TITLE: Time (1/5)
AUTHOR: Terma99 
EMAIL: terma99@aol.com
DISTRIBUTION: Gossamer-YES! Anywhere else-YES! But be kind 
and let me know so I can come see.
SPOILERS: The Movie (pre-season six--Mulder still has hair)
RATING: NC-17 for "sex, and lots of it!"
SUMMARY: Returning to San Francisco, Mulder and Scully 
discover that becoming lovers is just a matter of time.
POST DATE: 12/19/98

MY NOTES: Warning! Major FBI aardvarking ahead. If you don't 
"go" for that, run like hell, run! This is not a sequel to Aftershock, 
but I just had to take these two back to San Francisco for some 
"time off." Whew! I'm glad I did. A more aggressive spin on the 
ol' "first (ach!) time" scenario. Also, after reading PD's "Clock 
Watcher," which I LOVE, I just had to give Mulder some of his 
pride back. Yeesh! I'll take fifteen seconds of HIM any day, but fifteen
hours is better...read on smut lovers! Oh and there's plenty 
of snuggles and kisses too. I had to turn the hose on these two to
finish it.
Yipes! I thought I'd get this out before S6 started. Then I 
thought, maybe I'll perk-up the mid-season rerun boredom...

SPECIAL THANKS: to Alanna for sending me video clips of a wild,
rutting Duchovny. It "helped" in the making of this erotic romp.
And to my beta babes: Sue, Dasha, Alanna, and Blueswirl! 
Hope the smut was hot enough for ya! Merry Christmas to the 
JCLS gang.

DISCLAIMER: Okay, here we go. I don't own them, 
I'm just borrowing them because the grand high
sci-fiction genius Chris Carter invented them 
and I'm horribly envious. So I borrow them and 
let them have a break from the six 
years of UST. I think they appreciate it. All 
regards to 1013, FOX, and such. No infringement, 
no money intended, just fun for my squirrely little

My toil as a magazine editor is sapping the life 
out of me! Terma99@aol.com 
(My friends call me Sharon. Feedback=instant friend)

by Terma99

                "You'll remember me like a melody.
                Yeah, I'll haunt the world inside you.
                And my big secret--gonna win you over,
                Slow like honey, heavy with mood."

                                        -Fiona Apple

"If you don't follow me up here Scully, I'm going to be 
very disappointed."

"What the hell's up this hill anyway?"

"It's a surprise." He held his hand out to her, "c'mon."

"A surprise?" She wasn't sure she was going to like this. It 
most likely involved something unexplainable. Of all the hills in 
San Francisco to investigate, Mulder had chosen the longest 
and seemingly steepest of the lot. 

A hill in San Francisco is not just any hill. San Francisco hills 
are infamous for being the most treacherous, 4-speed roll-
back collision hills in the nation. Perilously narrow streets 
made narrower by cars forced to street park at perpendicular 
angles to the curb--on roadways so steep, the narrow homes 
lining them are split level starting with one story and ending 
with two on the downhill side. And this hill was certainly living up 
to that reputation.

"Mulder, I'm tired."

"You won't be if you give me your hand and come on up here."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" she said reluctantly, 
trudging up the sidewalk to him and accepting his hand.

"Where's the fun in that?"

Fun indeed, Scully thought, as she let him half drag her up the 
hill, holding her arm up every now and again like a 
parent encouraging a toddler to keep up. Dammit, his legs 
were longer and she was stuffed. She had just finished eating 
about half her weight in lasagna, and polished off more than her 
fair share of a bottle of Niebaum/Coppola Cabernet. Hill 
climbing wasn't the first thing on her mind right now--crawling 
into a warm hotel bed and nodding off for ten or so hours 
before their flight back to DC tomorrow afternoon was.

But if she had to characterize this evening, she'd have to label it 
fun. Fun was a rare thing to experience with her normally 
laconic partner. Fanciful in wit but often distant in emotion, 
tonight he was an unusual blend of playful and courteous. Should 
she dare say even gentlemanly? He'd even paid for their dinner of 
all things. She supposed she should be getting wary and just call it 
a night before his attentions reached a dangerous level, 
but something in her right now just didn't care about all 
the professional appearances crap. They were off the clock and 
he was her friend, her best friend, and tonight they were just 
having a hell of a good time. He was a man, why shouldn't he 
treat her like a lady for once. If you can call dragging a very 
full, slightly tipsy lady up one mother of a hill at ten o'clock at 
night gentlemanly.

With more than a little effort, Scully managed to reach the peak 
of the hill without collapsing in a panting heap. Alcohol did not 
do much for strengthening the physique for endurance. To 
her utmost dread, she realized Mulder was tugging her towards 
an alley-like path to the right--a path that quickly ascended into 
a long steep stretch of stairs up into the woodsy hillside. 

"Whoa, hold on," she dropped his hand and bent at the waist a 
bit, laying her hands above her knees, catching her breath. He 
turned and gave her a disapproving look.

"You're not going to give out on me now," he insisted.

She lifted her head. "Why not?"

"Because I'm counting on you."

"Counting on me for what? To train for the triathlon?"

"No, to follow me up this damn hill."

"Could we settle for a shorter hill?"

He set his hands on his hips and leered playfully at her.

"No, I need us to ascend *this* hill in particular."

She thought to make a remark about this being an alien 
abduction site, but instead resigned herself to...

"I'll make you a deal. You tell me what's so great about this hill 
and I'll consider making an attempt to climb it for you, okay?"

"Don't you trust me, Scully?"

"No. Next question."

He laid his hand over his mouth, thinking. "All right then, what if 
I told you there was an amazing feat of human engineering up 
here that just couldn't be missed...would you come?"

She arched her back and eyed him with a dubious expression. 
"That's the best you can do?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

She felt her heart rate slowing back down to a more 
acceptable rhythm and air returning to her lungs. "Okay, if we go 
at my speed, I'll follow. But what do I get if this isn't the 
most amazing thing I've ever seen?"

"You get to kick my ass for dragging you up here."

She laughed, "For that, I'll try anything."

She entered the alley with him and at the top of a second 
torturous flight of stairs, the path turned into a pleasant red 
brick-lined walkway winding up the hillside in a long circle, past 
the front doors of some fine whitewashed stucco homes.

"People live here?" she wondered, amazed at the hike it would 
take in from the street, not to mention the perilous parking 

"They certainly do, some of the most expensive homes in the 
City." His voice was warm and low just above her ear. He 
walked close to her, his hand lightly brushing across her shoulders 
as they made the climb. 

His faint possessive touch made the mild wine-induced buzz she 
was experiencing take on a whole new flavor. She supposed 
she should make an attempt to step away, but the notion soon lost 
to the pleasant awareness gathering within her. An awareness 
she had felt before not so long ago in a vacant hallway in 
Arlington. It had never really left her altogether, just gone 
dormant for a while.

Experience told her that watchful eyes were everywhere and 
danger imminent, but somehow wandering recklessly with 
him around this distant city made her feel exempt from all of 
that. The day to day peril of their occupations was 6,000 miles 
away, and tonight the still San Francisco spring air was lulling 
her into a protected universe where only the present mattered, 
not the perilous trenches of the past or the uncertain 
wavering future. Her mind only wanted to focus on the feel of 
his fingertips brushing the hair from the back of her neck as 
they moved along.

The path ended, opening up to a roadway lined with parked 
cars, lights on, people inside, all waiting to drive up the hill. 
Mulder took her hand again and led her across the street 
between two cars to a cement sidewalk circling the edge of the 
steep hill. 

"Final climb, Scully," he said, nodding to the cars. "See why 
we walked?"

The cars weren't the only pilgrims making the ascent she 
noticed, several other humans were joining the climb now, 
too, almost exclusively in pairs--male-female, male-male, 
didn't matter, all were most certainly couples. 

Scully gave her partner a wary look. "You're not taking me to 
a makeout spot, are you?"

He did his best to look appalled. 
"Wha? Scully, where's your head? I'm taking you to see a tower."

"A tower?"

"Yes, in fact, there it is." He pointed to her left. Just clearing the 
trees was an enormous white glowing tower rising two hundred 
feet straight up. Tall, thin and narrow, its rounded cap was 
rimmed by stars flashing in the clear night sky.

Mulder stopped them a moment to fill her in on a bit of SF 
history. "Coit Tower was built in 1933 by a Mrs. Lillie Hitchcock 
Coit in memory of her dearly departed husband. He was the City 
fire chief for 40 years. The tower is symbolic of a firehose--see 
what love can do?"

Scully raised an eyebrow over her shoulder at him, "It looks like 
a penis," she said flatly. 

His mouth dropped open. "Scully, you aren't making this very 
easy for me, you know."

"Making *what* easy, Mulder?"

He appeared to attempt to make a glib come back, but only 
his twitching lips tried to make the sound. He gave up, shutting 
his mouth tight and took her hand again instead. "C'mon, I'm 
not through with you."

"You mean this isn't the part where I get to kick your ass?"

"Not even close," he grumbled, leading her away from the 
glowing phallus and out toward the edge of the rounded parking 
lot. As they cleared the distance, Scully was suddenly overcome 
by the view.

"Oh my god..." she breathed, as Mulder pulled her forward 
toward the viewing ledge. Coit Tower sat atop Telegraph Hill, one 
of the tallest, narrowest hills in the City. At its peak where they 
now stood, one could see far into the night over San Francisco 
and the surrounding bay. Mulder took her hands and half lifted 
her up onto the wide ledge next to him so she could see from 
the bright pastel-lit apartment rooftops of Pacific Heights 
and Russian Hill, out over the Marina's sail boat slips to Fort 
Mason, jutting out into the water in front of the red glow of 
the distant Golden Gate Bridge. Panning across the bay waters to 
the flashing beacon of Alcatraz, they could see over to the 
far Oakland city shoreline and white cable lights of the Bay Bridge. 
A near-360 degree view speckled with red and green port 
and starboard lights of freighter ships and smaller craft 
navigating the dark shallow waters of the bay, their lonely 
horns bellowing across the waves. Below them and around 
them, people huddled in twos on the grassy slope or sat upon 
the ledge, some peered into the night through binoculars. A 
very popular spot indeed.

Scully tore her eyes away from the view long enough to look up 
at her partner, her mouth still slightly open in amazement. She 
was about to make a comment to that effect, but instead 
found herself taken aback by the brilliant green glint in his 
sleepy eyes, lit by the white glow of Coit Tower. Mulder 
wasn't looking out to sea at all. He was looking at her, only her. 
He still held her gently by her wrists and she felt herself 
suddenly shook by a nervous tremble.

"You cold?" he asked quietly, his careful gaze unrelenting.

"No," she managed.

"Well, come here anyway," he said, pulling her into his arms 
and wrapping her inside the edges of his leather jacket. He held 
her close to him and she let herself be surrounded by his 
welcoming warmth, her arms circling around his waist. She felt 
her trembles ease and her nerves calm. It has so easy to be in 
his arms. She had certainly been held by him before and she 
realized now how much she had missed it. But again, this was a 
very different situation--she wasn't dying or about to leave him. 
She was just here with him sharing an evening, and for once 
really genuinely enjoying his company. Why shouldn't she 
enjoy being close to him as well? She sighed quietly and 
relaxed even further against him, allowing herself to revel in 
the mild musky scent of him intermixed with the thick essence 
of leather. She closed her eyes.

For several long minutes they stayed like that. His hand 
gently stroking her back in lazy circles. She didn't move, 
but presently he lowered his head and she imagined she could 
feel him smiling into her hair, planting a gentle kiss there.

"Still feel like beating the crap out of me?" he asked, his 
voice muffled by her hair.

"Hmm, thinking about it..." she answered, her voice taking on 
a drowsy quality that had nothing to do with tiredness.

He pulled back from her slightly, and lifted his hand to tip her 
chin up to him. She met his deep gaze, watching his eyes 
dance across her face with expectation. He was going to try that 
kiss again she mused, a strange calm taking her over. He'd 
been trying all night she realized--dinner, wandering about 
North Beach in and out of absurd novelty stores, fumbling 
through Washington Square Park in the dark, and finally 
climbing the ridiculous hills to this place--all a plot to get her 
close enough to kiss. 

She wasn't about to disappoint him. The curiosity was too much 
to bear another near-miss. She held very still and let him guide 
her lips gently against his, warm and soft, just a glancing touch 
that didn't pull back but hovered, just a fraction from contact 
before moving in again to gently press against her. Hardly a kiss 
at all, she dimly thought, but somehow appropriate. His hands 
were cupped about her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks 
lightly. After a few moments he pulled back to gauge her response. 

The newly awakened part of her wanted to slug him for being 
so damned reserved, but she knew the insecure percentage of 
his character was waiting for her to give him further instruction as 
to what direction this little experiment should take. She gave him 
his answer in the form of a warm smile and a verbal gibe.

"Is that the best you can do?"

He pursed his lips in annoyance. "Yeah, that's what I thought," 
he murmured low, as he pulled her to him, burying his hand in 
her hair and bringing her mouth to his.

His second attempt was better--much better--as his mouth 
came down on hers with a considerably less-guarded touch. 
He pressed and moved deliberately against her, separating her 
lips and moving to envelope her top lip between his before making 
a clean sweep of her lower, plumper lip, pulling it into his 
mouth, running the leading edge of his tongue across it, getting 
a good taste of it, before ending with a tiny nip. 

He tipped her head back to look at her, still holding a palmful of 
her hair, his expression more assertive. "Better?" he asked.

They were suddenly startled by a blaring horn not six feet 
away. Turning, they saw a pile of young adults bouncing out of 
the back of a pickup, running toward two twenty-
somethings embracing in the blaring truck's headlights.

"Hey everyone," one of the gang was yelling between horn 
blasts. "Our friends just got engaged!"

A number of couples paused in their own romantic endeavors 
to applaud the starry-eyed duo still held close to one another in 
the glare of the lights.

Scully gave a little laugh and dropped her nose to Mulder's 
chest, shaking her head. He held her close, chuckling himself. 
"I think this place might be a bit *too* romantic," he admitted.

"Well, subtlety was never your style, Mulder," she said, giving him 
a squeeze. 

"Maybe we should go," he decided, and pulled away from her. 
He jumped down off the ledge and turned, motioning her forward. 
He grabbed her at the waist and lifted her down. She took 
the opportunity to circle her arms around his neck, planting a kiss 
on his cheek, not yet ready to separate for the evening. 

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were getting attached to me," 
he teased, returning the kiss on her forehead.

"Don't piss me off, Mulder," she reminded him, blithely.

"Don't worry," he said, gathering her arms gently from around 
his neck and taking her hand. "The night's gone pretty well so far..."

So far? she wondered, eyeing him carefully, walking with him 
back across the lot toward the tower path. There was going to 
be *more*? She felt her breath catch in her throat as it 
constricted. She looked sidelong at him and he must have 
been reading her thoughts because he was giving her a smug grin.

Against her will, she felt the fear once again whispering to 
her, breaking up her otherwise pleasantly contented demeanor. 
What was he up to? Certainly he didn't presume he'd be taking 
her back to the hotel and getting her in the sack that easily? 
Well, maybe he could, she admitted to herself. But, *still*. She 
must have been tensing up because he now looked concerned 
and shook her arm by the hand he held to loosen her up. 

"Hey Scully, don't lose me here. We're just going for a walk, okay?"

"We've been going for a walk all night," she said, her voice 
sounding tighter than she wanted it to be. 

He squeezed her hand gently, "Walking's okay isn't it? 
Maybe another kiss or two if I'm lucky?"

She relaxed then. This was Mulder after all, not some gropey 
blind date. He'd been perfectly behaved with her for almost six 
years now, what on earth did she think she had to worry about? 
For god's sake, this man dragged his ass to Antarctica for her. He 
was certainly going to behave if she asked him to. The real 
problem was she wasn't sure she wanted to have the option. A 
large part of her just wanted him to pounce and have it done 
with already. He'd been driving her nuts for far too long with 
his little off-color comments and long soulful looks. She was in 
love with him, she knew that--had been for a very long time, 
too long. Why then did the thought of giving herself up to him 
terrify her so much? Was she afraid of disappointing him? 
Maybe, maybe that was it. Or maybe it was the thought of 
stepping ahead before either one of them was fully prepared to 
deal with it. 

They walked in silence for a while back down the hill. Downhill 
was certainly more manageable than uphill--and easier to 
think, more oxygen going to the brain. His expression was 
unreadable now as he strolled along beside her, giving her 
some mental space. The only difference from their trek up was 
the way his thumb was gently caressing the back of her hand as 
he held it, swinging his arm a bit. He certainly seemed 
relaxed. Maybe he was faking it.


His eyes dropped to hers again. "Yeah?"

"You okay with this?" she asked, for nothing else than just to feel 
him out a little. To see if he was experiencing any of the 
same confusion she was.

"Yeah Scully, I'm okay with this. I'm *very* okay with this," 
he answered her steadily.

"You don't think we're going to regret this tomorrow?"

He gave her the same look he had a minute earlier to loosen her 
up. He shook his head. "Taking you to dinner and dragging you 
up Telegraph Hill for a little smooch? No...I'd never regret 
anything about tonight; you know that. We're not breaking any 
laws here...it was just our time, that's all."

He certainly had a way of summating everything so simply 
she thought with envy. Why did it have to be so much harder 
for her? She couldn't be nearly as complacent about this whole 
thing, her mind working overtime to try and suppose the whole 
thing out.

"Well, suppose this evening winds up being well, more than a...
more like a...*situation*," she finished with a frustrated release 
of breath.

"You propositioning me, Scully? I think I can have you written up 
for that."

"Dammit Mulder, stop being so..."


"So sure of yourself." She stopped then, hands crossing her 
chest, glaring up at him.

"Whoa woman. Get a grip. You're going rabid on me here." He 
took her hand and brought it to his lips. She immediately 
loosened and felt herself calm a few pegs. 

"I think I've got something figured out," he said, dragging 
her knuckles across his lips. "You're fine as long as I'm touching 

She sighed and let her hand smooth over the side of his face. 
"Touch me, then," she said softly, and he obeyed. Taking her by 
the waist, Mulder pushed her gently back against the brick wall 
and with full intent, proceeded to indulge himself in her 
mouth. Long, slow, delicious open kisses, his tongue sliding 
against hers, tasting her, brushing his fingers over her face, 
slipping an arm low, drawing her closer to him. His lips 
played against hers in a teasing rhythm for a while before 
pressing hungrily to her again, exploring the soft recesses of 
her mouth. His kisses tasted pleasantly of mint and dry wine 
and something else altogether uniquely him. She was enthralled 
by it--by discovering him this way.

Scully felt her hands rising up around the back of his 
neck, encouraging him in his endeavors, freely releasing the 
confines of her mouth to him. Everything within the reach of his 
lips was his for the taking. She was losing her fear quickly as 
the deep pull of lust began to take over her trepidatious mind. 
She soon felt herself issuing a pleasant hum, lost in the play of 
his lips to which he responded fervently.

After a dizzying length of time, he released her, letting them 
catch their breath.

"Feel better?" he murmured, rubbing his forehead against hers, 
his mouth moist and beautiful, still just a few inches from her lips. 

She was breathing as if she had just climbed another hill, 
nodding she answered, "Much better. What took you so long?"

"What took me so long?" he asked, pulling back and smiling at 
her. "It was you giving me the look of death all these years." 

"The what?"

"You heard me, a guy knows better than to try and shag his 
partner nowadays."

"Are you saying the thought's crossed your mind before?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"


"Okay, yeah, I always thought you were pretty hot."

"Always--you're saying from the beginning?"

"Sure, from the beginning."

She dropped her eyes then and began to giggle, shaking her head. 
He reached out and touched her chin, raising it to look at him again.

"What?" he asked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh no Mulder, you don't get it. You could have had me so easily 
back then."

"Excuse me?"

"When we were, um, first together. You were, well, 
pretty impressive. And I was very, very young."

He crossed his arms and dipped his head to her, incredulous. 

"You've *got* to be kidding."

She opened her mouth as if to debate him, and then snapped it 
shut and smug. "'fraid not."

"Jesus Scully, I was an ass back then. Running off, keeping you in 
the dark. If that was a turn-on, well then how do I rate now on 
the Dana Scully desire scale?"

"Who said this has anything to do with desire?" she asked, 
batting her eyes at him. Baiting him was becoming much too 
enticing right now.

"Sometimes I think you deliberately try to make me crazy."

"Well, then maybe you should do something about it."

"Like shutting you up? I can handle that."

He bent down and before she could get away, grabbed her below 
the waist, unceremoniously throwing her up and over his 
shoulder and trudging down the hill toward the private walkway.

She squealed, bouncing half upside-down, his shoulder digging 
into her abdomen, suddenly exasperated by her 
predicament. Thrown over the shoulder like a sack of 
potatoes, indeed. 

"Shit Mulder, put me down!" she yelped, slapping his back as 
the brick walkway bobbed perilously several feet beneath her. 
When did he get so tall?

"What? Can't hear you?"

"Mulder, you heard me, put me down!"

"Sorry, can't do that."

Dammit, why wasn't she armed right now? This was worse than 
a blind date. Definitely entering strange waters here.

"Mulder...I'm serious..." she said lower, in an attempt to 
actually sound serious.

"So am I," he replied, sliding her back onto her feet and pulling 
her into one of the whitewashed Telegraph Hill doorways--right 
onto someone's front porch. There was a bench in the arched 
alcove in front of the heavy oak front door. Mulder took a seat 
and reached out to her. "Sit down," he commanded, with an 
alluring mix of mischief and desire in his eyes.

"Mulder, we can't stop here, this is someone's house," she whispered.

"So?" he argued, looking up at the front door. "Looks pretty quiet 
to me. Have a seat."

"You're taking up the whole bench," she whined, looking over 
her shoulder back toward the brick path in time to see two 
people walk by, oblivious to them in the shadows.

"That's the whole idea..." he took her hand and gently eased 
her down into his lap, settling her legs across his.

"I still don't think this is a good idea," she said, despite the fact 
her traitorous hands were winding their way up his neck and 
back into his hair. It felt just as silky and wonderful as she 
ever imagined now that she was able to really get her fingers 
into it.

His eyes, darkened by the shadows, were busily scanning her 
mouth as his hands came up from her waist and slipped up into 
the back of her loose sweater, sampling the smooth skin of her 
back. She issued a little moan and her lips parted as she 
leaned forward into his kiss.

God, he felt good. A little too good for her calculated and 
controlled sensibility. She couldn't remember the last time 
making out with someone felt like this. Or even the last time 
she'd been kissed properly, or if she had *ever* been 
kissed properly. The muscles in her limbs were already 
turning to mud, not to mention the alarmingly advanced 
condition between her thighs. What the hell was he doing to 
her? Maybe trust had something to do with it. This really 
was spinning out of reason a lot faster than she had ever 
anticipated, but it wasn't something she wanted to let go of 
either. She was in too deep now to call it off. Front porch or not, 
she fully intended to see this through to the end--her 
passion-starved body wasn't going to have it any other way. 
Good lord, was she actually considering fucking him right here 
in his lap, just inches from where these fine folks picked up 
their morning paper? Mulder was right, where's your head?

"Mulder...?" she breathed, trying to gather a cohesive sentence as 
he went to work gnawing her neck, his warm hands lushly 
kneading the flesh on her back. "Um, I think we need to...
uh, wait...maybe take this somewhere else."

He mumbled something against her neck...it sounded like an 
annoyed groan.

"I'm serious, I think...oh god, don't...I think we're going to need 
a bed." There, well-said. Jesus, he was running his tongue under 
her ear. "Mulder...?"

He was in no mood to talk and stole her next words with a rough 
and thorough sweep of her mouth, pressing his lips tightly 
against hers rooting for the closest fit, one hand escaping her 
sweater to tangle into the back of her hair. He drew her even 
closer to him, pressing her tightly into his lap leading her to 
discover *exactly* how okay he was with this. So maybe sex in 
public wasn't such a bad idea after all? She made a reach for his fly.

That, for some odd reason, stopped him cold. He took her hands 
and gently held them together against his chest. He surrounded 
her with his arms, tucking her under his chin and began rocking 
her, shushing her, stroking her hair. She was still wiggling in 
his embrace as he tried to bring her back down a little, kissing 
the top of her head. Calming her. 

"Scully, I want you to listen to me for a moment," he said, with 
a rough edge to his usual throaty half-voice.

"Hmm...?" she murmured, swiveling in his grasp, trying to 
free herself to get another taste of his mouth.

"Listen to me," he said beseechingly, holding her shoulders 
and dipping his head to look closely at her. The normally soft 
hazel of his eyes were drenched into deeper hues by the pull of 
his arousal. "I need you to make a decision for us."

She stared back at him, dazed, taking a minute to try and shift 
gears. First he wanted her to let go of reason, now he wanted her 
to stop and think in some kind of rational manner while her 
thigh was taking a perfect reading of his pulse through his 
jeans? What the hell?


"I need you to think very carefully and tell me if this is what 
you really want."

Her sharp and somewhat hurt intake of breath forced him 
to rephrase his question.

"I know you want this--believe me, I know. What I need you 
to realize is that if we let this happen tonight there's no going 
back. We...*I* can't pretend like it never happened."

She opened her mouth to try and make a statement, but 
words escaped her right now. Yes, there would be no going back. 
She was sure she knew that. 

"I don't think I want you to leave this all to me," she said.

"I'd agree, but we both know between the two of us...you're the 
more sensible."

She sat still for a moment and let her mind begin to ponder 
the significance of this night. He'd been playing it nonchalantly 
only to put her at ease--now she understood his stakes were 
much higher--he was much more terrified than she was. "I see," 
she said, and sat up straight, moving out of his lap and taking a 
close seat next to him, wiping her mouth dry with the back of 
her hand. His eyes followed her, desperate but committed 
to whatever response she would give him. "I suppose we 
should think about Monday," she said, coming more fully into 

He took her hand suddenly and held it firmly in his. "No, not that. 
I'm not asking you to rationalize this or analyze the details. Don't 
let your mind or body decide--neither one is very reliable 
about these things. We've let our rationalizations bury us 
long enough--don't listen to the reasons, listen to your feelings. 
What is Dana Scully telling you to do?"

She closed her eyes and just breathed slowly, trying to find 
herself deep down under the hurricane of lust raging within her. 
This wasn't exactly the best time to bring this up. Still, she did 
know the answer, she'd known it all along. She opened her eyes 
and began to speak, staring at the swirling patters in the 
white stucco wall.

"I believe I'm telling myself what I've always known from 
the beginning. That I'll follow you into whatever danger or 
challenge might present itself to us. I know my place is with you
--it's where I belong; it's where I feel right, complete." She turned 
to face him directly.

"The truth is Mulder, the farther and harder I've tried to 
distance myself from you, the more miserable I've been...we've 
been. I know we belong to one another--I've always known that 
and I don't, I can't believe that expressing this connection we have 
is in any way going to change that. If death, separation, 
suffering, insanity--if none of these things has broken us--how 
could love possibly break us? How could love ever come between 
us? That doesn't make any sense to me.

"So to answer for you, yes--I think you were right--there is 
nothing wrong with what's happening between us tonight--it 
was just our time."

His face, which he had been patiently holding very still for her 
to finish her thoughts, softened then into something one could 
only describe as utter adoration--if an expression taken from so 
close to the heart could possibly be conveyed in this manner.

"Well come on then," he said standing, taking her hand. "Let's let 
this happen."

TIME (2/4)
by Terma99

See part one for info:
Missing chapters? 
Go to: www.reocities.com/hotsprings/8334/fic.html

Scully stood and let herself be pulled forward into his fierce hug, 
his nose and lips falling to the base of her neck, nuzzling her.

"There's something I have to warn you about Scully," he said in 
a rough voice, nipping the side of her neck. She arched her 
back, pressing into him. 


"I like to use my mouth......a lot."

She sighed, shuddering in anticipation. "Think we can get a cab 
out here?" Walking all the way back to the hotel seemed 
an impossible venture to her, given the general fluid condition 
of most of her lower body.

"Hold on--let me see..." he was digging into the pocket of his 
jacket. Presently, his hand emerged fingering a key. "Maybe we 
could try this," he said, handing it to her.

She responded with a wary look. "What is it?"

He shrugged, "It's a key, Scully."

"I see that. To what?" He nodded at her to take a closer look at it. 
It had lettering on it, 371 Coit Terrace. Abruptly she turned to 
look up at the door. 371 was the number stuccoed in tile to the 
right of the frame. Giving him a raised brow, she tried the lock. 
It clicked heavily, and she pulled the iron latch upward, opening 
the door.

Inside was nothing short of amazing. Coit Terrace residents 
certainly lived a cut above. The moonlight pouring in through the 
tall arched multi-paned windows illuminated the rough white 
adobe walls and terra-cotta tiled floor. She stepped in, raising 
her eyes to view the open double story entryway that led to the 
left, down into a sunken living room tastefully decorated in turn-
of-the-century Mediterranean handcrafted wood and ceramic. To 
her right stood a wide, half spiral staircase which snaked its way 
up to the open beams of the second floor landing.

Mulder leaned back into the heavy wood door, hearing it groan 
and latch into place behind him. He reached his hand back and 
fitted the bolt, his eyes never leaving her. Inside. They were 
inside the door. He hadn't even thought to hope for it, even if he 
had spent the better part of yesterday planning for the possibility.

Scully was ahead of him halfway into the foyer, looking up at 
the high ceiling down to the long walls where dark woven 
tapestries were hung with iron rods. Her pretty rose-red lips 
were opened in awe. "Mulder. How on earth?"

He smiled at her, "Impressed?"

"Your mother?"

"Sort of, a friend of the family."

"Some friend. Do they know you've absconded with their key?"

"*Yes.* They heard I was coming out here and asked if I could 
check on the place. The house is empty at the moment, furnished 
for sale purposes."

Scully whirled around, giving him her best by-the-book stance. 
"And you figured you could just bring me here?"

She couldn't help but make this difficult, could she? He 
wasn't backing down now, no way. Quickly, he tried to 
reassemble one of his best adventurous smirks from their 
early days--whatever worked for her. "Come on Scully, 
don't you want to find out how the other half lives?"

She raised her chin, her face becoming a sexy mixed expression 
of skepticism and daring, "I think I could manage breaking a 
few rules."

"That's my girl," he grinned, stepping forward, taking her arm 
and leading her deeper into the house.

She looked impressed, very impressed. Something in his chest 
cavity was doing back-flips. Tonight was going well. He could 
almost not even allow himself to believe it. He'd gone from rigid 
and scared to manic relief in a matter of seconds sitting beside 
her on that little bench, inches from freedom. He had asked 
the question, and if he could trust his ears to be honest, it 
seemed she wanted this as every bit as much as he did, and 
for the same reasons. 

For months now, his faultless memory had tortured him with 
replays of an event which was born of a desperate impulse. He 
had been angry and frightened, she couldn't possibly have 
been telling him what he was clearly hearing. She was leaving 
him, and at all costs that was not something he was willing to 
accept. Leaving, moving on, wasn't a choice they had anymore. 
He had tried to communicate that fact--that there was no more 
*him* without *her* anymore. He had bared himself to her and 
she had done the most remarkable thing, she had reached for 
him. Through her tears and frustration, she had reached for him, 
and he could not help but to move his uncertain lips to hers. 
His memory was true, her mouth just parting to accept his kiss, 
he was sure of it--it had haunted his dreams. So cruel to be that 
close to just miss and be left wanting and empty to start all 
over again, like so many passions in his life. He almost expected 
San Francisco to fall into the sea up on the hill tonight when 
he moved to kiss her. He had wanted to sing with joy when his 
gentle brush made its final contact. 

His gamble was paying off. Her heart was opening to him through 
the promises she had shown him; from the softening of her voice, 
to the sweetness of her mouth, to the way she pressed to him as 
he touched the silky warmth of her skin. He was thrumming 
with anticipation, but consciously willing himself to stillness--to 
take each offering as it came, to let her bloom slowly for him 
into wantonness, a metamorphosis he never dared to imagine 
he'd witness. And yet it was happening, and he didn't want to 
miss a beat of it.

She was discovering the kitchen now, running her hand over 
the dark hand-thrown ceramic tiles and steel fixtures. She came 
to the double fridge which was humming dully, and in 
curiosity, jerked it open. She turned to him with a quizzical eye.

"You don't bother to stock your own home this well Mulder. 
When did you manage...?" she stopped herself. She just 
discovered she knew. "You didn't have an old VCS parole 
hearing yesterday, did you?"

He glanced shyly at the floor. "Nope."

She smiled suspiciously, turning to close the chilly door. "I 
thought you were gone quite a while. What else did you buy?"

He tapped a cabinet confidently. "Just a few essentials for a 
decent breakfast...or midnight snack...or both."

She nibbled her bottom lip warily. "You *are* being cocky about 

"On the contrary, Scully, I'm scared as shit. But at least I won't 
starve if you make me sleep on the couch."

She tilted her head in consideration of the option, and he snorted 
in disgust.

"You wouldn't really do that to a guy, would you?"

"I don't know--you haven't showed me the bedroom yet."

He took her hand and tucked it in his arm leading her back out 
into the foyer. Leaning close to her ear he whispered, "That's the 
next stop on the tour."

She dropped his arm when they reached the foot of the stairs 
and ran her hand over the decorative ball at the end of the railing. 

"Up the stairs?" she asked, tossing an impish look back at him 
to make sure he'd follow close. Mulder encouraged her with a 
smile and vigorous nod as he climbed the stairs after her. He 
was smiling a lot now he realized, growing more hopeful, 
less guarded, less suspicious. She had done this to him, in her 
own time she had turned him into a creature he could almost 
stand. He loved her so goddamned much it captured his breath. 
She was simply everything, and tonight he wanted to lose himself 
in her and in letting go be transformed and found complete. He 
was following her upstairs, watching her round little ass as 
it ascended above him. God, the things he wanted to do to her, 
show her, confess to her--it made him dizzy to try and make order 
to the chaos that was unfolding. So instead he disallowed himself 
all contriving and structuring--free falling in the jump of his life.

Scully stood at the arch that opened up into the second floor 
master bedroom and took inventory of the layout. The room was 
long and narrow. At one end stood a large rough stone fireplace 
and wood pile, in the center of the room were a set of 
overstuffed linen chairs and low glass table. Just beyond them was 
a sliding glass door which opened out onto a small deck. At the 
far wall to her right, under a round plate-glass window, was a 
large, high bed with a beige comforter tossed with earthtoned 
pillows of various sizes up against a rough-cut hardwood 
backboard. The room was both organic and comforting under 
the shadowy glow of the moon.

Mulder's hand was stroking the back of her neck. "How'd I do?"

She nodded her head sighing, "Not bad at all." She couldn't look 
at him just yet. Standing at the doorway to a bedroom in which 
they were certainly sharing the rest of the night together, took 
her back a moment. She needed some time to center herself. 

"Ladies' room?" 

He pointed to a door just behind them in the hall. 

"Give me a minute."


Scully shut the bathroom door behind her and closed her eyes. 
She couldn't deny it, she was scared. It seemed far too many 
things hinged on this evening--it had been too long in coming for 
it to be easy. She felt flushed and cold at the same time; her 
body wasn't operating in a manner she was accustomed to. He 
was right, as soon as she left his arms she felt like she was going 
to fall apart, come undone. To do this, to make it complete and 
join with him, required a certain abandoning of the self. A self 
she had closely guarded for many years--a self that had grown 
used to certain sacrifices. No, she corrected herself, she 
hadn't completely sacrificed her sexuality, just made it 
more personal. And she had to admit, Mulder held his own 
vaporous presence in that sexuality. She was extremely attracted 
to him and always had been, even if he drove her absolutely 
nuts with his single-minded recklessness, so unlike her 
own sensibilities. She had to admit--it held a certain appeal. 

But still, they had found it easy enough to channel those 
unspoken energies into their work. They had created a special 
type of intimacy over the years that hung balanced on a 
delicate thread they each knew the dimensions of so well they 
could navigate around it undisturbed, without drawing 
undue attention to it. And that would have gone on indefinitely, 
had she not broken the spell by trying to leave him. She wasn't 
even sure if she had really meant it. She said the words as 
if someone else had spoken them. She had tried to leave him 
before, more times than she could admit. But something in the 
end made her stay, and now she knew the identity of that thing
--love. They had achieved an understanding of one another 
that made their separation an impossibility. She had to trust him 
to take her the rest of the way. There was no direction but forward.

She opened her eyes and forced herself to look in the mirror. 
The reflection matched the face she was accustomed to seeing, 
aside from the flush to her lips and cheeks brushed into her 
pale skin by his kisses. God, just thinking of them made her pool 
with desire. Ahh, that was it--she could survive this if 
she concentrated on the pleasure it would bring her. What he 
could do to her. The thought of allowing him to release that drive 
and passion he held within him on her both thrilled and 
frightened her.

She shook her head, she didn't want to think anymore--the 
decision had been made.

She hurried and finished with the facilities, noticing with a smile 
that he'd stocked the bathroom as well with a few basic 
amenities. She couldn't remember any man ever making such 
careful plans for her before. She made use of the new toothbrush 
and dragging her fingers through her hair, turned and opened 
the door.

The bedroom was empty, but a fire had been lit, running ripples 
of ruddy color across the white walls and thick matte carpeting. 
She welcomed the added warmth on her hot and cold skin, the 
heat helping to thaw her nerve-chilled hands as she came and sat 
on the woven sheep's wool circle before the fireplace, and waited.

When Mulder came back into the upstairs room, he was taken 
aback. Scully was flickered by firelight sitting, hugging her knees, 
as she turned to look at him where he stood in the 
doorway, captured by the vision. She was so small, slight, 
sitting under the rising chimney of rough cut stones. Somehow 
she had grown smaller, more precious in the last few hours. A 
tiny gemstone that at last had thrown off its cover of dust opening 
its inner radiance to him. 

Despite the alluring memories of their earlier caresses, he was 
almost afraid to touch her now, that she would continue to 
shrink into an infinitesimal spark like the condensation of 
space narrowing to a vanishing point. She was everything, 
breath and life and darkness all in one. She was the gauge by 
which he weighed the passions of his life--and after tonight 
there would be just one. She would draw everything, already so 
close to owning him whole. She had his heart, and now his 
body dared to follow as far as they might go.

She smiled at him, and neither the shadows of the big room nor 
the murky light from the night sky could hide its brilliance. He 
went to her, drawn by it, and sank to his knees behind her, 
brushing his hands over her shoulders. She moved into his 
warmth, nestled between his thighs as she leaned back against him. 

His hands moved up her neck and into her hair, stroking 
it, smoothing it between his long fingers. It was softer than 
he imagined and stronger as he gathered it and pulled it gently 
from side to side as if he was trying to uncover the source of 
the swirling colors--copper and amber upon red. She gave a 
low hum, and he felt something in his chest rise at the sound. He 
was enthralled by every new sound she uttered. After all these 
years of hearing every word, every emotion, every tone her 
voice could utter--her sighs and soft moans were entirely new 
to him--an expressive foreign language he ached to learn and 

He could tell by the way his hands trembled as he drew her 
hair through his fingers that tonight was going to be like nothing 
else he had ever experienced. It was going to defy experience
--transcend him from the base and carnal lust surging through 
him into something blessed and pure. Making love with her would 
be like a kind of holy communion, a healing of the soul. She 
was healing him even now as she let him stroke her hair--pulling 
the broken pieces of him together--the isolation of the child, 
the outcast of the man, brought home here in this stranger's 
house tonight.

His hands reluctantly left the silky tresses and settled into 
the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders, pressing and 
drawing easy circles with his thumbs into the muscles beneath
--tracing the tendons and brushing the skin. His attentions 
earned him a different sound, a relaxed sound, and she eased 
more fully against him, more than happy to continue his 
gentle kneading as her eyes closed and her breathing deepened. 

His touch had drawn her into a light doze. Through half-closed 
eyes she could see the color of the fire blur and mix with 
blackness as she drifted. She wanted to sleep lightly, letting 
him roam her body with his strong and tender hands--releasing 
all her insecurities and fears with his touch. She wanted to come 
to him pure and resolved, with no questions, no regrets.

He moved back and lowered her weakening form down onto 
the plush rug under them, turning her onto her side and stomach 
so he could continue to press circles down either side of her 
spine, careful not to break the spell in which she seemed to 
be captured. He lay down next to her, his left arm pillowing 
them both as he held her, touching her, his hip to hers, letting 
her rest in a feathery slumber. From here he took the opportunity 
to sample the generous scent of her hair. How she created 
that heavenly bouquet he'd never know--like rain and 
autumn leaves tossed with the fire color of strands that 
flurried about her face in the wind. He placed a small kiss just 
above her ear. She sighed and nestled into him, content. He 
relaxed completely, framed next to the small radiating warmth of 
her body, and he too felt the pull of sleep take him forward 
under the yellow-orange glow of the fire.

TIME (3/5)
by Terma99

See part one for info:
Missing chapters? 
Go to: www.reocities.com/hotsprings/8334/fic.html

The merest brush of her hips against his groin brought him 
back easily to wakefulness. Mulder blinked the unconsciousness 
from his head and glanced at his watch. Almost an hour had 
passed. He breathed deeply and hugged her tighter. She 
mumbled something about carbon paper in a sleep-thickened 
tongue. She was waking and he decided to welcome her back 
with a feathery kiss to her temple.

"You awake, Scully?" he whispered into her ear, kissing the lobe.

Her eyes fluttered open to him--then suddenly went wide, her 
body tensing, startled by the foreign location and the close 
proximity of her partner's face inches from hers. Unabashed, 
he caught her full on the mouth with a kiss and memories of 
the evening came flooding back to her at the touch. Her 
mouth parted and her tongue willingly slid over and over his in 
a thick wet dance. She smiled sleepily at him, when at length 
he drew back to look at her. "I thought I was dreaming," she said, 
a little embarrassed, snuggling into the crook of his arm as 
he planted a row of kisses across the top of her forehead. 

"It's not a dream," he breathed between kisses.

"No it isn't. It just feels that way," she sighed, hiding a bashful smile. 

He turned her then, lying behind her so they both could gaze into 
the cracking wood of the fire.

"This is nice Scully," he said. "Being close to you like this." She 
moved a little pleasantly in his arms, telling him she felt the 
same, suddenly overcome by a monstrous yawn that quaked 
her body. 

She covered her mouth with a hand. "I guess I'm a little tired," 
she admitted.

He breathed a silent laugh into her ear, "That's fine, just fine. Go 
back to sleep."

"Hmmm, " she closed her eyes. As pleasant as the allure of 
sleeping soundly in his arms on a sheepskin rug appealed to 
her right now, she really didn't want to spend any more time on 
it. There were far more active fantasies to fulfill, to seek out. She 
felt a stirring within her.

"I thought you had more on your mind than just sleeping 
tonight," she said.

He drew a slow breath, searching for an appropriate reply. "I do. 
I could, " he said, teasing the back of her neck with his nose.

She wanted him to say the words, to put to language his 
obvious arousal waiting so patiently next to her, hard and still. 

"So what *do* you want to have happen tonight?"

He sighed, planting a kiss on her shoulder. "Right now I want you 
so badly I can't see straight. But I'd consider myself the 
most grateful sonovabitch alive if you'd just let me hold you like 
this until sunrise."

She twisted to look at him with a little smile. That was a 
good answer. "Maybe we can try for both," she said, and lowering 
her eyes, she reached for him, and brought his mouth to hers. 
Their kiss was mild at first, but stealthily advancing. He 
was seducing her with his lips--each kiss intensifying 
and deepening--both taking their time to enjoy the sensations 
of expressing themselves to one another. Scully's sweater 
was inching up, exposing the pale skin of her stomach and he bent 
to kiss her there, savoring the taste and tactile flutter of her skin 
as it responded to his touch.

He moved his body, rolling her to her back and settled 
himself between her legs. Although they were still clothed, 
the position drove an intense tingling throb into her lower body. 
She could feel him hard against her thigh as he began to move 
in mild thrusts with the tempo of his long slow kisses. The 
action broke her voice into a low sob as he released her mouth 
long enough to drag his lips up and down her neck. She couldn't 
help but lift her hips gently in time to his seductive pulse. 
She wanted more, so much more. This was like a sadistic 
practice run, just introducing their bodies to the promise of 
pleasure that lay ahead. She found she wanted it so badly her 
head was beginning to ring. She would have to speed things 
up before it deafened her, and half shoved him off so she could 
grip the end of her sweater and pull it up over her head. 

He backed off, propping himself up on an elbow, a curious smile 
on his face mixed with mild awe as his eyes ran up and down 
her newly exposed chest and belly.

"You, too, Mulder," she ordered between breaths. "Lose the shirt."

He pointed a silly finger at his chest. "Me? You want me 
naked, Scully?"

She rolled her eyes at him, both irritated and aroused.

"Yes. Now." 

No mistaking the demand in her voice. He knew it was better not 
to get on her bad side--he'd been there enough times already. 
And right now he'd do anything to keep on her naked side. His 
shirt and undershirt made a short flight across the bedroom 
floor together where they flopped in a heap.

That won him a genuine purr from the woman sprawled 
beneath him, as she traced the angles of the bone and muscle of 
his chest with her fingertips. She looked very pleased. "Come 
here," she sighed, and he lowered himself back into position, his 
arms slipping under hers, his hands cradling her face for 
another kiss. Her hands slid up over the smoothness of his 
back, coming to rest with a push in the well at the base of his 
spine to which he responded with another thrust between her 
thighs as she lifted her hips to meet him in time.

He was kissing her chin now, whispering to her in small words 
she could barely hear--telling her how beautiful she was, how 
warm, how wonderful, words lost as he nibbled his way up the 
side of her jawline to her ear, stopping for a little nuzzle 
before touching his lips to her nose and the closed lids over her 
eyes. He moved to the hollow of her neck, spending a moment 
there to dip the tip of his tongue into the pulsing dimple. 

Her fingers wound themselves back into his hair as she coaxed 
his lips lower to her rising and falling chest. Shifting, he 
settled himself in for an examination of her torso, kissing the top 
of her breasts still held secure by her pale lace bra. He nuzzled 
the pliant flesh with his nose, getting a good sense of the texture 
and fullness. He ran his mouth over the lace, dragging his lips 
across it until he discovered a rising nipple, which he took 
between his careful teeth for a moment, driving the rough 
material across her tender point. She arched into his mouth with 
a moan, wishing he would simply remove the confining garment 
and let her feel the full value of his mouth on her, suckling her 
with abandon. At some point in the future she'd want him to go 
slow, very slow. But not tonight. For now the waiting had 
been enough.


He peeked up at her.

"Let me up."

He looked confused, and sat up watching her as she quickly 
removed her shoes and pants. Her pleasant female body was 
softly curved and firm in all the right places. He was still, 
enthralled by the creams and peaches of the surface of her 
skin set mildly against the pale pink of her bra and panties. 

"Let's get this thing moving along," she insisted, and leaned up 
and kissed him, reaching for his hardness, pressing and squeezing 
it with the palm of her hand through his jeans.

Mulder lay his hand on the tight slope of her belly. His eyes were 
a fuzzy dull olive as he looked down at her, absently drawing the 
tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. She was touching 
him, acknowledging him, and inside his lust-addled brain he 
could feel himself slip. He was beginning to lose it--becoming 
over-saturated with wanting her to the point of confusion. If 
he didn't clear his head and get her hand off his dick soon, 
she'd have this over and done with in a minute. No good. He 
wanted this to last as he had promised himself, always. At least 
just this once...then, she could take him over however she liked, 
rake him over the coals, whatever. But not this first shot.

He took her by the shoulders, shaking his head. "Not yet, Scully, 
I think at least one of us should be the designated driver tonight."

"I thought you were complaining about poor vision," she teased, 
still stroking him, pining for a look at the goods.

He stopped her hand and brought it to his lips. "I can still feel 
my way around," he said, and stood up, bringing her to her feet. 
She sighed, not wanting to leave the lassitude of the fire-
warmed rug. 

She quickly dispelled her regrets as he came to stand behind 
her, undoing the clasp of her bra, letting it fall silently to the 
floor. He covered her bared breasts with his hands, cupping 
them and kneading them gently as he rained kisses along 
her shoulder.

In front of them just a few feet away, Scully could see her 
reflection in the dark glass of the sliding door. She could see 
him standing behind her, his hands on her, covering her 
and beginning to draw light circles around the center of her 
breasts--loose orbits that retraced, drew closer, until the pads of 
his thumbs made final contact with the tips of her raised 
nipples, flicking over them a moment in a flutter, before pulling 
back to begin the orbiting tease again. She leaned her head back 
and to the side and he met her halfway with a kiss, bathing 
her mouth in time to the rhythm of his hands. She lifted her 
arms over her head to grasp his face, to hold him close.

She moaned into his mouth as her over-sensitive nipples 
were subjected to one last round of torture before he released 
her, and coming around, kneeled before her and slipped 
her moistened panties to the floor. She gladly stepped out of 
them and mewled sweetly as she felt his warm tongue return, 
tasting the sensitive skin of her belly. Her fingers wound in his 
hair urging him lower, wanting him, needing him to taste her 

"No wait, come over here." He stood suddenly, a wild look to his 
eyes, and turned her purposefully, her back to him. "Against 
the glass."

She obeyed, stepping a few feet forward to stand naked and tense 
in front of the glass door. She pressed her palms against the 
chilled pane, watching him carefully in reflection against 
the backdrop of the clear night sky, the descending rooftops, and 
the dark waters of the bay below.

Mulder stood behind her and began to run his hands slowly 
down from her shoulders to the curve of her waist, over the swell 
of her hips and back, just feeling her skin gliding under his 
fingers, getting accustomed to her shape.

He soon left her field of vision, dropping down to his knees, his 
hands coming to move freely over the soft firm curves of her 
ass, squeezing the rounded flesh--passing over in smooth circles 
to the top of her thighs like a sculptor evening his work. Then he 
ran his hands lower, down her thigh, just brushing, and back 
up before shifting and paying equal attention to her other leg, 
his hand moving dangerously close on the upsweep to the flurry 
of tight curls at her apex--just teasing the threads with no more 
than an accidental glance.

His touch was maddening. She could feel herself hot and swollen. 
She needed him to acknowledge her arousal, feel it, brush it 
between his stirring fingers. She moaned, and leaned forward 
against the glass, needing the firmness of the pane to help 
support her weakening limbs. She gasped as the taut hot tips of 
her breasts collided with the chill of the door. She undulated 
against it, the coolness easing the ache in her nipples, 
smoothing them flat against the slick dew-kissed surface. She 
needed his touch so badly she was ready to beg for it, plead with 
him to pull her in. She moaned again, her breath tracing a 
billowed pattern across the window, desperate.

In his own time he moved his lips to the sensitive flesh at the 
inner edge of her thigh, using his nose to nudge her apart 
finally allowing his tongue access to her slickened opening. 
She arched in response to the sudden contact. Yes, this was going 
to be good, so good. He took a few long loving tastes of her, 
sampling her flavor, kneading her ass. She arched further, as best 
as she could in her position, to grant him greater access to the 
source of her hunger. His tongue obeyed, dipping into her, laving 
the rim of her core in a tantalizing circle. Teasing her open, 
inviting another slick taste. His lips murmured something against 
her as he dipped once more into her, deeper--his warm 
tongue fluttering inside her, and with a final kiss pulled away.

She whimpered in disapproval.

"Don't worry," he whispered below. "We're just getting 
acquainted here."

She unstuck her breasts from the glass and turned her head, 
trying to get a look at him, but he was shifting position under 
her, moving to lean his back against the door, grasping her at 
the hips and pulling her forward and lowering her curls down 
onto his face.

She issued a low hard groan as his lips and tongue spread her 
open, settling on her hot throbbing clit--kissing it, tugging it into 
his mouth for a quick hard suckle before releasing it to fall back 
into the securing folds. Then slowly and carefully, he began to 
move the length of his tongue against her, bathing the swollen 
folds to either side of her burning center, just glancing the 
frenzied point with each pass.

She should have known he'd be good at this, as his fingers moved 
in to pull the skin a little smoother, accentuating his long 
wet caresses. She was drowning in sensation. It was so long 
since she'd had a man pleasure her this way. So long she didn't 
even remember it being anything like this--a thousand times 
more gratifying than any touch she could conjure herself. The feel 
of being so intimately tasted, kissed, and devoured by a man, 
this man, was overwhelming. Why on earth had they waited so 
long? God, if she knew it could have been like this all these 
years, they would have had considerably fewer arguments.

Leaning forward, she rocked her face back and forth against 
the glass, cooling the burning skin of her flushed cheeks. That 
was better, but it did nothing to soothe the driving heat 
building below. He was making her hotter, fuller and wetter 
with each incredible stroke. He must he drowning, she realized 
and looked down a moment--his eyes were closed, the back of 
his head thudding dully against the glass. A soundless vibration 
was issuing from somewhere deep in his throat as he went about 
his task, thrilling her with its subtle tactile effect. She pressed 
her face back against the pane, dazed. It was unreal seeing 
him there, her partner, doing this to her. Unreal.

Before she could muster another thought his hand moved and 
a selection of fingers slipped inside her, thrusting cautiously in 
and out, easing the almost sharp ache of her interior muscles
--neglected for so long, their stimulation driving the 
registering sensations on her clit to an even greater volume. She 
was grinding into him now, her almost continuous moaning 
clouding and obscuring the glass. She was making entirely too 
much noise, but she didn't care, this was too good, 
too unfuckingbelieveably good to censor--an expression of 
primal need given in absence of coherent language.

God! what he was doing to her, reducing her to. His pressure 
was increasing, and somehow one long slim finger had found its 
way deep and up to an erogenous zone she didn't even know she
had. It was flooding her with an intoxicating mixture of dark 
gnawing pleasure and tender pain. Just a touch too deep, but so 
good, so very, very good. She groaned against the glass, pressing 
into him, begging him with her hips at all costs not to change a 
single damn thing he was doing to her. She could feel her 
climax building from across her lower back and up her spine, the 
tug of impending dissolution. Fuck! She needed this, wanted 
this more than she could have imagined. The fog across the 
glass from her last tearing moan was dissolving and she could see 
out across the tiled deck to the front windows of the house next 
door. To her shock, she could just discern the outline of a 
single figure standing in the window, dark and motionless. Was 
she really seeing this? Was the neighbor really watching them? 
It made her shudder with dread, but at the same time there 
wasn't anything in the world that she could do to tell her body 
to move, to delay even for a second the gathering of the 
storming climax that was threatening to consume her. 

So close, so close. Get a good long look buddy, because this is how 
to please a woman, really take her over. Oh God! No! Her palm 
made damp contact with the glass, sliding in a smear. It had 
to happen soon. Please let it happen, please. The sweet pain 
of waiting was becoming unbearable. Something about the way 
he was reaching inside her was delaying the inevitable, distracting 
it from gathering completely into the tight center of burning 
nerves his tongue was continuing to bathe so thoroughly, 
so deliberately. And then he pulled back, his internal 
probing suddenly ceasing, his mouth focusing and coming down 
hard on her clit, merciless. She bucked and screamed as the 
storm clouds burst below and shuddered through her. Yes! That 
was a scream, and slapped her palm again hard against the door 
as she came, her hand stinging, threatening to rattle it off the 
track, or shatter it into a thousand glinting pieces. She didn't care 
if the walls fell in, she was no longer responsible for it, taken 
over wholly by some violent enrapturing force. She was 
falling, dropping to the floor and he was there to catch her, to 
hold her as her body trembled and lost shape. His wet lips 
brushed against her cheek and he held her to him 
entangled together, stroking her back. Waiting patiently, securely 
for her to come back into herself.

TIME (4/5)
by Terma99

See part one for info:
Missing chapters? 
Go to: www.reocities.com/hotsprings/8334/fic.html

"Wow," he said after a few silent minutes, giving her a 
squeeze. "You've *got* to let me do that again tonight."

"What? God, Mulder, no. You're going to kill me if you do that 
again." A few stray stars were blinking across her field of vision. 
Shit, had she ever come so hard in her life? She didn't think so, 
but then thinking was a bit shaky right now. Maybe it had just 
been too damn long. Maybe it was both. Right now she just needed 
to breathe. 

He was wearing an endearingly goofy grin. "I didn't think you 
had that in you, Scully." She tossed her head back, raising her 
storm-tossed blue eyes to his, trying to assemble some composure
--he was getting too smug far too fast. 

She licked her lips seductively, "There's quite a few things about 
me you don't know," she said, even if he had just minutes 
ago uncovered about every last one of those things utilizing a 
bare minimum of appendages. So what, let him think for the 
moment this kind of thing happened to her on a more or less 
regular basis. Lie and let him think he didn't just spoil her for 
any other man in the world. He couldn't know could he? His 
eyes were softened into the gentlest look she had ever seen him 
give her. It was too much, she closed her eyes. No she 
couldn't pretend with him--he knew her far too well. She wound 
her arms around his neck instead and let herself be surrounded 
by him, belonging to him completely.

"The object here tonight is see exactly how many times you can 
let me hear you make that sound," he paused a moment, leaving 
a tiny kiss on the top of her head. "By whatever means necessary."

She cupped his face, kissing his cheek and then the underside of 
his chin, unusually smooth for after midnight. Some agent 
she'd turned out to be--not taking note of the five o-clock 
absence during dinner. The sweet bastard had shaved for her. 

"First of all. It's about time you started playing fair, Mulder."

"What do you mean?"

"You're overdressed for this occasion," she said low and snaky, 
letting her eyes drop to the crotch of his jeans. Still, she kept 
herself from making a grab for it. He'd asked for the initiative 
after all--the control. She looked into his eyes letting see full well 
the restlessness there.

"Hmmm..." his voice rumbled warm in her ear. "Are you ready 
for me, Scully?"

She twisted in his arms. "What do you think?"

He moved his hand and resampled the wetness between her 
legs. Bringing the tip of his finger back to his lips with a kiss.

"I'd say so," he said grabbing her, and quickly rose to his feet 
lifting her easily and taking a few steps toward the bed, tossed 
her down on it with a lively bounce.

She giggled, rubbing her back against the downy bedcover.

He turned away from her and took little time to remove 
the remainder of his clothes, giving her a nice view of the 
backside before making a similar bouncy trip to the bed next to her.

Suddenly he was all there before her. Every inch of him, naked 
and seriously aroused. Despite the distant familiarity, the 
image didn't fail to startle her. She was staring blankly, 
holding herself still; "mild shock" was her internal doctoral 
diagnosis. Or maybe this was more like that thrilling pause when 
you first realize you're finally getting that shiny new bike 
for Christmas, or a pony. Yes, a pony. Oh God, don't laugh, she 
chided herself. Laughing would not be good right now--worse 
than staring. She bit her lip, hard.

He did the laughing for her. Her expression must have been 
priceless given his reaction to it. "Well?" he asked, rubbing an eye.

She cleared her throat. "Well," she repeated in a professional 
manner. "Nice."

"Nice?" He rolled his eyes, letting his head thump back against 
the pillows.

She gave him a stubborn look, trying to recover from 
her discomposure. "What are you used to hearing?"

"I'm *not* going to answer that."

"Are you going to let me touch you, then?" she asked impatiently.

He looked amused. "Certainly."

She made a dive for it.

"Wait--" He caught her wrist. "Go easy on me, okay? It's 
been awhile."

She smiled, sinking down onto the bed on her side, her nose 
even with his hip, answering his gaze. He looked unbearably 
innocent right now, his hair mussed, his eyes dark and soft. 
She began to stroke his abdomen. "How long has it been?"

He raised his brows in mild surprise, his lips eventually parting 
into a smile that eclipsed hers in brilliance. "I don't think so...
you first."

"Ah...I'd say..." she had to pause to count. Since the day she met 
him, but that was probably more information than she wanted 
to give out right now. The idea of it gave her pause. *Had* she 
been saving herself for him? She hadn't thought about it that 
way before, but it appeared to be true. "...at least five years or 
so..." she answered quietly.

He looked puzzled as if he was about to question, but thought 
better of it. She knew what he was assuming. She may have 
artistic evidence of her little sidetrip in Philly, but not to the 
extent he had obviously considered.

"You...?" she asked shyly, somewhat nervous that she'd pressed 
him on it. If his answer wasn't what she'd expected, they'd have 
to start a whole new conversation.

He narrowed his eyes a moment in thought. "About the same, 
I think."

"You think?"

He chuckled, "Okay, I can name the exact day, hour, and minute 
if you wish, but I thought I'd be more subtle. I'm not exactly 
dating material you know. Besides, I already had a woman in 
my life," he said, the end of his sentence growing lost as he 
touched her arm with the back of his finger.

Shit, he kept coming up with all the good lines. It didn't leave 
her much room to improve upon. She wanted to tell him how she 
felt, that he meant so desperately much to her. But he knew. 
She could tell by the way he answered her regard, fondly 
reflecting the trust and understanding they both held for 
one another. So instead of words, she decided it might be better 
if she just showed him, and moved her lips to the fuzzy place 
below his belly.

Mulder was caught in a helpless trap. So much for being careful--
the woman was heading south drawing a very dangerous path 
down his abdomen with her ripe wet mouth. He propped a 
pillow behind his head settling himself for a good view, for what 
he could hold out for at least. He quickly set his mental 
sensation alarm on autopilot as she took him in hand with her 
small soft fingers, caressing his length. Her hand flowed up to the 
tip, sliding over the pool of ready moisture, polishing the end 
with her palm. He couldn't help but let slip a moan at 
the introduction of a foreign tactile sensation teasing his cock. 
But that moan soon expanded into a gasp as he saw and felt 
her mouth open to take him in. He had to shut his eyes a moment 
to scramble for dominance over the rush of fantasy-fed 
feral instincts running amuck through his mind. So much for 
letting off a little steam this morning, the reality of experiencing 
his richest self-gratification scenario was putting all his 
careful promises and preparations to task.

He shook the indecent thoughts clear and reopened his eyes to 
match a factual visual to the thrilling sensations running through 
his groin. It may have been awhile, but his body seemed 
to remember what to do by the way it took care to shut down 
most of the vital systems in his body in favor of providing the 
nerve endings currently experiencing the tantalizing skill of 
his partner's tongue and lips with maximum serum levels. 

It wasn't long before his sensation alarm began to blare wildly as 
he watched her lips slip once again down and over the tight 
textured skin his erection, and he cursed it for a snooze button. It 
is abominably unfair a man has to hold out for the full course while 
a woman can gleefully set a speed record for orgasmic 
frequency with honors.


All he got in answer from her was a stifled moan, the vibrations 
of which worsened the urgency of his condition. 

"Scully...shit! Stop...!"

He jerked back, freeing himself from her, and she raised her 
flushed face to him in dazed confusion--her lips parted, puffed 
and rosy.

"Too much?"

He was lying panting, staring at the ceiling, thinking hard about 
some really bad head wound special effects he saw in a recent 
late-night B-movie. Come on, come on...blood, puss, maggots, blood...

"Mulder...?" she was crawling back up to his face, sounding a 
bit worried.

He was blinking and taking deep breaths. Thank god...the gore 
was working. He glanced at her, peach-pink breasts were bobbing 
at just eye level as she wiggled toward him, filling his field of 
vision. Crap. He closed them again.

"Hey, you in there?" She tapped his forehead with the back of 
her fingers.

"Just barely..." he sighed, opening his eyes with a sheepish grin. 
"I'll be lucky if I survive this."

"You'd better Agent Mulder, because I have plans for you."

"Really?" he said, his hazel eyes darting across her face.

"Really," she mimicked, flopping herself across his chest. 

"Not until you give me a chance to get to know you completely," 
he laughed, catching her at the waist, flipping her onto her back 
and playfully capturing her arms back over her head.

"I missed a few parts earlier."

She was pinned under him wiggling, a devious smile on her 
flushed face, her hair a blaze of red across the pillows, her 
breasts peaked and rounded by the positioning of her arms. He 
was arrested by the vision. Dana Scully, naked, aroused and 
waiting eagerly under him in his bed. Well, his for the night at 
least. Until something caught him as well, and he eased 
back, softening.

She watched him as he loomed over her. His expression 
suddenly changing into a mix of sorrow and devotion--a small 
sigh escaping his mouth through his parted lips. He released 
her wrists and pressed her readied nipples into the soft palms of 
his hands. He held them there a moment still and uncertain, 
a shadow of emotion flickering over his face. He looked pained, 
and his hands moved back to the safety of her hips even if his 
eyes couldn't help but continue to take careful inventory.

"What is it?" she asked, quietly.

His lips began to move but no sound emerged and he looked 
away from her toward the window for a few seconds before 
finding the words--his voice fragmented and almost lost under 
the dying cracking of the fire.

"In all my life..." he whispered. "No one has ever known me like 
you do, Scully." He looked down at her with saddened eyes, 
brushing the hair from her face. "No one...I want you to know that."

Despite her best efforts, Scully felt the beginning moisture of 
tears stinging her eyes. She stroked the back of his hand with 
her thumb nodding gently. 

"I do know that, Mulder. I do." A tear slipped itself out from her 
lid and rolled down to the pillowcase with a pat. He used his 
thumb to wipe the moisture from her cheek, calming their 
emotions before they took the night over.

"Come on, partner. There'll be time for that later."

She nodded, smiling. "I know...kiss me...now."

He did, sliding himself alongside her, taking her head in his 
hands and cherishing her lips with his. Beautiful kisses made 
more tender by the way his fingers stroked her cheek, chin 
and temple. He sat her up and undid the bed, pulling back 
the comforter so they could slip inside between the gentle folds 
of the brushed cotton sheets, loosely draping the lower half of 
their bodies.

When he was finally able to set her mouth free for a moment 
he turned his focus to the full seduction of her breasts. Kissing 
and nuzzling them with his lips and nose, suckling the rosy tips 
in cadence to her light amorous sighs, sliding her hips against 
him, brushing the hot restraint of his erection against her open 
thigh to the point of exquisite pain. He met her with his eyes--
dark and ready. She gave an almost imperceptible nod. It was 
long enough, they'd dragged this on for more than forever--it 
was time. 

He shifted between her thighs and descended, sheathing into 
her slowly, his breath leaving him as he became 
rapturously enveloped by pure velvet warmth and wetness. 
He backed off and pushed forward again, gently. He knew she 
wasn't very accustomed to this and he was fully aware of 
their proportional discrepancy. He did everything he could to not 
be overcome by the amazingly intense sensations registering 
below while taking careful note of her expression. 

She was looking up at him dreamily expectant as they made 
this final connection. She was so filled with love and desire right 
now that it took her a moment to comprehend his hesitation. 
She almost laughed but thought better of it. Instead she bit her 
lip and smiled up at his far too serious expression. 

"It's okay Mulder, I'm fine." 

He looked at her a second, puzzled, then dropped his head with 
a chuckle mid-push, hovering over her like an insect. He lifted 
his head shaking it and met her eyes again all seriousness 
effectively wiped from his face.

"Jesus Scully, I'm supposed to be having the most incredible 
fucking experience of my life here and you're cracking me up."

She laughed then, a full belly laugh and he withdrew collapsing 
next to her, dropping his face into the soft valley between 
her breasts--kissing and nipping her warm pale skin 
between chuckles. She held him close against her while they let 
their nervous tensions transform into a cascade of mirthful 
laughter. Somehow necessary and redeeming and moreover 
made their impending connection all the more enthralling. 

Presently their giggles ceased and became replaced by a 
returning course of deepening breath and sighs. He was continuing 
to nuzzle and fondle her, taking a nipple into his mouth. 

She licked her lips, "Maybe we should let me get into the 
driver's seat for a while." He looked up at her, the tip of her 
breast still disappearing in his mouth. 

"Sure, be my guest," he mumbled, releasing her and eyes 
wide, watched her as she sat up and pushed him back onto the 
bed beneath her. 

"Let me take care of this." She moved and straddled him, sliding 
her wetness up along the hot length of him. He hissed and shut 
his eyes a moment against the sensation. She was kneeling over 
him, her hands running up and down his chest as she rocked her 
hips against him, over his pulsing cock lying flat against 
his abdomen. He released a shaken breath and opened his eyes. 
The vision was amazingly sexy, her leaning over him, letting 
her breasts swing gently forward and back in time with her hips. 
He reached up and moved his hands over them, cupping them 
and teasing the nipples. She leaned into his touch with a sigh 
and ground herself against him more forcefully. As incredible as 
it felt to have her sliding over him, he was reaching the edge of 
his patience and preyed she could sense it and deliver him from 
his waiting. She could, she did, and she ran her hands low, raising 
her hips, taking him in hand, and descended upon him in one 
long downward motion. He whispered her name, he was inside 
her, completely utterly taken up by her, surrounded by her 
deepest embrace. She paused to let them savor the moment, 
their eyes locking in acknowledgment and acceptance before 
moving slowly up and down adjusting to the feel of him.

How could she forget this? Nothing in the world was a 
proper substitute for a long stiff cock driven hard inside her. 
She thrust against him, wanting him as deep as possible in her
--easing the aching flesh and muscle, opening her again, 
releasing her, making her whole. He was perfect for her--
long and full--perfect. It amazed her. It was stirring her to 
deep arousal frighteningly fast--that and the divine thrill 
of witnessing his response. He was breathing in short pants, his 
head tilted back slightly, lips parted, his eyes growing blurry 
and disjointed as she savored him within her. 

He was moaning with each descent of her tiny body, so sweet, 
so tight, he couldn't believe the intensity of the sensations. 
He wanted to weep with it was so good, so perfect. He ran his 
hands up and down her thighs, encouraging her. It had been 
forever since he had been with a woman. And longer than that 
since he had been this completely taken in by one body and mind 
as she moved him inside her--controlling the pace of his pleasure.

She was increasing the tempo now, moving a hand to stroke 
the glistening folds between her thighs. He could feel her 
fingers brushing against him as he slid up into her. Taking her ass 
in his hands, he met her with a slow thrust of his own as she 
arched upwards moaning with sensation as she adjusted the 
pressure and angle of his cock to her liking as it stroked in and out 
of her. She was biting her lower lip, her eyes a rage of blue fire--
she cried out his name and surged with wetness. It was so good, 
each sensory input driving like fire into his spine--her eyes, 
her hands, her sounds, her body, over him, making love to 
him, flooding him with its intensity. He was experiencing a sense 
of completion, of contentment he had never known before--it 
filled him and surrounded him, driving him gloriously mad. 
With deep regret he soon came to realize it couldn't go on this 
way forever--the high limit of his control had somehow long 

"Scully..." he rasped. "I can't...I can't last much longer in this 

Her face was a cloud of pleasure as her fingers moved more 
rapidly against her clit. God, she was beautiful, so beautiful. He felt 
a quickening, he couldn't stand it another minute, couldn't hold 
onto himself for another moment--he had to finish, had to 
release. "Please..." he begged her, but his plea was lost in the 
deep heavy groan that ripped from her throat as she 
arched, throwing her head back and thrusting down furiously 
against him, her fingers a blur, her hot slick walls contracting 
around him. The force of her orgasm was more than enough to 
drive him over the edge as he grabbed her hips for one, two, 
three, more hard thrusts as the world disassembled and fell 
away into shattered bits of memory. He cried out, gripping her 
tight as his body emptied into her in long thick pulses.

Mulder blinked, his skin cooling, taking a clean breath. That 
was good. That was so very, very unbelievably good. Not 
the marathon he had fantasized, surely, but what can one 
expect from five years of longing and abstinence? Besides they 
had the rest of the night for all-out fucking. This was, he hoped, 
an introduction. And a fine one at that. Thank god she had 
the presence of mind to find her own climax. Lord knows he 
didn't. He wasn't driving anyway. Good call, Scully, good call. 
Thank you for not making me look like an ass.

She was already groggy with spent lassitude and had fallen 
forward boneless against his chest as he held her, stroking her 
back, taking stock in the aftermath of the event. Fortunately for 
her it isn't considered rude for a lady to passout after sex--it was, 
in fact, a kind of flattery. After several minutes of hazy 
recollections, he reluctantly pulled her off of him, settling 
her sleepily into the pillows while he set about trying to wipe 
things up a bit with his undershirt, returning it to the floor with 
a toss.

He reached down and retrieved the tangle of coverings and 
sheets that had wisely retreated to the foot of the bed and 
fluffed them up and over them, curving himself snugly behind 
her, his arm tucking possessively around her waist, and in a 
manner of minutes joined her in a peaceful oblivion.


Some hours later Scully woke from a half-dream to feel 
someone kissing the dip between her shoulder blades, feather 
light, almost ticklish. She wiggled a little to shake it and realized 
she was being held securely against a long warm body. She fought 
off sleepiness long enough to register by scent the body as 
familiar. Then she remembered. Her eyes opened. She was 
sleeping in a strange bed, quite naked against an equally naked 
and notably aroused government employee. Who it seemed 
was making it his official business to make long sniffly noises 
across the skin of her back.


"Hmm...?" another sniff.

It tickled, and she wiggled under him. "Why are you sniffing me?"

He reached up, cupping her breast, "You smell good...you smell 
like sex."

"I what?"

"Like sex, like us...like fucking."

She giggled. "You're tickling me."

He tucked his head between her neck and shoulder, breathing 
into her ear. "Maybe I need to be a little more direct then," he 
said, pressing her the rest of the way onto her stomach, urging 
her legs apart with his knee. And quite suddenly, but with care, 
she gasped as his newly resurrected erection found it's way up 
and inside her.

"Mmm...that's better," he whispered in her hair, beginning to 
move slowly, very slowly.

She sighed. "That's an interesting way to wake someone in 
the middle of the night."

"You like that?" he asked, taking little nibbles from her 
shoulder blade as he slipped a long arm down across her belly 
and into the forest of damp curls below, searching and selecting 
just the right rhythm and pressure to apply to her swelling clit.

"I could get used to it...oh, that is nice..." she made a yummy 
sound and adjusted herself slightly to the side to take him in 
more completely, meeting his languid thrust. He groaned against 
her shoulder, biting a little harder.

"I'll have to get a muzzle for you Mulder," she observed drowsily. 
"I think that one might leave a mark." He grumbled, kissing the 
spot now, flicking it with his tongue.

"I warned you about this..." he hissed, nipping her again, but 
with more care as he began to pick up his rhythm. "I can't 
help it...you feel so damn good..."

"Hmm...you feel good too." She was rather enjoying the 
overpowering feeling of his weight and presence pushing her into 
the soft sheets from behind, but she wasn't going to let him 
know that. She wanted to see exactly what he was capable of and 
she thought she knew how to get them there. 

"...But I could do with a bit more...ah...effort."

His hand left her moist thighs and squeezed her breast teasing 
the stiffened nipple between his finger and thumb as his nose 
rooted through her hair, inhaling deeply.

"Effort...?" he asked, dreamily.

"Yes...I want you, Mulder. Hard. I want you to really fuck me," 
she smiled, feeling him start at her choice of words, hiding her 
blush in the pillow. God, this was fun--better than novelty stores.

At first all he was able to manage in response was a series of 
noisy pants as he was struck by a powerful rush of additional 
blood to his groin and an overwhelming urge to push deeper, faster. 

"This is going to be over really fast if you keep talking to me 
like that," he said gruffly in one breath, struggling to rein himself.

"You don't want me to talk?" She said in a calm, discerning voice--
not dissimilar from the way she would address one of his 
manic theories, arms folded across a stiff impenetrable 
double-breasted pantsuit--hiding at all costs the simmering 
pleasure he was stoking inside her. 

"No," he managed to squawk, answering her far better with a 
more forceful thrust of his hips. Damn her, she wasn't even 
breathing strangely, and he was being nearly strangled by the 
feel of her beneath him, the intense need of her--fit so 
unbearably warm and snug around his straining cock.





"Whatever for...?" That was it--he'd have to kill her now. 

"Because...I'm trying to see things through here," he panted, as 
he lent one frustrated forearm out to toss the sheets off of 
him before they became damp with sweat. Increasing his pace, he 
let his fingers drive in time against her clit, hard. Not even a 
peep. Christ! Was she even in the same bed with 

"See what through...?"

"I'm trying...to make you come." If she didn't shut up soon and 
let him concentrate she wouldn't have the pleasure, and 
he'd probably have the beginning foundations of a complex.

"You are, though."

He groaned, quickly losing track of the argument. Shit, he 
was actually getting off on it. "What...?"

"Making me c..." the rest of her sentence was lost in a long 
whispery hiss as she backed herself into him, grinding into 
him, riding it out. Her contractions vibrating generously around 
him as he instinctively impaled her in counterpoint.

He was at once all too shocked to truly savor the experience. 
Where the hell did that come from? Where was she hiding it? 
Enough of this. Time to get serious. He pulled out and roughly 
flipped her over onto her back meeting her serene 
flushed expression with his hard desperate one. He took only 
a moment to dive back into her, letting himself seek out his 
own gratification in her intoxicatingly slick depths. She was 
without a doubt the most seductive arousing thing he had ever 
had opportunity to seek absolution in. He let himself drop 
all restraints and maddeningly pumped into her toward is own 
end. She seemed to have no complaints and he growled in 
approval as she lifted her hips and gripped his ass, rising to meet 
his quickening pace thrust to thrust. He doubled his efforts, and 
by his blurry estimation perhaps burying himself in her a bit 
too forcefully for her size, but he almost couldn't control himself 
at this point. She was amazing, just amazing to him. He'd 
never thought in his wildest wet dreams she'd be so open, so 
willing, so intensely fuckable. Speech had completely escaped him 
so he devoured her lips with a  kiss, trying to convey his 
gratitude with a tenderness sorely lacking in his lower body at 
the moment; to somehow begin to communicate how very much 
he needed this, wanted this like nothing else, and how 
ethereally kind she was to give herself up to him in this way.

But she knew, she knew in the way his eyes drank her in and 
the way his arms gripped her tightly that she was the only thing 
he really needed, really wanted to push away the shadows of 
his past. She was his to seek solace from and she hoped she had 
the capacity to fill him to bursting. 

He dropped his head, screwing his eyes shut, and she felt his 
lower body go rigid as a long gravely sound issued through 
his clenched teeth as he came. A few sloppy thrusts followed, 
and with a huge exhale, he collapsed on her, bathing her insides, 
his golden skin dewed with sweat.

He slipped to the side to ease his weight off of her, but she held 
his head close against her breast, stroking the damp hair at the 
nape of his neck, kissing the top of his head. He was breathing 
in shudders, overcome and temporarily incapacitated by his 

"I'm sorry....I just.." he tried to explain in an uneven tone.

"Shhh..." she breathed. "Don't be sorry, silly. You're wonderful. 
I wanted you to let go...it was beautiful. You're beautiful."

All he could do was wrap his arms tightly around her--she was 
too good, too good, he didn't deserve her. He held her close, 
waiting for his welling emotions to reverse and wane, waiting 
until he could find his voice again.

TIME (5/5)
by Terma99

See part one for info:
Missing chapters? 
Go to: www.reocities.com/hotsprings/8334/fic.html

He was asleep beside her--really asleep. Scully smiled, 
waking, stretching her pleasantly aching body, listening to 
him breathe. His closed face reflected the picture of 
someone engaged in a thorough exploration of unconsciousness. 
She touched the hair that fell in a faint curl across his 
eyebrow, moving it back so she could and lie there with 
an unobstructed view. She loved watching his face--from his 
soft lashes, to his adorably disproportionate nose and the 
voluptuous curve of his singular mouth--an unusual combination 
of features that taken one at a time would be ridiculous on 
another, somehow parried and accompanied one another into 
beauty. He was beautiful; she meant it. And he was hers, really 
hers--all of him. She felt a peaceful sense of relief that went 
well beyond sexual gratification of the thought. There would be 
no more hiding or restraining her emotions. She could relax 
into them and enjoy them for once without the all too 
familiar frustration she'd felt to some degree ever since she met 
him. What had she said to herself then, silently...when he first 
looked over his shoulder at her through those adorable spectacles? 

"Damn. He's beautiful, and I'll have to look at him everyday 
and pretend I don't notice. Why couldn't they get me 
someone wrinkly and bald?" Quickly followed by, "God, he's 
arrogant. Maybe if I do look at him I can keep from shooting 
him." That hadn't stopped her though, she reflected ruefully. 
She'd left her mark on him, in more ways than one. They both had. 

Her stomach made a gurgling sound, and she tried to shush it. 
She didn't want to wake him, not while he was so still, so 
peaceful. He rarely found peace and she wanted to give it to him 
so very badly, the giving of it settling her own unrest and fears. 
I have this man, she told herself. I have him completely and he 
does me as well. We are indivisible--no one can touch us as long 
as we stay connected, intertwined. I have his trust and 
his knowledge, he is my guide and my inspiration and a damn 
fine lover to boot. 

Lover--she liked that word, the physicality it represented, and felt 
a twinge of body memory flow through her. She could still feel 
him in her as if he had never withdrawn. Her muscles were 
molded to him now and pined to be filled again despite the 
protest from the sensitivity of the flesh. She paid it no mind, he 
felt too good for the tenderness to hurt.

Her stomach stubbornly interrupted her thoughts again. She 
sighed defeatedly. She was surprisingly hungry even if she 
had stuffed herself silly at dinner. I guess we worked it off, 
she mused. Well, there *were* rations downstairs. She supposed 
she could sneak down there and fumble around for something. 
She leaned close to him and gave him a "be right back" peck on 
the nose. He didn't move.

Scully slipped off the bed and began to search the moonlit floor 
for recognizable articles of clothing. Bits of it seemed to have 
floated everywhere. If she had known about this little event 
she would have brought a robe, which would have made 
stumbling around in the dark a bit quieter. Ah...! She found his 
long sleeved shirt, still buttoned and pulled it on over her head. 
The fabric gave her a tactile thrill as it settled over her bare 
breasts. Hmm, it smelled of him, too. Of course she smelled 
rather Muldery herself, but wearing one of his shirts around 
the house had always been a secret urge, and she wasn't about 
to deny herself anything. Satisfactorily dressed, she 
slipped downstairs.

The sheets beside him had barely cooled to room temperature 
before Mulder's extra-sensory alert system began to nudge at 
him. His body thoroughly engaged in sleep, it took some 
coaxing before his arm wearily slid forward to inspect the 
scene, sliding across the sheet, searching, reaching emptiness. 
His eyes and head rose in concern. She wasn't next to him. He sat 
up, suddenly awkwardly awake.


Maybe she was in the bathroom. He closed his eyes, rubbing 
them, trying to pick up a sound. His nose came in first with 
useful information. He smelled something. Something 
good. Something frying. He'd probably best go investigate.

Mulder pushed to his feet and looked around for something to 
put on, trying to create some semblance of decency. He stretched 
his back, feeling a little snap as something settled back into 
place. Idly scratching his chest, he scanned the room. He felt 
good, tired, but good, pleasant even--a certain brand of 
pleasantness he hadn't had opportunity to experience in 
quite sometime--coupled by the sweet almond scent of a 
woman rubbed into his skin. Frustrated by the scarce selection 
of clothing, he chose a small knitted blanket from the 
bedcovers which he threw over his shoulders and headed for 
the lower floor.

The lights were on in the kitchen and the aroma and sizzle of 
eggs and potatoes floated into the foyer. He peered around the 
corner to encounter the vision of Dana Scully clad only in his 
shirt, sleeves rolled up, ass peeking from under the tails as 
she reached up to grab the paprika from an overhead spice rack. 
She unscrewed the top in one full twist, shaking lightly, stirring 
a yellowy concoction in the pan briskly with a pancake turner. 
After letting his eyes take their fill of the presentation, he made 
a noise in his throat and stepped in as to not startle her. Despite 
his latent and persistent horniness, he was surprisingly hungry 
and wondered if she didn't mind sharing.

She turned to him in mild surprise. "I see I've woken the dead."

He faced her remark with an identifying nod.

"You're cooking," he emphasized, as if her domestic display 
was certainly a momentous occasion in itself.

"You're naked," she answered, eyeing his unusual attire.

"Someone stole my clothes."

She looked down at herself, a bit embarrassed at him finding her 
this way. "You going to arrest me?"

"I would, but I left my handcuffs in my other pants." 

That got him an eyebrow as she lifted the pan from the 
stove, clicking the heat off.

"Good thing, that. How do you like your eggs?"


"We got 'em," she said, spilling a mixture of scrambled eggs and 
diced potatoes onto a large plate. He took a seat up on a stool at 
the central counter, wearing the blanket draped over his 
shoulders. He could easily imagine this little scene playing like 
some soft-porn nuptial drama. Wouldn't that be perfect? The 
little wife half-naked greeting him with a steaming pan of eggs...

Whoa. Hold on. Did he just upgrade his fantasies to marital? God, 
he really did have it bad. Funny what a decent helping of 
consensual sin will do to a guy. He lifted his eyebrows and accepted 
a fork from her eagerly.

She took a stool across the corner of the counter from him and 
they stabbed and nibbled at the lumpy mixture in unison, 
feeding one another an occasional bite. They were some damn 
fine eggs, too--infused with herbs and spices. Mulder never had 
the pleasure of being fed by her before. He wasn't even aware 
she knew how to turn on a stove. Scully certainly had her share 
of little secrets. As cliched as it might sound, he felt as if he 
was seeing his partner clearly for the first time.

Scully was looking up at him thoughtfully as she tangled forks 
with him over the last few bites. Let it not be said they didn't have 
a reputation for putting away food--another aspect to their 
inherent competitiveness--fighting over the last scrap of take-
out like a couple of hounds sometimes. Pre-dawn breakfasts were 
no exception, as he tagged her fork with his, stealing the final 
wiggly yellow lump, popping it in his mouth with a grin. 

"Did you ever imagine, Mulder, when you were young, what being 
an adult would be like?" He blinked at her, surprised at the 
sudden reappearance of conversation. They'd been silent during 
their egg and potato duel--a comfortable silence only long-
term couples have learned to appreciate. She handed him a tall 
glass of reddish-looking juice and he took several gulps of it 
before answering.

"Sure, what kid doesn't..." he replied, curious as to the aim of 
her introduction.

"What I mean is, I always thought being an adult was about 
having total freedom--being able to stay up late to watch old 
movies without being told to go to bed, or to have my own money 
to spend on chocolate eclairs at the bakery..." she trailed off, 
her expression growing solemnly wistful. She stared at her 
hands, opening them. "You're never really told the whole story..."

He let the corner of his mouth rise to lighten the heaviness he 
saw there. "You mean the part about how one third of your 
yearly income will one day go toward mollusk 
reproductive research?"

She answered his quip with a faint turn of her mouth. 
"Yeah, something like that." 

"I think we all wind up a little bitter about the reality of 
becoming responsible for ourselves," he offered. "Having to 
make decisions and take risks without having anyone to really 
fall back on when you fuck up. I guess for me--I just don't 
really look that far ahead. It makes screwing up that much easier 
to live with."

She nodded in agreement to his assessment of his reckless 
nature, and her expression warmed as she met him eye to eye.

"The amazing thing is Mulder, when I look at you sitting there in 
that silly blanket, sharing this plate of eggs with me in this 
strange kitchen--I feel it. I feel that imaginary reality I 
pictured when I was a kid. I feel that freedom. You give me that, 
the strength to make myself believe I can do anything. I think I 
lost that somewhere along the way. YouÕve brought me 
back and...I've wanted to thank you for that for a long time now," 
she finished softly, her eyes regarding him tenderly.

He didn't move at first, just parted his lips slightly. He wanted 
to crush her to him and whisper wild and desperate confessions 
in her ear, tear himself open and let spill out a gush of 
raw humanity; but feared his own sanity in the end, and instead 
fell back on a familiar deflective tactic, the safer move, for now.

"I think that's the most incredible thing anyone's ever said to 
me, Scully. Well, at least just after sex, anyway. I mean it's 
usually, 'Where the hell is my underwear?' or 'Can you pay for 
my cab?'
--Ow!" She whapped him on the head with the oven mitt, with a 
full smile that brightened the sky-blue of her eyes.

"You're terrible, I never should have agreed to be assigned to you."

"What? And miss out on all the finely-tooled madness? Come on, 
you can't do any better than me for livening up the work 
day. Especially now."

"I wouldn't be making that assumption quite so fast. There's to be 
no inappropriate behavior within the confines of the 
Hoover Building."

He gave an exaggerated sigh, dropping his head into his arms. 
He peeked up at her, pushing his lower lip into a pout. "Not 
even after five?"

"Nope. Sorry. The desk stays in pristine order."

"What about the parking garage?"

"You'll have to hold it until you get home."

"Road trips?"

"You'll have to consult with me on a case by case basis only."

"You're an evil, evil woman, Scully."

"Tough. Be lucky you got me to this point at all." 

"I am, I am. Weekends?"

She nodded once, "Sure."

He reached out and took her hand, lightly stroking it with his thumb.

"How about after this week we dig into our backlog of vacation 
hours and I'll drive you to the coast for an extended weekend 
of indecent behavior?"

"You're buying?" 


"I could get used to this."

Scully leaned forward on her elbows across the edge of the 
counter and gave him a gentle kiss, just their lips touching, 
lightly. The way she leaned in, allowed him an amazing view 
down the partially unbuttoned front of his shirt, occupied by 
the finest pair of breasts he'd managed to get his mouth around 
in a very long time. He licked her lip with the tip of his tongue 
while his fingers brushed the soft material over her breast. 
She pressed into his hand with a small whimper and he wasn't 
too surprised to find himself stiffening in response to the sound. 

She separated from him and peered down into his lap.

"That didn't take much," she teased.

"You complaining?"

"No..." she replied, and slipped down off of the stool with a 
dangerous look in her eyes. Mulder felt his pulse leap in kind. 
She was up to something.

She stood next to the counter, pushing their plate back and 
beckoned him to her with a crooked finger. He slid to his feet, 
letting the blanket flop onto the floor as he crossed to her. She 
sighed and raised her arms and he lifted his shirt up and over 
her head. She stood before him all skin and supple curves, 
her nipples pointed and eager. 

"Ready for round three?" she asked demurely.

"Sure," he whispered, unable to get the required air supply to 
his vocal cords.

Mulder's jaw almost made contact with the floor when she 
turned and draped herself down onto the countertop, her stomach 
to the tile, her little ass wiggling invitingly as she took a step 
apart exposing the swollen pink flesh of her sex, poised wet, 
and ready for business.

Sweet mother of god! Still a few hours until sunrise and she 
had already knocked out half of the top ten in the Fox 
Mulder Fantasy 500. Then again she figured in most of the top 
100 anyway. Time to invent some new ones and see if they floated 
to the surface before sun-up. And he had been worried about this?

She blinked at him, biting her lip like she was just a little bit shy, 
but not too ashamed to beg nevertheless. He moved to stand 
behind her, dipping his fingers between her dampened legs and 
she lifted her ass on tip-toe to meet his touch like a dog longing to 
be petted. Damn! She was sexy as all hell. Fortunately his cock 
knew exactly what to do and made a quick aim for her--up and 
in, locked and solid.

Wow, the noise she made at that point was one he'd be replying 
for the next several months. He pulled back and moved into 
her again, all the way in to the hilt, and yes, she made the 
noise again, like a drowning seal--if seals could drown. He 
was immediately grateful for the incredible view this 
position granted him. Fifty yard line full score seating of 
everything that really counted. Damn! This round was gonna be 
good. His video cabinet would certainly require dusting over the 
next several months, years maybe if he was truly lucky. He took 
full advantage of the situation as he savored the stimulating 
visual effect of his cock disappearing into her just inches away in 
full florescent illumination. Thank god someone'd paid the 
electric bill.

Low strangled sobs began to rise from the counter beneath him. 
She was writhing there, her voice rising in volume, beginning 
to generate this unholy noise to his quickening thrusts. Whatever 
it was, it sounded good and it was coming this way. He gripped 
the flesh of her ass more forcefully and retooled his pace, 
driving into her in a slow forward motion ending in a tiny jerk at 
the end of each thrust. That seemed to do the trick, she 
bucked against the little extra effort in each stroke, her 
moans elevating, sounding gradually more pained and desperate. 

God, what an amazing thing sex must be for a woman, to be able 
to enjoy it in so many flavors. Careful and slow, to hard and 
furious, they each created their own color of orgasm in a woman, 
and he was so pleased to discover Scully was no exception to this. 
He wanted nothing more from life than to seek each variation 
out, start cataloguing them, giving them names--developing 
a connoisseur's eye, selecting a menu for each and every all-
night bought of pleasure he'd experience with her from a 
richly styled palette.

Her cries were strangling themselves into what sounded like 
the tight wail of frustration, so he picked up the pace a bit, 
running his hands over the smoothness of her back, glad for once 
to have been sated enough times already tonight to finally get a 
grip on the kind of attention she needed. Ah, that fit the bill, 
her moans were lower again, rougher, and her hips were rising up 
off the counter to meet him in collision pound for pound.

He decided to test the waters a bit and leaned forward, slipping 
his hand over her hip, trapping her clit in a vee, between two 
fingers, adjusting the aim of his cock a bit deeper and higher 
towards a spot he thought he'd found earlier when he had her 
up against the glass. She growled in approval and he began to 
tease her center of pleasure in earnest, raising its sensitivity. 
Her moans came up in pitch but grew longer, more 
forceful, thickened. He guessed that was a good thing and kept it 
up, just dragging and squeezing the skin to either side of her clit 
with each pulse. Suddenly her hand came over his and forced 
his fingers down on her nub hard, grinding down onto its 
leading edge in a flurry, then a pause, then another flurry. Okay, 
he thought he remembered that one from somewhere deep in 
his past and took over for her. Her back arched up, almost 
knocking him over as she reacted to the requested stimulation. 
He held her at her hip as she slid herself further up on the 
counter into an arched pose. Evidently this adjustment was the 
right move because she began to shutter from ass to shoulders as 
he crushed her clit between his fingers then released, crush 
and release. Her head shot back as she writhed.

"Oh god..." she moaned low and dark. "Oh god, don't stop...don't 

Thank god myself, he thought, because his lower back was 
beginning to seriously protest this new position.

"Don't stop..." she cried in a more primal, torturous groan, 
thrusting herself back against him hard. Jesus, it didn't even 
sound like her. Barely sounded human. And it must have 
triggered some deep seated bestial tendencies in him, because 
her transformed voice was driving him suddenly and 
violently toward the edge. Shit! Not now. He'd be damned if 
he missed this one. Her hungry pleads were becoming more 
and more manic as he thrust deeply, trying to disconnect 
himself from the burning ache in his groin. Please god, I'll never 
ask for another thing as long as I live if you'll just make her 
come. Make her come. Please make her come.

He felt it might be time to reconsider his religious convictions 
when in just another moment she jerked up onto her elbows in 
an even tighter arch and let go a full throated howl, her entire 
body wracking with a spasm as he shot into her as fast and hard 
as he could without dropping her, his own climax peaking 
and ringing in his ears as it flashed over him like whipcrack.

"Fuck...!" he cried, as he caught the counter's edge to keep 
himself from falling full-force on her where she had 
collapsed, leaving breath trails on the dark stone. Yeah, that 
was original, he thought--the muscles in his arms and legs 
shaking from the strain--time to work on the orgasm 
vocabulary. And if he was not mistaken, he'd probably just 
damned himself to hell for asking god to finish her off for 
him. Smooth, buddy, smooth. Shit, who was trying to kill whom 
here tonight?


"What?" he panted, dragging his nose across her shoulder blade, 
still wavering in a post-climatic haze.

"I need to get down."

"Sorry." He did his best to stand on his own legs, and pulled back 
and away so she could straighten up.

His brain was beginning to function at the closest it had ever come 
to total meltdown. He could hardly grasp what had just 
happened. How could *that* be right? How could he have 
possibly just bent his partner over a kitchen counter and fucked 
her senseless?

She stood up, running her fingers through her hair and pulling 
his shirt back over her head and down over her hips. He thought 
if she had a purse with her she'd probably daintily re-apply a 
touch of lipstick, too.

"Mulder, you're staring."

He shook his head a little. "Sorry..."

"Stop apologizing already, " she said with a lift of her chin, as 
she began to gather up their plates and wash them under the 
spray of the sink. "You have nothing to be sorry about. Believe 

He realized he was just about fucked stupid by now and in an 
effort to ground himself, tried to be useful, handing her cups 
and plates to wash--careful not to speak until at least a few 
multi-syllabic words came to mind. He watched her, awed by 
the simple way she had slipped in and taken him over so easily. 
He wanted to tell her he loved her now, but after some 
thought decided against it. Probably not the best time to bring it 
up while standing buck-naked, hair askew, next to a dribble of 
come on the floor of a stranger's kitchen. Despite that, the 
words wouldn't sound right and he'd probably choke on them on 
the way out, messing it up. He'd tell her soon, though, and he'd do 
it right--buy her something nice, or take her someplace beautiful, 
or both. For now he caught her soapy hand and brought it to his 
lips, pressing into her palm, the bubbles tickling his nose.

She rose up and kissed his cheek. 

"Grab a towel," she whispered. "You're drying."


A thudding woke them both. Sitting up in the bed in the yellow 
glow of morning, Mulder tried to make sense of the sound. It 
was coming from downstairs. For a minute he felt panic, 
was someone letting himself in?

"Mulder?" Scully sat up, too, trying to cover herself with the 
rumpled sheet.

The thudding stopped.

"Oh. No it's okay, Scully," he said, rubbing his tired eyes. "It's 
the hotel. I had our bags sent over."

"Oh...What time is it?"

He flopped back down on his back, closing his eyes again, 
not wanting to let go of sleep just yet. She reached over and took 
his arm, reading his watch.

"Mulder? What time is our flight?"


"Our flight. It's 9:25"

"What?" his eyes were quickly reopened, the look of panic 
returning. He examined the face of his watch. "That's not good."

"What are you saying?"

"We've got to hurry," he muttered. Throwing the covers back, 
he scrambled to a half-standing position, giving his exhausted body 
a moment to catch up with his spinning head. And if he 
wasn't mistaken, he appeared to be sporting another goddamn
erection--the origin of which didn't appear to have any 
correlation to sleep, which he was sorely lacking in.

Scully was immediately on her feet and not just a little pissed, as 
she fussed about, gathering her scattered articles.

"Shit Mulder, I thought you were in control of this situation."

He raised his brow at her. "In control? Right. I gave up 
somewhere around, 'fuck me hard, Mulder,' I think."

"I *said* that?"

"Uh huh. That was you, I'm pretty sure."

"Where the hell is my bra?"

He smiled ironically, slipping his jeans up over his hips--now 
this morning was beginning to wax familiar. Except maybe this 
time he had a chance in hell of seeing the girl again. No, he had 
more than a chance, he was willing to bet his life on it. He'd try 
to spend every weekend for the rest of his life with her if he had 
any say in the matter. Maybe she'd even give into the "rules" a 
bit over time. His cock jumped at the thought--not the desk 
scenario again. He'd really have to clean-up the fantasy rack if 
he valued their partnership.

Mulder dragged their bags in and up the stairs while Scully got 
first round of the shower. A duel cleansing was certainly out of 
the question, she informed him. No need to be any later than 
they already were. Too bad, he'd have to pick up on that 
particular activity later. He couldn't complain though, he had 
plenty of activities to reflect on over the next six hours.

She emerged from the shower, towel about her head, in time to 
catch him attempting to reassemble the bed.

"What are you doing? We can't leave those here." 

He shrugged, a rumpled sheet still gripped in his hand.

"Any ideas?" 

She had a point, the maid wasn't going to be arriving any time soon.

"We'll have to take them with us."


"I'm not leaving that for someone to find in six months, Mulder," 
she said exasperated, tugging the fitted sheet from the bed.

That was certainly an odd party favor to take along with them. 
She was right. He hadn't planned for laundry. He thought he'd 
better leave her to her cover-up mission and retreated into 
the shower.

The hot spray pelting his skin helped ease the soreness in 
various parts of his body. He felt like crap, but for once had 
no regrets. All he had to do today was get their butts on the 
plane, doze, watch badly edited movies, and eat peanuts until 
they reached home. He wondered if Scully would mind a sleep-
over tonight--in the literal sense, okay, maybe a little 
prodding before bed. Hmm...not likely--it was a school day 
tomorrow after all. Why couldn't he fall ass-over-teapot for a 
less responsible woman? Now he'd probably have to wait a 
whole week before he got her naked again. He sighed, turning off 
the water and reaching for a towel. He didn't think he'd make it 
that long.

When he emerged, still a bit damp around the edges, he was 
met with a perfectly re-set bedroom. Not a lint ball out of place
--even if the comforter was now only covering a bared 
mattress. They could bill him. He dressed quickly, glancing 
around admirably, he wondered if she thought to wipe down 
the glass door for "prints." Probably not, he smirked. Now, that 
was one way to leave a calling card for the new owners.


Jesus, he was getting bellowed at already. He supposed that was 
an acceptable sacrifice. He heard the oak door open, and grabbing 
his bag, hurried down, taking the stairs two at a time. She 
was standing flushed and impatient at the door, her face free 
of makeup, her hair a half-assembled swath of damp waves. 
Christ, she'd never looked more gorgeous.

"The cab's been honking for five minutes."

Without giving it a thought, he grabbed her arm and covered 
her mouth with a rough kiss, pressing her to him until he felt 
her stiff resistance falter and her mouth part under his--refusing 
to let her go until he got a satisfying taste of her, parting with a 
loud smack.

"Let's go already."

"One last thing, Mulder..."


"You'd better have booked us seats together, because I plan 
on passing out in your lap for the next six hours."

He could get used to this, he decided, smiling to himself as he 
took one last look into the foyer before pulling the door shut 
against the yellow glow of the early sun streaming in from the 
high windows to the abandoned tile floor below.

END (5/5)

Okay, how are we all feeling now? That was quite a lot of smut
for one story, I know. Go get some air, then
tell me all about it at Terma99@aol.com.
Then visit my smut lair at:
What's next on Terma's drawing board?
A casefile!! Involving extinct volcanoes, hot springs,
lots of snow, buffaloes, shared body heat, and primitive life forms.
Oh yeah, and Scully gets to play doctor.