down, I have to get your shoes and socks off." Mulder moved to the bed and sat down. "Are there little spacemen on your socks, too?" "No." She nodded. In a few moments he was as naked as she and she was rising before him. She rested lightly atop his lap and gently pressed her lips into the hollow of his throat. He leaned back, putting his arms around her waist. They fell back onto the bed. He rolled over her, kissing her hungrily. His lips traveled from her lips, down her neck. His hands cupped around her breasts. So soft, so perfect, he thought. His lips met his hands and his hands traveled down south. Suckling and licking at her twin peaks, Scully squirmed beneath him, moaning softly. His fingers nestled between her legs, softly, gently he caressed her, she pushed urgently against him, her hips arching. His middle finger slipped inside her and Scully gripped his shoulders, her nails scratching down his back. And then she stiffened, suddenly. Mulder lifted his head up and looked at her. She looked lost. "Scully, what?" His finger stilled, she shifted beneath him, searching for the feeling again. Scully closed her eyes and pushed his head back down to her breast. And then her hand was between them guiding him into her. She couldn't wait. Well, neither can I, he thought. He moved into her and Scully bit her lip, feeling wondrous things flow throughout her body. What had happened to her? Why was Mulder here? Doing this? To her? As the feelings rippled through her, she stopped caring for the moment, just grateful that he, Mulder, was here, doing these things, to her. She arched beneath him, glorying in the feel of him in her, it felt so right, oh my, this is heaven. She ran her fingers through his hair, luxuriating in its softness. In the back of her mind, grateful that he hadn't taken the weed-whacker to his head recently. Then she was lost in thought. Lost in delirium. Lost in the sensations drowning her body, her soul. Mulder, her mind screamed. He bent down, capturing her lips in a kiss. She responded full-force, hungry for his lips, his hands, all of him. He surged against her, a cry breaking from him as he pulled away from her mouth. I swear to God, the earth just moved, she thought. Those are violins, yes I'm sure that's what that humming is. Ohmy,ohmy,ohmy,ohmy,ohmy, ohmy, ohmy, her mind raced, coherent thought lost as he pierced her very center and she felt a thousand volcanoes explode inside of her, erotic waves of heat and pleasure washed over her. She screamed, an inarticulate sound of passion, fever-pitch, long-withheld, long-silent echoing in the room. She clasped him tightly to her, her heart beating faster than a speeding train. He collasped atop her, his breathing, harsh and shallow. He was heavy, crushing her, but she didn't care. His weight was heavenly. Oh dear God, I love this man so much, her heart cried out. Mulder rolled off of her, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. "Did the earth move for you?" he asked with a smile. "And violins sang." She murmured. She looked over at him, his eyes closed, his breathing slowing down. Unbidden, images flicked through her mind ... Mulder in the motel room in Snowsdon Falls, she on his lap delivering a light kiss ... on the floor of the basement ... in Finn's room holding the vial ... at Mulder's desk, her head bent, giving him -- oh my God, she thought, a fiery red blush heating up her face ... pieces and pieces of the last day and half speeding through her thoughts. What happened to me? She wondered. Her eyes caressed his face, she reached out a finger and ran it lightly over his eyebrow, down the the bridge of his nose (the perfect nose, she thought defiantly), across his sensuous lips. Who cares? It happened. She mentally thanked God for being this woman. ** ** ** The nearby shine of a streetlamp filtered through the windows. Mulder stretched and felt the contact of soft, warm flesh. Hmhhmm, he thought. Yummy. He looked over at the very delectable form of his partner, best friend and now, Halleluja, lover lying beside him. God, I love this woman so much, he thought. She's my life. Oooh, spooky. He smiled. He turned on his side and cupped her face in his hand, she shifted, her face resting more firmly in his palm. She sighed softly, purred is more like it, he thought. Just like a kitten. Scully opened her eyes, closed them, opened them again and pulled back sharply. "Mulder?" she sleepily murmured. "Mulder," she sighed and closed her eyes again, snuggling up against him. Mulder smiled, looking down at her beautiful face. His watch beeped. "Damn," he said, glancing at his watch. "Scully, Scul-, Dana, wake up. I have to go." Scully shifted and groaned softly. Mulder felt a tightening in his groin. He grinned, looked at his watch again. Mentally, he debated ditching his mom for sex with his partner. He sighed, he had to ask his mother some questions about Cancer Man. Scully opened her eyes, "Hmm?" Unable to resist, Mulder bent down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "I have to go and meet my mom. Do you want me to come back later or we can just see each other tomorrow. Abuse protocol somemore." Scully thought to herself, I need to think about what happened. Tomorrow, tomorrow is soon enough. I have to wait and see what was in that vial, see his reaction. Her mind made up, she replied, "Tomorrow. And we'll, " she paused and lightly licked her lips, "talk." Mulder bent down for another kiss. And another, and one more. And then he was drowning in her arms, lost in Dana. She pulled away and laughed. "Mulder, go to your mother." He sighed heavily and got up from the bed, already missing the feel of her in his arms. We have our whole lives, he thought as he bent to retrieve his Fruit-of-the-Looms. The rest of our lives. ** ** ** The next morning, Mulder walked off the elevator and heading into the basement of the J.Edgar Hoover Building, whistling. He stopped and smiled to himself. Whistling, he thought. He stepped into the office and pulled up short when he saw Scully leaning against her desk, a piece of paper in her hand. God, she's so beautiful, he thought. His heart caught in his throat and his blood seemed to hum in his veins. She looked up. and smiled. "Good Morning, Mulder." She straightened up, a slight, nervous smile on her face and nodded at the paper in her hand. "They are calling it a pheremone tonic." "Huh?" "The contents in the vial, retrieved from the Finn's apartment. It contains a highly concentrated form of, for lack of a better description, liquid pheremones. I had forgotten this, but the cap wasn't properly sealed when I brushed against it. I got some of the liquid on my fingers and tasted it. Says something about the potency of the stuff, considering how it affected me. So we can blame yesterday on that little vial," if we want to, she thought silently, praying that he didn't want to. Mulder hoped desperately that the breaking of his heart was not too audible in the cramped room. Blame? he thought, they needed something to blame yesterday on? God, help me, it meant nothing to her. Absolutely nothing. So I guess we just pretend like everything is hunky dorky, sam' ole, sam' ole. Fine. I can do that. No problem. He swallowed and walked to her, casually enough, he thought. He took the sheet from inbetween her fingers, casually. And just as casually, moved away from her tantalizingly sweet scent as quickly, but casually, as he could. He sat down at his desk and read the document. "A pheremone tonic, hmm. If they could market this stuff, we'd make a fortune." Scully nodded, a slight frown furrowing into her brow. She stood there while he perused the lab report, lost in thought. He doesn't care. It meant nothing to him, I meant nothing, it was just an easy lay. What did you expect, Dana Katherine? What did you expect? She laughed inwardly at herself. Mulder swung his feet off of his desk and thought, natural ... casual. "So Scully ..." She looked up. "Now that the effects have worn off, do ya still think I'm sexy? Do I still make you purr like a kitten?" "... and roar like a tigress, apparently," Scully returned with a strained smile, as she walked across the room and headed towards her desk. Mulder's own smile died as he leapt to his feet and followed her. Scully stopped and looked at him with surprise. "Scully, I can't do this." He almost groaned between clenched teeth. He took her in his arms and lowered his head for a soul-searching kiss. Then just as suddenly he pulled away, leaving Scully shaken and confused, her eyes wide in question. "Mulder ..." He looked deep into her eyes, penetrating, probing, his hands gripping her upper arms as if scared to let go. And then he did. Let go. He turned away, running a hand through his hair and as he began to speak, Scully just watched, silent, listening as Mulder paced in circles, never once looking at her. "Scully. I - I don't know how to explain this. For the last four years, you have been partner, my best friend. I have respected you, admired you, liked you, trusted you, and yes, I've loved you, but it was always separate from Dana as Dana Scully and Dana as woman. I never looked at you in a sexual way, well not that often and when I did, it was gone like that. You were Scully. I looked at you and I saw a beautiful, sexy woman ... but not affecting me and then, and then, Scully, in that motel room, you looked at me and you touched my mouth and said I had beautiful lips and you kissed me. Just a simple thing, just a peck, nothing more ... but for me, Scully, for me it was everything, it was like, whoosh, right through my body, Dana ... woman, same thing. And this want began and this lust for you, my partner, my best friend, started to grow and build." Finally, he turned and looked at her, his eyes begging her to understand what he was saying. "Scully ... Dana, I thought that I could ignore it and push it back down and pretend it wasn't there, and who knows maybe I could have. But then you flirted with me, and you rubbed your breasts against me, and you gave me a blowjob while reading reports on a case ... and still, still, I thought 'I can handle this, it's an aberration, it's not happening.' You were so calm, you acted so natural, I thought I was missing something, but I thought 'I can handle this.' And then you leaned against me and you let me, hell, you made me touch you, and I could not, I knew that I most definitely could not handle this. I wanted you. I wanted you like I have never wanted anything, Dana, anything in my entire life. "Yesterday, making love to you was heaven. Quite simply, I can't recall a time that I have ever been happier. And I started to believe that this was right, that this was waiting to happen all along. That I ... that I loved you as a friend, as a lover and that you felt the same way and that we were whole. And, oh God, I was so happy." He stopped pacing and came to stand before her as she leaned against her desk, looking at him, her eyes full of wonder. "Mulder ..." "Don't, Scully, I need to say this, I need to say all of this." He looked at her for a moment longer, waiting to see if she would acquiese to his wishes. She slightly nodded her head. He turned away again and resumed his pacing, throwing her glances now and then. "This morning when we came into work, I thought, 'This is wonderful, I get to work with the most beautiful, incredible woman in the world. Mulder, this is the rest of your life. Thank God.' And you smiled at me when you saw me and I knew everything was going to be alright. And then you held up that damned lab report. A pheremone tonic, you were under the influence of a drug-induced hormone orgy and I, I was under the influence of my own lusts, my own feelings. Not you, I. "Dana, it wasn't real. What I felt for you was, but for you, it wasn't real. It was a lie. It was a tonic. You don't want me, you don't feel the way I feel. And I can not go back to the way our relationship was before the motel room. I can't make jokes and laugh and pretend that I don't want to take you on that desk right now. I can't because I do. Want you. Right now and tomorrow and the day after that and after that and so and so on until forever stops." He stopped pacing. He looked at her. "I'm done. That's what I wanted to say. If you want to transfer to another department, I understand. And I don't think that anyone will wonder why. They may wonder why it took so long for you to get fed up with "Spooky" Mulder, but that's about it." He smiled wryly, sadness darkening his hazel eyes. Dana pushed herself onto her desk with a wistful smile. "But, Mulder, I like being known as "Mrs. Spooky." He just looked at her. "Mulder, come here," at his hesitation, she repeated herself. "Mulder, come here. I want you, too." He moved slowly to her, standing before her. "What?" "I admire you. I respect you. I like you. I trust you. And I love you. It may have been the tonic that made me do some of the things I did, but Mulder, it doesn't take away from the fact that I really, really, really liked what we did. And I was happy, too. And," she looked away, a pale rose blushing across her face. "The effects of the liquid wore off yesterday when we were in bed." She looked up at him. "Before you left, I didn't really know what was going on at first. But we were together, and I didn't remember anything but it felt right and it felt so good, Mulder. And then it all came back to me. And I couldn't stop myself and I didn't want to stop you. I just wanted it to go on forever and ever. Then you left and I just didn't know what to think. I was so afraid this morning when I read this report, that it was just lust for you. I knew when I looked at you, when I felt you inside me, I knew that the vial had just heightened what I already felt. I love you, Mulder. I don't even know when it happened, but I love you. I have loved you for a long time." Mulder looked at her, his eyes full of hope and something more as he took in her red hair glinting under the lamp's glow, her lips parted slightly, the heat of her thighs brushing against his thighs. His hands reached around her, clutching her hips, and he pulled her to him. She gasped at the feel of his hardness pressing against her. "Mulder ..." He cut her off, his mouth descending over hers. Their lips met, he pulled back softly, teasingly, his tongue flicking out to lightly lick her lower lip. Their eyes were open, staring into one another. One hand slid up her back and cradled her head, his fingers running sensuously through her hair. Once again, his mouth covered hers, their mouths open, breath escaping and captured, their tongues entwining. Her arms wrapped about his neck, her fingers playing with his hair. She pushed herself up against him, rubbing her breasts against his chest. Mulder moaned and began easing her back, atop the desk. Scully suddenly tried to pull away, pushing him up off of her. He groaned. "Mulder," she whispered breathlessly. "Not like this, not here, on a desk in a basement. Not like that." Mulder took her face in his hands, laughing softly. "Scully don't you know it doesn't matter. We could screw atop a desk in the J.Edgar Hoover building basement or come together on a four-poster bed with satin sheets and rose petals in candlelight and it will still be making love. Because when two people love one another, when two people connect so deeply that they become one, it can only be called making love." Scully smiled softly, her love for him shining in her eyes. She reached up and kissed him, softly, gently, lovingly. "That's sweet, Mulder, sappy, but sweet. Regardless, if this is going to work, and" she reached for his mouth again in a quick, possessive kiss. "I want this to work, we have to be discreet and we have to be able to separate our personal and professional lives. This is professional." She stopped and looked down at their intimately, entwined bodies, and laughed. "Well, this is not professional, but we are at work and therefore we should leave, uh, pleasure for elsewhere. Okay?" Mulder smiled and untangled himself from her close proximity. He stepped back and took a deep breath. "Okay. But we're together. This isn't --" She cut him off, jumping up off the desk and walking to the other side. "--Yes, Mulder, we are most definitely together." She sat down and picked up a case file, all business. "Now, that we know what is in that vial, we should put an APB out on Christiana Finn. Maybe when we find her we won't have to mark the Snowsdon Falls case unsolved." "Okay, that will make Skinner happy." Mulder went back to his desk, a blissful joy filling his heart. It was going to work, they were going to be together forever. He just knew a goofy grin was plastered on his face. He didn't care. He looked down at the paperwork on his desk, the paperwork he had left untouched yesterday for other more interesting forms of activity. He looked over at Scully. He really wanted her, but he could wait, just not for very long. He picked up a piece of paper, wadded it up and sent it sailing in her directions. "Hey!" She looked up and couldn't help but smile. He looked so cute. "Yes, Mulder?" "How 'bout you and me meet at, oh, 5:05 in the backseat of my car?" Scully looked down, gently biting her lip and peered up from beneath a halo of hair. "How 'bout you and me, my place, 6:00? I've got the satin sheets and candles. You bring the roses." Mulder tipped his chair back, thinking about it. "How bout' you and me, my back seat 5:05 and then you and me, your satin-sheeted bed, 6:00?" Her smile was her answer.

[thisis4fanfiction]

Pizza and a Beer by Leyla

Dana Katherine Scully moved the curtains to one side slightly and peered out her living room window. She dropped the curtains as soon as she saw the car parked in front of her house. “Damn!” she muttered. He was still there. She could bet that he could see her looking out as well. She silently cursed herself for leaving the lights on, then went to shut them off, so that she could look out the window again without anyone knowing she was doing it. God damn it, Mulder, she thought, won’t you just back off? The shrill ringing of her cel phone from where it rested on the table by the door startled her, and she jumped. This time she cursed aloud. “Shit!” She took a deep breath, released it, and then went to answer her cel phone. “Scully.” “It’s me,” she heard Mulder’s voice. Abruptly, Scully hung up. Then she stared at the cel phone in her hand, willing it to ring again. I shouldn’t have hung up so quickly, she was realizing. I’m sure I could have come up with a few choice words. The phone in her apartment began to ring. Scully set down the cel phone and waited. Three rings and the answering machine picked up. “Hi, this is Dana Scully. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” “Scully, it’s me. I don’t know why you hung up on me. Well, I’m still out here. But I guess you already knew that. I saw you peeking out behind the curtains. Bye.” Mulder hung up. Scully slammed her fist against the wall, hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to do any damage. She sat down on her couch, all the lights in her apartment off. The room was frighteningly silent. After hearing a car’s engine start and drive away, she got up and went to the window hopefully. It wasn’t Mulder driving away. His car was still parked right in front of her house, and she could see him chewing on something in the driver’s seat. Probably sunflower seeds. He rolled down the window and spit something out. Sunflower seeds, all right. Scully sat back down on the couch. It was going to be a long night. ***** A few hours later, Scully was awakened by the ringing of her cel phone. She picked it up from where it sat next to her on the couch, and answered automatically, her mind still half-asleep. “Scully,” she muttered into the phone. “Hi, Scully, it’s me. I just got a pizza delivered. Want me to come up and we can split it?” Scully opened her eyes, realizing she was still in the dark in her living room, on her couch. Her arms and legs ached from the awkward position she had falen asleep in. “Mulder, how many times do I have to tell you to go home?” Mulder chuckled. “At least you’re talking to me now,” he said. “So can I bring this pizza up? It’s half pepperoni, your favorite,” he tried to tempt her. Scully’s stomach rumbled slightly, as if on cue. “What’s the other half?” she asked, out of curiosity. “Mushroom, onion, green pepper, pineapple and anchovy,” he answered proudly. “My favorite.” “Mulder, I don’t want you to come up here. I don’t want to see you.” There was a moment of silence. Then Mulder spoke, his voice serious. “Scully, you can’t hide from me forever. Tomorrow morning you have to come to work and share the office with me.” Scully sighed. “I know,” she answered. “So you’d might as well let me come up now. See me. Let me see you. Get it over with. Hey, it might make tomorrow easier.” I doubt it, Scully thought. With the amount of sexual tension you and I manage to create...nothing short of tearing each other’s clothes off could make it easier. “Fine,” she said. “We can eat the pizza and then you are going home.” “I’ll be right up,” Mulder answered. Scully could have sworn that he sounded happy, like a little kid on Christmas. ***** Mulder was knocking at the door before Scully even had a chance to turn the lights back on. Sighing, she went to open the door and let Mulder in. He was holding a pizza box, but when he saw the darkened apartment, he pushed his way inside and kicked the door shut. He put the pizza down on the table, taking Scully by the shoulders, pushing her towards the bedroom. “Hey!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing?” “I thought...” Mulder started to say, then realized that the lights being off were not meant as mood lighting. “Oh, Scully...I thought, well...oh, shit.” Mulder reached for a lamp and turned it on, finding Scully laughing, one hand over her mouth. “What’s so funny?” “Oh, Mulder, I don’t know,” Scully managed to get out through her giggles. “This whole situation is ridiculous. Do you still think we’ve got unresolved sexual tension? Another minute and we would have resolved it.” Mulder nodded. “I don’t know, but I’m hungry. Let’s eat the pizza.” He picked up the pizza box and headed into the kitchen. “You want plates or do you want to just eat from the box?” he called. “Just grab some napkins,” Scully called back, turning on the TV. “And there should be a few beers in the fridge.” Mulder came back into the living room and set the pizza down on the coffee table. “Anything good on?” Mulder asked, indicating the television. “Mulder, it’s the middle of the night. All that’s on are those silly sci-fi...” she trailed off. “Well,” she said after a beat, “there’s nothing on that *I’d* be interested in watching.” Mulder smiled. Scully returned the smile and channel surfed until she found something she could deal with and that she knew Mulder would likely enjoy - The Thin Man. Mulder popped open a beer. “So,” he said, conversationally, “what are we going to do about all this?” Scully was busy opening the pizza box and taking a slice of pepperoni, which she held carefully. She nibbled a bit of the end. “This is good pizza,” she said, after chewing and swallowing the fisrt bite. “Scully?” Mulder asked. “Hm?” she answered, her mouth full with the second bite. “You want to figure out if we have some unresolved sexual tension between us or not?” Scully set down the slice of pizza, wiping her hands with a napkin. “I thought that’s what you were trying to do in the office this afternoon.” Mulder shrugged. “I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.” He took a few swallows of the beer and picked up a piece of pizza from the other side of the box. “Mulder, you practically attacked me!” “I did nothing of the kind!” “Mulder, pinning me against the wall of the office, running your hands over me, like you were some kind of animal, and leaning in to smell my neck--” “And kiss your neck,” Mulder added, causing Scully to flush slightly. “Is considered sexual harrassment,” Scully went on, “In some cases, it could be construed as sexual assault.” “Scully,” Mulder said reasonably, after a few bites of his pizza, “you and I both know that I did not attack you. I didn’t sexually harrass you. I didn’t assault you.” Scully took one of the beers and popped it open, taking a few long swigs. “I know,” she replied sheepishly. “But what was it?” Mulder shrugged again. “I told you, I was trying to see if there was any sexual tension between us. Anything unresolved.” “If you wanted to know all that,” Scully said, picking up her slice of pizza again, “why didn’t you just kiss me?” Mulder froze. Scully was innocently eating her pizza. She looked up at him. He was still holding his slice. “What did I say?” she asked, pretending she didn’t know. Mulder didn’t respond for a moment. “You know, Scully,” he finally said, “you could have kissed me.” Scully set down her pizza and came over to his side of the couch, sitting down next to him. “Look,” she said, “we should just do this. Get it over with. It won’t mean anything. We’ll just do it...” “So we know,” Mulder finished for her. “To resolve it once and for all.” Scully nodded, trying not to betray her nervousness. “OK,” he said, and wiped his mouth with his napkin. There was an awkward moment. Neither of them knew who should make the first move. Finally, Scully leaned in. She took hold of his shoulders, pulling him gently yet firmly towards her, her lips finally descending on his. It won’t mean anything, Mulder was reminding himself as Scully’s face got closer and closer to his. To be able to see her exquisite features this close...to smell the faint odor of her perfume...to have her hair brush agaist his face...Mulder closed his eyes and felt her mouth on his. Her lips were sweet and soft, but he could still taste the sharpness from the pepperoni on her lips. They parted and Mulder felt his tongue slip inside without warning. One of her hands was in his hair, and one was around his back, trailing her fingers down it. Oh, my God, he thought. The electricity of the kiss and the tender passion of it made him grow hard almost immediately. He put one arm around her to draw her closer to him. He was able to run his own fingers through her auburn hair, pulling her head back slightly, gently, so that he could kiss her more fully. He could feel her shifting so that her body was pressing up against his. This is Scully, he tried to remind himself. My partner. My friend. It was futile. The woman entwined in his arms and he were engaged in much more than a friendly kiss. It won’t mean anything, she had said. Bullshit, he thought. The pizza was forgotten. Scully tried to hold back a sigh. His lips were warm and moist. His strong arms were holding her. He paused at one point and broke the kiss, for a moment, a second. They looked each other in the eye for a moment. Then Mulder took Scully’s face in his two hands and kissed her again, in a hotter, more intense style of they had just been doing. His hands were still on her face, his thumbs in front of her ears, in back, rubbing her skin gently. Scully pressed herself closer to him. Her breasts felt heavy and full, and she could feel her nipples, hard and taut against her shirt. Desperate for stimulation, she brushed her chest across his, letting a small moan escape her lips as she felt her nipples rubbing against him. Mulder felt what she was doing. He could feel the points of her nipples on his chest. Oh, Jesus, he thought. Oh, God. Scully felt his tongue probing, exploring her mouth. A tingle of excitement went through her as she thought about what an incredible mouth he had. Just from what he was doing, she got an idea of what he could do, and she shuddered slightly. She could feel him gasping for breath. Every fantasy she had thought of in the past flooded her now. She wanted him to pull her down onto the couch, under him, on top of him...she didn’t care. She had an intense need to be with him, to be part of him, both physically and emotionally. “I want you,” she gasped. She could feel him tracing small, infinite circles behind her ear with his tongue, his fingers achingly close to her nipples. “Mulder, please...” He could hear the unbridled desire, the passion, the hunger in her voice. Something stopped him. He reluctantly pulled away from her. He took a deep breath. Tried to control his ragged breathing. He knew he would have to sit there for a few minutes before he could get up, or Scully would be able to tell that he wanted her just as badly, maybe more. Scully was breathing hard as well. She licked her now dry lips. She took a few deep breaths. Her eyes were filled with desire and longing. Her hair was slightly tousled. Get it together, Dana, she warned herself. Wipe that come-hither look off your face. She knew it was there. She just didn’t know how to get rid of it. She’s so fucking sexy, Mulder thought to himself, visions of pulling her down onto the floor and making love to her dancing in his head. “Did it mean anything to you?” he finally asked, trying to sound conversational. He had to know. If it didn’t, they could finish their pizza. They could go on with their lives. He could still fantasize, couldn’t he? God, what had just happened would give him fantasy material for years. If it did mean something...if it did, he didn’t know what he would do. Oh, God, he thought, I want her. I want every part of her. Scully blinked. “Well,” she said, somehow managing to switch her mind into a clinical mode, “physically, it was, of course, very, um, arousing.” Mulder nodded, raking a hand through his hair. The light mood of earlier was gone. The air was now charged with the electrical static from what had just happened between them. “Emotionally, or rather psychologically, it was...” “Incredible,” Mulder murmured. Scully nodded slightly, almost imperceptably. “It wouldn’t work, Mulder,” Scully informed him, her fears getting the better of her. She knew what he was thinking. He was thinking relationship with a capital R. He was thinking sex with a capital S. What was she thinking? Sex with Mulder. A relationship with Mulder. It was a bit too much to fathom. Although what had just happened...it was more than she had ever dreamed of of wanted. “Right, just like it wouldn’t mean anything,” Mulder shot back. Scully bit her bottom lip. “It *would* work. It would work fine. Scully, I felt you wanting me. And not just physically. I felt you emotionally wanting me. Just like I want you.” His voice was strong, determined. He’s so damn sure of himself, she thought. So cocky. “Mulder, don’t you think it would be so much easier if we were just friends?” she asked him, her voice slightly pleading. Mulder wanted to take her by the shoulders and kiss her again like he had before. He wanted to show her how easy it could be for them to be more than friends. Sure, he thought, it might be easier to stay friends. To stay partners. To not cross that line. But it wouldn’t be happier, or more exciting. “OK,” he said. “If you can forget what just happened, and look me in the eye and tell me it didn’t mean anything to you, then I’ll drop it. We can be friends.” Scully’s eyes darted around the room nervously. “It didn’t mean anything.” She couldn’t - wouldn’t - meet his eyes. “Can you forget about it? Can you pretend it never happened?” he asked. A long moment of silence. Then, finally, she shook her head, still not looking at him. “I can’t,” she whispered, her voice almost inaudible. Mulder wanted to sigh. He wanted to envelop her in a hug. After years of working together, and sharing only the slightest of physical contact, he realized that in the last few hours he had wanted to touch her in some way more than he ever had before. “Me neither.” Scully sighed for both of them, turning to finally look at him. “Scully--” “I need some time, Mulder. I don’t know what to think right now. My head is buzzing. We can’t just plunge into this, letting our hormones be our guides.” “You’re right,” he answered, surprising them both. “How about this. I’ll head home. We’ll both get some sleep, and we can talk about it tomorrow.” Scully looked up at him. She was puzzled but pleased. “Okay.” ***** THE NEXT MORNING FBI HEADQUARTERS X-FILES DIVISION Mulder came in early, expecting some time alone before Scully showed up. He was surprised to find that she was already there. She looked up when he came in. “Hi,” he greeted her, trying to sound casual when the mere sight of her aroused him beyond belief. She stood up, coming around the desk towards him. Mulder took the sight of her in greedily. Seven hours of not seeing her had done nothing to persuade him that they should abandon what they had discussed. Every moment that they had been apart had been hell for him. He had seen her in his mind every second, as if she was actually there. She was wearing a slim black skirt, just above the knee, cream silk shirt, black jacket. Her gold cross glittered at her neck. Her hair was swept back, as usual. Nothing so unusual about her outfit. It was basically what she wore every day. But, Mulder thought, her lips were...oh, God, Mulder thought, they’re so full. I want to kiss her. I want to... “Hi,” he said, approaching her, trying to hide all traces of desire. “Scully, about last night...” She cut him off. She came up close to him and kissed him, hard. Without hesitation, Mulder stepped back towards the door, pulling her with him and kicked the door of the office closed behind him. “Mulder,” she sighed into his ear, her breath hot. It made his body tingle. “Scully, I thought we were going to talk,” he said, pulling his mouth from hers for a moment. “I thought we were going to sleep on it and think about it.” “I don’t want to talk. I want you. I was wrong last night.” She paused, taking in his face. The past seven hours had been no easier for her. She had tried to sleep all night, but even in the darkness of her bedroom, with her eyes closed or open, she could see him. She could imagine him, kissing her, touching her. It had driven her wild. “Are you sure about--” “Shut up, Mulder,” she said, covering his mouth with hers again. He pulled her into his arms, turning, pushing her up against the door of the office. Reaching behind her, he fumbled for the lock. “No one’s here this early,” she told him. “I don’t want to take any chances,” he replied. He couldn’t stop thinking about her all night. Lying in bed, alone, he had realized that he wanted her, needed her, more than he had ever wanted or needed anyone. She took one of his hands and placed it on her thigh, moving it under her skirt. He felt the satiny nylon of her stockings. “Mulder, I don’t care about what I said last night. You were right,” she whispered into his ear, her voice husky. Mulder slid his hand up higher, pushing her skirt up as he did. His cock was rock hard. “Scully,” he gasped. “You don’t know what you do to me.” He moved his arm so that his hand was inside her stockings, not believing that he was doing this. That she was allowing it. But she was doing more than allowing it. She was encouraging it with her soft groans. He moved inside her panties, probing, sliding his fingers between her lips, finding her wet. Very wet. She moaned softly. “You don’t know what you do to me,” she answered, a smile on her lips. Mulder reached for his zipper with his free hand. He found her hands there, helping him. He pulled his pants down, off his hips, low enough down. He knew they would eventually slide down to his ankles. He didn’t care. He moved closer to her. “Scully--” “Just do it, Mulder,” she pleaded. Mulder pulled her stockings down, pushing them to her knees. He pushed up against her, fingering her again, trying to make sure that she was completely open for him. She was. He thrust into her in one swift movement. “Ahh!” he cried out. “Mulder,” she moaned, clutching at his back. “Oh, God, yes.” He moved within her quickly, in short, sharp strokes. She was gasping as he thrusted in and out. Their breathing was erratic. “Scully,” he gasped, “Scully, God, oh God.” He slowed hs movement so that the strokes were slower, easing himself deep into her, then back out, almost completely out, the back in again. She sighed and closed her eyes, her head thrown back. “Mulder,” she sighed, still holding on to him. He increased the speed of his movements, and used her breathing and her moans to judge what she liked best. Mulder moved his hand between them, knowing that they were both so close, sliding his hand over her stomach, his finger down, lower, until he was just above her clitoris. “Mulder!” she cried. “Mulder, I’m--” She didn’t have to finish. He knew she was about to come. He slipped his finger over her clitoris, flicking it gently a few times, adding to the pleasure that was about to engulf her. She clutched at him and bucked wildly. Her cries mingled with his as he exploded in her, and she spasmed around him. When their bodies had calmed down, they replaced their clothing. No words were spoken. Mulder kissed her tenderly. “I love you,” he murmured in her ear. She grinned. Her smile couldn’t hide the blush that had crept over her cheeks. “How about you stop by tonight? We can...do this again? In a bed this time. And maybe even have a little foreplay.” He smiled back. “I’d like that. Oh, and Scully?” “Yeah?” “Do you love me?” “Of course I do,” she answered with a smile, a sexy, loving smile he didn’t think he had ever seen before. A smile he knew was reserved just for him. It made him weak in the knees to see it now. To know what it meant. “Don’t forget,” she added, “bring a pizza and some beer.”