There has been a delay between this and the first part of Vision of Love

There has been a delay between this and the first part of Vision of Love. The Swiss Witch would like to apologize for the long period between the posting of the two pieces. It wasn't entirely her fault. A certain part of this next section sent her into a three week coma.

Rest assured, when she awoke, she grabbed her laptop with a vengeance.

Everybody's champagne from that overpriced fountain at the Grand Hyatt not too flat?

Good.

Let's get into the grit of this piece now. You thought it was bad before? Gentle Readers, you ain't seen nothin' yet!

Vision of Love (2/3)

by Falconer

[email protected]

Classification: MSR, NC-17 (Here's the first pet peeve of the second part. The first part was labeled MSR G and this is NC-17. It strikes the Swiss Witch as an unfair rating to the underage readers out there. If you're going to have sex somewhere in the body of the story, label the whole thing NC-17.)

Spoilers: "Pilot,""Squeeze," "One Son." (my lunch)

Archive: Gossamer, yes; Spooky's, yes. Anywhere else,

please ask me first. Thanks!

Summary: Mulder and Scully engage in some good clean fun on their wedding night.

(Click here to find out what Dana Scully actually asked the Swiss Witch during a recent ski trip to the Alps.

I'm sorry, Dana. It is.)

Disclaimer: I free acknowledge that the characters in

_The X-Files_ are created by Chris Carter and remain

his copyrighted property, the property of 1013 Productions,

and the property of Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century

Fox, Inc. No infringement of any copyright is intended in

this story.

Feedback: Please do, if you're so moved, to: [email protected]

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Author's note: WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! (The only valuable part of this work so far.)

This section of the story is very graphic sexually.

So if you don't like that sort of stuff,

or if you're 17 and younger, this story isn't for you.

(Not to state the obvious, but frankly, this story shouldn't be for anyone.)

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GRAND HYATT WASHINGTON

HONEYMOON SUITE

WASHINGTON DC

11:21 PM

(When last we left our heroes, Mulder had passed out on the dance floor from hunger. Scully stood over him in her Vera Wang and tried to wake up from her hallucinogen-induced trance. The Gunmen sang, "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" in close three part harmony. Cats and dogs lived together. Anarchy reigned.)

They reached their honeymoon suite that night tired but still emotionally high from all the day's activities. After Mulder opened the lock with the keycard, he started to put it in his pocket, then stuck it in his grinning face like a pirate with a dagger clenched in his teeth. (Why didn't he just keep the card in his pocket? ) He swept Scully into his arms and carried her inside.

He twirled around a little to give her a good look about the honeymoon suite. Dropping the keycard into her lap, (Did he put her down first, or did he just drop the spitty thing on her overpriced gown?) he asked, "Well, what do you think? Will it do?"

Sumptuous was the word that immediately came to Scully's mind. The color scheme was gold-tone, with furniture in dark woods. There was a massive armoire containing an entertainment system and a wet bar in the corner. A coffee table crouched between two overstuffed leather chairs in front of a plush sofa. On the coffee table were two huge bouquets flanked champagne in a silver bucket with long glasses.

She kissed him and replied, "You have to ask?"

(No, but I do.

Gentle Readers, in her quest to be a thorough reviewer, the Swiss Witch has made a trip back to the Grand Hyatt site mentioned in Part 1 of her review and took the virtual tour. There are pictures of the suites and rates available. NONE of the suites pictured looked vaguely like this.

Now, why is this a big deal? Because, Gentle Readers, these are REAL places. I used a minimum of effort and got the details of what this place looks like without ever having to leave my imported chalet. Falconer probably spent days writing this piece of weird dreck and didn't get anything right but publishing rights.

This is laziness. Pure and simple. In any form of writing, it's a bad thing. Don't talk about real places unless you're willing to do the bare minimum of research. Go to the Internet. It's free and has a thing called "search engines". Use them. And if they can't help you and you're hell-bent on using REAL places, then pick up a phone and call, or if it's cost prohibitive, write them and ask for details. If you're not willing to do this simple amount of research, then make up a place and have your story occur there.

It vexes the Great and Terrible Swiss Witch. It vexes her.)

He set her down and she went to look in the bedroom door. The sight made her put her hand over her mouth. The king-size bed was covered in a gold brocaded satin, with gold drapes on the wall hanging from an open oval canopy above. (It sounds like a bad porno movie set.) To the right, next to the bathroom, was a large, white jacuzzi (Trade Names Need Capitalization.) with gold fixtures. To her left was large vanity in white, enameled wood, with gold trim, and covered with all the amenities a woman could wish for. (A vibrator, a laptop computer and a large pepperoni pizza?) Waiting patiently by the closet was their luggage. (The impatient luggage had apparently already jumped out the window.)

She gasped when Mulder bumped up behind her. (Who'd she think it was? Donnie Pfaster?)

"Oh, darling!" she said, throwing her arms around his neck to kiss him. "This is-- You've already spent so much on me." ("I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy!" Riiiight. )

"Just from my inheritance," Mulder said, walking her backwards into room and making her giggle as she tried to place her feet on top of his. (Dear GOD. If Scully calls him "Daddy" at any point in this fic, I'll rupture.) "If I can't spend some of that on the woman I love, what else is it good for?"

"Investing in the future," returned his practical bride. (Tonight, the role of Dana Scully is brought to you by Merrill Lynch.)

"You're my investment in the future," he replied, kissing her deeply and hugging her closer. (Tonight the role of Fox Mulder is played by Bear Stearns.) She tightened her arms around his neck (to try to cut his supply of oxygen. He'd pass out and then she could grab his charge cards and go. With the Gunmen's help and a little smart planning, she could be at the border by midnight.) and lifted herself off the floor as he continued walking. Suddenly she felt her legs hit the bed and was laid down on it.

Mulder stood up. "Speaking of the future," he grinned, "we still owe it to posterity to make a honeymoon video, you know." (The Swiss Witch was in error. Tonight the role of Fox Mulder will be played by Tommy Lee.)

"Ha. Ha." Scully propped herself on her elbows, watching him open the spacious closets and their suitcases (until he saw that Krycek was indeed hiding in the back with the anal probe for later) . "Speaking of videos, Fox..." ("…did I ever mention that I was Guns and Roses road bitch for their North American tour? Here, let's grab a laptop and go to www.roadslutsareus.com ! That's me handcuffed to the shower nozzle! Fox? Fox??")

He looked up, a genuinely puzzled look on his face. "What videos?" he asked. "Oh, you mean my collection that I gave to Frohike."

Scully rolled over onto her stomach and continued watching him. "You didn't," she said. "I don't believe it. All of them?" ("Even that one with Mona Cumsalot? I liked that one, Foxy Woxy!")

"Sure I did. What do I need them for now?" (Um, Falconer, um….how to say it? Marriage doesn’t mean that Scully's going to indulge ever weirdo fantasy Mulder might have. Consider it. PLEASE.)

Seeing he wasn't going to say more, Scully merely smiled and propped her chin in her hands, deciding the subject was closed. She watched him continue setting out and hanging up their clothes, (she's got him trained well already! Good for Vera Wang Bitch Spatula Scully!) and had restrain herself from joining him to avoid his making a mess of them. (What does this mean? Is Mulder making a mess? Is she going to throw them on the floor? I'm so confused…) It promised to be a *long* honeymoon, and the Grand Hyatt was as good as any trip to Hawaii with a husband like Fox Mulder. (Nothing is better than a trip to Hawaii. The Grand Hyatt ain't Hawaii. Not even Mulder's wonder-worm can make up for that.) Getting to know him thoroughly would be easier with little else to do. (Yes, sitting in a hotel room three blocks from home staring at the man you've known for seven years would be a wonderful honeymoon for someone like Scully. Falconer, why didn't you just have them go to Martha's Vineyard for god's sake?) Relaxing and enjoying his efforts to be the attentive husband was just too good to pass up.

Finally she sat up, pried off her shoes, ("pried" is not an attractive adjective for Bridal Scully ™ ) and announced, "Well, you can turn down the bed. I'm going to take a shower." That brought his attention back to her.

"Shower? Why not that champagne in the jacuzzi instead?" (Yes, why not Scully?) He came over and put his arms around her.

"Maybe tomorrow. But it's been a long day. I want to be nice and clean before..." (CLEAN? Uh oh. I think man is in the forest again.)

"We get down and dirty?" (Oh dear….)

She grinned and kissed him. "Before we go to bed, I mean. It's such a beautiful bed. At least we could start out clean. (Did you ever get that feeling you're on a roller coaster of fanfic dysfunction, Gentle Readers? That there's something bigger you just can't quite make out? Between you and the Great Swiss Witch, I think we're chugging up the first hill of a MonsterDrop.) Besides, it's not dirty if it's between husband and wife."

(YEEP.

YEEP. YEEP YEEP YEEP.

The Great Swiss Witch YEEP simply doesn't know how to react to that. I suppose the best YEEP answer is, "Thank you for the overt morality lesson, Falconer." I feel it is also appropriate YEEP to mention that Scully is not a virgin and Mulder is DEFINITELY YEEP YEEP YEEP not a virgin. When did Scully turn into a prude? Have you been watching the same show as the rest of us?

YEEP. )

"Well, it could get kind of sweaty and pungent. Unless you'd also be open to a little kinkiness, huh, Scully?" (Ok, Foxy Woxy. The woman just said, 'it's not dirty if it's between husband and wife'. She's also talking about being all clean for you. Do you really think she's going to let you use that spreader?)

She merely stared at him with a tight-lipped mixture of skepticism and mild disapproval. (Welcome to marriage again, Mulder. Starve, motherfucker. Starve.)

"What? I wasn't going to suggest--" (we use the Great Dane on the first night!)

"Remember what we agreed to, *Fox*?" she prompted. ("I would only have the threesomes on Wednesday nights. And only every other Wednesday could Skinner watch. Fox, today is NOT a Wednesday.")

Mulder's head drooped, and he sheeplishly (Or even sheepishly? And with all this talk of kink, the Swiss Witch feels uncomfortable with any mention of sheep.) answered, "That it would be 'Fox' and 'Dana' from now on. Sorry, old habits die hard. (And most likely so has his erection after being shot-down by Bitch Prude Gotta-scrub-clean Scully.) It's been seven years."

"Seven years of having to call you 'Mulder' instead of what I wanted to call you(: Assholio, the Cheeping Monkey Boy.").

"Hey, remember, I told you--"

"Really, Fox." Scully began untying his tie to put him at ease and then stopped. What she had to say was too important to her to send mixed signals. (Untying his tie is not the same thing as getting on her knees and unzipping his fly with her teeth. I seriously doubt he would get mixed signals from that.) "I never believed that story for a moment. That night I was reaching out to you as my new partner, and it felt like you were slapping my hand away. Since it was obviously the way you wanted it, I accepted it. Then later I find out your mother *did* call you Fox. Even Diana called you Fox." (He hates the name. That was his mother and a very manipulative woman.) Mulder grimaced. (That's the first thing that's been right all story.) "If they could, why can't I? I've taken your name--your family name--and grafted it onto mine. I see no reason why I should call you Mulder when I'm a Mulder too, now. But...if you're going to withhold the right to call you by your given name, well, I can withhold some things too."

(WHAT?!!? Where is Dana Scully? Please, someone, find her and bring her back to kill this vicious manipulative Vera Wang Scully ™ bitch.)

She couldn't understand his pained look at her little joke, (We can.) until she saw his eyes begin brimming with tears.

"I'm so, so sorry, Dana," he said. ("Please don't torture Foxy Woxy and withhold your golden pleasure purse! And wash up before we start. You know what I mean.")

She put her finger on his lips to stop him. "Shh, it's all right," she said out of habit, (If you're saying "Shh, it's all right" enough in a relationship that it's become habit, there is something very wrong.) though she knew he needed to get this out. (She said she'd withhold sex if he didn't let her call him by her first name and she's comforting him because he's crying? What on earth would he need to get out, author? This is not a good plot device by any meaning of the phrase.)

He went on, "I put up that wall between you and me because I didn't want to be distracted, and you were the most wonderful distraction fate ever sent my way. ("You were nummy-nums, Dana. Nummy, nummy sparkly and rainbows." GAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGG…….damn. The Swiss Witch had SO hoped this was over.) But I had to find her. I had to know the truth."

She suddenly clutched his face and kissed him again to silence him. (Ouch. That doesn't sound like a whole lot of fun for Mulder.) When they parted (Apparently Mulder doesn't like this either if he's leaving on their wedding night.) she said, "And you did, Fox. You're free now. I'm free. We're all free now. (Hopefully freakish Bridal Rocky Horror Magenta Scully ™ won't slide down the Grand Hyatt banister screeching about luck anytime soon. Oh that's right! The Grand Hyatt doesn't have a banister! It's that research thing again!) We can start building a future instead of fighting one. (YAAAAAAAAAAG…..double damn.) And giving up old habits for nice new ones...like taking showers together. Interested?"

(Not "interested", Falconer. Afraid. Very, very afraid.)

"Does an otter like to play in water?"

(Mulder does not talk like this. Scully does not speak like a 65 year old virgin spinster. The Grand Hyatt does not have a banister.

Research.)

************

Scully started the shower alone and was enjoying the warm water spraying her face and running over her body, wishing it were her husband's fingers instead. What could be keeping him? Then she heard the unmistable, soothing tones of the King:

"Wise men say only fools rush in,

But I can't help falling in love with you."

(FYI, the Swiss Witch laughed so hard at this, she almost choked. Of course, he'd put on the King. OF COURSE he would. Oopsy! There's another monkey flying out of my butt again!)

She closed her eyes and smiled, floating on anticipation (and goofballs. She's got to be on goofballs to not spontaneously leap off the page in this fic) . (") Oh Fox, my dearest("), she thought, (")only you would think of bringing Elvis on our honeymoon.(") (Then, something snapped into place. Mulder hated Elvis. He hated being called Fox. That meant….Scully gasped. Whoever that was in the other room wasn't Mulder and she was high on goofballs. What was she going to do?) If only her voice was good enough to sing a duet with him, (with Elvis?) but she had to be patient. Soon their bodies would be singing the most ancient of duets. (Wait a minute. If Mulder (A) is the one who is singing and Scully hears the King's voice (B), and if A+B=C, then C could only be that Mulder is really Elvis.

If (A) Scully hears Elvis sing and wants to sing a duet with him, and (B) thinks a moment later in a spate of hackneyed nauseating pabulum that soon their bodies would be singing the most ancient of duets, and if A+B=C, C could still only be that MULDER IS ELVIS!

Stop the presses. The Swiss Witch must make a long distance call to the National Enquirer. Falconer, I'm sure they'll be in touch. )

She heard the shower door slide open, and a pair of strong arms encircled her from behind, closing over her own. (Elvis' rolls of fat pressed up against her, his voice drawling softly in her ear, "You got some white cotton panties I could sniff to get me in the mood, honeybunch?") He rested his chin on her head and hugged her close. ("Viva Las Vegas", ElvisMulder murmured. The sound of that phrase turned Bridal Bitch Scully's ™ virginal blood cold.)

"Care for one last dance? (And a fried peanut butter, bacon and banana sandwich? I've got four with me.) " was all he said, and for the next minute or so they enjoyed the simple silent peace of bodily contact, swaying slightly to the music.

Finally, she thought. Thank you, God, for giving me this man, (ElvisMulder?) and for the time to enjoy each other apart from our work. I've wanted, I've *needed* this for so long...

(HRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH. It shouldn't be surprising when I do that in this story, but it always is.)

She flashed back to their first shower together, the time they had been forced to, after being captured by the Syndicate and taken to that secret facility. Each had seen the other naked before, but never simultaneously. (It's a miracle they didn't self-combust.) However, that situation had been too on edge, too humiliating even for a witty exchange to lift their spirits. (Scully is not known for her biting repartee during humiliating experiences.) But, oh, how she had longed for his touch then. Just to have had him hold her, to reassure her that everything would turn out all right in the end.

(GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG………………oh god almighty the author's going to quote the lyrics.

Then the Swiss Witch ran mad.)

"Like a river flows surely to the sea,

Darling, so it goes.

Some things are meant to be."

Yes, yes, this is meant to be. *We* are meant to be.

(This story should be taken out and burned. The ground should be sowed with salt so nothing will grow where it landed for a long, long time.)

"Take my hand, take my whole life too,

For I can't help falling in love with you,

For I can't help falling in love with you."

And I couldn't help falling in love with you, she mused, but simply said, "Thank you for the song, Fox. That was sweet. But I would have thought you'd choose 'Love Me Tender.'"

(I agree with Sandy. It would be better if he'd have chosen NIN's "Fist Fuck" at this point.)

"This one's more appropriate," Mulder whispered, nuzzling her ear.

A shiver ran up her spine, though it was quickly re(-)warmed (this is not a word) by something else rising along it. (Does Scully have an erection? I KNEW this wasn't Scully!) Her own thermostat was turned up, and a flush of heat rushed through her. Then Mulder started sucking her earlobe between his lips and teasing it with his tongue. She whimpered (from earlobe sucking?) and brought his hands up to cup her breasts, and and (Scully is so excited there is a need to repeat conjunctions, apparently.) he took it from there. His expertise in stroking and massaging her flesh, and gently tweaking her aroused nipples made her feel hotter than the water rushing over them. She muzzily (muzzily is not a word either. This time I'm sure of it. If it was a word, the Swiss Witch wishes it meant, "to rip ElvisMulder's throat out with her teeth") wondered he'd learned his techniques from all those his porn videos.

(DO YOU REALLY THINK SHE'D BE THINKING ABOUT HIS PORN VIDEOS ON A WEDDING NIGHT, AUTHOR?

First of all, Scully is not petty. This Scully is incredibly petty and score keeping.

Secondly, Scully is a giving person. This Scully has already told Mulder she'd withhold sex if she didn't get her way on something.

THIRD AND PAY ATTENTION AUTHOR: SCULLY IS NOT A VIRGIN. SCULLY IS NOT A VIRGIN. SCULLY IS NOT A VIRGIN.

Watch the first episode. She had a boyfriend. She's dated. She is NOT a VIRGIN.

The Swiss Witch is angry with this author and thinks they should write the phrase "Scully is not a virgin and I'll never write her that way again" 10,000,000 times and send it hardcopy to the Swiss Witch's chalet. There is no punishment bad enough for this.)

Scully moaned and clutched his hands tighter, urging him on, but he continued to take his time. After a while he began necking with her (necking? Like, behind the gym necking?) ,and she pressed her head back against his shoulder to offer him more. He craned his head (he stretched his head upwards? I knew this wasn't Scully. This is a 7 foot tall man with a burning erection. Run, Mulder. Run.) to kiss her lips, and she opened them to invite his tongue inside. ("Come on in tongue! The saliva's fine!") She took a deep breath and sucked on it, wanting to show him how she hungered for more a fulfilling invasion of her body. (Right now, Colonization would be a more fulfilling invasion that anything this author mentions in this fic.)

Soon she was breathing more heavily. Unfortunately, her need for air forced them to break apart. ("I should grow gills," Scully thought. "That way this pesky breathing won't get in the way.")

"By the way," Mulder said with a wry grin (The author does NOT know the meaning of the adjective "wry") , "I forgot to tell you: I love you."

She gave him a quick smooch and replied, "You told me that fifteen minutes ago, poopyhead."

(HRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPP……….oh god, there's no place like home, there's no place like home, oh god oh god oh god)

"So? That was fifteen minutes ago."

Scully smiled broadly and twisted around in his arms to look into his eyes. Oh God, (YES, oh GOD!) he was pressed against her front, stoking the fire in her belly even more. He felt so *good* just like this. "You tell me you love me every time you look at me," she said. (This is not a bad Scully line. Too bad she's talking to Elvis.) Stepping back to look at him she had to take a deep breath. "And I don't think you need words now."

He backed up, giving her a full view, and she took in every detail: his skin tone, the way his hair stuck to his body, every curve and extension of limb. He was like a classic Greek Adonis, only real--all muscle and bone and skin and...water. She wished she could be the water, clinging and running all over his body. ("Yes," she thought. "I would love to be the right mixture of Hydrogen, maybe with a little more Oxygen and then I could cling to the carbon based life-form in front of me."

Lame, yes. But not as lame as the story. The Swiss Witch is comforted by that thought.)

"Well, here's looking at you, kid." (Wait a minute. Maybe this is Bogie? It's certainly not Mulder. Run, Scully. Run.)

Scully broke from her reverie and saw Mulder holding up the champagne bottle, the cork already unwired. (Where did this come from? Did he pull it out of his ass?) He began to shake it vigorously, and she cried out, "Oh no! Fox, wait--"

The cork popped over the shower doors and Mulder quickly aimed the gush at Scully. She squealed (Scully does not squeal. Frankly, I think we could get this Mulder for seducing a minor with all the squealing, walking on shoes and using of words like "poopyhead" from this unknown adolescent.) from the cold bubbly, tingling her nipples even more. Delicious. (Um, author? You shouldn't put what you think of this action in the story like that. If Scully had been double jointed and then licked her nipples, somehow this comment of "Delicious" might be apropos.) Suddenly she was pulled against him as he laughingly doused both their heads. She began giggling and opened her mouth wide, which Mulder filled with the golden spume. (Golden spume? GOLDEN SPUME? Hansel? HAN-sel? ) He stopped to take a heavy swig and then tenderly offer more to her, and so they continued back and forth, laughing as long as it lasted. (Scully laughed harder, downing more Golden Spume each time it was offered. With any hope the stuff would get into her lungs and she choke to death in the shower with Bogey-Elvis. A bad way to go, but better than staying alive for what the author had planned next. What the hell. At least she'd be drunk.)

Mulder held up the empty bottle and intoned, "Alas, poor Chateau- whatever. I knew him hardly."

"So much for cold showers," Scully said. "But thanks, I needed that myself." ("I'll be hitting the mini-bar shortly. Hopefully I can choke in a pool of my own vomit before you decide you want to do me.")

Mulder briefly stepped out the shower to put the bottle in the wastebasket, giving Scully the opportunity to take up the soap and washcloth.

(Here we go, Gentle Readers. The Great and Glorious Swiss Witch would like to ask you to envision this upcoming particular "Vision of Love" as a rollercoaster ride. You know the feeling that you get as you go up the first hill? Well, picture that, only discover right as you crest the first drop, that your safety bar is BROKEN.

We're pulling out of the station from the bad to the very very scary now. Click click click click……everyone put their hands over their head! Mmmmmm-kay?)

"You mean you really did want to wash up?" he asked on stepping back in. He sounded disappointed. Then, "Ohhh, gonna make me wait, huh? Leave me standing here while you wash yourself and I go quietly out of my mind."

"Noooo, Fox. I'm going to wash *you* first," Scully replied. "I want to get used to your body, now that the real you has replaced the fantasy version. I need to make a very careful analysis, even if my first examination will be only topical."

(click click click click click…..we're over the trees now, Gentle Readers. The Swiss Witch can see her Chalet from here, although it's distorted from the strong breeze of impending weirdness at this level.)

"Ooooh, Scul-- Sorry. Dana. I just love it when you talk medical. (slipping over now…) By the way, I've got this, well, condition that I was hoping you could--"

"I'll get to that soon enough, sir. First, we need to get you really clean. Now close your eyes."

(This ride is called the "Clean, Mean Scully-Scrubbing Machine". Did I mention that? Hands up, Gentle Readers. This first hill's a doozy.)

Mulder obeyed, and Scully began washing his face, gently, like she would for a child, lavishing her attention gently on every curve, soft and hard. She rinsed out the cloth while he stuck his face under the spray, re(-)lathered it and continued with his shoulders, chest and arms. She reveled in the feel of his muscles and their firm, luscious contours. She could hardly believe she was finally doing this. What a perfect beautiful way for a husband and wife to get to know each other without sex, she thought, though that could be held off only so long.

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHH!!! WE'RE OVER THE TOP! DYSFUNCTIONAL......G-FORCES....CRUSHING... KEEP YOUR HANDS UP... KEEP...YOUR....HANDS UP...)

Now and then she looked back into his eyes for some sign of how she was affecting him, but he seemed as rock-steady as, well...the Washington Monument came to mind. ("And a gun," Scully thought. "The Washington Monument and a gun.") Only that maddening, satisfied Muldersmile (™, for all your strange cleansing needs) remained on his lips as he watched her washing him. (Yes, that smile *was* maddening. Scully grinned up at it, aware that enough friction with a terry washcloth applied with some good old fashioned elbow grease could cause a serious rug burn. She laughed with frenzied glee. Soon the bastard would be SQUEAKY clean and she'd get away from the Washington Monument for good.)

I'll wipe that smirk off his face soon enough, she decided. ("He'll squeal like the pig he is when I'm done with him.") She made a detour around his groin and scrubbed his legs. God, they were as firm as... Finishing, (Firm as finishing? Varnish is not firm. It gets tacky and then dry, so "Finishing" WHAT? Firm as WHAT? Author, did you just forget to FINISH? There is no FINISH here. Not that it matters, we really didn't want to know. Maybe it was the Washington Monument.) she stopped again to rinse out the washcloth and take the soap to re(-)lather it.

"Okay, rinse off and turn around," she ordered.

Fox deliberately walked up to her, forcing her behind the spray. After the shower had cleaned him off, he pivoted, causing her to fall against the wall. (Stupid fat, Maddening ElvisMulder. He'd pay for that. She'd put that washcloth where the sun didn't shine.) Her footing slipped, and she cried out, clutching his arms, but with the soap in one hand and a soapy cloth in the other, she didn't have a good grip. Fox quickly reached behind and grabbed her waist.

"Whoa! Sorry, baby. I should have told you I was going to get my back wet."

He helped her up. and she pushed him forward to get out of the spray. "Just for that," she said, "I'm going to have to be more thorough."

(CORKSCREW OF CLEANLINESS AHEAD!! THIS IS A KILLER, GENTLE READERS, ESPECIALLY WITH NO SAFETY BAR. WE MAY LOSE PEOPLE ON THIS ONE, BUT JUST KEEP READING!)

She began washing his back, scrubbing with harder, massage-like technique. She'd never imagined something this simple could be so pleasurable for herself as well. (Bleed, Mulder. Bleed.) Finally, literally getting her hands on him, it was difficult controlling her own arousal. Lower and lower she went, taking her time, eventually slipping into his gluteal cleft, (AAAAAAGGGG!!!! TWISTING TURNING) but not lessening her force.

"Hey!" Mulder said. "I didn't volunteer for an anal probe."

("But honey-bunny ice-cream man lovey dovey ElvisMulder, nothin' says lovin' like a washcloth up the cakehole!" Scully smiled, showing her new pointed incisors. "The only way I can be absolutely positively 100% sure you're clean is when this piece of terry pops out your mouth.")

"Hush," she said, and moved to scrubbing his buttocks with the soapy cloth, taking great pleasure in how they tightened frequently as she massaged them. (The Swiss Witch is tempted to ask the author whether or not they've ever really experienced a butt-scrubbing by a virgin bride, but that's just too much information for her fragile mind.) She knew she was also straining his patience. (Not to mention giving him a hell of a rug burn.) Well...payback for all those years of making her wait for this. (Evil Vera Wang Butt Scrubber Scully ™ grinned with glee. He'd pay. Oh, he'd pay.)

She finished and rinsed out the washcloth before applying the soap to it one last time, only moreso. (But not lesso? Or lasso? Is this getting into bondage?)

"Danaaa," he asked, "what are you planning now?" (I'm going to scrub the testicles right off your body, ElvisMulder-kissy-poo!")

Her answer was to hug her body against his soapy back, slide up and down once and take hold of the last un(-)scrubbed part of him. (It was so dirty. God knew where that thing had been. "I'll have to take off an additional layer of skin just to be safe," Vera Wang Butt Scrubber Scully ™ thought.)

"Oh God--Scully!"

She gripped him harder and poked him in the ribs. "What did we agree on?" (OW. Who is this dick-jerking, control-freak of a bitch? Where is Scully? The Swiss Witch misses her so.)

"Dana! Dana, Dana, Dana." He sighed. "Sorry. I guess I've fantasized too long about calling out 'Scully!' while you were doing something like this to me. Is this your way of training me--?"

"First of all, stop apologizing," she said, beginning to stroke him up and down his entire length. "You'll get it right; I'll make sure of that." (Either that, or apparently she'll rip his dick off.)

Mulder exhaled with a shudder. "And you'll torture me every step of the way if I don't. You ever fantasized about being a dom, Dana? Hey, that's kind of catchy. Dominatrix Da--"

Scully twisted her hand back and forth around an area she knew to be sensitive.

"*Ah*!"

"How's that for catchy?"

(Hm. I'm not sure I blame Not-at-all-our-Scully for torturing this lewd ElvisMulder. That whole reference to dom and dominatrixes needed to be put to an end. Thank God this isn't the real Dana Scully. She'd be mortified to find herself in this situation.)

"Okay, okay! I'll behave. I promise. I'm just putty in your hands anyway...Mistress." (It hurts. It burns.)

"Feels more like ceramic to me." Scully remarked, sliding her body up and down his back while resuming stroking Mulder's gorgeous penis. She loved feeling him jerk occasionally as she rubbed (probably because it was hurting him and this Scully is mean) , but realized the comparative roughness of the terry fabric would take its toll. (THANK YOU. Wait a minute. The author realized this? This just managed to get worse.) She wasn't going to be able to control herself much longer either from rubbing herself against his back. (Why? Is this Alien Butt Scrubber Vera Wang Scully's "love button" located in her navel?) She could feel his muscles ripple beneath her squashed breasts, and her nipples were hard little corks scraping his skin, (If her breasts are squashed, how are her nipples scraping anything? Corks are not known for their sensitivity. The Swiss Witch sincerely believes this is an alien.) their electric tingling shooting all through her.

She hoped he really didn't mind being tormented, because she was pushing herself almost as much him. But all good things...

She gave him a yank and "accidently" dropped the washcloth.

(YANK= OW.)

"Oops!" she said playfully. "Oh well...let me see just how clean you are." She closed her bare fingers around his shaft and continued. (She tried not to think that Mulder went Number 1 through that. That would make it too dirty to continue. Maybe she'd have to invest in some pipe-cleaners.)

He was shuddering and tensing throughout his whole body now. Scully kept sliding her body up and down his back as she stroked him, feeling her excitement climb with him. God, I *love* the way he feels, she thought. She knew all the medical and psychological aspects for the human male erection, but she still found herself marveling over his. Now she could also lay claim to it, and she intended to exercise her rights fully. (By jerking him off? Shouldn't she mount him or something? Or is that just too dirty? Actually, the Swiss Witch doesn't want to know. This is so far off the deep end, this Scully may claim him by staking some sort of flag through his genetalia.)

"Are you close, darling?" she asked.

"Yesss!" he hissed, through clenched teeth. "Please..."

She began murmuring to him in a throaty purr, (One murmurs or one purrs. One does not do both.) "Let go, Fox. Don't hold back. Do it for me, Foooox. Do it, baby, do it."

He moaned then, and she whimpered for the release each now craved. (Um, author? Most women do not have orgasms by rubbing up and down on a man's back.)

"Fooooooxxxxxx..." (Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick…)

His whole body stiffened, and she clenched herself to him (ouch again) even tighter, only her hand moving rapidly. Then it was too late to stop what she had started.

"Ohhhh, God...Dana!" he moaned.

Scully marveled at how his orgasm felt in her hand, almost as if his organ had come alive on its own. It also thrilled her to know that she had done this for him, that it had obviously been powerful and satisfying without actual sex. (OHHHHHOOHHHOOOHHHOOOO…..THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME, THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME….caught…in…dysfunction…land….drowning…)

"Ohhhhh..." Mulder made a show of stiff-arming the wall and sinking to his knees while Scully held onto him. (Apparently Mulder is caught in dysfunction land too.) Once his panting slowed she stood and looked at the hand that had relieved him. (It was so dirty. So very, very dirty. She'd probably have to cut it off once she disposed of Mulder's body later that evening.) She burst into giggles. ("Hee hee hee!" The Frigid-Cleanly-Fetish Scully thing skipped and capered in the shower. "That's all you get, Mr. Dirty! My treasure box is still safe from your flesh invader!")

"I'm sorry, darling," she said. "I guess I got carried away."

Mulder turned around on his knees but looked up at her defiantly. "Carried away, (with and up) my ass," he said. "You didn't learn that in med school."

"Of course not," Scully said with an air. "I paid my way *through* med school by giving handjobs." Then she clamped her hand on top of his head and rubbed it.

(Here is when the Great and Glorious Swiss Witch fell unconscious.

The coma lasted for two weeks, Gentle Readers. It was two more before the Swiss Witch could stomach to look at this review.

She's back. Look out, author. This witch is pissed off now.)

"Ugh!" Mulder grimaced. "And you let me think you weren't into kinky stuff."

"You were the one who brought it up. Quit complaining. I've got to wash you(r) hair anyway." She picked up a small bottle of shampoo from the shower caddy (she'd save the big bottle for later and shove it straight up his...) and added, "Unless you really don't want me to use my shampoo."

"You haven't given me much of a choice now." (The Swiss Witch's thoughts exactly, Falconer. You earned this critique, mind-numbing bad idea by mind-numbing bad idea.)

Scully poured a dollop onto his head, and Mulder closed his eyes as she massaged his scalp and worked her fingers through his hair. The childlike smile on his face brought out the maternal aspect of her love for him. Before she knew it she was cradling his head against her breasts, still stroking and caressing him as he hugged her close.

He surprised her by saying, "I can hear my heart beating."

"I think that's my--" Then Scully (being such a simpleton in this particular story) understood, and her emotions again swelled within her. She sank to her knees, and for a long time they merely held each other, content to kiss and be close (Weirdo Scully's dream come true.) . When the shower spray started sending the shampoo running down both their faces, Scully futilely tried wiping it away and combing his hair back. They both fell to chuckling, finally standing up to allow Mulder to rinse out his hair.

He picked up the washcloth and soap and began vigorously working them with a triumphant grin. "Now it's my turn," he announced.

(Surely they're out of hot water by now? Surely? Please, someone, ANYONE, let them be out of hot water!)

Scully watched him with a big grin of delicious anticipation, wondering how he would treat her. (Would he slap her and say, "Woman get me a beer? Or would he shove the wash cloth straight up her Hershey highway, just as she had done with him?) When Mulder was satisfied with the lather, he returned the soap to the caddy and said, "Turn around." Scully did so, letting the spray hit her squarely on her breasts, while he began laving (laving? Once again, Stilted Language Choices Author ™ raises his or her ugly head.) her shoulders. He lifted her hair wash her neck but then stopped.

"What do you say we kill two birds with one stone?" he suggested, and soon Scully felt shampoo poured on her head.

She hesitated and asked, "Don't you want to wash it?"

"Ohhh, no. ("I want to shave it!") I wouldn't trust myself to do as a good job as you could. Besides, I think a woman washing her hair is *really* sexy. I've had fantasies of you with wet hair since our first case."

(Lazy-Ass Elvis Mulder grinned. Now, he could sit back and nurse his bleeding anus in peace.)

Scully smiled broadly at the unexpected compliment (Scully is a simpleton if she fell for that. By the way, it wasn't a compliment. It was an admission. There's a difference.) and began working her fingers through her tresses as Mulder slowly washed her back. His strokes were slow and gentle, and he seemed determined to play the washcloth over her in circles about five times before moving to a new patch of skin. She shuddered from her resurging arousal. If he were to stroke her breasts or her pubic mound right then she would have simply turned into pudding. (PUDDING?) She gasped a little and clenched her buttocks when he slid his hand between them.

"Uh...Dana," he said. "As much fun as it is having my hand stuck in your ass, I still have to wash the rest of you." (This is not Scully. This is not Mulder. Switzerland feels like a terrible voyeur at peeking in on these strange and bizzaro people's water-saturated honeymoon.) He gave a little tug, but she held on even tighter, trying to suppress (suppress) her chuckles.

(Why on earth would Scully enjoy having Mulder's hand wedged between her buttocks? Ask yourself that, Author. All the rest of us are.)

"I have another hand, you know," he warned. "Und vee haff vayz of makink you open yourself, Frau Scully. Kootchee, kootchee, kootchee!"

(Colonel-Klink-Elvis-oh-my-God-)Mulder's left fingers skittered (like a palmetto bug) around her left thigh to slide up against her crotch. She squealed and jerked back, releasing him. ("Don't touch my silk-purse with those man-hands, Colonel Klink! I'll tell Hogan on you!")

"Just for that--" said Mulder, standing. He gripped her hips and pressed his hard staff downturned (down-turned) between her buttocks. "And keep your hands in your hair, woman." ("And get me a beer!") His own (his own what?) closed over her breasts and squeezed lightly. With his tip caressing her the inside of her thighs, Scully knew she would be lost if he pushed in any deeper to touch her(All that work to not have dirty, filthy intercourse was in vain. Darn it! She'd just have to rip out his throat like all the others after all.)

"Just for that," Mulder repeated, then suddenly let her go. "I'm going to finish washing you." He crouched ("crouched" is not an attractive description) again and slid his hands up and down her legs, taking his time, lingering over the inside of her thighs. Up and down, up and down...curving around, back and forth...

"You know you've got really shapely legs?" he whispered. ("No shit, Sherlock," she whispered. Good thing she clenched her butt earlier. Soon, the poison tentacle would release and he would be a dead man.) He cuddled against her legs and rubbed his cheek against the back of one thigh. Scully grimaced and whimpered. (Does she find this distasteful since she's grimacing?) How long was he going to tantalize her? (The Swiss Witch thinks you mean "tease" or perhaps "taunt", maybe even "torture", anything but tantalize) She wanted to whirl on him, pin him to the floor like a lioness and have *her* way with him.

(Not everything is about you, Alien-Tentacle Butt Scrubber All Decked Out in Vera Wang Bridal Scully ™.)

Then he stopped. (Hoorah for ColonelKlink-Elvis-Mulder! Torture the Alien hybrid bitch!)

"Okay, you can rinse off now," he told her nonchalantly.

When she turned around the spray began combing the shampoo out of her hair (that is some ambidextrous spray!) and sending (sent, tense issues) it streaming down her breasts. Seeing his resurgency (read: chubby, stiffy, woody, even erection. Anything but "resurgency".) and the lustful gleam in his eyes told how much he wanted her--really desired her. (This sentence makes no sense whatsoever.) She could (couldn't) never (no) have allowed herself to play the vixen with him before, (more SERIOUS tense issues) but now...tease her, would he? (Not…not…THE VIXEN SCULLY ™!

The Great Swiss Witch feels a song coming on.

Vixen Scully

(sung to the tune of "Can't Help Falling in Love with You". Not in the key of D minor.)

Vera Wang

May have stitched her gown,

But no butt-crack is safe

When Vixen Scully's in town

Gluteal Clefts

Always clench in fear

When they sense that

Vixen Scully's near

Too much water flows

Down this hotel's drain

These characters do suck

And this story…causes us pain…

Wise men say

Stay away from these

For Vixen Scully's

Nothing but fanfic cheese

Slowly she began running her hands up her chest, cupping and squeezing her soapy breasts until they bobbed free. (Bobbed? How much water is in that shower?Is the drain blocked? ) She saw him grit his teeth and his eyes widen even more, so she continued again and again, enjoying what she was doing to herself as well as to him. Now and then she pinched her aching nipples, tugging on them to taunt him.

Mulder simply folded his arms and tightened then against his chest. Sometimes his cock would give a little twitch, but it was when he started tensing it deliberately that she knew he was fighting fire with fire. She grimaced slightly, knowing she was going to lose as long as he wasn't working to satisfy himself.

(Why does she grimace? Is sex that offensive to her? She can bob away in the shower but Scully doesn't like penetration? Mostly, *why* is this a win or lose situation?

This characterization of Scully is simply ridiculous, Author. Scully is not a virgin and "ice queen" belongs to the mythos of fan-fiction only. Scully would not be mean or childish to Mulder. Scully probably wouldn't be a dick-tease either.

This story is a disgrace. You should be ashamed, Mary Sue.)

He cupped an elbow, put a forefinger to his lips in thought, and asked, "You know, if you'd rather play with yourself, could I try rinsing out your hair?" ("No, that's all right Mulder. I'll rinse my own hair.")

Scully's eyes widened with expectation. "Be my guest," she said, pushing her breasts together and leaning forward wantonly.

Mulder hugged her close (how does he hug her with her leaning forward at the same time?) and ran his fingers through her thick hair, over and over. He gently rubbed her scalp, occasionally scrubbing it vigorously with his fingers, all the time grinning down at Scully's upturned, blissful face. (She must have turned around somehow. That's all the Great Swiss Witch can figure.) But she soon decided to stop playing with herself in favor of taking hold of him again. This time she pressed it (IT? Not THE it? Not Mulder's dirty wonder worm?! Vixen Scully grows brave.) down her belly and crotch until it popped in between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together.

(Ugh. The Swiss Witch is disgusted with the Author.)

"Ah-ah-ah!" he warned, although he didn't pull away. "Dana, please! Give me a break. You know very well a woman can last longer than a man...so if you don't want me falling asleep on top of you after my last time..."

"I might like that," Scully said (WHAT?!?!?!?! ONCE AGAIN, AUTHOR, "ICE QUEEN" IS A CONSTRUCT OF FAN FICTION!) rising on tiptoe to kiss him. "Okay, you poor boy. I'll have mercy on you if you give me some release before we're done in here." (I thought she was guarding her "special difference" with her life? Now she wants release? Maybe she just wants to get out of the shower.)

"I was getting there," he protested. "You're just too oversexed, you know that? (Colonel-Klink-Elvis-Mulder is apparently completely clueless.) That's probably why you've been supressing (suppressing) it all these years." (Talk to Ed Jerse.)

"Why you--"

"Careful, babe. I've still got a loaded washcloth. Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

Scully chuckled and closed her eyes, but only as long as he took to wash her face. He went slowly and even more delicately than she had been with him. (A rhino would have been more delicate and gentle than this Scully was.) Scully sighed from (um, maybe "enjoyed" instead?) his pampering. He could be so gentle and caring when he got the chance. Why couldn't I have seen beyond his innuendo and teasing? Was I afraid that's all he was: just sly banter, lonely nights with porn tapes, and fear of commitment? No, she concluded, it was me all along. He made all the careful flirtations, but I hardly ever gave him any encouraging signals until this last year. But then he hadn't seemed to want to flirt anymore. Whatever Spender did to him must have changed him dramatically. He's been looking at me through new eyes since then, clearer still after we found what happened to Samantha. I just never *really* looked back at him.

(Too many POV shifts in that paragraph…too much innuendo….Swiss Witch reeling…)

She leaned backward to rinse her face and watched him continue by (by?) washing her chest. He used the same slow, careful, repeated strokes he had on her back, only with extra massaging applied to her breasts. (Bad sentence, bad description. Bad bad bad.) Her respiration (why can't you just say "breathing", author? The Swiss Witch is amazed at how you choose to use over-blown language in some of this and then are not able to write a decent sentence in other parts.) picked up rapidly, her heart pounding like a triphammer. (It is not certain if there is such a thing as a trip hammer, please note the spelling, author. Hearts trip hammer. They don't pound like them.) A tiny mew escaped her throat whenever he brushed over a turgid (TURGID? Do you KNOW what turgid MEANS?) nipple, and she groaned when he ran circles around them. (Mulder running on her chest is more than a payback for the hell she put him through earlier. Wait a minute. No it's not.) She was actually panting by the time he stopped and moved to her abdomen, giving her a welcome respite before the final assault.

(Assault? Author, a piece of advice? Write sex as love, not war.)

He knelt before her and briefly looked up, almost as if asking permission to finish. She gasped at the depth of love filling his eyes and felt the tears filling hers.

"Don't be shy, Fox," she said. ("Stick your double agent right up my hoo-hah.")

"Just remember to say 'when,'" he replied, and wrapping his left arm around her waist, pressed the washcloth against her crotch.

(Please, Falconer. Please. Let go of this washing thing. Please, for the love of humanity.)

The wonderful tingling was immediate. His first strokes were up and down, pressing gently. She spread her stance to aid him, and he changed to moving in small circles. Her panting returned, and she bent her head back under the spray, letting the water flow down over her and his hand. Then he stroked her once vertically, and she jerked upright with a gasp.

Mulder tossed the cloth aside and tenderly assisted the water in rinsing her. Then he laid his head against her belly and and began slowly combing his fingers through her pubic hair. Up and down, and a little farther and a little more pressure each time. Scully gasped and whimpered even though he avoided her entrance. She couldn't see what he was doing, had no idea what he might do next, but the anticipation and surprise blended into heightening ecstasy. She forced herself to hold still, determined to endure all he could give her. Nothing he could do would be too much...until it was too late and he sent her over the edge anyway. (What? What? This reads like she's determined to not have an orgasm? And Falconer, do Swiss a teensy favor? Go rub yourself or someone you know with a washcloth like that and see how much you or they can stand.)

He began distracting her by kissing and sucking the skin of her belly. She guffawed (always a good thing to do at your lover) at this, but then moaned in response when he pressed the web of his thumb and forefinger against her just right. Soon she was whipping her head from side to side under the shower. (Tile flew everywhere. Soon her brains would leak from her ears and this would all be over.) Then his thumb brushed her doorbell. Impossible to deny him entry, she cried out, and he slipped inside.

(And then, the Great and Glorious Swiss Witch went insane.)

He stopped but did not remove his hand. She looked down to see his head cocked at an angle gazing up at her. Caressing his head and running her fingers through his hair, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back to answer his unspoken inquiry. Then she tensed as he began his special prestidigitation. (BUGGA BUGGA BUGGA BUGGA BUGGA. I am insane.

And:

pres·ti·dig·i·ta·tion (pr s t -d j -t sh n)
n.

Manual skill and dexterity in the execution of tricks; sleight of hand.

Falconer, see:

o·ver·blown ( v r-bl n )
v.

Past participle of overblow.

adj.

a. Done to excess; overdone: overblown decorations.

b. Full of empty or pretentious language; bombastic: overblown oratory.

2. Past the stage of full bloom: overblown roses.

3. Very fat; obese.

4. Having been blown down or over: a pile of overblown saplings.

Also see:

bom·bast (b m b st )
n.

Grandiloquent, pompous speech or writing.

Finally, see:

ri·dic·u·lous (r -d k y -l s)
adj.

1. Deserving or inspiring ridicule; absurd, preposterous, or silly.

2. Falconer's "Vision of Love".

See:

in·sane ( n-s n )
adj.

a. Of, exhibiting, or afflicted with insanity.

b. Characteristic of or associated with persons afflicted with insanity: an insane laugh; insane babbling.

c. Intended for use by such persons: an insane asylum.

2. Immoderate; wild: insane jealousy.

3. Very foolish; absurd: took insane risks behind the wheel.

BUGGA BUGGA BUGGA.)

At first he only stroked in and out. Soon he was twisting them slowly, still gently. When he brought his thumb into play once more. This time it was like pressing an ignition switch.

"Oh God!" Scully groaned. "Now, Fox! Now!"

Mulder began moving his stiff fingers inside her with short rapid strokes, and Scully was shuddering, clutching his hair. An almost electric shock of orgasm surged through her, followed by waves of exquisite pleasure that made her whole body quiver like (a bowl full of) jelly. She groaned huskily, unintelligibly, as he fulfilled his promise. Near the end her knees buckled, and Mulder held her tightly as he eased her down. Finally he scooped up her legs and settled her upon his thighs. She clung to his neck until her gasps subsided, although it took a few minutes for her heart to slow its pounding.

Finally looking into his face, she saw a Mona Lisa-like smile appear on his lips. (The Swiss Witch remembers there is a supposition that the whole Mona Lisa thing was DaVinci in drag…)

"Was it good for you too?" he asked.

She burst into giggles and smacked his shoulder (Women often hit men who give them orgasms.), then just as quickly kissed him hard enough to leave a permanent print of her lips on his mouth.

(Ouch, and because I'm tired of typing it, click here.)

----------------

End of Part 2 of 3 (After that review, the Great Swiss Witch has no doubt she could easily qualify for the American television phenomena, "Survivor". Eating bugs is nothing compared to reviewing part two of this story.)

******************************************************************

GIVING CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE: Though I believe that the short

quotations from the songs included in this story constitute "Fair Use"

under applicable US Copyright Laws, I think these wonderful writers

and this incredible recording artist deserve recognition.

"Can't Help Falling in Love." Performed by Elvis Presley. Written by

The Swiss Witch said she'd do all three parts and as God is her witness, she will. Take some time, recover from Part 2 and we'll go on to Part 3, Gentle Readers.

We're not out of the woods yet.

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