Gabriel
Chapter Fifteen


The Rocky Mountains
September 23, 2001
7:45 p.m.


His head was filled with her essence.  On the
pillow he rubbed his nose into, on his tongue,
especially when he passed it over his lips. 
Behind the dark cloak of his eyelids, he saw her
with the half-awake drifting of dreams... her
eyes, cool yet dark with passion, the arch of
her neck as she strove for completion.  The
sound of her simple cries and the feel of her
body wrapped around him like an inferno he had
no desire to escape.

Yeah, she was right.  Pretending was mighty
nice.  In fact, he felt like pretending again,
smiling to himself as he shook off sleep.

He rolled to his side, the feel of the cool
sheets and the sound of trickling water making
him open his eyes with a start.  She was gone;
his breath quickened with the onset of panic
until he caught sight of her standing before the
fire.

She'd moved the rocker out of the way and
replaced it with the table she'd used while
shaving him.  One of the kitchen chairs sat
facing the fire, but she wasn't seated; instead,
she stood on the towels she'd laid out on the
wood floor.  A small splash overflowed from the
porcelain basin as she dipped her hands low in
the water. Her hair was back in the ribbon,
pulled away from a face calm with concentration. 
A small hum reached his ears, but that wasn't
what mesmerized him.

It was the uncovered expanse of naked back.  The
straight spine, the round globes of her
backside, and slim, short legs glowed in the
light from the fireplace and he felt his body
harden under the blanket that draped across his
hips.  But he made no sound, content to just
watch her for a while.

She ran the washcloth over her shoulders slowly,
her head dropping back with a shiver as the
water ran in rivulets down the curves.  Over the
swell of her hips, he followed the teardrop with
his gaze, watching as it skimmed the outside of
her thigh before curling back in to caress her
muscular calf.  As it disappeared into the
terrycloth beneath her heel, he almost groaned
with the urge to steal it with his tongue.

It was torture to just lie in the bed and not
move, but he waited, sure the full view was just
around the corner.  And he wasn't disappointed,
as she dipped the cloth into the water again
before half-turning.  Her body was in profile
now and he felt his blood warm at the sight of
her breasts, still firm but full above the swell
of her belly.  The baby sat low in her abdomen
and, with a slow grin, he remembered the
maneuvering he'd had to do to get beneath the
jealous little kicker.  But the pleasant burn
that set up residence in his heart more than
made up for the wrung-out feeling of his
muscles.

God, she was beautiful, he thought, amazed again
at just how much she stirred his blood.  Other
women, past dalliances - they'd had the same
power over him, yes.  But none had ever touched
his mind as she had.  Her beauty was not just of
face and form.  It was of heart and soul.  The
absence of memory couldn't diminish the capacity
for love and acceptance she held within herself.

Lifting one arm, she ran the cloth down her
side.  In the warm glow of the flames, he could
see the little mole that dotted her skin, and
remembered her fingers moving so long ago, the
sad words in the tower leading to mutual
forgiveness.

<It was the only mark I had left that was me.>

That wasn't true.  Even oblivious to her true
self, the marks of Scully shone through.  In her
eyes, in her voice, in the way she loved Gabriel
like he was Mulder.  He supposed he should be
jealous; after all, she'd given her body to
someone other than Mulder.  Was it even possible
to be jealous of yourself?  No, he had no reason
to let that illogical emotion creep in.

Because she knew.  Pretense aside, she knew he
was her mate.  Embraced it before she even
touched him - gave herself to him because, while
her mind refused to acknowledge it, her heart
and body did.

She turned from him once again to bring the
chair over the towels.  Sitting, she bent to
wash first one leg, then the other, grunting
softly as if her back bothered her.  But her
slight grimace dissolved into a faint smile as
she straightened, dropping the washcloth on her
thigh to grab the back of the chair with both
hands.  Thighs spread, a slight *pop* blended in
the with crackle of the fire and her mouth
dropped with a satisfied sigh.

The urge to walk over to her ate at his gut, but
still, he didn't move, knowing the show would
end as soon as she knew he was awake.  And God,
he was glad he found a bit of willpower, because
what she did next made his skin quiver under the
blanket.

She glanced his way, like a child about to steal
a cookie from the kitchen.  But he knew she
couldn't see his barely-open eyes, as he was
sheltered from discovery on the dark side of the
bed.  A bite of her lower lip with indecision,
then she looked back to the fire, sighing as she
relaxed.

Releasing the chair, she let her hands move to
her belly, falling back until she slouched, her
neck fitting perfectly on the top slat of the
chair.  As if lost in her thoughts, she stared
into space, her hands coming up to cup her
breasts.  With light pressure, she rolled her
fingers over the fullness, subconsciously
mimicking the way he'd pleasured her.  Her sighs
became deeper and her eyes slipped shut as her
hands slid down the mound of her child; the leg
nearest him came up to sit on the bottom rung of
the chair, hiding the hands that disappeared
low.

He knew the exact moment she touched herself,
though he couldn't see it.  A small, "Ohhh..."
burst from her throat and she shifted lower in
the chair.

Slowly, so as not to disturb her, he let his own
hand creep under the blanket to grasp his cock. 
In time with her movements, he slid his hand up
and down, wishing he could stand before her to
do so.  They'd never done this... this solo
pleasure before each other that was, in many
ways, more intimate and revealing than
lovemaking.  It seemed she'd discovered that
part of herself in the last hours that teemed
with sexuality - he always knew it was there,
remembered it overflowing those few short weeks
in the bunker.  He reveled in the realization
that she would get to enjoy it once again.

But her mood changed in a few short seconds; he
saw it in the way her legs tensed, heard it in
the soft moans that hitched with frustration. 
Orgasm was far away for her and something wasn't
clicking.

He whispered her name, though it came out as
more of a groan at the sight of her wanton pose. 

Julia's head whipped in his direction and she
stiffened, turning on the chair with arms
crossed over her chest, giving him her back once
again.  Embarrassment tinged her shaky, "I
thought you were asleep."

Sliding across the sheets until he was partially
in the soft light, he smiled in an effort to re-
assure her, hugging the pillow close as he
shifted his legs to hide his arousal from her.
"I was, for a while," he answered.  "You were
right... pretending *is* nice."

She glanced quickly about the cabin, ignoring
his admission of feigned sleep.  "I would have
washed up in the bathroom, but I didn't feel
like sitting in the tub.  And it was too cold in
there."  Craning her neck to and fro, she
avoided looking at him while searching.  The
golden glow of her skin darkened to an
attractive pink and, if not so pleased by what
he'd witnessed, he would feel really bad about
spying on her.

He knew what she was looking for, and his hand
reached for it at the edge of the bed.  Her chin
settled over her right shoulder and she spied
the slip as he brought it to his chest.  "I'm
glad you stayed in here," he said softly,
forestalling her sure demand for the concealing
garment.  Together, their eyes shifted to the
dress on the rocker, but he knew it was too far
away for her to reach for it without having to
stand.

And he knew her discomfort wouldn't allow that. 
He forced a calm he didn't feel into his voice
as he asked, "Need any help with your... bath?"

She twisted at the waist and he caught a glimpse
of the mole again, peeking out from its hidden
place behind her breast.  He wanted to slide his
thumb over it, to put his lips on it and kiss
away her embarrassment.  Instead, he lifted his
gaze to meet hers, silently transmitting his
need to come to her, to take up where she left
off.

Blinking once, then twice, she pondered his
question, the discomfort in her face slowly
giving way to warm invitation.  "My... 'pretend'
bath?"

It hurt like hell, but he levered himself up on
his elbow, feeling his face burn with sincerity
as he growled, "Any kind of bath you want,
sweetheart."

The corner of her mouth lifted.  It was all the
encouragement he needed and he flung the blanket
away, swinging his legs to the floor, her slip
tossed into the sheets as an afterthought.  He
saw her eyes shift momentarily to the piece of
silk, then back up to him, taking in the
erection that stood proudly away from his body. 
Swallowing, she completed the turn in the chair,
her arms falling away as she said in a voice
that shimmered like white, flowing sand, "I'm
hot, Gabriel.  I need to cool down."

He walked to stand between her and the fire,
reaching for the washcloth to soak it in the
tepid water.  "Then let me..." His voice
dwindled to nothing as he knelt, spreading her
legs with trembling hands.

Her thighs shook beneath his fingers as she
scooted back in the chair, but he felt no
resistance as he watched her face relax. 
Starting with her shoulders, he passed the wet
cloth over her skin slowly, making his way down
her body.  She watched him through slitted eyes,
her hands coming up to grip his upper arms. 
When he teased the nipple of one breast with the
nappy cloth, she hissed, her knees clenching
around his waist.

He took the unspoken cue, lowering his head to
taste of her.  One hand came up to hold his head
to her breast, and as he worked the nipple taut
between his teeth and tongue, he felt her sigh
rumble through his lips.

"Gabriel..."

As he worked his sore arm around her hips to
pull her closer, he glided the cloth over the
smooth, tight skin of her belly.  Discovering
how good it felt, how unusual, he let the
washcloth drop to the floor, spreading his
fingers wide over the skin.  The little bumps
and ridges seemed to move with him as if
reacting to his touch.  It was amazing, but he
didn't want to stop the nurturing at her breast
to look.

"Gabriel... can you..."

He pulled away long enough to look at her face. 
"Can I what?"  Anything.  He'd do anything she
asked.

She cupped his cheek, running her thumb over his
parted lips.  "Can you..." Her eyes fluttered
closed, then re-opened, giving him a soft, moist
look.  "The baby... can we pretend it's yours?"

His breath caught; she didn't know it, but
already he half-hoped it was his.  Or at least,
he knew that because she was its mother, he'd
love it just the same, no matter how it was
conceived.  She didn't realize it, but the child
growing within her was the fulfillment of a
lifelong dream.  That she was wanted to share it
with him made him doubly happy.  Closing his
eyes against the stinging onslaught of tears, he
pressed a kiss to her palm, then lowered his
head to open his mouth over her belly.  "Yes,"
he said fervently, running his mouth over the
growing miracle.

A soft sob, followed by laughter, reached his
ears.  "Gabey, junior?  Or Little Slick?"

His tongue tickled the outie that used to be an
innie and he growled, "Neither.  I *hate*
nicknames, Julia."

"Spooky," she breathed.

He froze, finally lifting his head after a
moment of silence.  "What?"

"I said it was spooky.  I hate nicknames, too."

If he wanted to, he could have made his brain
click into 'hound on the scent' mode and
analyzed the workings of her mind, a mind that
was definitely sputtering out pieces of the
puzzle like a faulty roman candle.  But at the
moment, he had better things to do, and he set
about to his task, crouching on his heels as his
mouth descended further.

"Gabriel?"  She sensed his intent and stiffened,
one hand flying to his head, the other trying to
sneak under his face to cover herself.

"*That* I don't object to," he muttered, giving
her thumb a playful nip.

She tweaked his hair.  "That wasn't what I
meant."

"I know."  Between small kisses above the wiry
red hair, he whispered, "You can't reach, can
you?"

Her breath hitched over the, "No - but you don't
have to - to -"

"Yes, I do," he stated, nudging her hand away
with his nose.  "Just relax.  This is part of
the bath, remember?"  Before she could say
anything else, he ran the flat of his tongue
over her wet folds.

A sharp gasp accompanied the jerk of her legs,
but she didn't protest any further.  Emboldened
by the curl of her fingers into his hair, he
used his hands to inch her ass closer to the
edge of the chair, his shoulders spreading her
legs wider.

The musky scent of her body filled his head and
he drew deep of the sharp tang, darting into her
with his tongue.  This was something she loved
before, and her body reacted, overriding the
last tiny bit of reserve as her other hand moved
away.

For slow, easy minutes he worked her this way, a
gentle push into her passage with a rhythm
designed to make her want more.  After a while,
he chanced a look up, and his groan vibrated
into her when he saw her free hand busy at her
breast.  Her eyes were closed and an almost
constant stream of soft words bled from her
lips.

"Like that... so good... God, Gabriel... harder,
yes, harder..."

He doubted she knew what she was saying, given
her shyness of just a little while ago.  But he
wasn't about to stop to make her aware of
anything but what she was feeling.  In fact, it
pained him to have to pause, but his knees were
getting tired.

"Wha -?"  Dazed, she half-opened her eyes.

"Shh.  Just tired of pretending I'm Superman,
okay?"  With a wink, he stole a finger inside,
and her eyes slipped shut again.

Taking the opportunity, he sat, flattening out
his legs around the narrow chair.  A short
insinuation of his body - the fleeting pain was
quickly discarded - and he had her legs over his
shoulders.  Supporting her hips with his arm, he
resumed what she liked best, this time, using
the friction of his finger in and out to draw
her clit toward his waiting mouth.  It also gave
him the best view of the night.

She was gulping in air now, the mound of her
belly squirming above him.  Both of her hands
circled his head; her nipples stood out in the
glow from the fire as hard little points in a
ring of coral, supple flesh.  He wished he had
another hand, so he could reach out and touch
the gems, to pay homage to every part of her
that spoke of her reaction to his touch.

She was close; already he felt the tightening of
her flesh around his finger, the pulsing of her
clit on his tongue.  "Come on, sweetheart," he
murmured into the vee of her legs, inserting
another finger to gently pull the tense knot
toward his mouth.  She let out a hoarse cry, her
ass lifting from the chair to grind her pelvis
into his face as he nipped at her clit with just
a graze of his teeth.

As she slowly melted, he let her slide from the
chair, using his arms to lower her legs around
him until she sat in his lap.  Still shivering,
she went limp, nuzzling her face into his neck.

"God, Gabriel," she said, her voice husky with
the aftermath.

"Cool now?" he chuckled, running his hands up
her back, his kisses soothing the rapid pulse in
her neck.

"No - I think I'm hotter than ever," she
replied, smiling against his skin.

"In my opinion, you're *definitely* hot."

"So are you," she said, closing the small gap
between them, trapping his erection against her
abdomen with a small, upward thrust of her hips.

He saw stars - brilliant, white-hot flashes
behind his eyelids and he gulped, "Julia, I
don't expect you to - Jesus!"  His gallantry
flew out the window as she rose up, using her
hand to guide him in.

"Just not too hard, okay?" she asked, puffing a
bit as she began to impale herself on his
length.

God, but it was so difficult not to ram her hips
down on his, and his hands clenched around her
hips as he fought to regain control of his noble
intentions.  "Julia, payback is not required,
you know," he said raggedly, searching her face
with concerned eyes for any sign of distress.

"This is not payback.  This is pretend,
remember?"  As she hovered over him, she
peppered his face with kisses.  "Pretend you've
just made me gloriously happy and I want to give
you happiness in return.  Easy."

He closed his eyes, feeling so awful that he was
enjoying this.  Remembering her textbook
recitation of the semantics of pregnancy sex, he
tried one last time to dissuade her.  "Julia,
you make me happy by just being here.  We don't
have to do this."

"I want to," she whispered, planting her knees
beside his hips and easing down just a bit.

But it wasn't good for her, he could tell in
that instant.  She could not hide her grimace,
nor the small hiss of pain.

"Julia, stop," he commanded, lifting her from
him.

She hung her head, her small, "I wanted to do
this for you," wrenching at his gut as she sat
on his thighs.

"I know, sweetheart," he murmured, caressing her
flaming cheek with his lips.

"Sometimes... orgasm creates..." she stumbled,
"there's too *much* blood flow.  Makes
intercourse difficult.  I'm sorry, Gabriel."

Ah, he thought.  Another tidbit of information
she'd learned, but tried to keep from him,
wanting his pleasure as well as her own.  Like
he'd said, payback wasn't required - but he felt
as if he would disappoint her should he put a
total stop to their lovemaking.  She was still
not comfortable with the way she looked and she
wanted this moment in time to be as normal as
possible.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he stated,
bringing her hips closer to his groin.  "We have
lots of options, Julia."

At that, she raised hopeful eyes to his.  "Show
me," she whispered.

He needed no other encouragement.  Pulling her
with him, he laid back on the towels, settling
her above him.  "This is real 'pretend', okay?"
he smiled, using both hands to cup her ass and
push her forward.

She caught on in a flash, smiling in return as
her belly trapped his erection between them. 
Her legs stretched outside of his and she
grabbed his arms, trapping them at his sides as
she moved.  "I like this," she said with a
wicked grin.

Already he was fast approaching the point of no
return, the weight of the baby pressing down on
the underside of his cock with delicious, mind-
bending pressure.  He squeezed his eyes shut,
groaning, "Not half as much as I do, Julia."

Lifting her upper body, she balanced herself on
his arms, her playful, "I have you where I want
you, you know," making him open his eyes.  Her
face swam before him as little prickles of
pleasure grew in his balls.  "All I have to do
is this and you're my slave."  Rubbing up and
down, she increased the strength of her
movements.

He raised his chin, letting his slitted eyes
drink in the sight of their almost coupling. 
His cock was flat against his belly, the head
peeking in and out as she slid up and down his
length.  In many ways, it was the most erotic
thing he'd ever seen.  She was right; he felt
like he was chained to her, enraptured and
hypnotized by the way she was using her body to
pleasure his.

With his feet, he kicked at the chair behind
them, shoving it with a crash to the floor so he
could bring his knees up.  Yes, yes... cradled
in his thighs, her ass brushed against his sac,
drawn up even tighter to his body by her pull on
his cock.  His head fell back to the floor and
his hips joined in, thrusting madly as he fought
for release.

Julia lowered herself once again, letting the
hard points of her nipples tease his chest as
she entwined her finger with his, drawing their
clasped hands close to his head.  He watched her
face with a narrowed, hot gaze, pinpointing her
lax lips in a wordless plea.  She answered,
closing the distance as he did, their lips
meeting in a hard, grinding kiss that set off an
explosion of feeling in his groin.

He didn't last long; the orgasm that quaked
through him was rocket powerful and blessedly
short-lived.  If he'd come any more, he would
have certainly lost all control.  As it was, he
cried out, throwing his head back as he mimicked
her earlier stream of words, not knowing
anything but the release that came in a tidal
wave, then quickly ebbed as he sagged under her.

Julia sat on his trembling thighs and reached
for the long-forgotten washcloth.  He hissed at
the feel of the damp coolness on his softening
penis.  She made quick work of their cleanup
before tossing the rag aside to lean down and
kiss his cheek.  Her hands cupped his face and
she murmured, "You said it again."

The feel of her cool lips against his hot cheek
was like a balm and he opened his eyes, purring
under her like a well-satisfied tiger.  "Said
what?"

"Scully.  You said Scully."  She pulled away to
meet his wide eyes.  "Who's Scully?  Is she the
one?"  Her fingers shook as she caressed his
face and she smiled, a teary, hopeful thing. 
"Is she me?"

God, he hadn't.  Had he?

"Miss Julia!"

The shout broke through the haze.  Dragging his
gaze from her face, he saw a far off light
through the crack in the alcove curtains. 
Someone was approaching the cabin.

"Miss Julia!"

Scrambling off his lap, she rushed about the
cabin as he struggled to rise.  In a second,
she'd retrieved her slip and pulled it over her
head, picking up the towels and washcloth to
bury them in the bed, pulling the blankets over
the stained sheets.  "That's Edna," she hissed. 
"One of the maids.  Something must be wrong. 
They never disturb me here."  She handed Gabriel
his clothes.  "Bathroom.  Quickly."  She righted
the chair and carried the basin to the sink.

Gabriel still reeled from his unintentional
disclosure, but he knew the situation now was
far worse than any worry of his about how much
she suspected.  Before he could let the evening
end, however, he needed to give her some faith
that all would be well.  Straightening, he held
his clothes close to his body and reached for
her hand, stilling her nervous search for her
dress.

Pulling her to him, he whispered fiercely, "It
doesn't matter who you are, or who I am.  What
matters now is that you're mine, you
understand?"  He laid her hand over his heart,
meeting her liquid gaze with one of his own. 
"And I'm yours."

She smiled and curled her hand around his nape
to bring his mouth to hers.  Their kiss was
heated and desperate, and he sought to prolong
it, moving his mouth over hers with urgency. 
But it was over all too soon, as she broke away,
giving him a push toward the bathroom.  "Go. 
I'll try to come back tomorrow, okay?"

At the thump of boots on the porch steps, he
started, releasing her with a nod before
escaping to the safety of the bathroom.  Julia's
greeting reached his ears as he sat on the
toilet to pull his jeans over first one foot,
then the other.  It wasn't easy; in fact, it was
slow going, the night's activities and the
sudden fright of the almost discovery making him
fumble.  It didn't help that he had to be as
quiet as a mouse, or that he couldn't even turn
on the overhead light.

"I told you I'd be back at nine," Julia was
saying.  "I needed some rest."

The maid's voice was bordering on harsh.  "Get
dressed.  Mr. Spencer is back and he wants to
see you."

Gabriel paused at that, his jeans halfway up his
thighs.  Grandpa was back?  He heard Julia's
voice move about the room, but she wasn't
arguing.  "I have to find my shoes."

"Here," Edna barked.  "And your cloak.  Be
quick.  There's someone else with Mr. Spencer,
someone important."

"I'm going as fast as I can."

The intrusion of cold air under the crack in the
bathroom door told Gabriel the maid had opened
the cabin door.  "Don't worry about the fire. 
It's almost out anyway.  We have to hurry,
Julia."

"Why?"

Gabriel heard the voices become muffled and he
knew they'd left the cabin.  Quickly, he pulled
his jeans up and tiptoed through the now dark
cabin to the alcove, pushing aside the curtain. 
With the cabin in almost total darkness, he knew
he couldn't be seen, but he was cautious anyway,
just opening the curtain enough to let his face
peek through.

The two women walked down the porch steps,
Julia's small figure a few feet behind the bulk
of the maid, who trained her flashlight into the
woods beyond the clearing.  Julia's voice was
overly loud, and he knew she was doing that for
his benefit.

"Just who is this *important* person?"

The maid stopped, turning with an exasperated
stare.  "Your husband, Miss.  He says he's your
husband."  She whirled and stomped off,
muttering at the uneven ground that slowed her
pace.

Gabriel felt his heart lurch to a stop.  In the
meager light of the quarter moon, he saw Julia
turn as if suspended on a string, her face pale
with shock and disbelief under the black hood. 
He knew she saw the same on his; he reached up
to touch the window with his hand, as if he
could wipe away her distress through the
separation of glass and untruths.

One slim, white hand came up to touch her lips.

It was a farewell.

"Miss Julia, come on!"

Lowering her head, she turned to follow the maid
into the forest.

He gulped in air, his face drawing together in a
pained denial, his whisper fogging the glass
before him.

"No."

Her cloak blended in with the darkness and he
watched until he could no longer see the beam of
light, his arms and legs numb.



End Chapter Fifteen