TITLE: Worth Breaking
AUTHOR: Narida Law
E-MAIL ADDRESS: narida_law@hotmail.com
RATING: NC-17
CATEGORY: SRAH
SPOILERS: I'm not responsible for references made through 
S6.
KEYWORDS: MSR
CONTENT STATEMENT: SMUT alert – if you're not into 
gratuitous, graphic sex then this fic isn't for you.  You 
may OD on it.  Any redeeming social value is purely 
coincidental.
WEBSITE: http://www.angelfire.com/ms/naridalaw
DISTRIBUTION: Do not send to Gossamer; I'll send it myself.  
Otherwise, okay for Spookys and anywhere else as long as 
these headers remain intact.  Telling me is sweet and would 
be much appreciated, but not obligatory.
DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully belong to each other.  I'm 
just telling a story.  And to steal my very favorite 
disclaimer =ever=, generously shared by my wonderful friend 
Trixie – I almost wish they =would= make a big deal about 
fanfic...
FEEDBACK: If you have something to say, I would love to 
hear from you.

SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully embark on a relationship neither 
is able to handle, and the question of what is or isn't 
worth breaking must be answered.

"...what is everywhere known as Grimm's Law - an 
aggrandizement of rough rules to ideal completeness."
- Thomas Hardy, from "Jude the Obscure"

Acknowledgements will follow at the end of the story.

~~~~~~~~
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 risquι 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