Part 3/3
****

"You know, Mulder, you really are quite beautiful." She purrs. 
"And, as a matter of fact, I could spend a lifetime kissing and 
tasting every inch of you." She's moved now to the rounded
slopes of his ass, her hands framing his hips. 

He nods, apparently agreeing that she *could* spend a lifetime with 
her mouth all over him. He's also discovered that there seems to be a 
rather direct connection between her wet warmth against his ass and 
just how much harder he's getting.  He can feel the weight of 
Mulder, Jr. straining upwards and he touches himself, hoping to ease 
the throbbing ache or hold off the inevitable. Because he's very sure 
that if she keeps doing what she's doing, he's going to shoot some 
stars... 

With one hand holding himself firmly at the base, he sighs, relieved 
that he has temporarily derailed at least some of his raging 
hormones. But his relief is short-lived because the red haired vixen 
behind him is threatening to render him completely without control. 
As her tongue darts along the line separating his cheeks, her fingers 
brush his inner thighs oh-so-lightly...just before he feels the weight 
of his sac in her palm. 

"OhJesus fuckingChrist, Scully." 

As if in direct response to his supplication, she wets her finger, 
finding his southern most hole, as her other hand rolls his balls. 
He grips Mulder, Jr. at the base more tightly as his eyes slam shut. 

"Scully?" He manages to husk out that one word, but it gets her 
attention. "I thought we were touring my work site."

She detects his note of wry humor and pauses, although her index 
finger continues to massage the tight muscle. Kissing his ass, she 
smiles and tells him there will be time for *that* tour a little later 
and 'besides, she's enjoying the view already, thank you very much'. 
She gently releases his sac. So her fingers can knead his butt.

Warm, supple granite. She decides that those words describe his ass 
quite nicely. Her hands slide up to the taut, narrow nip of his waist 
as she butterfly kisses and then swirls her tongue in maddening little 
circles out over his hip and then back to where cheek meets cheek. 
When she notices movement in his arm again, she hop scotches her 
tongue and lips outward toward his hipbone. And finds his hand now 
moving lightly, but almost steadily, up and down along his shaft. His 
breathing comes in pneumatic drill puffs.

"Mulder, Mulder, Mulder...what do we have here?" 

When he doesn't respond, she glances up toward his face. His 
beautiful face only partially lit by a string of wire mesh 
cage-enclosed work lights strung like Chinese lanterns, makes his 
carefully controlled arousal just barely visible to her. Eyes closed 
tightly, head back, lips parted, jaw clenched, a look in the shadows,
the look of someone soon to lose that careful control. 

Her devilish smile grows. She knows exactly what 'she has here'. 
One very hot, very turned on partner.

She herself is finding it more and more difficult to not just spread 
the drop cloths out farther and relieve herself of her clothing. Just 
the thought of his throbbing erection humming as it drives into her 
and his mouth on the hard points of her breasts is turning her to 
liquid. All it would take now is a few swipes from her two fingers 
between her folds and over her clit and... And she pushes that 
thought aside for now.

He's barely thinking coherently, reduced to pure sensation by this 
woman who's somehow gone into the local phone booth wearing 
her towering heels and tailored suits and come out of the booth a 
sultry temptress. This woman whose tongue and lips are tattooing 
every inch of his ass and his hips. This woman who's torturing him so
 wonderfully that he has to make the agony subside. But he can't, it 
didn't work. He's given in and if she won't touch him, then he'll take 
matters into his own hand.

In a flash of blinding light he never sees coming, three things 
happen simultaneously. Her firm 'gun hand' grip tightens over his 
and squeezes, surely stroking up and up and then down and down.  
Her teeth clamp down on the fleshiest part of his ass as her tongue 
flicks and stabs at him, wetting the flesh as she nips and bites 
again. And her other hand on his hip pins him in place against her. 
He has surely died and gone to sexual ecstasy heaven.

But just when he thinks she may allow him some relief, she is not 
touching him...anywhere.

She wriggles out from between the wide steel posts behind her and 
his quaking body in front of her, spreading the drop cloths with her 
feet as she moves in front of him. 'Oh, yes', she thinks, sizing up 
the full bore look of his heightened gaze. "So, Mulder, you never 
did tell me what you do up here." 

She reaches up to brush a lock of sweaty hair from his forehead, 
noting that he nearly jumps at the touch of her fingers against his 
sizzling skin. He doesn't reply. She doesn't expect him to.
 
Her hands lay flat against his groin on either side of his turgid 
flesh and she backs him toward the T-posts. Before he can raise even 
one brow in question, she slides her hands from his pelvis up under 
his tee and flannel shirt. She feels his breath hitch as her hands 
move to his chest, her fingers barely grazing his nipples before they 
slip down and around to his back then draw up and over his hips, 
returning to where they began.  She's burning with MulderFever and 
there are very few known cures. She's more than willing to swallow 
her medicine though to help ease her rising temperature.

It somehow registers that he's asked her what she's doing, but she 
decides that 'showing is sometimes telling' and drops to her knees 
once again, adoring and worshipping.

"Fuck, Scully."

"I love it when you use that Oxford literary education, Mulder."

Her mouth is on him, but only barely, only enough to require him to 
frantically search for something to support him. One step back and 
his hands try to gain purchase on the metal posts, gripping so tightly 
he's sure he's cut off all circulation. A moot point since all of his 
blood has moved to his cock. His cock now being devoured by 
her exquisite lips.

"Mmmm..." She vibrates against the very tip of him, her hands on the 
base and on high on his hip. And as the vibrations travel through to 
his very root, he finds his back against the girder, freeing his hands 
to cup her head.

"Scully, please."  She smiles as she tongues her way downward; not 
sure if he's begging for more or begging for her to cease and desist. 
His balls have started to rise closer to his body, but it's too soon.
She's hungry and wants to totally satisfy her hunger.

He tries again. "Scuhhlee...uh..." but not knowing exactly what he 
wants, she hollows out her cheeks, trying to suck the stuffing from 
him.

His fingers massage her scalp as he tries not to thrust into her face. 
She's told him before that she loves giving him head, that she loves 
it when he reaches the point of no return, that she loves is when he 
fucks her mouth. When she hums again at the very base of him and 
she gently cradles his sac, his hips surge forward in earnest, all 
semblance of self-restraint rocketing skyward.

She rides it out with him, swearing that she's about to come right 
along with him, her leggings are so wet that she's glad it's dark 
around them.  He's lost; she knows the signs well. He's thrusting 
now at a steady pace, but she can tell he's still trying to hold back, 
not wanting to make her deep throat him. Using her hand to stroke 
him, her lips move once again to the sensitive ridge around the 
corona. She pauses for the briefest second and then tongue-rims the
underside, and then slipping him right back inside.
 
"OhohohfuckScuhhhlleeeee..." She feels a delicious thrill as she 
presses herself to him, her hands holding onto his ass to keep him 
in place. When her finger finds the spot between his ass and his 
balls and applies steady pressure, his final shred of perceived 
control vanishes.

He watches the fireworks happening behind his eyelids as she draws 
his life force from him via his cock. Her hands allow him no escape, 
he rides her face, thrusts into her mouth, his body moving of its own 
free will. He's no more sure how they ended up her than he is sure 
of his own name. When her finger finds that one spot, there are no 
words and too many words for the sensations that course through him.

She slinks her way up his body, holding him against her, her hands 
resting on his shoulders between cotton and flannel. 

"Kiss me, Mulder," she whispers as her lips touch his. 

She notes that for someone so spent, he has a lot of spark left in 
him as his lips part hers and his tongue slips inside. The sensation 
of his fingers on her scalp flashes and zings, igniting the fire 
flaring deep within. She draws back, looking into his eyes. Those 
eyes that smile at her with a mixture of amusement and satiation and 
love and...something else. 

She knows that look. She knows the way it makes her insides turn 
and her very core throb with need for him. She takes a step back, 
shaking her head imperceptibly, and laughs as he tried to step 
forward, almost tripping over the rumpled clothing at his ankles.

"C'mere, Scully."

"No." She laughs, the sight of him both endearing and almost comical...
if it weren't for the lust in the depths of his eyes. "Get dressed, 
partner, we're going home."

He takes his bandanna from his back pocket and dries himself before 
buttoning his jeans. His work boots make their way across the drop 
cloths, his hands seeking hers. "I asked nicely," he murmurs as he 
draws her into his waiting arms.

"You did. So how about if I take you home with me?" She offers.

~~Finis