Alternatives 4: Escape 
By Shannon O'Connor (shannono@iname.com) 
and Brandon D. Ray (publius@avalon.net) 

DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT:  Anywhere and everywhere, so long 
as our names and e-mail addresses stay on it and no money 
changes hands. 
FEEDBACK: Yah, you betcha. shannono@iname.com, publius@avalon.net 
SPOILER WARNING:  Set the morning after "Alternatives 3: Payback," 
with various small spoilers for episodes aired up through 
"Tithonius." (You could assume most of the events of "2F/1S" did 
happen in this universe, if you wanted to, but there are no 
spoilers herein.) 
RATING:  NC-17, of course. 
CONTENT WARNING: Smut. MSR. Coitus interruptus. And even some 
non-alternative sex, believe it or not ... 
CLASSIFICATION:  SRA 
SUMMARY: It's inevitable, but ... things don't always go smoothly, 
now, do they? "God Himself could not sink this ship" -- Edward J. 
Smith, Captain of the RMS Titanic, just before her maiden voyage. 
Can you say "hubris," boys and girls? I knew you could ... 
DISCLAIMER:  In our dreams... 

========== 

AUTHORS' NOTES: 

Brandon first ... 

I tell you, the woman's insatiable!  And I'm not talking about 
Scully here -- I mean Shannon.  I mean, Christ, I hadn't even 
finished my final segment in THIS story, and already she's started 
writing her first section for the NEXT story. 

Tell the truth, guys -- be honest.  You're tired of reading smut, 
right?  Nobody really enjoys this; you're just going through the 
paces.  Am I wrong?  Are you listening, Shannon?  Shannon?  Hey! 
Wipe that smirk off your face and answer me..... 

Cheee-rist.....  ;) 

# 

Now, isn't this just the way things go? All those men complaining 
about women not being able to keep up with them, and then when one 
does, all they can do is complain ... ;) 

And besides, everyone KNOWS women are better at the post-coitus 
stuff than men ... the men usually fall asleep ... 

# 

SPECIAL NOTES: 

The authors feel they should express a debt of gratitude to those 
who paved the way with stories about Mulder and Scully NOT having 
sex. Most notable among these was Imajiru's "Taming the Unicorn," 
proof positive that a healthy, heterosexual couple CAN have a 
great sex life without intercourse. 

Special thanks also to Vickie Moseley, who first pointed out to 
Brandon what a sensual experience it can be to feed each other 
breakfast. ;) 

Oh ... and, as usual, no marriages or other long term relationships 
were harmed during the writing of this fic. 

And now ... on with the show ... 

========== 

Alternatives 4:  Escape 
  

I've always hated waking up in the morning.  Even when I was a kid, 
even before Sam was taken, I hated it.  And after she was gone ... 
well, it just never seemed like it was worth it. 

This morning is different, though.  This morning, for the second 
time in my long, miserable life, I woke up in a nice warm bed with 
Dana Scully curled up in my arms, still sound asleep.  And the 
fact that this time it's Saturday morning rather than a work day, 
and so I get to lie here and look at her for as long as I want ... 
well, that's just the icing on the cake. 

We got back to Washington National late last night, after spending 
four horrifying days shuttling back and forth between Las Vegas, 
Nevada, and St. George, Utah.  We had no time for anything personal 
during those four days, and no energy, either -- which is probably 
just as well, since Scully and I have yet to sit down and work out 
just what the ground rules are going to be for this new 
relationship we've embarked on.  Although I did manage a certain 
amount of payback on the flight home ... 

I was really, really tired by the time we'd claimed our luggage 
and trudged out to long-term parking to retrieve Scully's car. 
Hell, we were BOTH tired, but I was so completely out of it that 
I didn't even notice where she was taking us until the car came 
to a stop and I opened my eyes to find that we were parked outside 
her apartment building. 

I turned to look at her, raising my eyebrows in question, and she 
arched an eyebrow of her own right back at me -- my Scully is 
nothing if not assertive -- and said, "Agent Mulder, we've just 
had the week from hell, and at this very moment we are supposed 
to be making love in front of a roaring fire in a cabin in the 
Alleghenies.  The fact that this did not happen is not your fault, 
it was just one of those things, and tonight we're both way too 
tired to really enjoy ourselves."  And here she grabbed my necktie 
and yanked on it until my face was about three inches from her 
own.  "But we are going to do this, Mulder.  Tomorrow.  First 
thing.  And I am not letting you out of my sight until we do. 
Got it?" 

What could I say to something like that?  I put my best leer on my 
face and replied, "Are you coming on to me, Agent Scully?" 

She arched her eyebrow at me again, but I could see a smile tugging 
at the corners of her mouth.  "You're a trained investigator," she 
said.  "You figure it out."  And then she let go of my tie and we 
got out of the car and went upstairs and stripped off our clothes 
and went to bed. 

And so here I am on a cheery Saturday morning in late February, 
lying in Dana Scully's bed, with the lady of the house curled up 
in my arms and wearing one of my t-shirts as a nightgown. 

Wow. 

I suppose eventually I'll get used to this, but the truth of the 
matter is that I don't really want to.  Get used to it, I mean. 
God knows I want to make love to her, and one of my more amazing 
feats of forbearance has been to lie here with Scully in my arms 
for the past thirty minutes waiting for her to wake up. 

And it seems that my patience is about to be rewarded, because 
Scully is stirring slightly in my arms.  Her eyes flicker open, 
and she gives me a slow, sweet smile that's simply breathtaking in 
its innocent eroticism. 

"Good morning, Sunshine," I say, returning her smile with interest. 

She shakes her head sleepily, never taking her eyes from mine. 
"Is it still morning?" 

"Damned if I know," I reply with a light chuckle.  "But if it is, 
it's not by much." 

Scully laughs softly and cuddles just a little closer, and rubs 
her body against mine.  "Mmmm.  I could definitely get used to 
this." 

For a few minutes we just lie there together, cuddling and 
touching and feeling each other's bodies.  This is nice.  This is 
really, really nice. It sure took us a long time to get to this 
point -- six years of pain and heartache and hardship.  But now 
we're finally here, and this is going to be for us.  No more 
frustration, no more obstacles, not even any payback bullshit. 
Just me and Scully, just as soon as we're ready. 

I think I'm ready. 

I let my right hand slide lightly down her back and across her hip, 
until finally it finds the hem of the t-shirt she's wearing.  My 
t-shirt. I don't know why it's so intimate and arousing for her to 
wear my clothes, but it is.  MY t-shirt.  MY Scully.  Me Tarzan; 
you Jane.  Real caveman stuff, and I guess I should be embarrassed 
by these feelings, but this morning I can't seem to make myself 
feel anything other than profoundly happy. 

I pause for just a moment and look into her eyes, drinking in the 
love and desire that I find there, and then my hand slips under 
her shirt and starts traveling upward again, finally coming to 
rest on her left buttock. 

Scully shifts her hips slightly in appreciation, rubbing her 
softness against my hardness, and we both moan softly.  Then she 
gives a very creditable imitation of my best leer, and says, "Are 
you coming on to me, Agent Mulder?" 

I can't help but laugh at that, and I give her ass a firm but 
delicate squeeze as I reply,  "You're a trained investigator; you 
figure it out." And I lean forward and capture her earlobe between 
my teeth. 

And the phone rings. 

#          #          # 

Story of my life ... 

I'm warm and comfortable in my own bed, wrapped up in Mulder's 
arms, with nothing but panties, boxers, and one of his t-shirts 
between us ... 

... and the phone rings. 

Any other time, I'd probably let the machine get it. But I know 
who it's going to be: Mom. She calls every Saturday morning 
without fail, unless she knows I'm out of town, and I never got a 
chance to call her before we left this week. So if I don't answer, 
she'll get worried, and she'll probably either call the landlord 
to check on me or come over here herself. 

Neither of which sounds like a good idea right now. 

So, reluctantly, I untangle myself from Mulder, stifling a giggle 
at his mock-pouting expression, and reach for the phone on the 
bedside table. 

"Hello?" I answer. 

"Good morning, Dana," Mom says, her voice scratchy. 

"Mom? You okay?" Oh, God. The one time I leave town without 
telling her, and she gets sick ... 

She pauses to clear her throat before replying. "I'm fine, honey," 
she says. "Just had a little cold this week, and my voice isn't 
quite back to normal yet." 

I'm not convinced. Mothers are notorious for downplaying their own 
illness, and mine is no exception. "Are you sure, Mom?" I say. 
"Did you go to the doctor?" 

She gives a light laugh. "No, honey. I really didn't feel bad at 
all. I just coughed and sneezed for a couple of days. I drank a 
lot of juice and water and took some zinc and cold medicine, and 
really, I'm fine." 

I relax a little at this. It usually takes a little effort to get 
her to admit to being sick, but when she comes clean, she doesn't 
stretch the truth. So I believe her. 

"So how are you, Dana?" she asks -- and that's when I realize 
Mulder's hands have stolen back around my waist and are slowly 
creeping upwards. 

That man ... he was probably as concerned about Mom as I was and 
waited for me to relax before making his move. If Mom HAD been 
sick, I have no doubts that he'd be doing his best to convince me 
to go take care of her. But if I think she's okay, he trusts my 
judgment ... and can turn his attention back to other things. 

Distracted by Mulder's fingers, I'm slow in answering, and now 
it's Mom's turn to get worried. "Dana? Is everything okay?" 

I quickly give myself a mental shake. "Everything's fine, Mom," I 
answer. "I just had a late night. I didn't get a chance to call 
before we left, but Mulder and I just got back from a case, and 
our flight didn't get in until almost three." 

"Oh, honey, I didn't wake you, did I?" Mom's voice is equal parts 
chagrined and apologetic, and I rush to reassure her. 

"No, w -- I was already awake," I reply, wincing at my near 
slip-up. Mulder's hand tightens on my hip for just a second, and 
I know he caught it, too. 

"Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to go to lunch, but I 
know you want to take it easy today," Mom says. "We can get 
together tomorrow instead, if you like." 

"That sounds good, Mom," I say. "I *am* still a little tired 
today, and there's a few things I need to get done around here." 
I smile to myself at the unintentional dual meaning in my 
statement. 

"All right, dear," she says. "I'll let you go. You get some rest, 
and give me a call later to talk about tomorrow." 

"Okay, Mom. Bye." 

Her goodbye echoes in my ear as I click the phone off and place 
it back on the table. From over my shoulder, Mulder murmurs, 
"So ... your schedule's still clear for today?" 

I smile slowly, my hands coming up to wrap over his.  "I think I 
can squeeze you in," I reply, leaning back against his chest. 

And then I frown. "But I think maybe I need a shower and 
breakfast first," I say thoughtfully. 

#     #     # 

Breakfast? 

Breakfast? 

"Breakfast, Scully?" I ask.  "Breakfast?  Don't you think that 
could wait a little while?"  I reclaim her earlobe and nibble on 
it lightly, and she shivers, and for just a moment I think maybe 
she's changed her mind again. But then she gently pushes me away, 
rolls out of bed and onto her feet and stretches sensuously. 

"Breakfast, Mulder," she says.  "Breakfast AND a shower.  I, at 
least, am hungry enough to eat a horse, and we both need to clean 
up after the trip last night.  I want us both nice and clean so 
that we can work up a good sweat together, and I DON'T want to be 
thinking about food while we're doing it." 

It's hard to argue with logic like that, but I give it my best 
shot. Climbing off the bed and wrapping my arms around her waist 
again, I say, "I bet I can take your mind off of food, Agent 
Scully." 

"I dunno, Mulder," she murmurs as she snuggles into my embrace. 
"English muffins or sex.  Tough call."  She looks up at me and 
arches her eyebrow. "Besides -- are you saying you don't want to 
take a shower with me?"  She lifts her hand and traces a path 
across my chest with her finger, finally circling -- but not 
quite touching -- my right nipple.  "I'll let you wash my hair." 

Shit.  Ten days into this relationship, and she already knows 
exactly which buttons to push.  I sigh in mock resignation, and 
release her from the embrace and follow her out of the room and 
down the hall to the bathroom. 

#          #          # 

Mmmmm, I could *definitely* get used to this ... 

I can't help quick grin as I step into the bathroom and head for 
the shower stall. Mulder may be a complicated man, but some things 
are certainly cut-and-dried -- getting him into the shower with me 
among them. I don't have EVERY little detail figured out -- and 
probably never will -- but I do know a few ways to get him to do 
what I want. 

I start the water running and am pulling a big bath sheet and a 
couple of smaller towels out of the linen closet when Mulder 
finally meanders in, yawning. I just look at him for a minute, 
standing there a little uncertainly, his morning erection tenting 
his boxers and his eyelids drooping a little. 

I smile and drop the towels over the bar on the shower door, then 
slip my hands under the long t-shirt and hook my fingers into my 
panties, pushing them quickly down and off. I hear Mulder take a 
sharp breath, and when I look back up at him, his eyes are wide 
open and his lips are parted. 

Jeez. You'd think he'd never seen a nearly-naked woman ... 

... but then, come to think of it, he hasn't seen *me*. Well, 
except for that Antarctic escapade, which I don't think really 
counts, since I was pretty much out of it and covered with goo. 

Smiling again, softly, I hold out my hand to him, and the fire 
that jumps into his eyes makes me suck in a steadying breath of 
my own. 

When I can speak again a few seconds later, I say, "C'mon, let's 
get cleaned up." 

He seems to relax then and walks towards me, taking my hand as 
he moves. I turn back toward the shower to test the water 
temperature, then drop his hand and reach for the hem of my -- 
his -- t-shirt. 

But he stops me. 

"No," he says, a teasing tone -- and maybe a little bit of a 
challenge -- entering his voice. "Leave it on." 

My right eyebrow takes an involuntary climb toward my hairline, 
and I lower my hands to my hips, a grin twitching along my 
mouth. "Wet t-shirt fantasies, Agent Mulder?" I ask dryly. 

He grins, then lets the expression degenerate into an outright 
leer. "You've seen my videos," he says, his bland tone a stark 
contrast to the look on his face. 

It feels good to laugh after this hellacious week, the combined 
sounds echoing off the tiles. And we're still grinning as I step 
into the stall, holding the door open for him to follow. 

#     #     # 

Jesus.  This morning just keeps getting better and better. Scully 
is standing under the shower in her t-shirt -- MY t-shirt -- with 
her face turned up into the spray, eyes closed and mouth slightly 
open.  The water is rapidly soaking the t-shirt and plastering it 
against her skin, and she's running her hands up and down her 
flanks from her breasts to her hips.  Her erect nipples and her 
mound of intimate curls are clearly visible through the t-shirt, 
and why the FUCK am I just standing here watching this? 

In an instant I've dropped my boxers to the floor, and in another 
instant I've stepped into the stall and wrapped my arms around 
her, and she turns into my embrace.  Her arms slip around my 
waist and for a moment we just stand there together under the 
warm shower, our bodies pressed up against each other. 

It's now official.  More new ground has been broken.  I am 
taking a shower with Dana Scully. 

Scully turns slightly in my arms and reaches around behind herself 
to grab the soap, then turns back towards me again. And she begins 
to wash me. 

Jesus, this is intense. 

She begins by working up a good thick lather on my chest. The bar 
of soap glides across my skin, leaving a soapy trail wherever it 
passes, up and down, side to side.  Once she's got a good thick 
lather built up she puts the soap back in its holder and starts 
using her hands to spread it around. Down to my abdomen, up and 
down my flanks, up to my shoulders and neck.  She spends just a 
little extra time "cleaning" my nipples, and my cock pulses with 
pleasure each time she touches them. 

"God, Scully," I say.  "God, this feels so good."  I close my 
eyes and rest my head on top of hers as she continues to wash 
and caress my upper body.  She lifts my arms so that she can 
work the lather into my armpits, and then gently and lovingly 
smooths the soap along my upper arms, then down my forearms and 
finally onto my hands. 

"Turn around," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the 
spray, and I don't want to lose the contact with her that I've 
got, but I can't disobey her, not now, and so I do as I'm told. 
There's a brief pause, and then I feel the bar of soap skimming 
across my upper back as she gently scrubs my shoulder blades. 
Then the soap bar is gone again, and it's just her hands, 
Scully's hands, gliding and touching and caressing my back, 
working their way steadily down my spine. 

Finally she reaches my ass, and sweet Jesus this is good. Scully 
has one hand on each cheek, and she's really not washing at all, 
she's just lightly grazing her fingertips across my skin.  I 
feel as if every hair on my body must be standing on end, and 
my cock is now throbbing desperately for her touch.  Then 
abruptly her hands are gone, and I hold my breath, waiting 
to see what's going to happen next. 

And Scully's hands descend on my ass once again and she 
squeezes firmly, and I rise up on my toes and groan. 

#     #     # 

I just couldn't resist that. God, I've been watching that ass 
move under his pants for so long, and I just had to touch it. 
And he apparently liked the idea, from the groan he let out. 

I give another squeeze, and his knees buckle slightly, his arms 
shooting out to brace against the wall in front of him. I relax 
my hands and smooth my palms over the skin, wrapping my fingers 
around to cup his hips, and push in opposite directions, silently 
telling him to turn around. 

His erection brushes my hands as he turns, and a violent shudder 
goes through him at the brief contact. He's been hard since I woke 
up, and I don't know how long he was lying there awake before 
that. 

Somehow I don't think he's going to make it through breakfast in 
this condition. And now that I think of it, I wouldn't really want 
him to. He'll have time to recover ... 

Smiling, I reach for the shampoo, diverting my hand from my first 
choice -- the floral scented, which I don't think he'd 
appreciate -- to the lemon scented. Still maybe not the best 
choice, but those are the only two I have at the moment. 

I bring the bottle down and flip open the cap -- and Mulder's 
hand closes over mine. 

I look up at him, puzzled, and he draws the open bottle toward 
his face, closes his eyes, and inhales the scent deeply. 

And moans. 

Holy shit. He's turned on by the *shampoo*? 

Testing my theory, I waft the bottle gently under his nose and 
drop my gaze to his erection. He moans again, and his cock jerks, 
just slightly. 

Hmmmm. Interesting reaction. 

I smile and look back up at him. He's leaning sideways against the 
wall, his eyes still closed and his breathing ragged. 

"So you like the shampoo?" I ask, my voice husky from a 
combination of steam and arousal. 

He opens one eye to look at me and grins ruefully. "You could say 
that," he says, his voice shaky. 

I tip the bottle up and pour a small amount into the palm of my 
hand, then slip the bottle back into the shower rack and motion 
with my free hand. "Bend forward," I say. 

Amazingly, he doesn't question me, just leans far enough down for 
me to reach his hair. I reach up and start working the shampoo in, 
the scent of lemons quickly filling the shower stall as the lather 
builds. 

I press my fingertips firmly against his scalp, rubbing in small 
circles, just the way I like my own scalp massaged. I don't know 
if he loves this as much as I do, but I don't think it's possible 
for this to be a *bad* thing ... 

And then he lets out another groan, and I decide he's enjoying it, 
all right. 

#    #    # 

God.  She's trying to kill me.  That's the only explanation for 
this. 

This is far from the first time I've taken a shower with a woman, 
but it has never been like this before.  In the past it always 
just seemed like a means to an end, but Scully ... Scully is 
turning it into an end in its own right.  God ... 

She's working her fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp and 
building up the lather at the same time.  The stall is filled with 
the scent of lemons -- that wonderful smell that always goes 
straight to my groin.  It's always been my favorite of her two 
shampoos, and encountering that smell now, in this setting ... 
it's very nearly overpowering. 

I suddenly remember that I'm allowed to touch her now, and as her 
hands work their way down past my ears I bring my own hands down 
to stroke her hips -- only to encounter wet cotton instead of 
Scullyskin. 

Shit.  The t-shirt.  I'd forgotten about the t-shirt.  It seemed 
cute and sexy and very, very arousing when we started this, but 
now it's just a barrier, and so I reach down and find the hem and 
pull it off over her head and toss it in a corner of the stall. 
Scully chuckles and raises her arms briefly to cooperate, then 
returns to working on my hair, and I reach for her hips again and 
pull her close until our bodies are in full contact, and for a 
moment the stall is filled with the sound of our groans. 

As she continues to work on my scalp we rub our wet, soapy bodies 
together.  The feeling of her skin moving against mine ... Jesus. 
It's just incredible.  It's indescribable.  I don't see how she 
can expect me to wait for breakfast after this.  Maybe she'll 
settle for a slice of toast and a cup of orange juice.  How long 
can that take? 

"Okay, lover, let's get you rinsed off."  Her voice is low and 
rough, like raw silk, and she moves out of my arms and maneuvers 
me around until I'm standing directly under the spray, and her 
lovely, delicate hands are grazing over my flesh to help rinse 
off the soap.  She's standing behind me again, and thank God 
she's got her body pressed up against mine and is continuing the 
mutual body massage even as her hands work to sluice the soap off 
of me. 

I'm bracing my hands against the wall again, and even so it's all 
I can do to keep from sliding down on the floor. God this is good. 
This is so very, very good.  I can't believe I let six years go by 
before discovering this side of Dana Scully.  Jesus ... so much 
wasted time ... 

And then without any warning at all she wraps her fingers around 
my cock. 

#     #     # 

I'll take the gasp to mean he didn't expect *that*. 

"Sc ..." An attempt at my name comes next, along with an 
involuntary thrust. 

My hands are wet and a little soapy as I slide them slowly up and 
down his cock, not roughly but with a definite sense of purpose. 
Gentle enough not to be painful, but firm enough to take him 
within seconds past the point of even token resistance. 

He's basically panting now, and he's slid one forearm flat against 
the wall, lowering his forehead to rest against it. His hips are 
moving in tiny little thrusts, a little jerkily but in rhythm with 
my strokes, and when I brush the fingers of one hand across his 
sac, he lets out another long moan. 

I answer the moan, pressing my body more firmly against him, and 
speed up my hands a little. I glance up at his profile to see his 
eyes squeezed shut, water cascading down the back of his head, 
and his mouth moving in the shape of words. I catch what looks 
like an attempt at my name, and it brings a smile to my face. 

I hold him off long enough to make his climax enjoyable rather 
than painful, and then increase the pressure and speed gradually 
until his legs and back stiffen against me. And then he's coming, 
his body thrusting and shaking, little pants and gasps escaping 
his mouth. 

As he starts to wind down, I give his cock one last squeeze and 
slide my hands back to his hips, giving him a little more support 
to stay upright while he recovers. The water quickly washes away 
the "evidence," and after a few minutes Mulder pushes himself away 
from the wall, turns under the spray, and wraps his arms around me, 
bringing his mouth down hard on mine. 

Our kiss is both sweetly intimate and intensely erotic, tongues 
moving slowly but firmly inside each other's mouths. Mulder's 
hands move in opposite directions, one going up to tangle in my 
wet hair, and the other gliding down to cup my ass and pull my 
lower body flush with his. We both groan into our kiss, the sound 
mingling with those of rushing water and lips and tongues moving 
against each other. 

Mulder starts carefully turning around until I'm standing directly 
in the spray, water hitting right on my shoulders. He pulls away 
from the kiss gently, then starts dropping smaller kisses over my 
face as he reaches up behind me. I quickly figure out he's going 
for the shampoo, and an anticipatory smile breaks out on my face. 

Sure enough, he pours out a little in the palm of his hand, then 
put the bottle back and works up a little lather between his hands 
before lifting them to my head. My eyes fall shut as he begins to 
work the suds into my hair, his fingers mimicking the movements 
mine made along his scalp a few minutes earlier. 

Oh, God. I thought I enjoyed this ordinarily. Add Mulder, a 
shower, and an expanse of wet skin to the equation, and I'm about 
to dissolve completely. 

His hands are nothing short of magic. The pads of his fingers rub 
small circles over every square inch of my scalp, from the crown 
of my head to the nape of my neck, increasing the pressure along 
the sides and back. After a few minutes, he tilts my head back 
gently, into the spray, and starts combing his fingers carefully 
through the wet strands to rinse away the lather. 

Mmmmm ... I think this shampoo is quickly becoming my favorite, 
too ... 

Finished rinsing, Mulder lifts my head back upright and reaches 
for the rack again, coming back with my conditioner this time and 
pouring a liberal amount into his hand. He works it through just 
as thoroughly, paying closer attention to the ends this time, and 
I feel a small laugh bubbling up. 

"Something funny?" he growls out, never pausing in his 
movements, and I laugh a little more. 

"Just wondering when you got to be an expert on hair care," I 
reply saucily 

I jump and let out an involuntary yelp when I feel an unexpected 
pinch on the left side of my ass. "Mulder!" I exclaim, as I hear 
laughter rumbling in his chest. 

He dips my head back to rinse again, taking a little longer this 
time, and when he pulls my head back up, he wraps one hand around 
the back of my neck and pulls me into another sensual kiss. 

We're a little messier with this one, tongues and teeth and lips 
colliding with less grace than passion. Our hands are grasping 
and kneading at just about any expanse of skin we can reach, and 
low groans and half-words escape our mouths in small spurts. 

Unfortunately, right in the middle of that amazing kiss ... the 
hot water runs out, and we're doused with a sudden spray of 
freezing-cold water. 

#     #     # 

"JEEEE--ZZUSSSSS!!!!" 

The sudden shift in water temperature catches us both completely 
by surprise; an instant later we're both out of the stall and 
standing there dripping wet in the middle of Scully's bathroom. 
Scully gives a little laugh and shakes her head, then reaches 
back into the stall and turns the water off.  "S-sorry," she 
says, still laughing. 

I chuckle lightly.  "S'okay.  I think we were rapidly approaching 
the point where something softer and more horizontal was called 
for, anyway."  And I wrap my arms around her and draw her into 
another soul-searing kiss. 

God ... this woman can kiss.  I mean, she is really, really good 
at this.  Already I'm starting to get hard again, which I wouldn't 
have thought was possible at my age.  It must be Scully; it's the 
only explanation.  She's really putting her whole body into this 
kiss, from the soft moans of pleasure, to her hands gently 
stroking my back, to her hips shifting rhythmically against me. 
Jesus ... 

Finally we have to break for air.  After a couple of deep breaths, 
I murmur, "So ... someplace softer and more horizontal?" 

She chuckles and shakes her head.  "Breakfast, Mulder.  And not 
just toast and OJ, either; a real breakfast." 

"Scully..."  I bend down and start planting kisses on her neck, 
and she sighs and leans closer against me for moment as I work my 
way up towards her ear.  Finally, though, she pushes me gently 
away. 

"Breakfast, Mulder," she repeats.  "Now."  And she grabs the 
towels she'd set aside earlier and hands one to me, wraps another 
one around herself and grabs a third for her hair, I suppose, and 
we head back for the bedroom. 

#     #     # 

I manage to get Mulder into clean boxers without too much fuss 
and send him into the kitchen with instructions to start coffee 
and dig around to see what's still fresh in my fridge. All this 
traveling is tough on my food supplies; if I ever dare stock up 
on fresh fruits and vegetables, it's a sure bet that we'll be 
called off across the country within days, and I'll be left with 
a refrigerator full of spoilage. 

I dry myself off quickly and slip into my favorite terrycloth 
robe, then towel my hair until it's just damp before grabbing a 
comb. I step back into the bathroom to hang our towels up to dry, 
then start combing my hair as I pad back down the hall and into 
the living room. 

As I pass the phone, I realize I haven't checked my messages since 
I got home. I already heard from mom, but the light is giving a 
double blink, so I pause to see who the other call was from. 

*beeeeep* "Hi Dana, this is Mom, I guess you're still at work. 
It's about 6:30 on Friday night, so give me a call if it's 
not too late when you get in." 

*beeeeep* "Dana, this is Ralph.  I lucked out and got tickets 
to the Hoyas basketball game tomorrow afternoon, and I thought 
this would be a good chance for us to get to know each other 
better.  Call me if you're busy; otherwise I'll stop by at 
noon to pick you up." 

Oh, shit. My eyes fly to the clock on my desk ... 11:58 a.m. 

And there's a knock at the door. 

"Scully?" Mulder's voice drifts in from the kitchen. "Are you 
talking to someone?" 

Shit shit shit. What the hell am I supposed to do now? 

The knock comes again, louder this time, and I sign in resignation. 
Well, at least maybe this little scenario will get old Ralpheo 
there off my back ... 

I cross to the door and peer out. Yep, it's him all right, all 
five foot eight inches of him, combover and gold chains firmly 
in place. I swear, some people never moved past 1976 ... 

Trying to keep my face from falling into a grimace, I release the 
locks and open the door just a few inches, hiding my body behind 
it. "Hi, Ralph," I say. "I just got your message a few minutes 
ago, and I'm sorry, but I really can't make it." 

His face falls. "But ... I got the tickets ..." he stutters out. 

I manage to keep my voice apologetic. "I know, and I'm really 
sorry," I say. "But I just got back into town last night, and 
I really have a lot of things I have to ..." 

"Scully?" 

Oh shit. 

I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, there's Mulder in the 
kitchen doorway, wearing nothing but boxers and an oven mitt, 
staring intently at poor Ralph. I look back at the man outside, 
and his eyes are like saucers, his jaw hanging open ... and he 
just looks so devastated that I really do feel sorry for him. 

"Ralph ..." I start, but he cuts me off. 

"No ... n ... no ... it's all right ... I'll ... I'll go," he 
stumbles, backing away from the doorway. "I can ... can see 
you're busy ..." 

His stricken voice trails off, and he turns his back and 
practically runs back down the hall toward his own apartment. 

I heave out a sigh and push the door shut, leaning against it for 
a second before turning to face Mulder. He's frowning, his eyes 
still on the closed door, and his teeth are practically clenched 
together as he says, "Who was that?" 

Oh God. Don't tell me Mulder's jealous ... 

I stifle a giggle and cross the floor to Mulder, sliding my arms 
around his waist and leaning against him. "Hey, thanks, Mulder," 
I say in a low voice. "You just saved me the strain of explaining 
to my neighbor for the twelfth time why I don't want to go out 
with him." 

He looks down at me for a moment, obviously puzzled. "I did?" 
he finally asks. 

If you look in the dictionary under "clueless" ... 

I just nod once. "All the hints weren't working, but after seeing 
you, I don't think I have to worry about that one again." I smile. 
"And that's good, because I think I'm going to have my hands full 
with you." 

At that, he relaxes and grins, his arm coming up to encircle my 
waist and his face lowering to mine. "Been there, done that," he 
murmurs against my mouth. 

#     #     # 

For just a moment I start to stress over the geek at Scully's 
door, but then she presses her lips against mine and her tongue 
sweeps into my mouth and DAMN I could get used to this.  She's up 
on her toes with her arms around my neck, and now she's sucking my 
tongue into her mouth and gently nipping and chewing at my lower 
lip and my hands are sliding down her back, looking for the hem of 
her robe and she's grinding her crotch against my hard-on and then 
the kitchen timer goes off. 

Fuck. 

I break the kiss and give her what I hope is a rueful smile and 
say, "Breakfast." 

For a moment she continues to lean against me, looking up at me 
and running her tongue slowly along her bottom lip.  Then she 
smiles and steps out of my embrace, moving over to the sofa and 
stretching out on it like Cleopatra on her barge. I follow and 
stand looking down at her and she looks up and gives me a sultry 
look and says, "Feed me." 

I bend over and give her a quick kiss, then go out to the 
kitchen.  A moment later I'm back, juggling a plate of blueberry 
muffins, another plate loaded with scrambled eggs, and a pitcher 
of grapefruit juice and a couple of glasses. I spread out this 
feast on the coffee table and sit cross-legged on the floor next 
to the sofa and begin to feed her. 

God ... this is fun.  I never realized how much fun it can be to 
feed another person, but I'm really getting into this.  I bring a 
forkful of eggs up to her mouth and she reaches out and captures 
them with her lips and tongue, never taking her eyes off of mine. 
Watching as she chews and swallows and then licks the residue off 
of her lips is one of the more sensual sights I've ever seen in my 
life, and then she arches her eyebrow at me, and I realize she's 
waiting for more and so I scoop up another offering and bring it 
to her lips. 

This goes on for several minutes until the eggs are gone, with me 
grabbing a forkful or two for myself and with occasional breaks 
for juice along the way.  Then I put down the fork and break open 
a muffin, still steaming hot from the oven.  I slather butter on 
one of the pieces and offer it up to her and she takes it into her 
mouth and chews and swallows, and her soft little tongue flicks 
out to lick the melted butter off her lips and my fingertips. 

Jesus. 

And then before I know it we're down to the last piece of muffin, 
and Scully takes it between her teeth and lies back on the sofa 
and raises both her eyebrows at me as she slowly unties the knot 
on the belt of her robe. 

Mrs. Mulder didn't raise any stupid children.  I bend down and 
close my mouth over Scully's. 

#          #          # 

The tastes of blueberries and butter and Mulder blend together in 
my mouth to create an erotic haze of sensation as he lowers his 
body atop mine, pushing my robe open so that our skin meets from 
shoulder to thigh along my right side. 

I instinctively arch my back as the kiss deepens, pushing my 
breasts against him, suddenly desperate for his touch. 

He seems to read my mind, again, and slips his left hand  up from 
the outside of my thigh to cup my breast, squeezing gently. He 
rocks his hips against me as he brushes a fingertip over my 
nipple, drawing a moan from my throat and into his. 

He breaks the kiss but doesn't stop moving, his mouth traveling 
down my neck and unerringly targeting the same spot his finger is 
still teasing. I close my eyes as I'm hit with the memory of his 
mouth on me last night, and I feel myself tensing with 
anticipation. 

And just as his lips reach their goal ... an engine revvs loudly 
outside the living room window, and at the same instant someone 
pounds loudly on the door. 

"Maintenance!" comes a call from the hallway. 

Mulder freezes, his mouth hovering a half-inch from my straining 
nipple, and then sags against me, his face burrowing into the 
hollow between my breasts. He's shaking, and it takes my aroused 
brain a couple of seconds to realize he's laughing. 

My face curves into an involuntary smile. "I'm glad YOU find this 
so amusing, Agent Mulder," I say, which only makes him laugh 
harder. 

He finally lifts his head enough to look at me, a crooked grin 
still on his face. "Did you ever have the feeling the entire 
world was out to get you?" he asks sardonically. 

I snort delicately, pushing myself up and reaching for the open 
edges of my robe. "With you, Mulder? Constantly," I reply, tying 
the sash and running a hand through my hair. 

He looks at me with a pout. "Can't we just ignore it?" he half- 
whines, just as the engine revvs again. 

It's a lawn mower, I realize as I shake my head in reply to his 
question. "You heard them -- maintenance," I say. "They have a 
master key. And I don't think we want them walking in, now, do 
we?" 

Mulder sighs and nods, then fixes me with a stare. "Make you a 
deal," he says. "You see what they want, then get dressed and 
throw a few things in a bag. I'll call and get us a hotel 
reservation." 

I raise my eyebrows. "A hotel?" I ask. 

He nods. "We're obviously not going to get any peace and quiet 
here. I say we head someplace where we can put out the 'do not 
disturb' sign." 

A slow smile creases my face, and I bend to drop a kiss on his 
mouth. "I like the way you think, Agent Mulder," I say against 
his lips. 

The knock comes again, louder this time, and I roll my eyes and 
go to answer it as Mulder heads for the bedroom. 

"Ms. Scully?" says the man outside when I open the door -- 
leaving the chain on, half for safety and half to hide my state 
of undress. "We're here for your annual maintenance." 

I frown slightly. "Don't you usually send out a notice first?" I 
ask warily. 

He looks confused. "We did, earlier this week," he says. "Didn't 
you get it?" 

I glance over my shoulder at the unopened pile of mail, sitting 
on the table where I dropped it on my way in last night, then 
turn back to the door. "Sorry, I've been out of town," I say. 
"Can you give me about fifteen minutes or so? I'm ... not quite 
finished getting ready ..." 

He nods grudgingly. "We can wait a few minutes," he says, not 
looking too happy about it. 

I give a quick smile. "Thanks," I say, re-closing and locking 
the door. 

Just as I turn around, Mulder leans out of the bedroom door, 
still working the buttons on his jeans. "The Beaumont Inn," he 
says suggestively as he catches my eye. "They have a room ready 
for whenever we get there." Then he leers. "And it's in a 
separate wing, so we don't have to worry about disturbing the 
neighbors," he adds. 

I smile, slowly and wickedly. "So what are we waiting for?" I 
say, as I start toward him, undoing the bathrobe as I move. 

His eyes widen as the robe falls open, and then they flutter shut 
for a brief instant. "Keep that up, Scully, and we'll never make 
it," he murmurs, reaching out a hand to draw me against him and 
lowering his head to kiss me again. 

I break away, reluctantly, a minute later and head for the closet. 
"Finish dressing, Mulder," I say. "I'll be ready in ten minutes. 

#     #     # 

In fact, Scully was ready in eight minutes, a byproduct of having 
spent the last six years of our lives ready to hit the road at a 
moment's notice.  Two minutes after that we were in her car and 
heading for The Beaumont Inn. 

Scully and I have stayed in a lot of fleabags over the years, but 
The Beaumont is a nice place. Really, really nice, and I chose it 
on purpose, because Scully deserves the best. WE deserve the 
best. It was built around the turn of the century, one of those 
elegant old brownstones with thick shag carpeting, tapestries on 
the walls, and an air of hushed refinement such that you almost 
expect to bump into J.J. Astor or one of the Rockefellers. 

Not that we spent a lot of time studying the decor; we went 
straight to the check in desk and I slapped my Amex down on the 
counter in front of the surprised clerk. "Mulder," I said shortly. 
"I called a few minutes ago. Is our room ready?" 

He nodded and smiled, gracious despite my impatience, and somehow 
we got the registration card completed and the charge slip signed, 
and now we're on our way to our room. Actually, it's a suite, 
complete with a lounge with a wet bar, a king-sized four-poster 
bed and a private whirlpool. Like I said, Scully deserves the 
best. 

I've barely got the door closed before she's all over me, and oh, 
Jesus ... her hands are everywhere, and so are her lips, and I'm 
pretty sure I'm not the only one moaning and groaning with 
pleasure.  Somehow we make it to the bed without falling to the 
floor, and then we're sprawled out together in a tangle of limbs. 
I've already got her t-shirt bunched up around her armpits, and 
my mouth zeros in on her right breast to take care of some 
unfinished business. 

"Mulder!"  Scully gasps my name as my lips close on her nipple 
and she wraps her arms around my head, holding it tightly in 
place.  Right.  Like you could get me to stop doing this.  God, 
she tastes good; so very, very good.  I lick and suckle at her 
nipple, and very gently scrape my teeth across it, and yes, as I 
guessed on the plane last night, given the opportunity Scully is 
very, very vocal, moaning and gasping and crying out my name. 

God, this is fun. 

Time to switch sides.  I pull my mouth away from her right breast, 
and she barely has time to begin a protest before I've descended 
on the left one, and this time she actually squeaks as my lips 
browse across the hard nubbin.  Oh, Jesus ... I could do this all 
day.  I withdraw my mouth a little and lightly flick my tongue 
across the tip several times, and each time her body shudders 
slightly.  Her fingers are tangled in my hair, and suddenly she 
thrusts her chest forward, forcing her breast into my mouth. 

#     #     # 

Oh God. Oh my God. Shit. I ... holy ... ooohhhh God ... 

Mulder is SO good at this. His mouth is everywhere at once, 
licking and sucking and nipping and ... ohhhhh God ... 

He slows down a little bit then, backing off to lighter kisses 
around and around my nipple, and his hands start working my 
shirt up and over my head. I obligingly cross my arms and grab 
the hem, tugging the shirt up and away, and then dive toward his 
and start pulling. 

Mulder has to give up his contact with my breast for a brief 
second, and I can't help a whimper as his warm mouth leaves my 
skin. I'd keep it there 24 hours a day if I could ... well, 
unless it was somewhere *else* on my body ... 

Mulder dives right back into the task he's set for himself, 
cupping my breasts in his hands and pushing them together, then 
flicking the tip of his tongue across first one and then the 
other. His thigh is pushing its way between my legs, which part 
to allow him entrance, and he presses his leg against me, the 
the seam of my jeans rubbing against my core. 

I'm moaning and whimpering every few seconds now, calling out 
his name and God's and various other words I'm not too clear 
on at the moment. If either of us had any patience at this 
point, I think I could come from just this, but I'm not willing 
to give him a chance to try it. 

Instead, I shove him off me far enough to get to his jeans and 
start working the buttons. I curse under my breath as I fumble, 
and he chuckles shakily as he goes for my pants. He has an 
easier time with the single button and zipper, and before I've 
made enough room to get my hand inside his pants, his is already 
sliding over the crotch of my panties and going to work, 
pressing and rubbing the cloth against my core. 

I pause to groan and buck into his hand before managing to 
refocus long enough to get the last two buttons undone and slip 
my own hand over his cock through his boxers. We simply stroke 
and squeeze for a few minutes, our bodies shuddering and shaking 
with the force of our desire. 

Finally, Mulder grabs for my wrist with his free hand and tugs 
my hand out of his pants, then pulls his own out of mine and 
starts sliding my jeans and panties down together. I lift my 
hips to help him, but when I reach for his, he stops me. 

"No," he says hoarsely. "I have to taste you first." 

His words shoot like a rocket straight to both my heart and my 
clit, and I fall back against the mattress as he cups my legs 
and pulls them apart. His lips come back down between my breasts 
and gradually work their way down, his tongue swirling and 
darting across my skin as he approaches his goal. 

When he finally reaches my core, he pulls his face back a few 
inches, then brings both hands up and uses his thumbs to pull 
me open. I'm panting now, dying for him to just go ahead and do 
it already, and he's just lying there, his legs hanging off the 
bed, seemingly mesmerized by the sight of my ... well, my pussy. 

I manage to leverage myself up on one elbow and look down at 
him. His mouth is about two inches away from my skin, his warm 
breath caressing me with every exhale, and he's just staring. 
I shift slightly, starting to feel a little embarrassed at his 
intense scrutiny, and I finally croak out, "Mulder?" 

He doesn't move a muscle, but his eyes flick up to meet mine. 
They are molten lava, wild and untamed, and without breaking 
our gaze, he lowers his head and runs the flat of his tongue 
across my core from top to bottom, giving a little swirl over 
my clit at the apex. 

"Oh God ..." I moan out, as my head drops back onto the pillows. 

#     #     # 

I've given up trying to catalog all of the new ground we're 
breaking today.  I've just given up on it.  This is all too new 
and overwhelming, and if I pay too much attention to that aspect 
of it I'm just going to go into overload. 

But what a way to go. 

I pass my tongue back and forth across her center, varying the 
contact with each pass:  Here I lightly tickle with the very tip 
of my tongue; there I firmly stroke with the flat; in a third 
spot I lovingly caress.  And with each touch Scully's body 
vibrates and squirms in a slightly different way. 

God.  This is so cool.  The flavor and scent of her arousal are 
intoxicating; mindblowing.  So dark and sensual and pungent, and 
somehow I knew even before our first kiss that she would taste 
like this. It's just Scully; that's the only word for this flavor 
and aroma. Scully. 

I slide my hands up under her ass and I lift her hips slightly to 
get a better angle.  Her cheeks are so warm and smooth, and the 
muscles ripple under my fingers as I hold them.  I move my tongue 
down through her folds, swirling around her clit, while my 
fingers continue to work her ass. Scully is moaning and crying 
out constantly, and her hips are jerking and shuddering under me. 
I brush across her clit and she bucks so frantically that for a 
moment I lose contact ... but only for an instant, and then I'm 
back at work. 

Oh, Jesus.  Oh, Jesus.  This is so ... so ... I can't even find 
the words for it.  I guess I'm gonna go into overload anyway -- 
I just can't get enough of this.  My nose is buried in her pubic 
hair, my tongue is laving back and forth and up and down, 
Scully's hips are moving in sharp, erratic jolts, and my cock -- 
my god, my cock is just pulsing with energy. The motions of her 
hips and her pleasure noises spur me on, and I find myself 
growling against her as I continue my feast, and the air is thick 
with her scent. 

I angle her hips up a little further, and now I'm thrusting my 
tongue into her opening, I'm fucking her with my tongue, and 
Scully is sobbing my name and her pelvis is bucking in time with 
the thrusts of my tongue.  Her legs are wrapped around my head 
and her hands are pressing on the back of my head in an apparent 
effort to draw me deeper.  I slide one of my hands down from her 
butt and slip first one and then two fingers into her, and my 
tongue moves upward and strokes her clit once, twice, three 
times, and then Scully's entire body convulses and she's 
screaming my name, over and over and over ... 

#          #          # 

Oh God. Oh Jesus. Oh ... Mul ... Muldah ... Oh oh oh ... 
Godddddd ... unnnhhhh ... auh ... M ... Go ... Mul ... 
Ahhhhhhhhh ... MULLLLDERRRRR! OHHHH GGGGGODDDD! 
MMMMULLDERRRRR! 

#          #          # 

I have my faults, but being slow on the uptake is not among them. 
As Scully's body bucks and heaves I continue my licking, 
gradually gentling my touch as the orgasm quakes through her 
system, and as her muscles finally start to relax I simply lay 
the flat of my tongue over her center like a blanket. 

For a few seconds we simply lie there, Scully's thighs cradling 
my head and her fingers tangling in my hair, and every few 
seconds her body shudders with an aftershock. Finally she speaks 
my name, in a soft, distant voice, and her fingers yank gently on 
my hair, and in an instant I'm up on the bed and taking her in my 
arms. She clings to me and continues murmuring my name for a pair 
of minutes, and her lips brush at random across my chest, neck 
and shoulders while her hands run up and down my back. 

At last she draws her head back and little and looks up at me, 
and I'm shocked to see tears in her eyes.  My innate guilt 
complex immediately starts building scenarios to explain this but 
then she smiles and says my name again and cranes her neck to 
press her lips against mine.  Her tongue is in my mouth, softly 
and gently probing, so unlike the aggressive assault of only a 
few minutes ago.  This kiss is so tender and gentle; it's quite 
possibly the sweetest kiss I have ever had in my life, and the 
fact that I'm receiving it from Scully surely has something to 
do with that. 

She rolls onto her back and pulls me over on top of her as we 
continue the kiss.  I'd like to get my pants off, but that would 
mean letting go of her, and at the moment I'm just not willing to 
do that.  The kiss gradually gains energy, and now Scully is 
sucking my tongue into her mouth and one of her hands is sliding 
down my abdomen and into my jeans and under the waistband of my 
boxers.  Her fingers find my cock at last, and they brush against 
it and now it's my hips that are bucking. 

Scully chuckles against my mouth, and then she breaks the kiss 
long enough to whisper, "Mulder, I think you're overdressed for 
this party."  Then she renews the kiss and her hands wraps around 
my cock and I moan into her mouth. 

#          #          # 

Oh GOD that was gooooood ... but I'm nowhere near sated, and I'm 
determined to get this man *out* of these jeans and *into* me as 
soon as humanly possible. 

As my tongue continues to squirm and probe inside his mouth, and 
one hand keeps up its pressure on his erection, I run my free 
hand around to his hip and start shoving at his jeans. The denim 
isn't all that agreeable, but in this state, I'm a force to be 
reckoned with, and it only takes a few minutes for me to get both 
jeans and boxers down to his thighs. 

I pause to enjoy the expanse of bare flesh I've uncovered, still 
stroking his cock while my other hand kneads and squeezes his 
ass. He's groaning and bucking above me, each little thrust of 
his hips brushing his thigh against my still sensitized center, 
and his mouth is still dancing over mine. 

He finally gets a clue and pulls away long enough to snatch off 
those last barriers, and then he lowers the entire length of his 
body atop me. I don't even have to think about my actions, as my 
legs part automatically, my heels coming up to hook behind his 
knees. 

He's buried his face in the crook of my neck, sucking and nipping 
at that little spot of flesh until I know I'll have the hickey 
to end all hickeys. Thank God the weather's a little colder so I 
won't raise eyebrows in a turtleneck. 

I've found a tasty spot of my own, of course, right behind his 
ear, and I'm running my tongue across it over and over again. 
The nails of my right hand are scraping up and down his spine, 
and my left hand is still on his ass, trying mightily to get him 
IN me, already. 

And finally, FINALLY he's shifting his hips until the tip of his 
erection is pressing into that wonderful little spot just above 
my vagina. He stays there for an eternity, just rubbing against 
me while his mouth keeps up its assault on my neck. 

Okay, that's enough. I pull my legs up higher, crossing my ankles 
under his ass, and use the shift in angle to my advantage, 
pulling with my hand and my legs. And he's sliding in, gradually, 
stretching long-out-of-use muscles in the best way possible. 

My head drops back again, and I let out a long, loud moan. 

#          #          # 

I think....I think maybe the world has just ended. At the very 
least time has just stopped, and that's perfectly fine because I 
never want to move again. 

I'm lying here on top of Scully, and I'm finally, at long, long 
last, buried deep inside her, and she seems to be as stunned by 
the reality of it as I am.  I manage to focus my eyes and I look 
down at her, and her head is thrown back in the pillows, eyes 
closed, mouth forming a small "o".  Her arms are wrapped tightly 
around my shoulders and her legs are hooked behind my ass, and 
she's so hot and tight and wet I can barely stand it. 

I need to see her, and I need her to see me.  I bend my head down 
and brush my lips against her cheek, and I whisper, "Scully." No 
response.  "Scully," I repeat.  "Scully, look at me." 

Slowly, almost as if she were waking from a sound sleep, her 
eyelids open.  Her eyes are dreamy and unfocused, but after a 
moment her gaze locks on mine, and her eyes widen slightly and 
she murmurs, "Mulder ..." 

I feel my throat constricting, but somehow I manage to choke out, 
"Yeah.  Yeah, I know."  And I brush my lips against hers, very 
lightly. 

"Don't move," she whispers. "Not yet.  I ... I need a minute. To 
get used to this." 

"No, Scully," I reply.  "Not yet.  Not until we're both ready." 
And I kiss her again and run my fingers through her hair. 

"God." Her eyes go shut again and she buries her face against my 
shoulder. "God.  I don't believe this is finally happening." She 
takes a deep shuddering breath, then she looks up at me again and 
smiles.  "Okay," she says.  "Okay, I'm ready."  And she stretches 
up to kiss me, and as her tongue enters my mouth our hips begin 
to move together in perfect unison. 

#          #          # 

Oh GOD this feels good ... I really *had* almost forgotten, but 
this is bringing it all back to me -- multiplied by about a 
thousand, because this is Mulder. 

This is *Mulder*. 

Mulder, cradled between my legs, wrapped up in my arms, pressing 
into my body, stroking me inside and out, opening me wider and 
wider to him and building up a fire of inferno proportions deep 
within my belly until I want to scream with the pleasure of it. 

So I do the next best thing. I start talking to him, like I did 
last week. I liked it then, and I know HE did, so ... 

"Oh God, Mulder," I gasp out. "You feel so good. So ... God ... 
this is so goooood ..." I pause for breath, dipping my head to 
rub my forehead against his shoulder. "Mmmmm ... right ... oh ... 
there ... God ..." 

Whether it's my words or just my voice that does it, I don't 
know, but Mulder lets out a long groan, and his hips speed up 
their movements. I follow his lead, bucking up under him to meet 
his thrusts, grinding against his pelvic bone at just the right 
angle to send sparks of sensation out across every inch of my 
skin. 

This is just what I wanted. What I needed. I'd had fantasies -- 
yes, I said fantasies -- of Mulder making slow, sweet love to 
me, or of hovering over him and lowering myself to sheath his 
hard cock. But this is just ... us. It's fast and it's frenzied 
and it is absolutely perfect in every possible way. 

I can feel my body reaching for another climax, and I pull my 
legs up even further to deepen his penetration. It's not a 
foolproof thing, but I am one of the lucky women who can actually 
reach orgasm this way, if the positioning and the pace are just 
right. It *has* been a while, but I know how to make it happen. 
Some things you just don't forget. 

Mulder seems to sense what's going on, which doesn't surprise me 
at all at this point. He reaches for my hips, tilting me up 
toward him so that each of his strokes brushes the bottom edge of 
my clit. It wouldn't be enough to bring me to climax by itself, 
but the added stimulation on top of everything else is just 
exactly what I need. 

He's moving even faster and harder now, urged on by my hand on 
his ass and my by-now meaningless sounds of encouragement. I keep 
my eyes open and trained on him as long as I can, needing to 
memorize this vision of him before I'm driven completely out of 
control. 

And then the control disappears entirely, and my eyes fall shut 
as we reach the point where finesse slips away, pounding and 
slamming against each other in an almost-desperate grasp for 
climax. I can feel it building at the base of my spine, shooting 
in icy-hot spears along my nerve endings with increasing speed. 

And then I'm there, and my head falls back as my body tightens, 
then unravels completely, and I hear a keening sound fill the 
room and realize that it's coming from my throat ... 

#          #          # 

Oh god.  Oh Jesus.  Oh god. 

This is so good.  So good.  I'm so close, so very close, but 
Scully's close, too, I can tell -- it's almost like an electric 
current passing between us.  I can FEEL her orgasm building, 
right alongside of my own, until it's really just OUR orgasm. 
Not mine; not hers:  Ours. 

Oh Jesus.  Please, please, please ... and then her arms and legs 
are tightening around me and her head is thrown back in the 
pillows, and the sounds she's making are just simply amazing. 
And I feel her vaginal muscles contracting around me, over and 
over and over, and that's the final straw.  Two more hard, deep 
strokes and then I'm coming and she's coming and we're coming and 
it's Scully it's Scully only Scully MY Scully beautiful Scully oh 
god oh god oh god oh god ... 

#          #          # 

When I finally manage to pry my eyes open, I have absolutely no 
idea if it's been five minutes or five hours since that simply 
incredible orgasm. My body is still throbbing with pleasure, so I 
guess it's closer to the five minutes, but it takes another few 
before hearing and other senses come into focus. 

Mulder is collapsed on top of me, his head buried in the crook 
of my shoulder, our bodies still tangled up together from top to 
bottom. His breathing is still ragged but gradually improving, 
and his skin is slick with sweat as I run my fingertips up and 
down his back. 

Slowly, he lifts his head, until his face is hovering an inch 
above mine. His eyes are soft and wet, every emotion he's ever 
had mingling in the green-gold-grey colors swirling through his 
irises. 

I slide my hands around to cup his cheeks and bring my mouth up 
to brush his gently. And I say what I've been dying to say for 
months now: 

"I love you, Mulder." 

His eyes widen as my words sink in, and I smile against his lips 
as I kiss him again. 

#          #          # 

Dana Scully loves me.  Wow.  Now just how in the hell am I going 
to catalog THAT particular piece of news?  I mean, it isn't 
exactly a surprise to hear -- but it's still a little breathtaking 
to have her actually say the words. 

Then suddenly out of nowhere the entire situation strikes me as 
funny.  I mean, here we are, lying in bed together stark naked, 
our limbs intertwined and my cock still resting partway inside 
her, and Scully picks this particular moment to tell me that she 
loves me.  I know this is supposed to be a profoundly emotional 
moment, and it is -- it really is.  But somehow I just can't keep 
a grin from spreading across my face as I continue to gaze down 
at her. 

Scully's face takes on a wary look, and she says, "What's so 
funny?" 

I shake my head, still grinning.  "You.  Me.  Us."  I lean down 
and kiss her briefly.  "The whole situation."  I try to think of 
the words to explain it to her, but even as I do I see a smile 
spread across her face and I realize that she gets it, too. Then 
she starts to giggle, and that makes me laugh, too, and within 
seconds we're both howling, our bodies shaking as our laughter 
echoes through the room. 

Finally we both wind down, and Scully cranes her neck to rub her 
nose against mine.  "I really do love you, you know," she says, 
still smiling.  "You can't get out of it by trying to make a joke 
out of it." 

"Yeah, I know, Scully," I say, still chuckling slightly.  "And I 
love you, too -- and this time it didn't take a shot of morphine 
to get me to admit it." 

And as suddenly as it came the laughter is gone.  The words hang 
between us for a long minute as we look into each other's eyes, 
and now we've come to the profound emotional stuff I'd been 
expecting a little while ago.  This is real, this is happening, 
and nothing is ever going to be able to undo it or take it away 
from us.  I want to say that to Scully, I want to make sure she 
understands, but as I peer a little deeper into her eyes I see 
that she already knows. 

And I close my eyes and let my head fall back onto her shoulder 
again, and for a timeless interval I just lie there listening to 
her breathe and listening to the beat of her heart.  And after 
awhile we start to make love again. 

I could get used to this. 

#         END         # 

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