I did not write this.  Please send all feedback to Missy Pennington at
[email protected]
 

Title:  Escape Me Never
Author:  Missy Pennington
Rating:  NC-17
Summary:  Withheld at author's request
Archive:  Gossamer yes, others please ask
Keywords:  S, MSR
Spoilers:  None

Disclaimer:  Mulder, Scully and the X-Files do not
belong to me.  They are the property of Chris Carter,
FOX, and 1013, and are used without permission.  I
mean no infringement.

(The working title of this story was "Pressure Points."
So for those who wrote to inquire about my progress,
rest assured, this IS the same story.)

Note:  "Escape Me Never" is the conclusion of a story
that started in "Tempest" and continued in "Distance"
and "Wild Places."  Like those stories, this one can
stand on its own, but it works better if you read the
others first.  They can be found on my website
(http://members.aol.com/mjpmissy/missy.html)
 
 

Escape Me Never
by Missy Pennington

"Escape me?  Never, Beloved!
While I am I, and you are you,
So long as the world contains us both."
                      -- Robert Browning
 

8:47 p.m.
Georgetown
Remo's Gym (after hours)

The victim was unaware.

She stood casually in the center of the dimly lit room,
the fingers of her left hand lightly massaging her
forehead as if to relieve the tension of a stressful day
of work.  She was small and looked even smaller in
casual clothing.  The grey sweatshirt she had donned
hung loosely from her shoulders, obscuring the curves
of her body from his eyes, but not from his memory.
He knew what enticements were underneath.  How
many hours had he spent studying her while she was
blissfully unaware of his scrutiny?  How many days?
He couldn't count them all.

She had never caught him, and she wouldn't this time;
he was always careful when he watched her.  He had
to be.

Centimeter by centimeter, he pushed the door into
place behind him, controlling its movement with little
more than his own extreme patience, aware that even
the tiniest squeak of a hinge could give him away.
The sound of a latch falling into place, a lock
turning...those were careless mistakes.  Those were
mistakes made by amateurs.

He was a professional.

He locked the door without a sound, and began his
silent move to the back of the room, his eyes never
leaving the auburn-haired beauty who stood less than
twenty feet from him.  He kept to the wall, his shadow
blending seamlessly with the myriad of shapes
already indistinguishable on the light wood floor.  The
dim lighting helped; she couldn't have provided him
with a better setting.

Stealthy movements went undetected as he
approached her from behind, his gaze sweeping over
her, lingering on the curve of her neck.  With her short
red hair swept up, pinned haphazardly, she afforded
him an unencumbered view of her slender throat. So
thin, so delicate, presented like an offering.  Daring
him almost to reach his fingers toward her.

But he didn't; she was stronger than she looked.

Powerful.

Determined.

He admired that about her.

The hardwood beneath him gave way to slight
resistance, and the floorboard groaned loudly, its
sound magnified by the emptiness of the room and the
utter stillness that preceded it.  He froze, heart
pounding.

Stupid mistake.

Careless.

Now she would look.  She would turn to scan the
darkness, her body tense and alert.  He would lose
the element of surprise he'd worked so hard to
maintain.  His carefully made plans would crumble
because of an amateurish blunder.

But maybe...

Maybe if he was still...  Maybe if he could be utterly
silent a while longer among the shadows....

The Target turned toward him, her eyes searching the
phantom jungle of darkness that held him safely
within.  She was wary; he could see it plainly in her
eyes and in the thoughtful furrow of her brow as she
scanned the room, nervous energy radiating from her
every movement.  But she didn't see him, standing
almost close enough to touch.  She looked through
the blackness without recognition, oblivious to the
hammering of his blood through his veins.  There was
no fear on her face.  Only caution.

She stood facing him for a long moment, effectively
hindering his progress to draw closer, but he didn't
mind.  He was a patient man, and he'd waited a long
time for this.  He merely stared at her unabashedly,
relishing the fact that he was free to scrutinize her
from head to toe without fear of being caught.  When
she first turned around, he'd been surprised by the
sight of her, the business suit she usually wore
replaced now by cotton fleece, her face scrubbed
clean of any trace of makeup.  She looked young --
younger than he had realized.  He didn't question the
small thrill this gave him, nor did he allow himself to
be distracted from his task.  Looks were deceiving,
and this small beauty was as worthy an adversary as
he'd ever encountered.

She turned her back on him suddenly, and he
frowned, watching her shrug off the nervousness as
she returned to her quiet vigil of clock-watching.  Her
guard was down once more; he hadn't expected such
an easy battle.

The Target stretched her arms up high overhead,
pulling the tension out of knotted muscles, a small
quick sigh the only sound that marked her return to
vulnerability.  Once again, she was totally self-
absorbed, unaware of the opportunity she presented.

She lowered her gaze to look at her watch.

Unguarded, he thought scornfully.  Unsuspecting.  It
was too easy.  There would be no challenge after all.
He'd expected more.

His eyes narrowed with disdain as her hips swung
almost imperceptibly back and forth, playing out a
rhythm only she could hear.  Small taunting sounds of
her contentment reached him, raising the hair on the
back of his neck. A swallow, light humming, level
breathing.  Oh, to feel that breath against his skin as
he covered her mouth...

She shifted her weight onto her right hip, and he knew
the moment had come.  Her nonchalance would be
her undoing. With her balance off-center, she could
put up no defense against a swift, blind attack.

She should know better, he thought resentfully.  All
women should know better.  Such carelessness was
their downfall.  They invited attack.

The Target straightened, looking once more at her left
wrist before she began to walk away, putting more
distance between them.  There was no more time to
reflect on the moment; he had to act or lose his
opportunity.

Adrenaline pumping, he approached with silent speed.
A few quick strides, and the distance between them
disappeared.  His movements were calculated, each
one measured and effective as he calmly, steadily
reached around her neck.  His left forearm closed
around her windpipe, pulling her back swiftly against
his chest as his right arm circled around her abdomen,
pinning her arms to her sides, preventing any further
movement.  There was a soft gasp of surprise from
her, but no scream.

She didn't struggle.

He pushed aside his disappointment.  He'd expected
more.  He'd looked forward to more.

The woman in his grasp was still as a stone.  He held
her at his mercy, incapable of retaliation, though he
could feel the futile tension in her muscles.  Her body
was rigid against his own, her frustration tangible.  It
almost made him feel sorry for her, knowing the
measure of pride she took in her self-reliance.  Almost
made him regret his actions, made him sorry he was
so rough with her.

Perhaps he could have been more gentle...

The second-guessing stopped the instant he felt the
heel of her right foot make contact with his shin.  The
kick was swift and precise, delivered without warning,
and she followed it instantly with another kick in the
same spot.  Her  accuracy was deadly.  Deadly and
excruciating.

Startled, he reacted to the pain by loosening his grip
on her body, and she turned her full fury on him.  Her
arms pulled free from his grasp and rose quickly in
defense, coming up instinctively between her chest
and his arm, pushing violently against his wrist.
Unable to maintain his hold on her, he took an
unconscious step backward, and she doubled over,
using the space between them to gain a foothold.  Her
hands tightened on his forearm and she pulled against
his weight, leveraging his body to roll over her back
and onto the floor.

Within seconds, she had him helpless.

He stared up at her, wide-eyed.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

Clear blue eyes met his own, and he was surprised by
what he saw in them; Special Agent Dana Scully
looked bored beyond words.

And more than a little amused.

She swung her leg over his body and straddled his
abdomen, using her weight to pin him as she raised
an eyebrow in reprimand.  "Care to explain yourself,
Agent Mulder?"

"Um...I'm home?"

"So I see."

"I thought I'd surprise you," he told her, starting to rise.

She pushed him back down with surprising ease.
"Surprise me?  Mulder, a deaf man in Asia could have
heard that approach -- and probably did," she
chastised lightly.

Unwilling to admit his defeat or explain it, he gave a
sheepish smile instead.  "Two out of three?"

"Huh-uh."  She clutched a handful of his t-shirt and
bent forward toward his face, her knuckles pressing
into his stomach, forcing the breath from him.  "I want
to know what that little maneuver was all about."

"What?  I don't know what you--"

She pressed harder.

"Ooof!"

She eased up.  "Mulder...what are you doing here?"

"Well obviously, I came to work out with you."  His
gaze wandered down to her hands, which still held
two fistfulls of his shirt.  "Although at this point I'm
seriously reconsidering my options."

She released his shirt but made no move to rise.  "You
couldn't have called?"

He stared up at her.  "I guess the big `running-
through-the-field-with-outstretched-arms' reunion thing
I had planned is out of the question?"

Her expression was all the confirmation he needed.

"I got in a couple hours ago," he told her.  "I knew you
were going to be here working out and I thought I'd
surprise you."

"What about your case?"

"Finally got a break."  He shrugged, reluctant to detail
the gruesome murder cases he'd spent the past two
days memorizing. His head rolled from side to side as
he took in the lateral view of the empty gym.  "The lab
results on the trace evidence from Texas were
sufficient to establish the murders weren't related.  I
gave Wiles my paperwork and hopped the 4:15
home."

Her expression softened, and she graced him with a
small hint of a smile, leaning down close to tell him, "It
isn't that I'm not glad to see you, Mulder...I am.  But I
have to keep this appointment.  I promise," she told
him conspiratorially, "after this workout, I'm all yours."

You don't know the half of it, he thought, mesmerized
by the feeling of her slight weight on top of him.
You're mine now, Scully.  Signed, sealed, delivered.

Of course he didn't say it.  But the possessive feeling
that washed over him at her casual comment
surprised him with its intensity.  All she had to do was
look at him like that and he was lost.  Aware that his
mouth was suddenly dry, he swallowed hard, his
tongue darting out to moisten parched lips.  "So," he
questioned at last, "exactly how glad...are you, to see
me?"

His hands came up to sit lightly on her hips, and for a
moment, she looked tempted.  The battle being waged
silently within her was almost comical to see played
out in her deep blue eyes, and Mulder had an
unencumbered view.  He watched with vested interest,
able to pinpoint the exact moment that the little
pantsuit-clad ScullyAngel sitting five inches above her
left shoulder finally kicked the shit out of the
delectable little lingerie-clad ScullyDevil he'd been
rooting for.

"I'm very...very glad to see you," she told him, raising
his hopes momentarily before squashing them like a
twinkie under the foot of a Sumo wrestler.  "But it's
going to have to wait, Mulder, much as I hate it.  I
can't play yet."  Her hands began smoothing out the
wrinkles she had inflicted upon his t-shirt. With
obvious reluctance, she rose to her knees, wincing
visibly.

"What?" he asked, instantly concerned.  "Is it your
leg?  Did I hurt it when I grabbed you?"

"Relax," she commanded lightly.  "You didn't hurt me,
Mulder." Her breath caught as she probed gingerly
around the back of her left thigh, massaging the area
around her healing wound.  "It's fine.  When I stress
the muscle in any way for longer than a couple
minutes, it hurts when I move.  That's why I need this
work out so much."   She made another move to get to
her feet.  "I need to walk this off before my trainer
shows up.  He was supposed to be here five minutes
ago."

"Um...he's not coming, Scully."

She looked confused.  "What?"

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

He paused, reluctant to come clean.  "I kind of...sent
him home."  He looked all around the gym, determined
not to meet her pointed gaze.

She sat back down on his stomach, making no effort
to do so gently. "Excuse me?"

The light fixtures in this place were really dirty, he
noted.  How long had it been since anyone with an
extension ladder did any kind of maintenance up
there?  Chipped paint was one thing, but the fixtures
looked shot to hell.  No telling about the amount of
shoddy duct work...

"Mulder..."   Her voice held a warning he couldn't
ignore.  "You sent...?"

He sighed.  "He was on his way in when I got here.
I...I...might have told him..."

She didn't wait to hear what he'd told him.  Her anger
was immediate.  "You sent him away?  You took it
upon yourself to send him away?  I can't believe you,
Mulder!  You had no right!  I needed this -- it's
important!  I told you that on the phone.  If I want to be
reinstated for active duty I have to be positive I can
defend myself in the field!  I need this work out!"

"So work out with me," he protested.  "That's why I
came!"

Her mouth dropped open in wordless accusation, her
forehead wrinkled in amazement.  She looked at him
as if he'd grown another head.  "You're serious."

It was his turn to look hurt.  "Why not?"

"Because you can't do it," she told him flatly.

"I can't d...WHAT?"

She gestured around them, indicating their current
position on the mat.  "Well this should be a big clue,
Mulder.  I mean, what was this?"  She held her palms
up in an expression of puzzlement.  "You try to take
me from behind and I've got you pinned in twenty
seconds?"

He tried to formulate an answer, but his mind was still
stuck on the words "take me from behind."  The
prospect was infinitely more pleasing than anything
they were discussing here for the fifth time already.
Unfortunately, Scully didn't see it that way.

She toyed with the fabric of his t-shirt for a minute,
then pressed her hands to his chest, stilling any
thought he had to try and rise again. "I know you
meant well, Mulder," she told him, her voice assuming
a softer, almost soothing tone.  "But I'm pretty sure
you lack the killer instinct where I'm concerned.  I
mean...look at us!"

He didn't need to. He was painfully aware of their
position.

"You hesitated.  I felt it the minute you touched me.
You were going to blindside me, and at the last
minute, you held back."  She leveled him with a stare.
"And don't deny it because I can always tell when
you're lying."

"Scully, I --"

"Held back," she interjected.  "Why?"

"--never lie to you," he finished, taking some
satisfaction from her guilty look.

She frowned at him through a curtain of loose red hair,
pulled free during their struggle.  "Okay," she
acquiesced.  "Then you explain it to me, Mulder,
because I'm sure you don't want it known all over the
FBI that I can pin your ass in less than thirty seconds.
I mean, I'm good, but even I know I'm not that good."

He looked around the empty gym in mock relief.   "I
think my reputation is safe. Can I get up now?" he
asked politely.  His back was beginning to ache.

He made a move to rise from the worn red vinyl, but
Scully stopped him, her hands pushing his shoulders
back to the mat.  "No," she said.

"This isn't exactly the welcome I had in mind, Scully,"
he muttered.  "Well...maybe part of it.."

"If you wanted warm and fuzzy, you could have
surprised me at my apartment later tonight.  You
dressed to work out, you came all the way down here
to do it, and went to the trouble of sending my trainer -
- whose time I paid for, by the way -- home.  So I want
to know why you felt it necessary to pull back at the
last minute.  I don't need you to protect me, Mulder.  If
you're going to work out with me, I need you to
challenge me.  So tell me now if you can't do that, and
I'll reschedule my appointment."

Her hands still gripped the muscles of his shoulders,
her fingers lightly kneading the flesh underneath his
t-shirt.  He wondered if she knew she was doing it.
She did so many sensual things without realizing it.
Like that little catch in her voice on the phone the
other night.  She might have thought she sounded
completely casual, but Mulder knew beyond a doubt
that she'd been imagining his hands roving her body
instead of her own.

God, he wanted her.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well what," he asked, shaking himself back into the
conversation.

She growled in frustration and slapped at his chest.
"You're not even listening!  This is exactly what I'm
talking about!"  Her eyes flashed in anger.  "You know,
this isn't just about me, Mulder -- it's about you too!
I'm not going to gain anything if you go easy on me.
Do you really want someone covering your back who
can only protect you from bad guys who are 5'2" and
104 pounds?"

"No!  Of course not.  It's just that..."  He picked up her
left hand and pressed her palm against his own right
hand, spreading their fingers out in a mirror image of
one another, holding them up for her to see.  God, she
was small.  The tips of her fingers stopped more than
an inch below his own, her light pink nails a startling
contrast to the dark tones of his skin in the dim room.

The gesture was surprisingly soft, somehow more
gentle than he'd intended it to be.  She didn't say
anything; she simply looked at him with an intensity he
couldn't quite identify but responded to instantly.

He ached to kiss her.  He had to kiss her...

"I don't want to hurt you, Scully," he said honestly. "I
know this is important to you and I honestly had the
best of intentions when I came here.  I thought I could
help you work out and we'd get to spend more time
together, but..."  He diverted his eyes from hers.
"...I'm twice your size, and..." His voice trailed off
leaving the implication heavy between them.

Her brow furrowed in frustration.  "Mulder, you know
that has noth--"

"I couldn't do it," he told her blankly.  "When it came
time to go in for the kill, I just couldn't do it.  I've seen
you hurt before, Scully.  Badly."

His eyes found hers again and the irritation on her
face ebbed away, softened at the sincerity of his
words.

"I just...I don't ever want to be responsible for that."

Without a word, she moved her fingers to the left,
bending them over his hand, allowing his own fingers
to thread through hers instinctively.  Hands loosely
clasped, she bent down, lowering herself until they
were chest to chest, then she leaned toward his ear in
a gesture of confidence.  "First of all..."

He closed his eyes, listening intently to the soothing
sound of her quiet words.  He was totally unprepared
for the sudden, excruciating pain of his index finger
being twisted back toward his wrist with amazing
strength.

"...you're assuming that just because you're bigger
than I am, you would win."

"OW!" he gasped, trying to pull his hand away.  He
had been willing to concede the bruise on his shin to a
well-executed defense tactic, but this wasn't self-
defense.  This was an offensive strike, and the fact
that she wouldn't release him was his first clue that
the mood had shifted drastically.

Dana Scully was not playing games.

That startling fact roused the competitor within him,
and proved the catalyst for something that, until that
moment, Fox Mulder had never imagined he would
ever feel toward his partner:  the need for retaliation.

"You just assume that because you're the big strong
man, you would automatically have the advantage
over poor...small...weak...me."   She accentuated her
words by twisting his wrist, putting more pressure
against his aching finger, even as her lower body
ground into his with more pleasant repercussions.

Pain was at war with arousal, and he didn't know
which was more intense.  All he knew with certainty
was that the woman who sat astride him was soooooo
going to regret this course of action.  He didn't know
how.  Yet.  But she would...and soon.

Oblivious to the emotional tilt-a-whirl her partner was
experiencing, Scully egged him on relentlessly.  She
released his finger, freeing her own hands and
pressing them flat against the floor on each side of his
head.  "Haven't you heard, Mulder?" she whispered,
settling her lower body tight against his, stilling any
further movement from both of them. "Rule number
one:  size doesn't matter."

Her lips were no more than a heartbeat away from his
neck.

His gaze locked with hers and he willed himself to stay
in control.  He had no idea where she was about to
take this conversation, but he knew beyond a doubt
that he was finished with his role as subordinate.

"That a fact?"  He could hear the tension in his own
voice as he struggled to ignore the warmth of her body
and the feeling of her legs straddling him, her thighs
gently squeezing his ribs.

"Uh huh," she breathed, the sound warm on his cheek.
"Technique is everything."

He went perfectly still and just stared at her.  God, she
was good at this.  It was the closest thing to outright
innuendo she'd ever thrown at him, and for a moment
he was absolutely stunned into acquiescence.  He
couldn't believe she'd gotten the better of him.
Double entendre was his game.  He invented it.  Now
when he needed that smug, cynical wit, he was at the
mercy of an ass-kicking pixie.

What's wrong with this picture, he wondered, trying to
rally his waning competitive spirit.  He was supposed
to be in the driver's seat when it came to...well, when
it came to whatever the hell this was.  She was right
about one thing:  he'd been too easy on her.  He'd
underestimated her again, and that was a situation he
was about to rectify.

Technique was everything?  He had technique.  He
had it to spare.

"You're right, Scully," he said pointedly.

She blinked in surprise, unprepared for his admission.
"I am?"

"You are.  I went easy on you, and that was wrong.
This is important; it's your career.  You needed to
practice, and I let you down."   He held her gaze, even
as he extended his hand.  "I can do better.  C'mon,
help me up."

She looked skeptical.

"Honest," he told her, his hand still reaching out to
her.  "Give me one more chance.   I promise this time
I'll kick your ass."

The corners of her mouth twitched, and she took his
hand, rising at last and moving to pull him up behind
her.  "Okay, one more chance, Mulder.  That's it.  And
this time you have to promise me that you--"

His hands were around her hips before she finished
the sentence.  One quick tug, and she came falling
toward him.  He rolled out of the way as her butt hit
the mat and she scrambled to get to her knees.  She
wasn't fast enough.

He moved with the grace and speed of a panther,
pouncing while she was robbed of her balance.  In
one quick move, he captured both of her wrists, and
used his leg to push her off her knees.  Once she was
on the mat, he swung one long leg across her
stomach, and straddled her as she had him.

Then he went a step further.

He raised her arms up toward her head, pinning them
to the mat with his hands against her wrists.
Stretched out to hold her in this position, he shadowed
her body with his own, his face hovering just above
hers.

He leaned down to her ear, purposely recalling her
actions earlier.  "Rule number two," he rasped.  "Never
let your guard down."

She was breathing hard from exertion, her indignant
reply coming between labored gasps.  "I
can't...believe...you just...did that."

"Believe it," he panted.

"I wasn't...ready."

Her chest was rising and falling in rapid rhythm.  With
every breath, he felt the swell of her breasts beneath
her sweatshirt, pressing against him.  This time, he
couldn't prevent his body's reaction to the intimate
contact with her, and he felt his erection press hard
against her belly.  Her eyes widened, but she said
nothing.

"You said not to go easy on you and I didn't.  You
think an attacker is going to wait for you to be 'in the
moment' before he grabs you?  Expect the
unexpected, Scully.  You should know that."

"Oh believe me, Mulder," she told him pointedly.  "I'm
very much...'in the moment.'" She tilted her head to
look down at her abdomen where their bodies were
pressed together.  "Obviously...I'm not as 'in the
moment' as you are," she said, raising an eyebrow,
"but you made your point."

He stared at her.  "I didn't make it alone."

She didn't shrink from his words or his gaze.  "This
isn't about sex -- and I get the idea, Mulder.  You can
let me up now."

"Let you up?  LET...you up?  Why Scully, I'm
surprised at you.  That would be going easy on you.
That wouldn't be right.  What would you gain from
that?"

Now her irritation was beginning to show through.
She strained against his grip on her wrists.  "You're
not being funny, Mulder."

He bent closer, his voice a mere whisper though it
seemed he was screaming every word.  "Let me clue
you in about something, Scully.  When a man's got a
beautiful woman at his mercy?  When he's lying on
top of her and feeling every inch of her body
underneath him?  It's a safe bet he's not trying to be
funny."

She moved her head to the left, gaining just enough
distance from his face to fix a steady gaze upon him.
"Is this the part where I'm supposed to get all
embarrassed and blush for you?"

"Mmmm...please do." The words were a dare.

"My pleasure. Just as soon as you say or do
something to shock me."

"I asked you first," he whispered.

"Hmmmm...," she mused.  "Something to shock
you...something to shock you.  Would this classify as
challenge or opportunity?"  Her eyes lit up suddenly
with a sparkle of mischief he'd rarely seen, making
him instantly wary.  "Okay, Mulder.  This is me,
shocking you."

It happened before he could blink, a flash of
movement as she lifted her head, closing the few
inches between them.  He felt the moist warmth of her
breath as her parted lips drew close, then her tongue
darted out and flicked the tip of his nose.

He reared back in surprise, but he didn't let go of her
wrists.  Not until he felt her lips make contact with this
throat.  She moaned once, softly. Or was that him?
Then her tongue began to trace a path from his
adam's apple across his jaw and up his cheek.  The
sensation was incredible.  Every neuron in his body
went ballistic.  He released his grip on her, his hands
moving flat against the mat to support his own weight.
"Jesus, Scully!  What --"

Her mouth silenced his words, slanting over his lips
with no trace of gentleness.  Her hands cupped the
sides of his face, pulling him further into the kiss.  He
didn't need to be asked twice.  After years of fighting
the good fight, weeks of reliving the memory of their
close encounter on the riverbank, there was no
question about what was happening.  It was long
overdue.  He knew it.  She knew it.  The entire
goddamned FBI knew it.  So if half a decade of sexual
tension was meant to culminate on a red vinyl mat in
the shadows of a dimly lit gym, he could live with that.

Reaching behind her back, he scooped her up from
the mat, grasping her head with his hand, holding her
close to him as he ravaged the soft interior of her
mouth with his tongue, his entire being committed to
memorizing every tantalizing moment of this
encounter.  So good, so sweet...so much better than
his dreams...

He couldn't breathe.

He could feel her mouth against his, he could feel her
fingers against his neck, but for the life of him, he
couldn't breathe.

"Gotcha," she whispered against his mouth.

<end part 1>

Part 2

His arm dropped limply to his side, and he watched
with a vague air of detachment as Scully pulled away
from him and shifted her weight to push him flat on the
mat, her hands never leaving his neck.  He had to give
her credit; the woman knew her pressure points.

Her fingers released the nerve on his neck, and he
gulped for air as she rolled him unceremoniously onto
his stomach, bending his left leg up, and pinning it to
his back with the weight of her body against his shin.
She then grabbed his left arm, pulling it hard and high
against his back.

"This is fun, Mulder," she panted, sinking down
against the damp cotton shirt that clung to his back.

"Speak for yourself," Mulder growled, his cheek
pressed firmly against the mat.  "That was cruel,
Scully."

She clucked her tongue in mock disapproval.  "It
wasn't cruel."

"No?  What would you call it?"

She was quiet for a moment before replying.  "I guess
I'd have to call it a distraction."

"Whatever," he mumbled.  Not about sex?  Bullshit.
This was entirely about sex; if it hadn't been before, it
certainly was now.

She eased up her hold on his leg, lowering herself just
enough look into his eyes.  "Rule number three:  the
end justifies the means."

"What the hell does that mean?"  The woman looked
entirely too pleased with herself.   All right, Scully, he
thought.  You wanna play dirty?   I can play dirty.

Ever so slowly, he began inching his right arm
underneath his body toward the left.  If she thought
she could kiss him thoroughly enough to make his
fantasies jealous and then just walk away, she was
wrong.

Scully was oblivious to his movements.  Grinning like
a Cheshire cat, she blew lightly in his ear, making him
shiver.  "It means there are no rules in battle -- you
have to use whatever you can."

"I thought you said this wasn't about sex," he accused
her pointedly.

"It's not."  Her breathing was labored.  "But sex can be
a very effective weapon, Mulder. Sometimes you have
to use it."

Sex was a weapon, huh?  Fine.  Whatever.  At least
he was suitably armed for that fight.

Mulder watched his partner smile, obviously still
confident that she held the upper hand.  "So what
you're saying in effect, is that there are no rules here?
None at all?"  he repeated, flexing his fingers
underneath him, feeling his fingertips brush against
the softness of Scully's grey cotton fleece.

Be careful how you answer, Lady.

She bent down even closer to his cheek, her lips
barely grazing his skin before she pulled back slightly,
emphasizing the sexual tease.  "None," she said
emphatically.

"Well then," he said evenly, grabbing a handful of her
sweatshirt in his right hand.  "Lucky for me I'm a fast
learner."

Her cry of surprise signaled the opening he needed.
He pushed hard, rolling to his back, making her
relinquish her loose grip on both his arm and leg.  For
one brief moment, they were on equal footing; then he
stood up and pulled her up after him, his hand still
clutching a handful of material near the neck of her
sweatshirt.

"My my, how the tables have turned," he taunted.

She looked like a cornered animal, her blue eyes
flashing a combination of wariness and excitement as
she struggled against his hold.  She made a motion to
retreat, trying to pull away from him, but his grasp was
too strong.  There was no way she could get away.
Not without...

She raised her arms high overhead, simultaneously
crouching low in a deep knee bend, allowing her arms
and head to slip easily from the oversized garment.
Surprised to find himself suddenly holding an empty
sweatshirt, Mulder took a step back.

He smiled at her then, wagging the sweatshirt back
and forth as it dangled from his index finger.  "Lose
something?"

She brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead.
"It wasn't a loss," she shot back, holding her ground
as he took a step toward her.  She put her hands on
her hips, facing him with confidence.  "It was...
strategy."

"You say so."

"I do."  She stood three feet away in sweat pants and
a black sports bra.  Her hair was in wild disarray.  She
was breathing heavily, the sheen of perspiration
making her skin glisten under the soft light.

If he lived a thousand lifetimes with her, he would
never cease to be amazed by her beauty.

"Can I have that back, please?" she asked, holding
out her hand for the shirt.

No way in hell.

"Sure you can," he told her.  "But you're gonna have to
come get it."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me.  If you want it, come get it."  He
wagged the shirt just out of her reach, making her
frown.

She studied the situation for a moment, then shook
her head.  "And put myself in a position for you to grab
me?  I don't think so."  She crossed her arms.  "Nice
try."

"Fine.  Your call."  He threw the shirt aside, but Scully
didn't look to see where it landed.  She kept her gaze
upon Mulder, her eyes sparkling with energy.  Slowly,
they began to circle, each looking for an opening and
each determined not to provide one.

He moved to the right.

She followed.

He turned back to the left.

She mirrored his every move.

"This could go on all night," he told her.

"Promises, promises."

There was that mischievous gleam again. The
suggestive comment brought him up short.  He
stopped circling and drew up to face her.  "How could
you do that?"

She stopped moving when he did, looking genuinely
perplexed by his serious tone.  "Do what?"

"Lecture me about making this all about professional
reinstatement and then kiss me as nothing more than
a means to an end.  Didn't that affect you at all?  Even
after..."   After four years of waiting for this weekend
that's slipping through our fingers, he added silently.
He instantly regretted the words.  They sounded hurt,
and that was a vulnerability he wasn't ready to hand
over to the pint-sized American Gladiator who stood
facing him.

She started to move toward him, reaching out her
hand, then obviously thought better of it.  "Well..." she
started.  "I had to do something, and I didn't have a
whole lot of options."  She licked her lips nervously.
"It had to be drastic -- as you pointed out, Mulder,
you're bigger than I am."

The teasing came to a halt as he looked at her with
utter seriousness.  "Soooo...finding yourself
underneath me was such an awful prospect that you
had to do something as drastic as kissing me to
escape?"

She winced at the ugly description.

"Gee, Scully.  I'll bet you say that to all the guys."

She shook her head, visibly frustrated.  "That's not
what I said.  You're twisting my words."   She began to
circle again, slowly, to the left.  "What I said, Mulder,
was that kissing you was a distraction.  You just
assumed you were the only one who was distracted."

For a moment, his heart skipped a beat, then he
started to dissect the dozens of possible meanings for
that statement.  Damn it.  Why did they always have to
do this?  Why did they have to leave so much up to
interpretation?  Why couldn't either one of them
commit to a direct statement, make a declaration?
Why did it have to be so damn hard?

Because this is who we are, he told himself,
answering his own question.  This is what we do.  This
is our game, and we're good at it.  The thought was an
epiphany.  They were playing their own game.  It had
always been their game.  Their rules that no one else
understood.  Why couldn't he introduce some new
ones?  Like truth.

He could do truth, couldn't he?

Time to find out, he told himself.  His eyes held hers in
utter sincerity.  "Oh I  was distracted, all right," he
admitted, winning a small smile from her.

"So...are we going to stand here all night," she asked,
beginning to circle slowly to the left.

He smiled back at her, resuming his own movement.
"Well I suppose we could," he told her.  "I mean, I've
got a helluva view.  If my opinion counts for anything,
you really should wear this outfit more often."

She shrugged good-naturedly under his scrutiny.
"You're not going to embarrass me, Mulder.  You
should know by now I don't play coy.  Besides, if you
want something badly enough, immodesty's a small
price to pay.  I want to come back to work."

New rule.

He stopped circling again.  "Really?  Now there's a
philosophy I'm willing to test."  He reached behind his
head and grabbed the back of his t-shirt, pulling it off
in a single movement and throwing it to the floor,
where it joined Scully's discarded sweatshirt in a pile
of damp wrinkles.  Standing before her, bare-chested,
his sweatpants slung low around his hips, he gave her
his most devastating smile--the one he kept in reserve
for crucial situations.  "How long do I have to wait?" he
asked pointedly.

Dazed blue eyes blinked, uncomprehending.  Her
mouth opened and closed twice without sound, her
perfect lips forming a small O shape as she stared at
him.

"Scully?"

She blinked hard.  "What, Mulder?"

"I said how long do I have to wait?"

She blinked again, harder this time, her forehead
wrinkled in confusion.  "Wait for what?"

"To get what I want."  He eased forward, noting with
smug satisfaction that she didn't move away.  Instead,
she seemed rooted to the floor, staring a hole right
through him.  "You said if I was willing to sacrifice
modesty, I would get what I want.  Is this not enough?"
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his
sweatpants, and slid them half an inch lower."

Her eyes widened, taking in every inch of his muscled
stomach.

"Still not enough?"  The pants slid even lower, barely
clinging now to his narrow hips.  "I must be doing
something wrong here, Scully.  Exactly how much do I
have to sacrifice?"

She stood back, taking in his one man strip show with
intense focus.  "Well that depends," she said, her
analytical words tempered by the low, throaty tone of
her voice. "What exactly do you want?"

"The same thing you do."

Only her right eyebrow reacted.  "You want a twenty
one inch waist and long legs?"

"Not a chance," he murmured, walking slowly toward
her.  "And neither do you.  Long legs are highly
overrated."

"Well then what is it you think you and I both want?"
Her voice was whisper soft.

"I think we want to distract each other again."  At last
he was toe to toe with her, nowhere for either of them
to go.  "I think we both want to continue this full body
exercise, without the pretext of wrestling."  He lowered
his head to hers and her chin lifted instinctively,
allowing him to brush an angel soft kiss across her
upper lip.  "What I think we both want, Scully, is a
satisfying end to this five year mating dance."

She didn't find her voice for a moment, then she
pinned him with The Look.  The one he knew was her
last defense before she usually yielded to whatever it
was he wanted.  "You seem pretty sure of yourself
there, Sailor."

He shrugged with an exaggerated nonchalance he
sure as hell didn't feel.  "I'm not the one who started
undressing."  He reached out his hand, slipping his
index finger underneath the black spandex strap of
her bra, running it down the length of the arm hole
until it encountered the soft swell of her breast.

"That wasn't undressing," she told him, her voice too
hoarse to be convincing.  "I told you -- that was a
textbook example of an evasive maneuver."

"Is that what that was?" he asked, his finger continuing
to trace the soft outline of her figure.  "Cause it looked
like undressing to me."  His finger was on a mission
now, the back of his knuckle sliding lightly across the
shiny fabric, making her nipple harden under the
softest of touches.

She submitted to the light caress, but not to the
accusation.  "I'm familiar with your hobbies, Mulder.
I'm fairly certain that *everything* looks like
undressing to you.  Besides," she continued, "it wasn't
undressing because I had every intention of putting it
back on.  That is, until you threw it on the floor."

The seduction was in full swing.  Mulder's arms
reached around Scully's waist, pulling her closer.
"Well it was pretty much useless to me," he told her,
accentuating his conversational words with a soft kiss
to her temple.  "I mean, what in the world was I going
to do with your tiny little sweatshirt?" he asked.

She turned her face up in acquiescence, offering him
a variety of kissable places.  "If you were any kind of
gentleman," she lightly accused, "you'd have given it
back to me."  She closed her eyes as he kissed her
eyelids and the tip of her small roman nose.

New rule.

"Scully?" he whispered hoarsely. God, he wanted her.
How long had he wanted her?

"What?"

"Rule number....four...," he told her, his body
hardening in a surge of passion he couldn't deny,
"...never assume your opponent's a gentleman."

He swept her into his arms in a single fluid motion,
sinking to his knees and placing her gently on the mat,
covering her with body.  Her skin burned against his,
everywhere they touched.  Arms.  Mouths.  Her
stomach against his.  His fingers fanned out across
her taut abdomen, stroking her skin.  He wanted to
touch her everywhere.  He wanted to kiss every inch
of her.

"That's...not...a rule," Scully gasped.

"It should be."  His mouth stopped any further
argument from her, slanting over her parted lips,
consuming her as if she was his only life source.  She
*was* his only life source.  Without her to back him up,
he would have died dozens of times in the past four
years.  Without her beside him in the future, the
deaths would be countless.  Every day.  Every hour.
Every minute that she wasn't there, he would look into
unfathomable blackness.  She was as essential to him
as the air that he breathed, inseparable from the other
intangibles that made up his very soul.

Without a sound, Scully returned his kiss, her fingers
threading through his hair, her nails grazing the skin
at the back of his neck as she sought to keep his
mouth against hers.  Her tongue pushed its way into
the softness of his mouth, and he welcomed the
intrusion, sucking lightly, allowing her free rein to taste
him anywhere...everywhere she wanted.

He felt ready to burst, his body throbbing at the
exquisite contact.  How long could he wait?  Did she
know how crazy she was making him? Every coherent
thought he could form was centered around the
instinctive need to bury himself inside her.

He thrust against her gently, one time, desperate to
ease the ache, and she moaned her approval,
encouraging him to repeat the movement.  He pressed
his lower body against her again, a silent preview of
the long awaited main event, and when she rewarded
him with a soft mewling sound in the back of her
throat, he repeated the slow rhythmic motion again.

She found his rhythm easily, her body rising to meet
his with every thrust, the languorous tempo of their
actions becoming even more arousing by the friction
of the material that separated them.  With every press
of her body against his erection, she moaned her
pleasure.

Jesus, God Almighty.

It was incredible.

He couldn't take it. He was going to...

He pulled his lips from hers abruptly, making her
whimper in frustration, but his action had the desired
effect -- her body stilled beneath his.  He sucked his
upper lip tightly between his teeth, eyes closed tightly,
steeling himself against the lure of orgasm.  He had a
hard-on a sixteen year old would envy.

"Mulder?"

The sound of his whispered name slid over him like
melted butter, a salve to his ever-wounded soul.  This
wasn't just for him.  She wanted this, she needed this,
as much as he did, and he determined then and there
to have her with him when he came.

"Shhhhh..." he told her, regaining control of his body.
"Trust me."   His head moved lower to cover her bare
stomach with kisses, and he thrilled inwardly when her
body arched up to meet his mouth.  She responded
automatically to his every movement.  Armed with that
heady information, he dipped his tongue into her
navel, smiling against her skin as she moaned loudly,
writhing beneath him.

"Who...needs...a gentleman?" she panted.  "Oh, God,
Mulder...I want..."

"What?" he breathed against her skin.  "Tell me what
you want." His body was on fire.  This was happening.
This was finally happening.

The sound of angry pounding on the side of the
building broke through the haze of passion for both of
them.

This was not happening.

Scully dropped her hand heavily to the floor, her eyes
closed in a heady mix of passion and frustration.  Her
chest continued to rise and fall heavily as she
struggled to regain her breath.  "I want to get my gun
and kill whoever is pounding on that door."

"See that?" he ground out, rolling off her, onto the
mat. "We do want the same thing."  He raised an arm
over his eyes, trying to erase the ugly intrusion of
reality on what had, two minutes ago, been the
promise of paradise.

Scully groaned her acceptance of the interruption, a
trace of ecstasy still clinging to every sound she
made, turning his bones to mush.  He couldn't fathom
the intensity of what they were about to give up.  It
wasn't fair.

The world was a fuckin' cruel place, and fate was a
mean son of a bitch after all.  For the briefest moment,
he'd allowed himself to forget it.

"It's just as well," Scully murmured.

Her tone was no more convincing than her words.  He
lowered his arm to stare at her.  "Huh?"

She didn't look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on the
ceiling as her breathing returned to a normal rate.
"Well...four years of waiting only to wind up on a torn
vinyl mat where no telling how many hundreds of
sweaty people have been before us?  We can do
better."

"Speak for yourself," he grumbled, unwilling to be
appeased.  "I was planning to be at the top of my
form."

That got her.

She turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow in
bemusement.  "Really?  And here all this time I was
planning for you to be on top of MY form."

The rush of blood through his ears drowned out the
growing mob outside.  His body was absolutely rigid.
Taking a deep breath, he gave himself over to the
inevitable, ugly reality.

Not now.

Not here.

"You're right," he said, indulging the irresistible urge to
reach for her one last time.  His hand pulled aside the
loose hair against her neck so he could plant a trail of
kisses around her hairline.  "We can do better than a
dirty red mat."  He pulled back and looked at her
hopefully.  "How `bout the locker room?"

She chuckled, low in her throat, the sound nearly
pushing him over the edge.  "You romantic fool, you.
Take me -- here, now, by the punching bag."

Don't tempt me.  He almost said the words, but knew
deep down the threat was a hollow one.

Not this time.

Not yet.

The pounding continued, harder this time,
accompanied by angry voices.  "Open the door!  Who
the hell is in there?"  The sound of frustrated kicking
echoed in the rafters.  "I know someone is in there!
Open the goddamned door!"

Scully chuckled.  "Any chance they'll go away?"

"We paid for this time!  Open this goddamned door or
I'm getting a blowtorch!"

"Smart money says no," Mulder groaned.  "All right!"
he yelled at the door.  "Shut up already!"  He stood up
and finger combed his hair, then pulled his
sweatpants up to their proper position with a resigned
sigh.

Scully was still on the mat below him, breathing hard.
"Well..." she started, the hint of a smile turning up the
corners of her mouth.  "You wouldn't want it to be easy
at this point, would you?"

"I gotta tell you something, Scully," he told her
seriously.  "After four years...you don't ever have to
worry about me thinking you're easy."

The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
"Yeah?  Shows what you know.  We could have done
this four years ago, as far as I'm concerned."

"Liar."

The pounding started again.

"Knock it off!  I'm coming!" Mulder yelled, heading
toward the door.  "Eventually," he added under his
breath.

Scully reached out to the corner of the mat, snagging
her sweatshirt with her fingertips, pulling it toward her
as she sat up in a fluid, acrobatic movement.  "Hey
Mulder," she called, stopping him after only a few
steps toward the door.

He turned.  "Yeah?"  His t-shirt hit him square in the
face, then dropped into his hands.

"Not that you don't look great," she said, pushing
herself to her feet.  "And you really should wear that
outfit more often."

He stopped for a moment to pull on the wrinkled
garment and tried one more time to calm the anger of
the people outside.  "Hang on," he yelled.  "Be right
there."  He gave Scully a rueful smile, feeling for all
the world like a teenager caught making out.  "So...I
guess this means another rain check?"

She gave him a hungry look that made him ache to be
in her arms again.  "Not a chance, G-man, I'm all out
of rain checks.  My place.  One hour.  And Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't wanna wrestle."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Scully's apartment
One hour later
 

How do you dress for sex?

That was the question on Scully's mind as she made
the fiftieth lap around the perimeter of her walk-in
closet.  Ordinary clothing conventions were not
applicable here.  There was nothing ordinary about
this encounter.  It was not a date that might or might
not lead to sex.  It wasn't even a date that was *surely*
going to lead to sex.

Hell.  It wasn't even a date.

This was just sex, down and dirty.  Come over.  Let's
do it.  How in the world was she supposed to dress for
that?  Her manual on such matters had been missing
for years.  Way too many years, she mused.

Briefly, she considered going the seductive route,
thinking of some of the more daring lingerie she so
rarely got to wear, but she discarded that notion
quickly.  She'd already invited the man to come to her
house and take her; garters were redundant at this
point.  Not to mention the fact that they were too damn
hard to get out of.  Then again, the last time she'd
worn them, the disappointing target of her seduction
had left quite a bit to be desired in the way of finesse,
and somehow, remembering the feel of Mulder's long,
nimble fingers trailing down her body, she was fairly
certain he knew a million ways to dispose of any lacy
enclosures that stood in his way.

She froze, reconsidering the potential.

No.  Maybe next time.

Next time?  God, what were they starting here?  Her
mind couldn't even wrap around the multitude of
possibilities that opened up, and as she glanced at
her watch, she frantically realized she had no time to
mull the endless scenarios.  Sometime within the next
fifteen minutes, her partner of four years was going to
ring her doorbell, enter her apartment, take off his
clothes and make mad, passionate love to her.
Hopefully in that order, but she was open for
suggestions.

Clothes.  She needed clothes.

The wanton seductress look was out.  What was left?
She pawed through her blouses and dress pants,
looking in vain for the right combination, but nothing
seemed right.  If she dressed up too much, then she
was making it a date.  Neither of them needed that
kind of pressure.  It wasn't a date.  They were surely
past that point.

That edict eliminated at least a third of the clothing in
her closet.  With keen scrutiny, she examined what
was left.

Her worn, faded Levis always made her feel sexy in a
beer commercial, Ford pickup truck kind of way, and
she knew Mulder had a penchant for jeans during his
off time.  He would probably come dressed for comfort
-- at the very least, for easy access.  She almost
laughed at the thought.  If Mulder had mentally
debated anything since she'd left him at the gym, she
sincerely doubted it was what to wear.

Her hand grasped the denim fabric and she pulled it
toward her, still undecided.  For some totally
unexplainable reason, it just seemed wrong.  Of
course on the opposite end of the "date clothes"
spectrum, she didn't want seem *too* casual about
this encounter.  They'd already started the chain of
events sweaty, wearing work out clothes; this was a
chance to take a step back and do it right.

So what was right?

All that remained were her work clothes, things he'd
seen her in dozens of times.  It wasn't Cinderella, but
for some reason, it worked.  She pulled on a pair of
light grey pants, part of a suit she'd recently bought
and hadn't yet worn too many times.  She ignored the
matching jacket and bypassed her collection of white
and black blouses, opting instead for a simple, light
blue shell that she had bought in a moment of total
feminine weakness because the commissioned sales
woman shrewdly pointed out what a striking
complement the color was to her eyes.

Actually, it was a nice match.  She hadn't regretted the
purchase.

Feeling a bit better after selecting her clothes, Scully
carried the selections into the bedroom and laid them
on the bed, turning her attention to the contents of her
dresser and the silky items housed within.  She chose
her lingerie with almost comical scrutiny, opting for her
nicest matching set.  To hell with accidents and
hospitals, she thought.  There was no better argument
in the world for nice underwear than a date with
Mulder.

No.  Not a date.

Sex.  Sex they had started but never got to finish on at
least two different occasions.  Sex they had both
wanted and denied themselves for a very long time.
Sex they had come damn close to having in a public
gym on a battered floor mat.  Sex that was going to
change everything.

Finally.

Surprisingly, her nerves began to calm as she
dressed.  It was methodical almost.  The closer it got
to time for Mulder's arrival, the more steady she
became.  No shaking hands, no trembly breath.  She
was a rock.  She was totally in control.  With each
passing second, the events in motion seemed more
and more right.  This was the inevitable conclusion of
something they'd both been working towards, and
now, finally, there were no more barriers.

None.

Nothing standing in their way at all.

And Scully realized that finally, she was the very
picture of confidence and self-assurance.

She nearly screamed when the doorbell rang.

Heart racing, she glanced one more time in the mirror,
critically cataloguing her appearance.  She
looked...nice.  Not incredibly hot, not girl next door
casual. Not like a woman on a date--and that was the
main thing.

She walked toward the door, conscious of her pace,
feeling ridiculous for wondering if she was opening the
door too fast, or opening it too slowly while trying to
appear uneager.  And even though she knew it wasn't,
her pounding heart told her with every beat that it sure
as hell *felt* like a date.

She didn't bother to look through the peephole before
opening the door.  She knew it was him.

Mulder was leaning casually against wall by her door,
his tall frame the epitome of relaxed, she noted
jealously.  If she hadn't felt his body's reaction to the
closeness they'd shared in the gym, she might have
thought he was totally nonchalant about the whole
thing.  But on a closer look, she realized she was
wrong.

He was dressed in work pants and white button shirt.
No jacket or tie, but the effort was obvious.  He hadn't
thrown on the first thing his hand touched. His eyes
were searing her with an intensity that stunned her.
Still silent, he stared at her, his expression part
uncertainty, part anticipation.

All hunger.

For a moment, they simply looked at one another.

"Can I come in?" he asked finally, the slightest hint of
teasing in his tone.

"Oh.  Sorry,"  she startled, moving back into the living
room opening the door wide enough for him to enter.
When he did, he stopped in front of her, proffering her
something which had been hidden from her view.

The bouquet was small, a mix of wildflowers with a few
camellias as the focal point.  It wasn't extravagant, by
any means.  It wasn't expensive or exotic, and its
beauty wasn't in the arrangement or the soft fragrance
it possessed.  Its beauty was in the gesture her
partner had made, telling her that the man who stood
before her was on more than a personal quest for
sexual satisfaction.

Special Agent Fox Mulder was on a date.

God help them both.

Not quite knowing what to say, Scully took the sweet
smelling-blossoms he handed her, stepping back as
she made an exaggerated welcome gesture, waving
him toward the couch.  Unable to keep from smiling as
he moved past her, she closed the door behind him
and turned to follow.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

<end part 2>

Part 3
 

She didn't join him as he sat down.  Instead, she
watched from across the room as he settled easily into
the soft cushions of her sofa.  "I can't believe you
brought flowers, Mulder."

His feigned indignation was ruined by the small smile
he couldn't hide.  "I have my moments."

She looked at the flowers she held, trailing her fingers
lightly across the soft petals.  "Yes.  Yes you do."

"Did you think I was going to pull up to the curb and
honk for you?"

"No," she deadpanned.  "I don't expect that for at least
another two weeks."

He nodded in mock agreement.  "Maybe three."

She caught the scent of the bouquet she held and
breathed in deeply, memorizing the fragrance.  It
amazed her how the smallest gesture from this man
could engrave itself upon her heart.  "I just meant that
I wouldn't have thought you could take a shower,
change clothes, buy flowers, and drive over here in an
hour."  She raised her eyes from the flowers and
found him staring at her with an expression that
branded her, body and soul.

The smoldering gaze never faltered.  "I can do a lot of
amazing things when I'm motivated, Scully."

She began to melt before his very eyes, staggered by
the realization that she could very easily humiliate
herself by having an honest-to-God orgasm before
he'd even touched her.  Just that tone of voice was
enough to push her to the brink.

She'd seen glimpses of his motivation before and
knew first hand the truth of his boast.  Or maybe it
wasn't a boast at all.  Her father used to bolster her
self-confidence with pep talks, telling her "it's not
bragging if you can back it up, Starbuck."  Whether or
not the adage was true, it seemed to fit.  Oh yeah,
Mulder could back it up.  Of course he could.  The
man was a walking testimony to great sex; all you had
to do was look at him, and you saw the possibilities.
God only knew how often she'd looked.  Every female
agent in the J. Edgar Hoover Building looked.  She
could have named a hundred women in that office --
single AND married -- who would have gladly made
themselves available to Special Agent Fox Mulder for
a lot less than a small bouquet of flowers.

Neither one of them had moved, Scully realized.  She
was still standing stock still in the middle of the room,
and he was still sitting on the couch, watching her
examine the flowers.  He must have thought she'd lost
her mind.  Enough analysis for tonight, she told
herself, mentally hanging the "Doctor is OUT" sign on
her psyche.  Tonight wasn't about thinking.  It was
about feeling.  And she was going to feel every damn
inch of Fox Mulder very very soon.

His nude body.

Her hands roaming over his bare skin all night long.

Sex with Mulder.

She felt her stomach drop to the floor at the thought.

And he'd actually brought her flowers.

Gracing him with the first real smile she'd indulged
since he arrived, she gently waved the bouquet.  "Did
I say thank you?"

His sexy half-grin answered back.  "Not yet, but I have
high expectations."  He pushed himself up from the
sofa and walked toward her.  "In the meantime, why
don't I make myself useful.  Can I have your cell
phone for a minute?"

She looked at him suspiciously, but answered without
hesitation.  "It's on my dresser in the bedroom.".

He walked down the hall, returning a moment later
with her phone.  While she watched, he
ceremoniously removed the battery, placing both
pieces side by side on the coffee table, then moved
methodically toward the phone on the end table and
took it off the hook, disconnecting the cord at the
same time to keep it silent.  When he'd finished, he
walked resolutely toward her front door and locked it
firmly, turning off her porch light as the exclamation
mark on the statement he'd made.

She would have laughed had the gestures not been
so completely sexually motivated.  From all
indications, he was planning one hell of a night.

"Anything else?" she asked, furrowing her brow in
pseudo-concentration.  "What about *your* phone,
Mulder?"

"I didn't bring my phone."

Her eyes widened in mock surprise.  "You left your
apartment without your phone?"

"Damn right."

"Isn't that one of the signs of the Apocalypse?"

"Maybe.  But mark my words, Scully...if the world is
ending tonight, you and I are going out in a blaze of
glory."

Mulder began to move toward her with the stealth of a
cat stalking its prey, and with each step that brought
him closer, Scully realized that her desire was
suddenly at war with her...nerves?

What the hell?

No.  No no no.  It wasn't nerves.  Why in the *world*
would it be nerves?  This was not unexplored territory,
she told herself.   They'd already come as close as
two people could come to making love without actually
finishing the act.  She'd been on the bank of that river;
she'd felt his hands all over her, his fingers inside her
body.  They'd been mere seconds away from what she
was inexplicably anxious about now.  Not to mention
the long distance call they'd shared Friday night.

But this felt different.  It felt *really* different. Then she
realized why.

Their previous experiences had been spontaneous,
born of circumstance and fierce need. This was
premeditated...it was *scheduled* for God's sake.  And
premeditated encounters came with expectations.

Lovely.  Now *there* was a previously overlooked
anxiety.

"So," he murmured closing in on her.  "You mentioned
something about welcoming me home?"

Oh yeah.  Definite expectations here.

Every fiber of her being ached to be in Mulder's arms;
it was so damn overdue.  The two of them were
already in the Sexual Tension Hall of Fame and they
both knew it.  They'd been dallying at the college level
for years, spent the past four weeks honing their skills
in the minors.  This was the phone call.  The big
league, the majors.  Tonight they were going to The
Show.  For the briefest of moments, Scully was
confident she was ready for her turn at bat.

The mistake she made was actually looking at him.

Goddamn, the man was gorgeous.  Stunningly,
unquestionably, jaw-droppingly gorgeous.  And he
was walking toward her in slow motion, staring at her
with a look that said he'd like to eat her with a spoon
at the first opportunity.

She needed to step back for a moment, regain control
of herself.  Put the right emotions...the libidonous
ones...back in the driver's seat.  It was impossible to
do with Mulder's white shirt and dark hazel eyes
closing in.  So she did the only thing she could think
of:  she took refuge in the kitchen.

"Just...let me get these flowers in some water,Mulder,"
she told him, effectively stopping his advance just
before he reached her.

He raised one eyebrow in question, but he didn't
protest.  He didn't even blink in surprise. If he was
confused or irritated or frustrated in the least by her
unexpected retreat, he betrayed none of it.

Scully walked to the kitchen mentally kicking herself
with every step.  With a mind of its own, her traitorous
memory recalled the sound of Mulder's lightly teasing
voice on a plane trip from Hell, taunting her with her
own embarrassment.  <Smooth moves, Agent Scully.>

She should have just attacked him, ripped off that
white shirt and had a field day exploring his muscled
chest.  God, she loved him in white shirts, a fact he
was obviously aware of.  She loved him out of them
too.  So why the hell had she walked away from him
just now?

Walked?  Like hell.  She'd run, and she had no idea
why.  This was way out of the realm of normal
behavior.  The emotional scrutiny was underway.
Expert voices on female sexuality were screaming
advice to her, sounding like the cover of every
magazine she'd ever read.

Cosmopolitan:  Don't forget who's in control here.
You are the woman.  You are the dominant force in
the universe.  It's all about you.  You, you, you.  Your
needs are more important the needs of any mere man,
even if he can give you multiple orgasms.   Now get
back in there, tell him exactly what you want and how
you want it, and don't back down until he gives it to
you.

No.  Too militant.  Next?

Glamour:  The best thing you can do for yourself and
your lover is to make sex an endless adventure.  Why
not make love on satin sheets, by candlelight, during a
rainstorm.  Afterwards, don't forget to cuddle until
dawn sharing intimate laughter and childhood secrets
with one another to get the full effect of that post-coital
bonding opportunity.

Yeah.  Right.  You forgot the part about feeding each
other strawberries and cream while sharing a bubble
bath in a claw-footed antique tub while a live three
piece orchestra serenades us with a dreamy sonata
right outside the gossamer draped bay windows.
Next?

Working Woman:  Office relationships are never a
good idea, and the nineties career woman should
have better things to do than think about sex.  Sex is
over, a thing of the past.  Sex is a throwback to the
days of the secretarial pool and the manual typewriter.
Get yourself two good D cell batteries and move on.

With Mulder ready and willing in a white shirt in the
next room?  Not an option in this or any other
universe.  Next?

Woman's Day:  You wouldn't be feeling so insecure if
you'd lost ten pounds in fifteen days, and paid
attention to those quick fixes for hair emergencies.
Also it wouldn't have hurt to have some splendid
delights for late night cravings on hand either.

He already thinks I'm too thin...and what the hell's
wrong with my hair?  Next?

Vogue:  I can't believe you're wearing that.

Bitch.  Next?

Anyone?

The experts fell silent, and Scully closed her eyes with
a deep breath, wondering if she was destined to be
visited soon by an apparition of some scary little
dancing baby. Good Lord, she'd been a lot of things in
her life, but neurotic had never been one of them.  Not
until recently.  When did she get like this?

When?

Four weeks ago, that's when, she answered herself.
Four weeks ago in Tennessee, when she told her
partner of four years that she wanted him.

And now here they were, about to change the width,
breadth, and depth of the small universe that housed
them both.

Shaking herself back to reality, Scully rummaged
through cabinets at random, not even remembering
what she was looking for.  What the hell was she
doing in the kitchen when Mulder  was standing alone
in the next room, patiently waiting to ravish her until
she begged for mercy?

Wasn't that what she'd been dreaming of the past four
weeks?  The past year?  Wasn't that what she was
imagining a couple nights ago when the two of them
shared a phone encounter that barely even qualified
as vaguely discreet?  This was what she wanted.

Mulder was what she wanted.

And no matter how long she stayed in this kitchen, the
course of events was set in stone.  They were going to
make love, no question about it.  The look in Mulder's
eyes brooked no argument. God help whoever or
whatever tried to stand in his way this time.  All she
was doing was postponing the inevitable...and she
*wanted* the inevitable.

So get whatever it was you came in here for and get
your butt back out there, she told herself.

Her hand grazed the delicate rim of a wine glass.  Ah.
Wine glasses.  She found them.

Realizing suddenly that she had no idea how long
she'd been lost in her own conflicting thoughts and
emotions, she called loudly, "I'll be back in just a
second, Mulder."

"Good to know."

She jumped at the nearness of his voice, spinning
around. He was standing silently in the doorway.
"Don't do that."

He held up a hand in apology.  "Sorry."   He was
studying her intently.

How long had he been standing there?  "I thought you
were in the living room."  She aimed her tone for
nonchalance.

"I was."  The glimmer of a smile was in his eyes.

"Oh."  She picked up the wine glasses from the bottom
cabinet shelf, threading the stems between her fingers
and waved them back and forth.  "Found them," she
explained, setting them on the counter as she opened
a drawer and began searching for a corkscrew.

"I thought you were looking for a vase."

Damn it.  The flowers.  That's what she'd come to the
kitchen for, not wine glasses.  A vase, you idiot.  A
vase.

He walked up behind her until his chest was against
her back, lightly grazing the silky material of her
blouse.  From the corner of her eye, she saw his arms
coming around her, and she stilled, her eyes closing
in dreamlike anticipation, awaiting the inevitable touch
of his hand on her body.

Yes...please God, touch me soon before I die.  I'm
ready, Mulder.  I'm so damn ready.  I don't know why I
walked away...

"Here's one right here."

She opened her eyes.  His arm was extended past
her, reaching for a small vase sitting in plain view on
the middle shelf -- right in front of her eyes the whole
time.  So much for nonchalance.

"Tell you what," he continued in an infuriatingly
conversational tone, "you open the wine, I'll take care
of the flowers."

"Okay."

She pawed through silverware looking for her
corkscrew, finally locating it as Mulder walked to the
sink and filled the vase with water.  She took a
random bottle of Chardonney from the wine rack.

All she had to do was open one bottle.  One small task
they'd agreed upon, something she'd done a hundred
times.  But the cork of this particular bottle seemed to
be made of petrified wood.  She tried three times to
get the metal screw ensconced in the cork so she
could twist it down, but every time it simply slid off the
top, refusing to make a dent.

"Damn," she muttered, trying to decide if she was
more angry at the cork or the corkscrew or her total
lack of finesse.  If she couldn't laugh about this
tomorrow it would only be because she'd died tonight
of mortal embarrassment.

Out of nowhere, long arms in a white shirt reached
around her on both sides, taking both the wine bottle
and the corkscrew from her in a single motion.  He
didn't say a word.  Keeping her trapped loosely within
his arms, he easily twisted the corkscrew into the
bottle and pushed the stopper up slowly with his
thumbs.  It popped out with no resistance whatsoever.

She felt his body move away from her, and she turned
around, watching as Mulder set the items down firmly
on the opposite counter and turned back to face her.
He took two steps, closing the small distance between
them completely, putting them face to face.  His
closeness caused her to take half a step back before
she hit the edge of the countertop.

"What are you doing?" she nearly whispered.

His hands came up in a single quick motion, capturing
her cheeks, tilting her head up towards him.

"Putting me out of your misery."

His mouth came down upon hers in a kiss that was
both soft and demanding at the same time.  He forced
nothing, and yet the gentle insistence of his lips
against hers, coaxing her mouth to open for him, was
more than she could deny.  Her lips parted, inviting
him in, and she felt her stomach coil tightly in
response as his tongue sought the velvet warmth
inside her mouth.

He continued to cradle her face in his hands as he
slanted his mouth hotly over hers, moving her head
first to one side, then the other as they lost
themselves in a lover's kiss that seemed to go on
forever.

When he finally began to pull away, she released his
mouth reluctantly, a small moan of disappointment
escaping her throat.

Mulder bent forward, pressing his forehead against
hers, his palms still pressed against her jawline.  He
was breathing as hard as she was.

Scully was on sensory overload.

Forget nervous.  To hell with nervous.  If she didn't
have him right here, right now, she was going to
explode.  She pushed away from the counter,
reaching for his hand as she stepped away from him.
He caught her light embrace, but didn't follow.

"Come on, Mulder."  Her breath was uneven.  She
could feel the blood rushing through her veins.  Her
heart was pounding in her ears.

"Come where?"

The look she gave him, she knew, was totally wanton.
She couldn't have cared less how obvious she was.
She *was* wanton.  "To the bedroom."

Instead of following, he slowly let go of her hand,
reaching back toward the counter to pick up the bottle
of wine he had opened.  He held it loosely in his left
hand and threaded the fingers of his right around the
stems of the two glasses, fitting them both easily into
his palm.

"Oh we're definitely getting there."  He bent down,
placing a sound, firm kiss on her still-swollen lips.
"But we have a few things to finish up in the living
room first."  He squeezed past her to the doorway,
pausing to look over his shoulder in an unspoken
invitation that was too full of promise to deny.

Breathing hard, still flushed from their kiss, Scully
followed him out of the kitchen, wondering every step
of the way what exactly her partner had up the sleeve
of his devastatingly sexy white shirt.

She prayed she wouldn't have to wait long to find out.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Mulder headed toward the couch, but didn't sit down,
and Scully took her cue from him, standing beside the
coffee table as he poured two glasses of wine and
handed one to her.  Her palm registered the cool
smoothness of the delicate crystal, but she didn't care
about the drink she held; her eyes never left his face,
still searching for some hint as to what exactly he had
in mind for the two of them.

The delicate rim of his glass clinked against the side
of hers.  "Here's to an entire night with no
interruptions."

"I'll drink to that," she murmured, taking a sip of the
light-colored wine.

She watched, mesmerized, as Mulder drank to his
toast and lowered his glass, a trace of moisture
clinging to his lips, glistening in the lamplight like the
promise of her salvation.  She couldn't resist reaching
out to him.

Her index finger pressed lightly against the corner of
his mouth, and he didn't move as she slowly dragged
it across the entire length of his lips, feeling the slight
wetness against her own skin.  When she reached the
other side of his mouth, she pulled her finger away,
bringing the trace of wine she'd captured with her.

Without a word, she brought her hand to her own
slightly-parted lips, letting the tip of her finger spread
the small trace of now-imaginary wetness against the
softness of her own mouth.

Mulder watched her impromptu show, his eyes riveted
upon her mouth.  When she opened her lips wider and
drew her finger inside, she heard his soft intake of
breath.  Without ever looking away from him, Scully
closed her lips around her finger and slowly, oh so
slowly, pulled it from her mouth, as if reluctant to let it
leave her empty.

Mulder blinked in slow motion, his eyes finally closing
completely, but hesitating before opening again.  His
jaw was clenched.

He swallowed hard, once.

His erection was obvious, pressing against the light
material of his suit pants, and Scully knew she'd been
testing his resolve.   Unfortunately, the man appeared
to have an iron will.  Evidently, whatever he had
planned for them, he wanted it badly enough to resist
her blatant invitation for the moment.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, lust still
prevalent in his expression, but tempered now with
what looked to her like mischief.  Not a safe
combination, but damn if he didn't wear it well, she
mused.

"Soooooo, what exactly did you have in mind here,
Mulder?" she asked.  Her voice sounded hoarse
already, thick with passion.

He drank the remaining wine in his glass in two large
swallows, setting his empty glass on the coffee table.
In silent question, he held his hand out for hers.  She
took one more sip and handed it to him, letting him set
it aside.

"This."  Mulder's hands snaked around the back of her
neck, pulling her to him roughly. This time, she was
ready.

Her lips parted instinctively the moment she felt his
touch, her mouth melding against his, welcoming the
heat of his tongue as it dueled with hers.  Her arms
reached up to encircle his neck, her fingers
encountering and lightly teasing the damp strands of
baby soft hair at the base of his hairline.

He groaned in response to the soft caress.

Mulder's hands moved down her body to the small of
her back, and he wrapped them low around her,
pulling her sharply against his groin, letting her feel
the undeniable hardness of his cock throbbing against
her.  She pushed against him, wanting and needing
more contact than he was giving her.

Instead of complying, he slowly pulled his mouth from
hers, indulging one last nibble on her bottom lip
before the last trace of her flesh parted from his in
slow motion. Grinning down at her, his smile nearly
robbing her of the ability to stand on her own, Mulder
reached down and pulled off his shoes, tossing them
aside with almost comic disregard.

For a moment, Scully thought he was seeking to
lessen the height difference between them, but then
he crouched before her and wordlessly tapped at her
leg.  The command was silent, but crystal clear, and
she did as he asked, just as silently as he asked it.
Balancing herself with a hand on his shoulder, she
lifted first one foot, then the other, allowing him to
slide her shoes off and toss them aside with his own.

Mission accomplished, he straightened and took her
hand, pulling her after him as they padded to the sofa.
He sat down in the corner and Scully made a motion
to maneuver past his legs so she could sit beside him,
but instead of releasing her hand, he tugged down
lightly, his arm encircling her hips, and she realized in
wonder that in the course of less than four seconds,
he had seated her firmly in his lap.

Smooth moves indeed.

She reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand,
her heart melting as he turned his head into her
caress and pressed a soft kiss against the palm of her
hand.

"What are you doing to me, Mulder?" she whispered,
so soft she wasn't sure she'd even uttered it aloud.

The man beneath her pulled her low into his arms, his
hot breath a tickle against her neck as he chuckled
softly at the words he'd heard.  "If you don't know then
it's been too damn long for one of us."

She gasped when he sucked lightly on her earlobe.
"It's been too damn long for...both of us," she
breathed.

"Mmmm hmmm," he agreed, pushing her hair aside to
nip lightly at her jaw line.  She arched her neck, baring
more sensitive skin to his mouth.

Scully's heart was pounding double time.  She could
feel Mulder's erection straining against the confines of
his pants and she ached to release him.  She wanted
to see him again...all of him.  Nude and glorious and
begging her to touch him.  She'd relied on her memory
for the past four weeks, but it was nothing compared
to the reality that pulsed hotly against her hip as she
sat draped across his lap, supported by his arm
behind her back.  If he didn't make love to her soon
she was going to die, right there in his arms.

"Mulder," she breathed, her voice sounding unfamiliar
and needy.

"Mmmm?"  He continued his oral exploration of her
neck and hairline.

"I'm...really enjoying this whole...foreplay...thing."  She
shuddered uncontrollably as his tongue darted into
the shallow depth of her upper ear.  "But...I'm
already...committed here.  You don't have to...seduce
me."

His mouth left her neck and he raised his face to look
at her. "Maybe I want to seduce you," he whispered.

He slid lower on the sofa cushion and pulled her
lightly against his chest, urging her to relax against
him.  She did and he stole another lingering kiss from
her swollen lips before he spoke, his hand continuing
to softly stroke her back.

"On my way over, I was thinking about how long it took
us to get here."

She nodded.

"That there wasn't any doubt in either of our minds
when we left the gym, about what was going to
happen here tonight.  At least I don't think there was.
Was there?"

"No," she said.  "I knew."

He kissed her again, tugging lightly on her bottom lip
before releasing her mouth.

Scully was on fire.  Every touch, every kiss, sent her
deeper into the agonizing heaven of wanting more.
She wasn't high enough to reach his mouth unless he
lowered his head, so she nuzzled his neck instead,
kissing her way toward his Adam's apple.  "So why
aren't we doing what we both knew we were going do,
Mulder?"

His fingers threaded through her hair, urging her head
up to look at him.  His expression was utterly serious.
"Because it occurred to me tonight that we've missed
some steps along the way."

She looked at him in confusion.  "Missed some
steps?"

"Scully, I can count one hand the number of times I've
kissed you.  I mean really kissed you, the way I want
to...the way you *should* be kissed."   He paused, and
the corner of his mouth twitched, threatening a small
smile.  "You know, we've missed some of the good
stuff."

She had to smile slightly at that.  "The good stuff?"

"This kind of stuff."  He bent his head and kissed her
again, so brief she might have imagined it, had it not
been followed immediately by the feeling of his tongue
tracing the outline of her mouth.  When he finished, he
looked at her with blatant possessiveness.  "I just
wanted to make sure before we take the next step that
we've exhausted all the finer points of *this* step.
Because Scully?"

For a moment she couldn't even find her voice.
"What," she finally whispered, her voice cracking with
emotion.

"Kissing you and making love to you and spending an
entire night exploring every inch of you?  It's *all* the
good stuff. I don't want to miss anything."

The unexpected threat of tears burned behind her
eyes, and she blinked to keep them from spilling.
Leave it to Mulder to stun her with sentiment at a time
like this, telling her the small, simple truths that she
already knew but never expected to be offered so
sincerely. He could touch her heart like no man ever
had, with nothing more than mere words.  He handed
them up like small, unworthy offerings, never knowing
how she cherished even the effort he made to present
them.

She moved from her draped ragdoll position, rising
slightly to straddle his lap, facing him.  Her knees
pressed into the back cushions of the sofa, and she
inched herself up until his body was intimately
pressed between her spread legs.  Taking his face in
her hands, she looked deeply into his eyes.

"Mulder?"  She pressed a kiss against his cheekbone,
following it with another that moved up higher toward
the corner of his eye.

"What?"

There was that look again.  The hungry one.  The one
that not only had her willing to be the main course, but
had her damn near ready to go find the man a spoon
on her own, if it would only put an end to this
unbearable longing.

Her kisses moved across his forehead, stopping in the
center to travel downward, along the bridge of his
nose.  "I promise..."  She kissed the small indentation
above his upper lip.  "We're not...going...to
miss...anything."   She accentuated every other word
with a soft kiss, her lips grazing his chin, his cheeks,
his brow, every part of his face except his lips.  She
raised her head to smile at him, before finally bringing
her mouth achingly close to his.  "This whole night is
going to be the good stuff."

His mouth met hers without hesitation.  The kiss was
hard and demanding, full of wicked promise.  When
his hand moved from her neck toward the front of her
body, she panted encouragement, moaning when he
cupped her breast through the silky fabric of her
blouse.

"You're overdressed, Scully."

His free hand began pulling the soft material from the
waistband of her pants, and she broke the kiss long
enough to sit back upon his knees and pull the silky
barrier off completely, throwing it unceremoniously
behind her on the floor.

"We're both overdressed, Mulder, but I know how to
fix that."

His eyes burned with longing that mirrored her own.
Unable to wait another minute to feel more of his skin
upon hers, she reached for the buttons of his shirt,
releasing them more in desperation than finesse.  He
didn't seem to mind.  When the last one came free, he
grabbed both halves of the shirtfront and nearly ripped
it off, sitting barechested before her at last, hungrily
eyeing the delicate lace that still hid the curves of her
body from his view. She didn't have time to utter a
sound before he cupped the back of her head, pulling
her mouth to his as his other hand deftly released the
front clasp of her bra in what seemed a single
movement.

Her brain registered the dexterity of his actions on a
level she was only half aware of.

Oh yeah.  He could sure as hell back it up.

<end part 3>

Part 4

She could have lived the rest of her days content to
do nothing except return that kiss, exploring every
contour of Fox Mulder's mouth, stroking his tongue
with her own until she committed to memory not only
the feel, but the very taste of him inside her.  Every
nerve in her body concentrated wholly on the task.
Even her toes felt committed.  But Mulder put an end
to that plan when he pulled away from her,
suspending the kiss despite her soft sound of protest.
His eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them, the
intensity of his need evidenced as much by the hungry
look on his face as by his undeniable erection pressed
tightly between her legs.

Feeling that hardness against the core of her body,
Scully ground her hips against him, delighted when
she heard the small gasp of pleasure he could not
surpress.

Slowly, showing more patience than Scully felt she
possessed at the moment, Mulder fingered the soft
cups of her opened bra, lightly stroking the satin
edges of it before he slipped his fingers underneath
and drew the fabric away from her skin with agonizing
deliberation, pushing it back until the thin straps slid
silently down her arms and onto the floor.

At last, her breasts were bared to his searing gaze.
He'd looked at her like this before, once, but it was too
long ago, and it hadn't been nearly enough.  Was
there such a thing as enough with Mulder?  How could
there possibly be?

"God, you're so perfect."  His thumbs stroked across
her hardened nipples.  He cupped her breast against
his palm, lightly kneading the sensitive flesh, making
her writhe against him.

Heat coiled inside her like a spring, building upon
itself toward what she knew would be an
earthshattering release.  She saw his head bending
low toward her breasts, and suddenly she could no
longer tolerate his langourous pace.  Scully arched
her back high, her chest rising to meet him, even as
her arms wound behind his head, pulling him to her in
blatent desperation.  His mouth closed upon her
breast in an instant, and she moaned when he began
to suckle her.

She pressed her hands flat against the back of the
couch, rising to her knees to keep her breasts at the
right level for Mulder's mouth as she moved forward
against him, pinning him to the sofa cushion.   His
hands held firm to her sides, lightly moving up and
down against her bare skin as his mouth worked
feverishly at her breast, sucking and kissing in turn
while she panted above him.

"Oh...God...Mulder."   She slowly sank down upon his
lap again, thankful when his mouth didn't leave her,
but instead began weaving a delicious trail of wet,
deep kisses across her skin toward the other rosy
peak.  When he reached it, he gave it equal attention,
kissing his way around the areola before his lips
closed over her nipple and drew lightly against her.

Scully bit down hard on her upper lip to keep from
crying out.  How could anyone feel this much so fast?
She was dangerously close to a place she didn't
recognize as human.  It was a plane of ecstasy she'd
never known existed -- and maybe it didn't for anyone
but her and Mulder.

Mulder's hand closed around her wrist, pulling her
hand down toward their laps.  Without a word, his
mouth never leaving her body, he worked her hand
between their tightly joined bodies, pressing her palm
firmly against his straining erection.  Her fingers
curled around him through the fabric, and he moaned,
biting down lightly on her nipple in response.

It still wasn't nearly enough.

"Mulder..." she gasped.

His mouth left her breast and began kissing a path up
to her clavicle, his tongue dipping into the slight
hollow.  "What?" he rasped.

She shuddered as his lips grazed her neck.  "We're...
still... overdressed..."

His hands moved to the front of her slacks.  "I can fix
that," he murmured, echoing her earlier words.

His nimble fingers released the button of her slacks
and reached for the zipper, drawing it down, before he
released his light hold on her body, allowing her to
stand.  She winced slightly as circulation returned to
her legs, the back of her thigh throbbing
uncomfortably from the position she'd been
maintaining.

"Scully?"  The concern on Mulder's face was
instantaneous.

She shook her head.  "It's nothing.  Just a twinge from
how I was sitting."

He looked doubtful.

"I promise, Mulder.  I'm fine."  She slid the grey pants
down her hips and let them fall to the floor, stepping
out of the silk puddle and kicking it aside.  Clad only in
white satin bikini panties, she moved over him again,
intent on reclaiming her position upon his lap.

Instead, Mulder twisted slightly, sitting closer to the
edge of the cushion.  His position didn't allow her to
balance herself on her knees as she had previously.
"Change of plans," he told her softly, craning his head
to get a look at the jagged scar on the back of her left
leg.

Noooooooo, she cried inwardly.  Don't you dare do
this to me, Mulder.  Damn her leg and damn her for
letting him see her discomfort.  He couldn't do this.
He couldn't.  She couldn't take the disappointment of
another postponed encounter.

She slid her hand underneath his chin and pulled his
head up until he was looking her in the eyes.  This
time, it was she who lowered her head down to him,
planting the softest of kisses on the corner of his
mouth.  "I want you," she whispered, slowly reclaiming
her place on his lap.  She couldn't kneel over him
anymore, so she slid one leg around his body, letting
her legs encircle his waist completely.  When he didn't
try to stop her, she kissed him again.  And again, and
again, pressing soft kisses across his jaw until she
reached his ear.

"I want you so much, Mulder," she whispered again,
feeling him shiver. "Please don't make me wait any
longer."  She felt his jaw clench.  "Don't leave."

He grasped her shoulders, pulling her back, looking at
her like she'd just told him she'd renounced her belief
in science and become an advocate of the Psychic
Friends Hotline.  "Leave?" he croaked.

She blinked.  Wasn't that what he was leading up to?

His fingers wound through her hair roughly and he
dragged her mouth to his, ravaging her with a kiss that
was, in itself, infinitely more satisfying that some of
her earliest sexual encounters had been in their
entirety.

"Scully, we're just getting started."

His arms moved low to encircle the small of her back,
and they wrapped around her tightly, pulling her body
to him even closer.  Without warning, he leaned
forward, his arms preventing her from falling
backward, and then he stood...taking Scully with him.

They never broke the kiss.

Scully wrapped her legs around Mulder's waist,
crossing her ankles behind him as he carried her
down the hall and into the bedroom.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Looking back on the moment some time later, Scully
couldn't even recall the two of them moving from the
living room to the bedroom.  She only knew that one
minute she had been terrified Mulder was about to
leave and the next minute they'd been tumbling onto
her bed in a tangle of arms and legs, hungry mouths
and feverish moans.

Unwinding Scully's limbs from around him, Mulder
stood up, leaving her to lie on the bed as he began to
remove the rest of his clothes.  It was the show of the
century, she thought, dazed by the beauty of the man
before her, and she had a front row seat.  Her heart
was thudding loudly as she watched him unfasten his
pants and slide them to the floor.  Deliberately, fully
aware of his audience, he stepped out of them and
turned slightly, giving her a full, unencumbered view of
the huge erection straining to escape the confines of
his grey Calvin Kleins.

Her tongue darted out and moistened her lips, an
instinctive response of anticipation and one she
couldn't prevent.  Mulder noticed and grinned,
obviously enjoying both his performance and the
response he was eliciting.  He moved closer to the
edge of the bed, standing before her with a look of
total possession as he slid his hands into the
waistband of the boxer/briefs and pushed them down
until they joined his unwanted pants on the floor.  He
stood before her unmoving for a moment, letting her
drink in every inch of his nude body as his own eyes
caressed her in a similar fashion.

It was almost too much to absorb, Scully thought,
dazed by the sight of him in all his aroused glory.

Fox Mulder.

Her partner.

Her friend.

Naked.

In her bedroom.

Thank you God.

Fully aroused to this extent, he was huge, she
realized.  Larger even than she remembered from
their encounter by the river.  Large enough to give her
pause...for about one thousandth of a millisecond.
She was mesmerized by the shear beauty of him, and
couldn't stop the words that tumbled automatically
from her lips.

"You're so beautiful."

She wished them back as soon as she heard them.
Most men by nature would have denied the claim of
beauty, even taken offense at such a description
given at a time like this.  But not Mulder.  Mulder
looked down at her as if she'd handed him the secrets
of the universe, gathered up and wrapped just for him.

"So are you."

She needed him so much.  It was no longer something
she merely wanted.  She needed to feel him warm and
tight against her.  Around her.  Inside her.  It was
primal...desperate.

Scully's hands moved down across her flat stomach
until her fingers encountered the lacy edge of her
panties.  Breathing hard, she slid her hands into the
waistband, as Mulder had done, eager to remove the
last barrier that stood between them.  She paused
when he moved around to stand directly in front of
her.

"Let me."

She pulled her hands away, expecting him to replace
them with his own.  But when he reached for her, it
wasn't her hips that felt the inviting warmth of his
fingers.  It was her legs.

Mulder's hands closed softly around each of her
ankles, his long fingers encircling her slender limbs
completely.  Without preamble, he began to pull her
slowly toward him across the mattress.  When she
was close enough for her knees to bend over the edge
of the bed, he released her, letting her legs dangle
toward the floor as he parted her knees slightly and
moved to stand between them.  Wordlessly, he
reached for the thin band of elastic that clung to her
hips.

Scully lifted her hips for him and he slowly pulled the
damp material down her legs completely until they slid
over her knees, where they fell to the floor unnoticed.
She eased backward once more, allowing room for
Mulder to join her on the bed, and he did, finally,
lowering his body slowly over hers and putting to rest
every unfathomable longing that had stood between
them for so long.  The weight of him, so real against
her, here in the waking hours, was too much to
process. Mulder...naked... wrapped around her at last.

She kissed him, slow and deep, making love to his
mouth with her tongue in an explicit imitation of what
he would soon be doing to her.  His tongue met her
thrust for thrust, and he moaned deep in his throat,
wrapping his hand around the back of her neck,
pulling her with him as he rolled to his side, threading
his knee between her legs.

Scully trailed her hands down his muscled back as low
as they would reach, finding with a vague sense of
disappointment that his magnificent ass was just
slightly out of her reach.  Wordlessly, she broke the
kiss and moved lower against him, licking his neck,
tasting him everywhere along the way until her mouth
found a new target of seduction in the form of his
raised nipple.  She flicked it with her tongue, watching
as it hardened even more, so similar to the response
of her own breasts.  She  covered it with her mouth
and sucked lightly, rewarded when Mulder's moan of
pleasure was accompanied by the feeling of his
erection thrusting sharply against her.

"Scully, touch me," he rasped.

Her hand was already there, closing softly around him,
marveling at the strength of him.  He was so hard...so
ready.  He moaned when she began stroking him, his
need obviously as desperate as hers.  She grazed her
thumb across the head, spreading the moisture that
was there already, causing him to cry out harshly.
When he did, her fingers curled tighter around him,
increasing the tempo of her movements.

God in heaven.  He felt amazing.

His skin burned her, soft and hot against her breasts,
her stomach...any place he touched her.  And he was
touching her everywhere.

Mulder's hand moved between her legs, his fingers
finding her core with earth-shattering precision. When
his finger slipped inside to stroke her, she bit down on
her bottom lip to keep from crying out, even as her
legs parted further, allowing him greater access.  He
kissed her deeply, and she felt her body give way to a
second finger as his exploration continued.

Desperately, she held on, wanting Mulder deep inside
her, matching her every movement when she climaxed
around him.   It was a heroic effort.  But then his
thumb moved up against the tight nerve center of her
arousal and he stroked firmly once...twice...

She lost the battle on the third, clutching helplessly at
the bedcovers, looking for anything that might serve to
keep her grounded, even as she soared. Everything in
her world exploded in an almost tangible freefall.  It
was too much.  Too much feeling, too much emotion.
Too much everything.

"Open your eyes, Scully."

She did, looking at him through the haze of what was
indescribable within the realm of mere words.  His
fingers were still buried within her.  "I was hoping we
were going to do that together," she murmured,
cupping his face in her hands.

"We still are."  His mouth crashed down upon hers.

She was living and breathing in a state of awareness
somewhere between heaven and earth, and she
wanted nothing more than to stay there forever.
Mulder's body moved to cover hers and she parted
her legs for him in eager invitation.  She felt her every
nerve scream silently when he pressed against her
body's entrance, then he pushed into her slowly,
pausing at first, allowing her time to adjust.

She needed it.

Even with the extent of her arousal, she couldn't
prevent the inevitable discomfort as her body
stretched to accommodate him. When at last he thrust
deeply, burying himself to the hilt, she gasped audibly,
despite her best efforts not to cry out.

Poised and still, buried intimately within her, Mulder
closed his eyes tightly, biting hard on his upper lip
before he found the control he obviously sought, and
looked down at her.  She knew he must have seen her
discomfort.

He gently stroked her hair from her forehead.  "Okay?"

God yes.

She nodded.  "Give me a second."  She adjusted to
him quickly, and nearly before the words were out of
her mouth, she was aching to feel him moving within
her.  Her body clenched tightly, eliciting a small
breathless moan from Mulder.  She looked at him,
raising a speculative eyebrow...then, pressed up
instinctively against him.

It was all the encouragement he needed.  Slowly, he
began to push into her, easily finding the steady
rhythm that she matched thrust for thrust.  Her hands
clutched at his back, pulling him as deeply inside her
as she could.  She felt the warm tension, so recently
eased in the wake of her orgasm, return even
stronger, dragging her full force toward the pinnacle
again.

She knew the exact moment when it grabbed Mulder
also.  He increased the tempo of his thrusts, breathing
hard against her neck as he drove himself further into
her.  Her palms slid across his sweat-slicked back,
and she moaned in wordless encouragement. She
was close...but Mulder was so much closer.

The gentleness was gone now, replaced by the
intensity of burning need.  He pulled back for the
briefest moment, and in a movement too quick for her
to fathom, he hooked his arm under her right knee,
pulling her leg up high toward her chest. Her body
opened even further for him.  She could feel him
pressing hard against the edge of her womb, deeper
and stronger than anything she had ever felt.  Mulder
braced his position, flattening his palms against the
mattress as he continued to pump into her
relentlessly. In an instant, she was at the peak again,
looking over the edge of oblivion.

"God...Scully..." he gasped.    "Come."

Whether it was a plea or a command, she complied,
totally enveloped by exquisite pleasure as the
downward spiral overwhelmed her.  He followed her
an instant later, spilling into her endlessly as she
spasmed around him.

Panting, his body still pulsing within her, Mulder sank
down against her breast, letting her wrap her arms
around his back.  He buried his face in her neck,
breathing heavily against her as her nails traced light
patterns against his damp skin.

This was all there was in the world, she thought.

Her and Mulder.

Like this.

He stirred, then, and made a reluctant motion to move
off her, but she didn't release him.  "Stay with me," she
said.

He eased back down, his body still joined with hers.
"I'm heavy," he told her, kissing the end of her nose,
then moving on to her cheekbone.

"I don't mind," she whispered.  "I want you to stay with
me like this...stay inside me...just a little while longer."

Eyes glimmering with totally transparent male pride,
he wrapped his arms around her, pulling them both
onto their sides without disengaging their bodies.  "I
aim to please."

She nibbled his bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth.
"You're right on target," she mumbled.

She lost track of the time they spent there, lying
together, passions momentarily spent. Try as she
might, she just couldn't form any cohesive thoughts
about what had transpired or what it meant for their
future together.  After building for four years,
something this incredible wasn't easily articulated.

She decided later that Mulder put it best.

Holding her tightly, his fingers trailing lightly up and
down her bare arm as she laid with her head on his
chest, he looked down at their entwined position and
grinned at her.

"I feel like we should high five."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

<end part 4>

Part 5

Dana Scully's Bedroom
12:15 a.m.
 

In the quiet stillness of the wee small hours, Mulder
tightened his arm around his partner's narrow waist,
feeling her body slide back tighter against his chest.
He still couldn't believe he was holding her, warm and
nude, in his arms at last.  He'd dreamed it so many
times, but the reality was unsurpassed by his wildest
imaginings.  Dana Scully was a sensory experience
unlike anything he'd ever known.  Her healing touch,
the sound of her voice...the fact that she tasted like
heaven and that every breath he took was filled with
the fragrance of her.  She smelled soft and fresh, like
sunshine and rain mixed together.  He could have
picked her out of a crowded room blindfolded, based
on nothing but the natural scent of her hair and skin,
so long ago committed to his heart's memory.

Her voice reached out to him softly, lighting the
comfortable darkness that embraced them. "When did
you know, Mulder?"

He settled his chin into the hollow of her shoulder.
"When did I know what?"

"When did you know this was going to happen?"  She
asked the question gently, her voice laden with
content, sleepy curiosity.

 "When did I know it was going to happen or when did
I know I wanted it to?"  He imagined he could see her
forehead creasing slightly as she pondered it.

"Well, I meant when did you know it was *going* to,
but you bring up an interesting question.  When did
you know you wanted it to?"

He nestled his chin further into the hollow of her neck,
feeling her squirm beneath him.  "Ticklish?" he
chuckled.

Her arms covered his at her waist, hugging herself
tighter within his embrace.  "Maaaaybe.  You're
avoiding the question."

"I'm thinking."

When had he known that he wanted Dana Scully?
When hadn't he known?  He'd been attracted to her
from the beginning, but early on, the feelings then had
been hormonal, nothing more than single man meets
single attractive woman.  Sure, there were moments of
raging desire... her hand pulling down the fabric of his
shirt, massaging his neck as she looked for traces of
infection...a glimpse of something just this side of
platonic in her eyes during a late night stake out...but
those were surface longings.  He'd known it even
then. When had it changed to something more?

He briefly catalogued some of the cases they'd
investigated, mentally rolling through the road trips,
the cheap motels, the cheesy diners, and then through
the less mundane milestones that marked their
journey together.  Abductions.  Tragedies.  Anguish.
Danger.  How could he separate all the elements that
were so tightly woven into their history?

Still...certain moments of clarity stood out in his mind.
Moments that has left such impact in his memory that
the scars would never be healed.  An empty, crumpled
rental car, abandoned in a ditch...regaining
consciousness in a strange hospital to be met with the
sight of her tired, beautiful face as she slept fitfully in
a chair beside him...a terrified voice on his answering
machine...and the chilling memory of a cold, granite
headstone that marked the premature passing of one
life -- and two souls.

"I knew for sure how much I wanted you the first time
they separated us," he told her at last.  "The first time
they closed the X-Files."

"Really?"  She sounded surprised.

"I suppose I'd felt it for some time before then, but that
was when I really admitted it to myself, that I was
miserable without you...on more than a professional
level."

He felt her nod.  "What about the other?"

"You mean when did I know we were destined to wind
up here?"

"Yeah."

He knew the answer, but he was loathe to say it.  He
didn't want to darken the mood with somber
recollections.  Moments like this were few, when they
could distance themselves completely from the
depravity that overwhelmed them so often.

"Mulder?"

"Braddock Heights."

Her body stilled ever so slightly against him.  "What?"

"Braddock Heights.  The videotapes.  When you got--"

"I know the case," she softly interrupted.  "I just can't
imagine the connection between that and where we
are now."  Her voice lowered to a whisper.  "I said
terrible things to you."

He kissed her neck, letting his tongue caress her
lightly until he began to feel her relax again.  "That
wasn't you."

"But still...I know it hurt when I accused you..."

"No."  He shook his head lightly against her hair,
placing silent kisses upon the auburn strands. How
like her to blame herself, he thought; and how like him
not to have known she would.  "It wasn't anything you
said or did."

He wondered, not for the first time, how clouded her
memories of the case actually were, how
compromised her entire sense of reality had been.
Did it still haunt her today, those hazy images of all
her worse fears come to life?  Apparently, it did.

For Mulder, though, something else had come to life
during that case, something that had shone upon him
like a lighthouse beacon in the midst of a raging
storm.  It was an epiphany for the ages:  Special
Agent Dana Katherine Scully was his soul mate.

He felt his body stir automatically when his soul mate
snuggled deeper into his embrace, her body wiggling
deliciously against him.  "What was it, then, about that
particular case?" she prodded.

She felt so incredibly warm and inviting.  His roaming
fingers began stroking her stomach lightly, drawing
small, invisible circles upon her flesh.

"Do we really want to talk about this right now," he
whispered. His hand ventured lower, stroking the soft
triangle of hair between her legs.  He  heard the slight
catch of her breath.  He was surprised when her hand
moved down to cover his, stilling the motions of his
fingers against her tender flesh.

"I'd really like to know, Mulder."  Her voice was
coaxing, filled with honest curiosity and the unspoken
promise of understanding.

He ceased his wayward seduction for the moment,
wrapping his arms around her, crossing them tightly
underneath her breasts.  "I went to the morgue," he
told her, quietly, staving off the revulsion that
threatened to overwhelm him every time he thought of
it.  "I went to identify your body."

She was silent, listening.

"I stood there behind those blinds thinking that I was
going to see you on that table...praying that it wouldn't
be you."  His throat constricted.

"It wasn't me," she whispered.  Her hand trailed down
his arm to his wrist, pulling it from its tucked position
so she could bring it to her mouth.  Softly, she
brushed a kiss across each fingertip, then laced her
own fingers with his.

He swallowed hard, regaining his voice.  "No.  It
wasn't you.  But it was a turning point of sorts for me."

"How so?"

"Because that was when I knew that I wasn't going to
spend another day of my life without you in it.
Walking into that morgue was like keeping an
appointment with the end of the world," he told her
honestly, uncaring how needy it sounded.  "It was the
second time I'd gotten a glimpse of what would be left
of me without you.  And I just knew I would never let it
happen again."

"It won't," she promised.

"No it won't.  I made myself that promise, and I've kept
it."

She laughed suddenly, the sound shattering brilliant
light over the somber shadows they'd been exploring.
"You've kept it?"  Her voice rose in obvious
amusement.  "You've kept a promise to yourself that I
would never leave you?  That's quite an
accomplishment, Mulder, even for you."

He chuckled at her description.  "Now who's twisting
words?"

She didn't return to the deep introspection, and he
was grateful.  Instead, she leveraged herself up on
her elbow and turned in his arms until she faced him.
Her breasts were pressed lightly against his chest,
making him keenly aware that her nipples hardened
instantly from the contact.  "So...if you had this big
master plan, Mulder," she teased, threading her
fingers through the hair on his chest, "why did it take
us so long to get here?  Huh?  Braddock Heights was
ages ago."

His mouth found hers and kissed it lightly, tugging her
upper lip gently between his teeth.  "I know," he
mumbled.  "But I had to wait for *you* to come
around."  His tongue flicked into her mouth for only a
second, eliciting a soft moan.  "I have to say,
Scully...you're kinda slow on the uptake sometimes."

"Me?" she squeaked, pulling back.

"Mmmm hmmm."  He began kissing his way across
her cheek.  "You've been a bit...indecisive."

"I have *not* been indecisive."

His hands reached low to cup her bottom, pulling her
agonizingly close to him.  "No?" he smiled wickedly.
"Then you tell me...when did *you* know you wanted
this to happen?"

Her response was instant.  "When I saw Phoebe kiss
you in the parking garage."

He stared at her in the darkness.  "That long ago?"

"That long ago."

That surprised the hell out of him.  He'd have bet his
last dollar Scully hadn't felt much more than
professional camaraderie for him until some time well
after her abduction.

Her abduction.

Automatically, his stomach clenched when he thought
of the months he'd spent without her.  He pushed
them away, refusing to follow that train of thought.
Those were memories better forgotten now; he had
happier pursuits to occupy him tonight.

His tongue traced the edge of her jaw.  "That's a lot of
wasted time," he conceded.  "I must be slipping."  He
felt her shudder.

"Obviously."

His head settled on the pillow close to hers.  "I'm
finding this very insightful," he said seriously.
"Soooo...you wanted this to happen ever since
Phoebe kissed me in the parking garage.  That
answers the first question.  What about the second:
when did you know this was *going* to happen?"

He heard the smile in her voice.  "Same moment."

His hoarse laughter severed the last remains of their
cozy mood.  Of all the things she could have said, all
the moments she could have pointed to, he was not
prepared for that one.  So many years ago, so early in
their partnership, Dana Scully had staked a claim on
him that went unpursued until now.  To hell with
slipping.  He was not slipping.

He was blind as a fucking bat.

Her body shook lightly as she joined in his continuing
laughter.  "Well I was...unprepared.  I'd never had to
compete for your time before."

Compete?  There was no comparison.  Dana Scully
was in a league Phoebe Green could only aspire to.
He couldn't suppress the grin. "Okay.  Parking garage.
Watch tower. I'm sensing a pattern here, Scully.  I'm
gonna go out on a limb...you really can't stand,
Phoebe, can you?"

She pushed her leg in between his, moving up as
close as possible and tilted her head back to look up
at him.  "Well I don't know if I'd go *that* far."

His memory called up the image of a half-dressed
Scully, high as a kite on Demerol, rattling on to him
about Phoebe as if he'd been her oldest girlfriend.
She hadn't even known who she was talking to.

<Mulder likes women with those long Barbie legs, like
Fleabie.">

<"Who?">

<"Fleabie.  She was his girlfrin once, but there was a
fire inna hotel and I hate her.">

Now she wouldn't go far enough to say she couldn't
stand the woman?

Yeah.

Right.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Okay.  You're a model
of open-mindedness, and Phoebe doesn't bother you
at all.  Got it."

Scully looked slightly offended.  "Don't patronize me,
Mulder."

God, she was fun to tease.  It was so damn easy to
get under her skin.

"I didn't say she didn't bother me at all.  We both know
that's not true.  I'm just saying that I think the phrase
"can't stand her" is kind of strong.  I mean, I hardly
know her.  I might not particularly admire the way she
conducts herself on the job, but that's a professional
opinion, not a personal one."

"Of course it is."  He kissed his way lightly toward her
lips.

She fell silent for a moment.  "Mulder?"

"Mmmm?"

She dropped her head forward against him, hiding her
face.  "I can't stand Phoebe."

His hand came up, threading into her hair, pulling her
head back to look at him.  "Who?"

Their mouths met lightly in a soft open kiss that left
them both breathing hard when she slowly pulled
away.

"Good answer," she smiled.

"I have my moments."

"So you keep telling me."  Her mouth covered his
again, preventing any further conversation.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

<end part 5>

Part 6
 

1:27 a.m.

"I can't believe you're still harping on this."  Scully's
fork stabbed at the remains of her cheese omelet as
she polished it off with obvious enthusiasm.

She sat before him at the small table in her dining
room, hair tousled from his roaming hands, lips full
and inviting, still showing the evidence of his kisses.

"I'm not harping on it," he offered lightly.  "I just find it
hard to believe I didn't know this about you after four
years.  This is a very important dimension of your
personality that you've been hiding from me all this
time."

There was precious little of her hidden from him now,
he acknowledged with whole-hearted approval.  She
wore nothing but his white shirt, the sleeves rolled up
past her wrists.  It was completely unbuttoned, giving
him a delicious view of the dappled shadows that
played across her swell of her breasts. That shirt had
never looked better.  He'd imagined her in it before,
slipping into it in the wake of their lovemaking.  The
reality was more breath-taking than his wildest
dreams.

"I wasn't hiding anything from you,"  Scully told him
with affected disdain.  "There just haven't been many
opportunities for you to see me in a kitchen before
now."

"My point exactly."  He stifled a grin, swallowing the
last bite of his own late night meal, washing it down
with a long drink of iced tea.

"That doesn't mean I was hiding it from you."   She
pushed back her chair and stood, the sudden
movement separating the two halves of the shirt front
even wider, gracing him an all-too-brief view of her
nude body underneath.  Picking up her empty plate,
she stacked it loudly on top of his own and carried
them both to kitchen.

"Besides," she called out, "this is the nineties, Mulder.
A lot of women don't cook."

"There's not cooking, Scully...and then there's
`unable-to-make-toast.""

She came back into the dining room carrying the small
vase of flowers, leaning over his chair to set them
lightly in the center of the table.  She curled her head
over his shoulder and brought her face close to his,
kissing him soundly on the corner of his mouth. "You
distracted me."

Her hair fell across his cheek like a silken veil, and he
inhaled deeply, relishing the scent.  Was there any
part of her body that wasn't excruciatingly appealing?
He kissed her back softly, reeling from the knowledge
that he could do so at will.  "That's a flimsy excuse,
Agent Scully," he countered.  "To the best of my
knowledge, I was equally engaged in those
distractions...and did I burn the omelets?"

She refused to be baited.  "No, thank goodness.  I
readily admit your culinary skills saved both our lives,
Mulder.  Good to know one of us can cook."  She
moved back to her own chair and sat facing him, one
leg curled underneath her on the seat cushion.  His
shirt slipped tantalizing low on her shoulder but
managed to hold its place with an irritating disregard
for the law of gravity.

"I can not tell a lie," he told her, lightly patting his bare
stomach.  "Omelets and spaghetti with meat sauce.
That's my entire repertoire."

"Well, you're ahead of me," she conceded.  "Although
I'm not totally hopeless...I make a mean salad."

"Perfect.  Between the two of us, we're a balanced
meal."

"That's lovely, Mulder.  We should have that engraved
on something."

She yawned, stretching her arms up high overhead as
she did.  She swayed side to side for a moment, then
bent low at the waist, stretching her arms out before
her in a forward imitation of her previous stretch.  She
was surprisingly limber.  He knew she worked out, but
most of the time he saw her, she was dressed for
office or field work, not recreation.  Whatever it was
that she did in her off time to keep her muscles
flexible, he was a firm believer in its effectiveness.

She straightened with a satisfied sigh and leaned
forward on the table, cupping her chin in her hand.
The movement was completely innocent, yet it was
enough to spark a memory that was anything but.

Scully, in another place.

Leaning against another table.

In a comparable state of undress.

His mouth went dry, as he recalled that moment in the
watch tower.  She'd been standing before him with her
pants lowered, professionally instructing him on how
to give her an injection of Demerol, patiently talking
him through his nervousness at purposely piercing her
flesh.  He'd tried so hard to pay attention to her words,
and he'd been moderately successful...until she bent
over that table.

The minute she leaned across that small rickety card
table, all bets were off.  To hell with professional
detachment.  All he could think about was his hands
on her hips, tugging her back against his rock hard
erection.  He'd done the only responsible thing, of
course.  He'd mustered all his will power and stuck
that needle into her hip, only to watch her hobble off to
the other side of the room toward the shabby cot.  But
while she was sleeping that night and nearly every
night since, his thoughts had played that scenario a
hundred times with a hundred variations.  The only
constant was that heaven on earth began when Dana
Scully bent forward over that table.

His body hardened uncomfortably as he explored the
fantasy.  It never failed.  All he had to do was conjure
up the image, and his erection was immediate.  It had
nearly humiliated him on more than one occasion
lately.

"Mulder?"

He blinked.  "What?"

"I said you look like you're a million miles away."

Not a million.  Maybe eight or nine hundred...

"What were you thinking about?"

Deer in headlights.

It wasn't what he was thinking about, but it sure as hell
was how he felt.  Like a blinded animal frozen in fear
of the immanent crash.

His silence did not go unnoticed.  She raised the ever-
speculative eyebrow in amusement.  "Now I'm *really*
intrigued.  So tell me, Mulder.  Where did you go just
now?"

Heaven.

He still didn't answer.  He just looked at her, sitting
there in nothing but his wrinkled shirt while he
weighed his options.  Mentally, he clutched the coin of
fate, undecided whether he should pocket it and walk
away, or flip it and take a chance on winning the
lottery.

The warring looks that crossed his face must have
given the woman before him quite a show.  "Gee," she
said coyly, "I thought the question was fairly
straightforward and easy, but I guess I was wrong."
She moved closer, as if speaking in confidence.  "Is it
hard, Mulder?"

Yes.  God, yes.

"The question, that is."

She was enjoying his discomfiture, he realized.  "You
just looked like you were thinking of something
really... interesting."

You, lying across this table.  Me, standing behind
you...interesting enough?

His mind had all the right answers, but the words
wouldn't come.  He stared at her, feeling as though
she had somehow cornered him.  He wanted to tell
her, he realized.  That gleam in her eyes was too
damn tempting.  God help him if she actually showed
an interest in exploring the idea...

Blood surged through him until the erection was
painful, pushing hard against his briefs.  No, he
couldn't.  Maybe sometime. Maybe even soon...but not
now.  Not this first night together.

"It was nothing," he muttered.

She ducked her head to look under the table at his
lap, grinning as she straightened back up.  "Must've
been a pretty impressive nothing."

He felt himself flush slightly in embarrassment, and
the knowledge stunned him.  He did *not* blush.
Especially not over matters of sex.

"Let's change the subject."

"You know," she grinned, "before I looked under the
table, I might have gone along with that.  But now I
have to say...not a chance in hell.  You can't sit here
and look at me like that and then not tell me what you
were thinking."

"How was I looking at you?"

She leaned forward, causing the lowest side of the
shirt to fall loosely to the crook of her elbow.  "Like
you just finished your omelet appetizer and I'm about
to become the main course."

The woman had a remarkable way with words.

His resolve was weakening.

Sturdy table.  Scully's beautiful bare ass pressing
against him at just the right level...

"Come on, Mulder..." she coaxed.  "You know you
want to tell me.  I can see it all over your face."

She'd seen it all over the rest of him too.  What the
hell.  In for a penny, in for a pound.

Before he reconsidered, the confession tumbled out.
"I was remembering that night in the watch tower," he
told her pointedly.  "When I gave you that shot of
Demerol."

She looked puzzled.  "When you gave me the shot?"

"Well it wasn't the shot I was thinking about."

"What were you thinking about?"

Say it, Mulder, he dared himself.  Just look her in the
eye and say it.

"I was thinking about how I stood there and watched
you bend over that table and  how every night since
then, I've had fantasy after fantasy about reliving that
moment with you."

It took a minute to sink in.  He saw the flash of
awareness when she realized what he meant, and his
heart caught.  He didn't flinch from her clear blue
gaze, curious to see what kind of reaction she would
have.  Curiosity?  Excitement? Revulsion?

What he saw was the last thing he expected.

Invitation.

Ever so slowly, her eyes never leaving his, Scully
pushed herself back from the table and stood up, her
movements seamless as she glided toward him with
powerful, feline stealth.  The entire universe and
everything in it stood still, watching her seductive
approach.  He'd never seen anything like it.

For the first time in his thirty six years, Fox Mulder had
no doubt of the existence of heaven.  It stood before
him at this very moment, wearing a wrinkled white
shirt and an expression that Botticelli himself couldn't
have captured on his best day.

She didn't say a thing, just waited patiently for him to
rise, and when he did, she placed her hands on his
upper arms, stretching up on her tiptoes to place a
soft kiss against his lips.  Then she slowly turned her
back to him and moved to stand in front of the table,
looking over her shoulder to whisper the only thing
she'd said since his confession.

"All right."

He watched, mesmerized, as her hands came up to
the open collar of the shirt, pulling ever so gently on
the two halves, parting them completely.  White cotton
slid effortlessly down her arms, dropping like water
from her fingertips into a pool on the floor.

Even as his body screamed its need, he stood rooted
to the floor, in awe of the fathomless trust that had
been placed in his hands.  No qualms.  No hesitation.
He'd told her his heart's desire and she'd given herself
to him without question.

How did a person ever merit that kind of gift?  That
was exactly what Scully was, he realized.  A gift.
Something gracious bestowed upon him that he would
endlessly strive to prove himself worthy of.

As if he ever could.

"Mulder?"

Her whisper pulled him back to her, and he heard the
slight uncertainty in her tone -- uncertainty caused by
his hesitation, not his admission.

"No?"  Her voice sounded strange, choked with a mix
of emotions, hurt...confusion...maybe some
disappointment?

"Yes," he breathed.

He wrapped his arms around her slim waist, drawing
her back against his chest.  "That wasn't hesitation,"
he whispered into her hair.  "That was a moment of
reverence."

She pushed her bottom back firmly, rubbing against
his cock.  The friction of her bare cheeks stroking
back and forth against the cotton of his briefs made
him groan in pleasure.  He was beyond the point of
wanting.  His body ached with the fury of wanting her,
every muscle rigid with the urgent need to bury
himself in her small, tight body.

Had it only been a matter of lust, he'd have taken her
already.  He'd be two seconds from orgasm right now,
uncaring if the entire world was ending around him.
But this wasn't just a matter of slaking his lust.
Somehow, it had even transcended the act of making
love.  This was the ultimate measure of trust, and
she'd placed it firmly in his hands without question.
Here I am, her actions told him.  This is me at my most
vulnerable.  I know you would never hurt me.

He never would.  Not even to realize a fantasy that
had haunted every hour of his life for the past four
weeks.

He lowered his head to hers, rubbing his nose and
mouth softly back and forth across the top of her
head.  "You don't have to do this," he whispered.  It
was important to them both that he say it.  She had to
know the decision was hers and hers alone to make.
Even hers to take back if she wanted...if she needed
to.

Scully's arm moved up high over her head, reaching
back to cup his cheek.  She turned her head to look
up at him as her voice reached him, soft and thick with
emotion.  "I've never been anyone's fantasy before."

His heart melted completely.  She had no idea how
beautiful she was.  He bent to kiss her parted lips,
pulling her bottom lip between his teeth and tugging
gently before releasing it to the ministrations of his
tongue.  "You have," he told her honestly.  "So many
times I can't count."

She turned forward and pressed her bottom against
him again. His hand splayed flat against her abdomen,
and he heard a little mewling sound in the back of her
throat, an expression of need that seemed as great as
his own.  For one fleeting moment, he thought it was
the most arousing thing he would ever hear.  The very
next second proved him wrong.

"Please..."

The last of his self-control shattered.

Mulder freed himself from the constricting fabric of his
briefs, and kicked them aside, inching closer to press
himself intimately against her cheeks.  With each
passing second, the desperation was growing.  If he'd
had any doubt that Scully wanted this as much as he
did, the anguished sound of her own desire, begging
him to touch her, wiped it away completely.

He wanted the all of it, the whole experience.  He
wanted to take her completely, ravishing her body
until she screamed with the force of her need.  He'd
heard the sound before, in his dreams, and it was
soul-shattering.  Was Scully one to scream in the
throes of passion?  She hadn't yet revealed that
answer to him, but Mulder knew one thing with
absolute certainty:  it would take more than a few soft
words and caresses to find out.

"Mulder--"  She arched her back, pressing her head to
his shoulder with deliberate slowness.  A moment
later, she began to sink low against him, her knees
bending deep as she continued the journey south,
pressing her back and shoulders firmly against his
chest, his stomach, his groin...

Her hair spread out around his erection, parting of its
own volition, capturing him in a prison of auburn silk.
When she shook her head slowly, rubbing against
him, the contact was devastating.

He bit the inside of his cheek in a last-ditch effort to
maintain control.  It hurt like hell, but it pulled him back
from the edge.  He reached down, curling his fingers
tightly into her hair, tugging her up until she stood
before him again.  He didn't release her, but instead
pulled her head to the side, baring her neck to his
hungry mouth.

She moaned when he nipped at the sensitive hollow
of her throat.  His teeth, his tongue, his breath
explored every inch of the her neck and shoulder,
alternately biting and sucking, licking and nibbling his
way lower.  She lifted her arm as his mouth grazed a
path across it.

His body was on fire,  throbbing against her.  He was
desperate to ease the ache, Scully's soft keening
cries spurring him on.  He pressing tighter against the
curve of her bottom, his cock lightly stroking up and
down between her cheeks.  He couldn't stand it
another second.

"Now, Scully..."   He stepped one foot between her
legs, nudging her feet further apart as he pressed
himself against her.  She curled her fingers around the
edges of the table and slowly bent down, until she was
almost at a ninety degree angle, her entire upper body
resting upon the table top, her legs spread wide to the
floor.

She looked back at him with the most seductive
expression he'd ever seen in his life.  "Do you want
me to say it?" she whispered.

Jaw clenched, he placed his hands on her hips,
positioning himself against her hot, wet core.  "Say it."

She turned her head away, laying her cheek against
the smooth surface, her fingers clutching the table
edges in anticipation.  "Take me, Mulder."

He thrust into her sharply, hearing her cry out at the
initial intrusion, but he didn't stop this time.  He
couldn't.  Her body was like an exquisite silken vice,
holding him so tightly that he thought he would die
from the sheer pleasure of it.

There was no preamble.  No easing their way into it.
As soon as he felt her body yield to him, he began
strong, deep movements within her.  Without her legs
raised against him in response, her body was even
tighter, increasing the intensity of sensations he found
in her intimate embrace.

She couldn't meet his movements.  She'd been eager
and deliciously responsive the first time they'd made
love, but this time the tempo was his to command, and
he was relentless, pushing them both to the limit with
every thrust.  Each time he would nearly withdraw
from her body, and each time he surged back even
harder a second later.  His hands held firmly to her
hips steadying her to the strength of his movements.

Hard and fast, he drove into her, watching her hands
tighten around the smooth wood.  Her knuckles
whitened, and the table shook violently beneath them.

The sound of trembling glass and melting ice
accentuated every move they made.  Mulder's empty
glass was the first casualty, shimmying toward the
edge of the tabletop and plunging over the side as the
small flower arrangement waged a battle of its own.  A
few inches beyond the top of Scully's head, the vase
trembled with ever-increasing frenzy, water sloshing
out from both sides as it pitched back and forth.
Finally, it succumbed to the moment, toppling over.
Flowers escaped one by one in time with Mulder's
movements, rolling across the shaking wood,  a poetic
accompaniment to every breathless moan of the
woman whose body they surrounded.

"Oh God...Mulder..."

Scully slid her arms up further across the dark wooden
slab, her hands still clutching the edges.  The stretch
elongated her upper torso, causing her legs to clench
together ever so slightly.  It was a small adjustment,
but Mulder cried out from sheer rapture when he felt
the inside of her body clench around him even tighter.
He was gasping now with the force of every thrust,
and she answered him each time with a soft moan of
her own.

He felt his impending orgasm far too soon...long
before he was ready.  But he had no more control over
the approaching abyss than he had over his body's
instinctive response to Dana Scully.  Some things
were too powerful to fight, especially when defeat was
meted out with sensations this exquisite.  A couple
more thrusts and he came hard and fast, unable to
stave off the climax any longer.  His entire body
shuddered with overwhelming release.  Dazed, he
held on, bending low over Scully to ride out the
sensations, his chest pressed tightly against her bare
back as he spent the last of his passion within her.

His own body began to still, the waves of orgasm
receding slowly, but Scully continued to move beneath
him, her soft moans telling him what he already
knew...he'd left her hanging.  He hadn't been able to
wait this time.  He kissed the back of her neck, so
tantalizingly presented within reach of his lips, then
pushed himself upright, breathing hard.  He withdrew
from her body as he stood, legs trembling.

Scully began to gather herself as he moved away from
her.  Panting, she unclenched her hands and flexed
them, forcing circulation to return.  She slid back
toward him, smoothing her palms along the flat
surface of the table into the spilled mixture of water
and wildflowers.  He reached to help her, his hands
sliding underneath her stomach from the sides,
scooping her up from the table. He pulled her against
him easily so that they were in a vertical spooned
postion.

She was heavy in his arms, her body half-limp from
stiffness and unfulfilled desire.  Allowing him to
support her, she found her balance slowly, still
shaking against him, fighting for the release he'd
denied her.  She looked up, breathless, but the smile
she gave him was beatific.

"Enjoy yourself?" she panted.

He shifted her weight to one arm and reached low with
the other, threading his fingers through the damp hair
between her legs. "Yes I did," he breathed.  "Now I get
to finish enjoying you."

One finger slid inside, stroking the hot moisture deep
within her.  She moaned loudly, the sound
encouraging him to repeat the movement again, faster
and harder.  When he did, her knees began to buckle.

Without breaking their position, Mulder inched
cautiously backward, bringing Scully with him, until he
felt the chair against the backs of his legs.  He sat,
keeping his legs together and pulled her down to
straddle his lap.  She leaned back, resting against his
chest, her legs dangling on either side of his.  With no
hesitation, she reached for his hand and pulled it low
between her legs.

His fingers found her easily, but it wasn't enough.  The
woman on his lap responded instantly to his every
touch, but he wanted more for her.  He wanted her
wild.  He wanted even more of her body's secrets
exposed to his touch.  He moved his own legs apart,
spreading them wide, forcing hers to open even wider
around him.

When his fingers found her again, she screamed,
throwing her head back against his shoulder.  This
was what he had wanted. This was the image of his
dreams.  Dana Scully, outside herself with passion,
mindless from the feeling of his body, his hands,
pressing against her...stroking...thrusting...

She came as forcefully as he had, crying out his
name, and the sound broke over him like another
fulfillment of his own passion.  To be responsible for
that catch in her voice, the uncontrollable shaking of
her head back and forth against his neck, was as
satisfying as anything he'd ever known.  Dana Scully
was not a woman who easily lowered the barriers that
surrounded her.  To see her at her most vulnerable --
like this, with him -- was an experience he would
treasure with perfect clarity until the day he died.

Ever so slowly, their infinitesimal world began to
expand once more, letting in the images of reality that
had discreetly kept their distance.  The world still
existed, Mulder realized, though his perception of it
was hazy, clouded no doubt by the luminescence of
the red-haired beauty in his arms.

The beauty stretched contentedly.  "Wow."

He could only nod.

She looked down, a puzzled frown crossing her face.
He followed the direction of her gaze.  In her left hand,
she held a single camellia, still in one piece but
slightly crumpled, showing tell tale signs of damage
from its erotic journey from vase to table to chair.

"What the..."

She looked toward the table, her eyes widening.
Water and flowers were everywhere.  His glass of tea
lay on the carpet in a soggy puddle of melting ice.  A
rumpled pile of cotton consisting of a white shirt and a
pair of Calvin Klein underwear completed the decor.

"Mulder?"

"Hmmm?"  He expected her to comment on their
destructive sexual rampage, but when she spoke, he
found himself equally surprised.

"Why is my table all the way out in the hallway?"

He did a double take.

Sure enough, the table was a good three feet away
from its normal position.  He couldn't suppress the
laugh.  "I don't know, Scully, maybe it's just me...but I
think we're pretty good at this."

She turned in his arms, her eyes sparkling as she
offered him the crumpled flower.  "I'd have to say,
Agent Mulder, that we definitely have our moments."
 

END
 

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