By Audrey Roget
audrey_roget@yahoo.com
 

SPOILERS:  Mostly vague and non-specific
Takes place post-Triangle, but pre-2F/1S
RATING:  NC-17
CLASSIFICATION:  SR, with a few A flavor-flakes
KEYWORDS:  MSR
SUMMARY:  I like smut.
FEEDBACK:  Oh my, yes.
DISC CLAIMER: Oh, alright, I admit I bought "Give My Regards
to Broadstreet" in one impetuous moment in 12th grade.
THANKS: Sharon and Nicole

Current
by Audrey Roget
 

"I don't know," she said, openly annoyed and secretly frightened of
what she might reveal.  "Like that actress who plays the alien on
that sitcom you love?  The amazon with the long hair who has a
thing for the obese cop who used to be on that other show." Scully
stopped abruptly and ran an index finger along a dusty shelf
searching for the precise volume of Bureau code she sought.

He would have preferred to have this conversation over pizza and
beer, or in one of the countless rental cars they had once taken for
granted when field assignments were a way of life.  But it had
begun, innocuously enough, at their desks, eleven a.m. on a
Thursday morning, and the line of discourse intrigued him enough
to follow her to the deserted far corner of the FBI library.

"Every heterosexual male in the country with a pulse and a remote
has ogled her,"  Mulder shrugged.  "Why do you think men watch
that show?  Booger jokes aside."

She fixed him with her "I 'm right, so why are we arguing about
this?" glare.

"But," he hastened to add, "that doesn't mean she or women like
her are the object of every man's fantasy."

"You just said -"

"- I said men check her out.  Mentally undress her, maybe.  Make
the occasional assumption about what she would be like..." he
trailed off in the wake of Scully's amused, if annoyed, expression.
"Look -  I can't speak for all men, but the object of a man's desire
is usually the object of his affection."  She remained unconvinced.
He leaned in so as not to be overheard, and not to be
misunderstood.  "There's only one woman who truly turns me on,
and she's not a leggy blonde on the idiot box, but someone I love."

Scully felt, rather than heard, those words.  No.  She tasted them.
Their intense flavor drenched her tongue and she savored each
syllable.  In the pair's rarefied universe, such a remark should have
practically sunk to its knees and begged for a cynical comeback.
But had the appropriate rejoinder come to mind, Scully wouldn't
have given it voice for fear of souring the sweet essence which
filled her mouth.  Absently, she chewed at her lip, now useless for
speech, though she refused to let his declaration go unanswered.
Unchallenged.

Arms crossed, Mulder leaned in slightly, expectation in his
posture, uncertainty in his eyes as he awaited her response.  He
hardly had to wait at all, because in one swift, smooth, undoubting
move, Scully rose on tiptoe to press her mouth against his.  The
kiss was over in a heartbeat, really, so that he could only pull her
body against his in a fevered, transient caress.  But this tacit
communication revealed all.

Searing cold flashed through him as he watched Scully close the
manual and return it to its place on the shelf.  He had been kissed
by his partner.  In the stacks of the Hoover Building reference
library.  Mulder licked his lips, trying to recapture the taste of her.
The moment had come and gone without either of them pausing to
consider the consequences, professionally or personally speaking,
yet they knew beyond a doubt that the epiphany they each had
searched the heavens for had finally arrived.  It was time.

Without speaking another word, they strolled casually out of the
library, entered the elevator and rode down to the parking garage.
Mulder had arrived early this morning and his car was in the first
row of slots, just across from the elevator, so they took his.
Scully's apartment was closer than Mulder's place, so that was the
logical destination.  Every so often during the elevator ride, the car
trip, and the walk from Scully's garage to her door, the two
exchanged glances.  Not looks of uncertainty or surprise or even
overwhelming lust.  Merely, they connected eye-to-eye, grounding
each other and making silent promises.

She was unaware that, as they approached her apartment, he picked
up on an odd vibration from her.  Her fingers trembled slightly as
she fit her key into the lock, and that was when he saw it and
understood. An expression he had seen in her eyes under very
different circumstances, usually when one or both of their lives
were threatened.

Fear.  Pure and simple.

The nagging voice in his brain that routinely blared warning cries
in the presence of danger - a voice he just as routinely ignored -
screamed that for Scully to become involved with him was indeed
a dangerous proposition. On the face of it, bodily harm posed the
most benign threat. Emotional Armageddon, apocalypse of the
soul, these were the graver perils. But he was just selfish enough to
wait and see how far she would go.

The door shut behind them, Mulder shucked his jacket and laid it
over the back of the sofa.  He had no doubt now that she wanted
him. Had wanted him for some time. But did she believe that he
could love her without limits? Did she understand the depth of his
emotions where she was concerned? That, no matter how seriously
he doubted whether he deserved her or whether loving him was in
her best interest, there also existed an unshakable hope that he, and
he alone, could sustain her, make her happy.

Mulder's keys thunked noisily onto the end table near the couch.
Scully, halfway to the bedroom, turned just in time to see a shadow
cross Mulder's features.  From the set of his downturned face, she
sensed he had something of the utmost importance to tell her, but
had forgotten how to string together verbs and nouns. He finally
lifted his eyes to her, as if to make an attempt at speech, but she
held out a hand to him, and he followed without a word.

###

/So now that you've got him here, what do you do with him? God,
has it really been that long?/

The thought of having Mulder in her bedroom was no match for
the reality of having him there, radiating heat and light and pure
want, watching her, waiting for her to act.

Slow. Start with the most basic things. She took his hand in hers.
She had memorized the shape and size of them ages ago. Long
fingers and broad palms. Sparse hair and smooth, lightly-tanned
skin. She has bandaged them, squeezed them in comfort and
affection, even held them on the few occasions when she allowed
herself to draw strength from them.

Until half an hour ago, their casual glancing touches or rarer
supportive caresses were just that and nothing more. But just thirty
minutes ago, her world had turned upside down as he moved them
over her body with ardor and reverence. Touching her as a man
touches a woman whom he loves and desires and needs above all
things. And from his touch, she understood how long he had
wanted to hold her this way, and how long he had struggled to hold
himself in check. Her own small, strong hands grasping at him had
echoed these feelings, and it was as if a door had quietly but
decisively opened before them. In that embrace, there was release.

She turned his hand palm up, tracing the lines lightly with one
finger, then slowly undid the buttons on his cuff, carefully rolling
it back to his elbow. She brushed her lips over his wrist, bringing
the warmth of his hand to her face. He let it remain there as she
repeated the actions with the opposite hand, removing his watch
before gently kissing the delicate skin. When both hands cradled
her head, she let her eyes find his. Tacitly, she thanked him for his
uncharacteristic forbearance.

Slowly, but deliberately, she stretched up on tiptoe to kiss him. She
felt herself begin to liquefy at the contact with his soft, moist
mouth. A bit shyly, she darted her tongue out to touch his lips. It
was all the encouragement he needed. She groaned as his hands
snaked over her small form, and fingered the buttons of her suit
jacket. She stopped their motion with hers, and reluctantly broke
their kiss.

"Wait," she said hoarsely, her breath coming rapidly.

He lifted his hands away from her, holding them up in the air like
an unarmed suspect. She recoiled slightly at this action, wounded
that he could draw himself away from her so decisively, as if she
had threatened him. But peering into his face, she saw that he had
done it, not to hurt her, but to resecure his own control, and this
touched her deeply. It gave her the courage to speak her heart.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, signaling him to lower his
arms. She leaned into his body, and he relaxed into her embrace,
sighing softly.

Her forehead braced against his chest, she began quietly, "Before
this goes any further, I need you to know-"

"Scully, you don't have to say anything," he cut her off. "I
understand."

"No, I don't think you do," she countered, pulling away slightly to
look up into the depths of his hazel eyes.

"We don't have to go any further or any faster that you feel
comfortable with," he assured her, "if you truly want this to
happen, I'll go along with whatever you decide." Inexplicably, part
of him fervently wished for her to sigh with relief and suggest they
go back to work. The other part dreaded that she would do just
that.

Scully wrinkled her brow. How could he still doubt that this was
what she wanted? Was he only being chivalrous, or did he simply
not understand the effect he had on her? He was like a drug. The
closer she got to him - physically and emotionally - the more she
wanted, more she needed him.

She spoke again, determined that he would hear this now. "Mulder,
I want everything from you. More particularly, I want your body.
Today. Now." She smiled a little at her own directness. She didn't
think it had ever been necessary to tell a man outright how
impatient she was to make love to him. But... "But I can't
remember the last time I was this anxious to feel a body against
me, inside me, and the intensity has overwhelmed me a little. And
so I don't want to rush any of this, because I treasure you." She
liked the way that sounded. Liked the way it made the color rise in
his face, made his adam's apple bob violently, and so she repeated
it tenderly. "I *treasure* you."

His mouth was suddenly dry. He foundered in the sound of her
voice shaping those words. Words he had never received from
anyone, and had never expected to. It was the most sincere and
intimate declaration of love he had ever heard. Beat the hell out his
mumbling, Demerol-laced deadpan from a hospital bed.  And it
precisely described his feelings for her.  He cursed himself for not
thinking of it first. Speechless, he responded the only way he
could, by pressing his mouth over hers, sealing their long-
unspoken, but long-held covenant. She pulled him closer into her
embrace, opening her mouth under his, reveling in the soft, hot feel
of his tongue exploring her. Learning her.

Her hands drifted to his belt buckle. Deftly, she undid the clasp,
then pulled the belt through the loops of his trousers and dropped it
to the floor. She returned her hands to his shoulders, contentedly
stroking the muscles through the cloth of his dress shirt.  He
reached around to the small of her back, fumbling for the zipper of
her skirt. Gently, she maneuvered them away, telling him tacitly,
but unmistakably: Baby steps.

He smiled smugly to himself. /Fine. If that's what she wants, that's
what I want./ "It's been a while, Foxerino," another nagging voice,
first-cousin to the alarm blaster, spoke up. "Sure you can hold
out?" Mulder considered the growing hardness that strained against
his zipper for only a moment. He put the voice in its place. /Watch
me./ Replenishing his air supply, he removed his lips from hers
and trailed light kisses across her cheekbones. Carefully, he
fingered the pearl closure at the neck of her blouse, slipping just
the first button from the dainty loop of fabric.  With a single finger,
Mulder splayed the neckline open and laid his lips against the
warm skin beneath, as a true believer kisses Mary's feet.

Her head lolled lazily from side to side. "Ohhhh..." she moaned
breathily, feeling the hair at the back of her neck stand on end. He
crouched before her, and she was grateful to have his shoulders to
lean on, because she wasn't sure anymore that she could balance
her own weight. With light caresses, he stroked her calves. The
friction of his hands against her stockings was delicious. Just the
sound of his fingers moving over nylon made her shiver. Arriving
at the curve of her ankles, he lifted one *little foot* and then the
other, freeing them from her sensible pumps. He placed tiny kisses
at the top of each knee, just above the hem of her skirt, before
rising again, sliding the length of his body along hers as he went.
The electricity between them flared exponentially.

Lightheaded, she leaned against him, directing all of her focus to
the task of slipping his tie free of its knot and dragging it slowly
from around his neck.  She wasn't sure how it happened, because
she was fairly sure his hands had never left her hips, but suddenly
his shirt was hanging open, the tails freed from the waist of his
trousers. The thin white tee-shirt he wore underneath hugged his
torso, sensuously outlining the solid curvature of his chest.
Without thinking, she latched her mouth over one nipple, teasing at
it through the cloth.

"Sc-" he breathed sharply, and went silent.

Her tongue and teeth tortured the spot a moment longer.  When
Scully pulled away, she was chagrined, but somehow pleased, to
discover the rosy ring left by her lipstick.  It looked oddly like an
Impressionistic flower, a darkened wet bud in the center
surrounded by blurry outer petals.  Always one for symmetry, she
repeated the treatment on the other side.

At this, Mulder could no longer remain passive.  His hands began
to roam wildly over her form, compressing their bodies more
tightly.  He began to sense that Scully's insistence on a slow
revealing of skin might actually be simple shyness, even though
the sweet torture she was now treating him to didn't come across as
particularly demure.  Perhaps she was simply more comfortable
being touched than seen.  Without unfastening her jacket or the rest
of the buttons of her blouse, Mulder dipped his hands beneath
those two garments to trace his fingers along the straight column of
vertebrae.

Scully groaned helplessly at the heat of this contact.  She gazed a
question at him and he grinned his reply, undoing the hooks at the
back of her bra and slipping his hands around to cup the round
weight of her breasts.  Biting her lip to keep from swooning, she
dropped her eyes to watch the insistent movement of his hands
beneath her clothes.  The sight produced a fresh rush of wetness
between her thighs.  He continued to squeeze and pet, his hands
wandering erratically, never finding a regular pattern, never
settling over the sensitive, aching peaks.  Christ, how could he
dominate her with just his hands and breath and heat?

Mulder eyed his partner carefully, viewing the disintegration of her
control bit by bit with victorious pride and stunned adoration.  "Do
you like the way that feels, Scully?" he whispered, a pleased smile
in his tone. He already knew the answer.

"Yaaaaa...but..."  Not yet ready to decompose into a puddle at his
feet, Scully  grabbed him by the neck and yanked his mouth
toward hers.  The fog cleared from her azure eyes as she looked
into his and demanded, "Get to the point, Mulder."  In an instant,
their mouths were locked together, Scully sucking voraciously at
his tongue and thrusting her upper body against his hands.  When
he finally rubbed her hard nipples between his fingers, her hips
bucked against him, sending chills through both of them.  Though
her body mass was small, the insistent way she pressed against him
sent him tumbling back onto the bed and he pulled himself up on
his elbows to watch her.

She stood before him, somehow still upright.  Slowly, she undid
the buttons of her jacket, let it glide off of her shoulders and tossed
it over the chair next to the bed. With a small smile, in that magical
way women have, she retrieved her bra from under her blouse
without removing the blouse itself.  Feeling heady and sexy, Scully
tossed the garment at Mulder's reclining form. It hit him square in
the face and he grinned goofily, both at the gesture and at the sight
of her rosy red nipples poking through the front of her delicate
shirt.

"If this thing with the FBI doesn't work out, a second career is
awaiting you in one of those bars by the airport," he cracked.
Normally, that kind of remark would earn a roll of the eyes, a
firmly suppressed reaction. Instead, Scully blushed, not in response
to his "compliment," but merely basking in his regard.

But Mulder had no monopoly on teasing.  She held him transfixed
as she deliberately released each of the tiny buttons and opened the
blouse to reveal an expanse of skin, glowing pink and gold by the
midday light filtering in through the window shades.  To Mulder, it
wasn't the room's ambiance that lit her.  /Jesus. All of that heat, all
of that brilliance, can't be contained./  She was on fire.  For him.
Mulder swallowed hard and held out his arms to her, anticipating
the feel of her skin against his.

Scully ignored his outstretched limbs, and instead knelt at the foot
of the bed.  She smiled again and teased, "Planning on making a
quick getaway?"

His brow wrinkled in confusion until she lifted one of his feet to
show that his shoes were still attached to them.  "Shoe fetish,
Scully? I'm telling you right now, stilettos are practically
impossible to find in a 12D."

"I'm not even going to ponder how you might know that, Mulder,"
she gave another little half-grin and set about tugging at the laces.
Once she'd freed him of the shoes, she began easing off his socks
in the slow, seductive manner Mulder had occasionally fantasized
about watching Scully roll stockings down her own legs. He
swallowed.  Hard. Amazing how such a simple act could result in
such dazzling arousal.  His eyes turned to saucers as Scully took
one foot in each hand and pressed them against her bare breasts.
She couldn't say what gave her the impulse to try that little move;
she'd certainly never done it before,  had never considered any
man's feet particularly stimulating.

It was...different.  She wanted to be different with Mulder.  She
liked knowing that she could try anything with him, that he made
her feel secure in ways she never had before. He arched his feet,
trying to cup her breasts, succeeding in trapping a brightly
blushing nipple between the toes. He grinned an absurdly proud
grin at her.  As a reward, holding his gaze, she took his toes one by
one by one into her mouth and sucked at them until his elbows
gave out from under him as he flopped back onto the mattress.

"Jeeeezzuuhhsss..."

Just as well.  Scully had been having trouble keeping up the eye
contact.  At that angle, to see his face, she'd had to look directly
past the expanding fixture between his legs, and the temptation to
focus her attention on it was almost too great.  Now, with Mulder
moaning softly and languidly rolling his hips, she could look to her
heart's content, daring herself to keep her hands away until she
couldn't stand not to.  Instead, she let them roam gently under his
pant-legs, caressing the strong calf muscles and tickling the backs
of his knees.  As he wallowed in her attentions, he managed to
wrestle out of his shirts, fresh air rushing over his heated skin.

Mulder was hardly surprised by the intensity of his own arousal.
For years now, just watching her had stoked a deep, internal flame.
In the past, he had ridden out any number of instances where he
had wanted her so goddamn much, he'd had to physically escape
her presence in order to maintain the status quo.  Fuck the status
quo. The woman of his dreams had just written a whole new set of
rules for the game of footsie, and he wasn't going anywhere until
they had played this thing out.

Those cool, hypnotic hands of hers stroked lightly over his legs.
When her fingertips danced behind his knees, Mulder's back
arched, a shiver rising along his spine like mercury through glass.
Grabbing for her hands, he sat up abruptly and pulled Scully back
onto the bed with him.  Off her perplexed look, he explained,
"You're learning all my secrets, but there's so much of you left to
uncover."

He nosed aside her blouse, dropping tiny, white-hot kisses along
her collarbone and under the swells of her breasts. She hummed
quietly and let her eyes drift closed. A minute later, Mulder was
nibbling at her mouth again, thoroughly seducing first her upper,
then her lower lip. Scully quivered.  /Christ, goosebumps just from
kissing./  That, coupled with the sudden realization that it was the
middle of the day and she was lying on her bed in Mulder's arms,
nude save for a pair of gray French-cut briefs.  She didn't
remember removing the rest of her clothes.  /I'd remember the
pantyhose, wouldn't I?/  But there they were, naked as two people
could be lying on a bed in their underwear.

And, in truth, day and night - time itself - had been left outside the
bedroom door. All that mattered was here, now, and Mulder.
Scully grasped the waistband of his soft cotton boxers, fingering
his slim hips, thumbs tracing his hipbones.  /What keeps his pants
up?/ Gingerly, she eased the shorts down over his engorged cock.
/Besides that./  She dragged her knuckles over the impressive
column of flesh between them, a satisfied grin crossing her lips at
his gasp.

Summoning his trademark leer, Mulder glanced down at his
partner as he traced his hands over Scully's waist, and snapped the
lace edging of her panties with thumb and forefinger. "Why do I
feel like I should be saying 'Mother, may I' before I do this?" he
croaked.

"You can take them off only if you promise never to refer to me as
'mother' while I'm in any state of undress," she sighed.

"We'll stick to Red light/Green light from now on," Mulder quickly
agreed with a nod.  He slipped his hands under the waistband from
behind, easing the stretchy scrap of fabric over the soft mounds of
her ass and down her legs.  Scully toed her underwear the rest of
the way off and luxuriated in the feel of his naked skin everywhere
over hers.

"Mulder, you lived near the water as a kid....did you ever go skinny
dipping?"
He looked at her quizzically, sure he had missed a segue
somewhere.

"Just once," he replied,  "the summer after high school, I stayed
with my dad - that's *dad*, not *m-o-m*," he spelled out, so as not
to break their seconds-old pact, then kissed her neck for emphasis.
She grinned and stroked a hand through his hair, encouraging him
to go on.  "I had a thing going with a girl visiting her grandparents
for the summer, and we'd go for walks on the beach at night -"

"Mulder, that's so-"

"- normal?  Perverts are made, not born, Scully."

" - I was going to say sweet."

He grimaced, not commenting on her remark.  "Anyway, one night
we were heavily into a round of beach blanket bingo and she had
this *great* idea..."  Scully twitched her brows expectantly.  "It
wasn't pretty.  There was...shrinkage."

She made amused, sympathetic sounds against his shoulder, then
bumped her hips against him.  "There doesn't seem to have been
any lasting damage."  They smiled almost shyly and continued
caressing each other lightly.

Mulder shook his head, trying to pick up the thread.  "What - was
skinny dipping a sacred ritual among Navy brats?"

Scully's lips curved slyly around snug memories of one unbearably
hot summer when they were stationed in Guam.  She couldn't have
been more than five.  "When the four of us were very small, I think
sometimes it was too much effort to get us all into our swimsuits,
so Mom would just throw t-shirts over us for the walk to the beach,
then let us run wild."  Mulder chuckled quietly, nuzzling her
breasts.  "And then, around junior high sometime, Melissa and I
were friends with a girl who had a swimming pool and parents who
were out a lot.  They decided to get 'European tans,' - I just turned
into a lobster."  Her voice took on a dreamy quality.  "But I can
still remember what it felt like to dive in without a stitch on, how
different it was to feel the water glide over parts of me that were
normally covered...how naughty it felt...how free."

Mulder found himself incredibly turned on by images that came to
him as she told him these things.  Not of a little red-headed girl,
exactly, but of a carefree Scully.  Pure, undamaged, unwary.  It
moved him to realize how much of that purity she still managed to
hang onto, and that loving her this deeply somehow, in turn,
purified him.  He caressed her softly with his hands, his lips, his
breath, suddenly conscious of each place he normally touched only
through the barrier of clothing - her back, knees, shoulder blades,
biceps - and other places he had never touched at all.  He rippled
wave upon wave of love over her vulnerable, trusting body.

Scully was all for slow seduction, a tantalizing, even lazy
progression from one stage of arousal to the next. But, as in all
things, she liked there to be a logical order. There was a standard
path: mouth, neck, breasts, tummy, thighs, all leading right on into
full-blown cunnilingus.  How could she have been so foolish as to
expect Mulder to follow Standard Operating Procedure?  The fact
was, they had spent a good half-hour just getting undressed, petting
and kissing and looking and feeling.  And it had been wonderful,
but Scully had thought of all that as the pregame show; now, she
was itching to throw out the first pitch, but apparently Mulder
wanted to turn the national anthem into a Wagnerian opera.

Her sex throbbed  heavily, pulsing relentlessly like the car stereo
you hear from four lanes away, even with the windows rolled up.
But there was no relief.  No release.  Mulder's gentle teasing was
nearing the point of cruel taunting. A firm grasp on her ass was
followed by a light kiss to her sternum, followed up with the
glance of his tongue along her lower lip.  On and on like that, no
direction, no destination.  Once or twice, she tried silently to get
him to concentrate his attentions, to pick a spot and stick with it,
but to no avail.

She felt totally at sea.  And then she remembered: She loved the
sea, the one place she could accept being utterly out of control.
Very young, she had learned the thrill of riding the current, learned
not to fight a rip tide, but allow the waves to wash over her,
learned to enjoy the sensation of an earthly force carrying her
randomly, knowing she eventually would come back to shore, back
to herself, safe and sound.

Just as she was giving herself over to Mulder's haphazard method,
his mouth closed decisively over her sex in an impossibly deep
soul kiss.  The heat of his tongue against her was almost too much
to bear and her thighs clamped around his head in response.  Damn
if she didn't *feel* him smile against her.  /Mulder...when he picks
a spot, he knows how to pick 'em./

Entwining his arms with her legs, he stroked his hands over her
hips, under her ass, his tongue and lips busy with a single purpose.
Wiry hair tickled his nose and he fought off an urge to sneeze.
Unconsciously, he dug his hips into the mattress, matching the
rhythm to hers, which rose and fell as she whimpered softly and
lowed his name.  He cast his eyes up to her face, surprised to find
her gazing back at him, watching.  Without breaking their
connection, he sucked deliberately until her eyelids gave up and
epoxyed themselves tightly shut.

Scully felt the contractions begin deep within her body, so deep,
she thought for a split second she might be experiencing
myocardial infarction.  Unaccountably, she still had the presence
of mind to realize that a heart attack wasn't supposed to feel so
*good*.  Pleasure spasms chased along her nerve endings, and her
body began to jerk uncontrollably.  Raw, lower-primate sounds
erupted from her throat.  Mulder stayed with her as she convulsed
beneath him, his mouth latched to her, prolonging the euphoria,
never taking his eyes from the most soul-searing sight the universe
had ever offered him.

When Scully began to settle down, Mulder dropped his head on her
creamy thigh, exhausted.  Their breaths came heavily and fast and
were the only sounds in the room - until Mulder's whoop of
surprise as he felt himself being heaved onto his back.  Scully's
endorphin level had apparently sky-rocketed in direct proportion to
the activity which produced them.

"What the hell - ?" he panted as she dove toward the opposite end
of the bed.  Scully was in no mood for explanations, and was
otherwise occupied besides.  He wailed again, first in shock...then
in supplication, "Oh God, like that, like that...Don't stop, please
don't stop...," as her mouth assaulted him.  Her lips wrapped
themselves tightly around his cock, and her tongue sworled
relentlessly.  He needn't have begged.  Goal-oriented Dana Scully
pursued his climax single-mindedly, just as Mulder had
painstakingly elicited hers. He was too far gone to compare and
contrast their personal styles, spinning in a vortex of pleasure and
gripping her ankles for dear life. Scully worked him furiously, not
heeding his frantic cries.  "Scuhh-  I'm gonnaaaahh, guhn- it's-
I'mmmm-" He came like a locomotive, loud and fast and hard and
whistling her name high enough for all the townsfolk to hear.
Gradually, he coasted to a stop, heat coming off of him like steam
evaporating from a smokestack.

Scully was tenderly, methodically kissing her way back up
Mulder's spent and supine form when she felt his ribs begin to
convulse. A raw, almost hysterical sound filled the room. It wasn't
Mulder's usual snide chuckle, nor a bitter, self-deprecating snort.
It was just this side of Mad Scientist, and it was wonderful.  She
couldn't recall ever having heard him laugh like that.  The sheer
elation in his outburst was infectious.  She joined him, chortling to
herself at first, and eventually was left gasping for air, feeling her
sides cramp joyously.  As they alit from whatever happycloud had
wafted them back to earth, Scully realized ruefully that the ache
from laughing at such length was extremely unfamiliar, probably
twenty years forgotten.

Settling herself alongside Mulder, tucking into the curve of his
shoulder, she threw one leg across his thighs and flushed at the
thought of other muscles also long overdue for a workout.  Though
Scully liked to feel that presumption was the antithesis of her very
world-view, she had nevertheless *presumed* that Mulder had
been similarly out of circulation for some time now.  Admittedly,
there was little concrete evidence of this.  But by collecting the
tiles of his porn collection, solitary demeanor, manic-obsessive
work habits, along with the deep affection and trust which he
seemed to reserve exclusively for her, Scully pieced together, with
the mortar of her own hopes and intuition, a circumstantial mosaic
of a man whose sexual life in recent years had been lived in
isolation.

Scully reflected upon the numerous times she had gazed at
Mulder's mouth, wryly thinking what a shame it was that such a
rich resource was going unused. Among her most sentimental
secrets was that she ached not only at the waste of them, but that
this man, so sensual a being, had denied himself - had been denied,
she flushed guiltily - the joy of their sweetest purpose.

/No more./

She was through with pretending she didn't want him virtually
every hour of every day,  through with allowing her own
insecurities to dominate certain areas of her life; and she was
positively through playing the lonely role of perfectly self-
contained single woman.

/No more./

Still lost in thought, Scully swept one splayed hand down the
length of Mulder's torso to his thighs and back up again, grinning
to herself as she bumped against a sure sign of renewed arousal.
Mulder inhaled sharply as her fingertips brushed over his stiffening
cock.  Her palm skated over his nipples and abdomen, now
avoiding contact with the rigid shaft.  Scully's thigh began to rub
slowly but insistently against Mulder's side.  Breathing a deep sigh
of contentment and desire, Mulder placed soft kisses along her
brow.  Cradling her head in his left hand, he tilted Scully's face up
and invaded her mouth.

"Oh God, Mulder," she murmured between kisses, "no more."  To
Mulder, not being privy to Scully's unspoken thoughts, her words
seemed to contradict the ardent motion of her hands and mouth,
and the friction of her legs against him.  Fortunately, he was not in
an analytical frame of mind.  Instead, he reveled in the way she
stroked his tongue with her own and bit at it teasingly.  She exerted
suction and pressure in the most erotic combination possible.
Mulder's blood surged in his veins, his heart beating a conga.
Their mouths fucked fervently, and it was time for the rest them to
join the dance. Turning slowly on the bed, Mulder lay gingerly on
top of her, stroking his fingertips down the sides of her body.  He
wanted to savor this first true joining.

From nowhere, unbidden, unsettling memories flitted across his
vision.  Recollections of the many instances where they had
participated in the same event, yet come away from it with
radically different interpretations of the experience.  Even as
recently as a couple of months ago, Scully's doubts regarding his
version of the events surrounding Gibson Praise's second
disappearance served as a sharp reminder of their innate
differences.

The idea that, in this most intimate of ventures, they might not
understand each other absolutely frightened the hell out of him.  It
was imperative that she know what was happening between them
now wasn't about smoothing over conflict or assuaging his fear of
abandonment.  Expressing his love for her physically was both
more simple and more complicated than that.  It was
acknowledgment, confirmation. Acceptance of the imperviousness
of their bond, now and going forward.

"Scully...you know that I love you."  A statement, not a question,
though he found himself searching her eyes for confirmation.

"I know, Mulder.  I know," she responded tenderly.

"And that for me, this - us - is..."

"I know that, too," she asserted.  She broke their gaze and lowered
her voice just a notch.  "Sex changes everything, and it changes
nothing."

His eyes widened.  Were they really on the same page?

"I don't expect our differences to dissolve after today," she
continued, glancing back up at him, "I don't think either of us
really wants that, anyway."  Her sigh was edged with resignation, a
sign that she had considered - probably more than once - what
might become of their partnership if they were to cross this
invisible but very tangible line. "In fact...it may seem to exacerbate
them, and we have to be prepared for that."

Mulder nodded seriously.  "I'm scared to death that the next time
we argue over a case, or a piece of evidence, or a theory, you'll
think I expect you to agree with me - no questions asked - and that
you'll resent it."  His chest grew tight waiting for reassurances,
unsure if she would offer them, and unsure that he could accept
them.

Scully's brows knit together.  "Mulder, I admit, I've held myself
back from this for fear that, were we to become involved, the work
would suffer.  I'd back off, lose my edge, become willing to give in
where I know I shouldn't,"  Scully confessed in a rush. "That said,
something in me today just got fed up with worrying about
eventualities I'd never know for sure might happen, if I didn't let
myself take this step. We'll just have to take the rest of it as it
comes."  She shook her head at how flimsy  - how insubstantial -
that sounded to her ears, but feeling intrinsically that it was right
for them to be here now.  "I don't know what gives me the right to
feel so optimistic," she said softly, "call it faith - or belief."  She
punctuated this last statement with a kiss over his heart.

They were quiet for a long moment, each seeking assurance in the
other's eyes.  It was Mulder, naturally, who broke the silence,
giving voice to the last traces of their lingering apprehension.

"Red light?" he teased.

Forgetting the reference, Scully absently returned the volley.
"Green light?"

"Red light?"  he asked, this time uncertainly.

Now remembering their earlier bantering, she assured him, "Green
light."

"Red light?" he persisted, enjoying the game.

"Green light,"  she nipped at his throat, provoking him.

"Red light," he grinned slightly, playing with the tousled threads of
her hair.

"Green light," she whispered, gliding a thumb over his brow and
losing herself in his eyes.

She tugged at his neck, and brushed her lips over his eyelids.  With
her other hand, she grasped his thick, turgid length and showed
him in. As they fulfilled a union begun years before, Scully swore
she heard Etta James' voice in her head, crooning, "Aaat
laaaaasst...."

Mulder exhaled a long-held breath as his lover's body welcomed
him. She was warm and slick, as soft and well-muscled inside as
out.  He levered himself over her at a slight angle, resting on one
hip, and slowly drove into her again and again and again.

"Oh God. Oh, my God..." Scully's breath caught in her lungs,
expelling itself in harsh sighs and soft wailing. She had drawn one
leg high over Mulder's hip and bent the other knee outward,
opening her heart and body to him as she had to no other. Now, the
foot planted on the mattress gave her added leverage to swing her
pelvis up to meet his, and with every thrust, she felt him sinking
more deeply into her satin shaft, felt his sac bounce rhythmically
against her ass.

"Scully....wanted....you....so....long...now...."

His words tingled every nerve in her body.  She smoothed a hand
over his chest, felt the steady, quick rhythm of his heart and knew
intuitively that this was the most profound connection either of
them had ever felt for another human being.  She reached up to
wipe a single tear from his face and he curved his lips.
"Can...you...believe...this is...us?..." The rough darkness of his
voice sent fresh chills over her skin.

She focused her most direct gaze at him and beamed like the lights
of heaven.  "I believe...hmmm....I be-lieeeeve..."  She was feeling
slightly chagrined now over her earlier insistence that they act
slowly and deliberately - /count on Mulder to take a concept and
run with it/ - for while the sensations that engulfed her were
extremely pleasurable, each wave only inflamed her desire further.
Her eyes slipped shut and her voice fell to a rasp.
"Need...more.....need more...needmoreneedmore!"

Scully pulled him down in a wanton kiss, thrusting her tongue at
him forcefully, and trying like hell to speed the movement of their
lower bodies in kind.

Mulder broke away. "More?" he teased.  She nodded.  "More?" he
repeated, eyes wide.

"Yesss..." she hissed.

And again came his voice, "More...?"

"YES DAMMIT MOOOORE!!"  she keened.

"Shh..shh..." he chuffed, and moved to answer her plea.

"WHAAAT?"  she wailed as he halted his thrusts and withdrew
from her completely.

He sealed his mouth over hers to quiet her as he grasped his
throbbing cock and rubbed the hot, swollen flesh over the glans of
her clit, then plunged powerfully back inside of her.  Scully's
gasping response flowed through him like a song. "More?" he
whispered, a smile on his lips.

"oh yes," came a tiny reply.

Mulder repeated the pattern over and over, lifting himself out of
her, sliding and circling his hard heat over the sensitive nub, then
felt her arch under him for a thick, slippery return.  Left breathless
by his passion and astounded by his control, she was aware he
couldn't continue this way indefinitely.  They had been balanced
on a wave of near-ecstasy for what seemed like a geologic age and
she began to sense that his need was as great as hers to surrender to
the tide and let it bring them back to shore.

He buried his head in the curve of her shoulder, barely maintaining
his delicately balanced control.  With her last thread of restraint,
she laid tender kisses along his dampened hair line. "Let's go,
Mulder....just dig in and ride..."

His poise faltered for just a moment before he arched back and
began pumping into her with abandon.  She wrapped her arms low
around him, one hand gripping his ass, driving him deeply into a
frenzied fucking. "Yessssss...." He exploded into her, pounded
against her, washed over her, his lips shaping her name once in a
soundless alleluia, his hips' drumming rhythm still forceful, but
slower now and irregular.

She brought one hand up to cup the back of his head, resting it
again in the crook of her neck as she brought her lips alongside his
ear.  "You owe me nothing," she managed to gasp before
plummeting into a fury of color.  This maelstrom of sex and
emotion left her shaking in its wake, even as a profound
satisfaction seeped into her bones.  Not seawater, but her own salty
tears clogged the back of her throat.

Resurfacing, she felt, rather than heard, Mulder's comforting
murmurs against her skin.  The dust-motes suspended in the hazy
sunlight which peeked through her blinds sparkled like fairy dust,
and the pair drifted off as if they had been lulled to sleep by the
most enchanting bed time story ever.

###

Sometime later, midday sunlight rapidly taking on the amber cast
of late afternoon, Scully awoke with a start.  Reflexively, she
sought the clock on the nightstand, but her bedmate's muscled
shoulder blocked her view.  Her arms and legs wrapped around
him from behind, she pulled herself up enough to read the time.
3:12 p.m.

Oh...shit.

Mulder was roused by his partner's stirring and subsequent
swearing. Before he could mumble, "Was it good for you?" Scully
was off the bed and hunting down the ball of rolled-up hose hiding
under the TV table.  Mulder watched as she shook out her skirt and
shimmied it over her hips.  He didn't duck in time to miss catching
his trousers with his face.

Sighing and heaving himself off of the mattress, he tried to squelch
the anxiety beginning to roil in his gut. "Scully -"

"It's quarter after three, Mulder," Scully reported in the most
neutral and businesslike tone she could muster.

Mulder sensed her struggling to reestablish that formidable
professional demeanor, but it didn't quite square with the sight of
her glowing bedhead.  "I see that..."   He retrieved his boxers from
the end of the bed and slipped them on, then shook the wrinkles
out of  his pants and pulled them up too.  Holding them around his
waist so they wouldn't slide down to his ankles, he searched for his
belt.  Scully had scampered off to the bathroom muttering
something about her hair.

She stood motionless in front of the bathroom mirror, surveying
the damage.  Hair, kinked in some places and limp in others; eye
make-up smudged; skin, splotchy; lips, bare but even more bee-
stung than usual.  She inhaled, feeling inebriated from the smell
that clung to her skin - her essence combined with Mulder's - even
as it tied her stomach in knots.  And there, staring back at her, was
the smoking gun.  She could scrub away the ruined make-up and
slap on a fresh coat, pull her hair into a ponytail, even take a
shower to erase the subtle olfactory evidence, but there was no way
to hide the unnaturally brilliant gleam in her eye that was the
international symbol of a woman freshly laid.  In a detached way,
Scully admired the woman in the mirror.  She was obviously in
love and glorying in it.  But, like the faint muscle twinges that
remained from their earlier hysterics, the glow surrounding her -
she rolled her eyes, thinking that Mulder would've called it her
*aura* - was distressingly unfamiliar.

Mulder chose that moment to shamble through the bathroom door,
shirt and shoes on, but still holding up his beltless trousers.  Their
eyes met in the mirror, and each noticed the other's telltale sparkle,
though neither was willing to admit seeing it.  Scully locked gazes
with him, and his heart ached with the conflict he saw raging
within her.  Mulder held his breath, waiting for what he should
have known would be the inevitable.

"This can't happen again," she said quietly and without rancor.
She didn't wait for his rhetorical "what?" but stabbed an index
finger at the couple staring back at them from the glass.  "*This,*
Mulder."  Her voice was tight.  Bowing her head, she took a deep
breath to steady it.  "Not in the middle of the goddamn work
day..."  Scully shook her head slowly, almost sadly.

Mulder's mouth dropped open slightly.  Was she saying...?...or
rather, what wasn't she saying...or was he just not hearing what he
wanted not to hear?  He slipped an arm around her from behind,
closing a hand over the opposite shoulder.  He lowered his head
slightly, still gazing at her reflection and caressing her flushed
cheek with his own. "So you're saying that nooners are strictly out
of the question?"  Scully shot him a warning look, but he pressed
on. "Even if we make it back to the bullpen in under an hour?"
Scully held a hand up to her eyes and sighed.  The Voice of Sex
persisted.  "What about make-out sessions in the garage before
work?"  She clucked her tongue, knowing how he needed to put a
sarcastic spin even on this, that cracking wise was how Mulder
digested the big, greasy chunks of life that wound up on his plate.
But this time, Mulder's defenses weren't the driving force.  He was
just so relieved and thrilled and - happy, maybe - that the wise-ass
in him wouldn't be restrained.  "In that case...we'll have to quit."

Scully turned to face him. "We may not have to, if we have no
explanation for a four-hour absence from our desks," she retorted
in an attempt to bring them back to reality.

"We can always say we were doing background checks - *deep
background* - on a couple of Federal employees."  Shrugging at
her non-response, he went on,  "Besides, after all those weeks of
digging into fertilizer detail, the folks in the bullpen are used to
seeing us trail in sweaty and messy and smelling...unusually
pungent."  His word play was rewarded with a reluctant grin.  She
lay a hand on his chest, and they tacitly understood that there was
much more to be discussed.  Later.  Tonight...or tomorrow
morning.  Soon.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied the elusive belt peeking out
from beneath the comforter that had slipped to the floor at the foot
of the bed.  Scully strode in that direction, straightening her
shoulders and transforming herself back from passionate lover to
professional partner.  Mulder trailed his eyes after her, marveling
at the metamorphosis.

They finished dressing without a dozen words passing between
them.  Scully retrieved Mulder's tie from where it had landed on
top of her dresser and held it out to him.  Instead of taking it from
her, he flipped his collar, ducked his head, and quirked his brow
expectantly.  Not bothering to suppress the smile that tugged at the
corners of her freshly-lipsticked mouth, she deftly wrapped the
elegant silk into a double-windsor knot. As she reached to smooth
his collar back into place, Scully let her fingers trail over his jaw,
remembering the feel of it pressed against her inner thigh.  Mulder
clasped her hand to his face and turned slightly to kiss the open
palm.

Finally, they could no longer put off rejoining the outside world.
Collecting jackets and keys and flipping lights off, they moved
through the living room and toward the front door.  As she reached
for the doorknob, Scully suddenly pivoted back to face him.  "Was
it worth it?" The words were out of her mouth before she was
conscious of uttering them aloud.  He rounded his lips as if to ask
for clarification, so she continued, stumbling, not sure how to ask
for what she needed to know.  "Being alone for such a long
time...you didn't have to...I never *expected* you not to..."  She
was rambling and she knew it, and the knowledge made her
frustratingly tongue-tied.

Mulder's heart swelled in his chest as he finally caught the drift of
her fragmented thoughts.  "Every second, every day of every
goddamn year I waited," he croaked.  Pulling her close and
nuzzling her hair, he added, "And I wouldn't have waited for
anyone but you."

Warmth stole over her, from the crown of her head to the tips of
her toes. Scully smiled into his chest, allowing herself one more
moment of undiluted security and satisfaction before stepping into
the hallway and double-locking the door behind them.
 

END