From: dianora2@aol.com (Dianora2) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Wine NC-17 1/1 Date: 22 Apr 1996 01:25:17 -0400 If this doesn't post correctly, please let me know! "Wine" by Dianora *NC-17* 1/1 This is my first posting to the Newsgroup, so I ask that you be gentle with me. :) This is a Mulder/Scully romance, rated NC-17 for sex, so if you're not interested in that sort of thing, don't bother with this little vignette. A quick note: you will notice that in this piece the characters do not practice safe sex. While I am a huge proponent of safe sex and appreciate it when it is portrayed realistically in fiction, my policy here is, I'm already working within a fantasy world in this piece, since Mulder and Scully actually get together, so in this fantasy world there are no sexually transmitted diseases! It's my own little reality, okay? If you like what you read, let me know at Dianora2@aol.com. This is a continuing series. As always, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are the property of Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. I'm using them without permission and no copyright infringement or offense is intended. I don't know who *The Amazing Colossal Man* belongs to, but it's not me, and I apologize for borrowing him. *Warning*: Somewhat graphic depictions of sexual activity follow. Minors and those easily offended please stay away. "This is the best part!" Mulder slurped his pork lo mein and grabbed the remote, pumping up the volume. "Mulder..." Scully sighed. As she watched the TV screen, *The Amazing Colossal Man* hurled the hypodermic needle like a syringe at the well-meaning surgeon, impaling him on the length of thin steel. Mulder burst into laughter, nodding his head enthusiastically. Scully rolled her eyes. "That was just great, Mulder. Just...great. You realize this movie defies every law of physics." "Scully, it's a *movie*. You really need a better appreciation of the finer things in life. Are you gonna finish that?" he asked, stabbing the air with his chopsticks in the direction of her beef with broccoli. "No, go ahead." She pushed the plate toward him and watched as he consumed the rest of her food like a starving man. I wonder where he puts it all, she mused, admiring his lean physique. She stretched out on the couch and marveled for the hundredth time at how unbelievably messy his place was. Old newspapers littered the dull grey carpet where dirty clothes weren't already taking up space. Here and there was a dirty dish, and peeking out from under a raggedy towel she saw what looked suspiciously like some sort of porno magazine. I don't even want to know, she thought. She grabbed the remote from the table and pressed pause, eager for a distraction. "Hey Mulder, you got anything to drink around here?" "Why Agent Scully, are you trying to get me drunk?" he asked dryly, then cracked a grin. "Well, it's entirely possible mI have something lying around..." "Lying around would probably be accurate." "Sorry. It's the maid's year off." He rose from the couch and loped over to the kitchen area, opening and closing cabinets. >From where she was sitting Dana could see that most of them were pretty much empty. "Aha!" He held up a bottle of burgundy. "Will this do?" "Sure." She watched with amusement as he hunted for two clean glasses. "Mulder, your kitchen is a case for the X-Files." "You're just full of the witticisms tonight, aren't you, Scully," he mumbled. "You should be on TV. You should be on Letterman." She raised an eyebrow at him, smiling. His search for clean receptacles over, he sat back down on the couch next to her and filled their glasses, then handed one to her. "Do you want to make a toast?" She thought for a moment. "To...the truth?" He nodded solemnly, but his eyes were dancing. "To the truth." Scully drank, not taking her eyes from his face. She enjoyed being with him like this, when they weren't under pressure from a case, when they weren't risking their lives out in the middle of god-knows-where, on the trail of god-knows-what. She had discovered that Mulder was at his most endearing when he wasn't on a self-driven mission, when he wasn't searching for E.B.E.s, when he was just hanging out, watching bad movies and drinking... whew, *strong* wine. She choked a little as her throat burned. "This is deadly stuff, Mulder." "Nothing but the best for my Scully," he deadpanned, knocking it back, savoring the warmth spreading through his belly. "So, are you ready for more exploits from *The Amazing Colossal Man*?" "That's going to take a little more wine," she smiled, reaching for the bottle. Hours later, the TV was silent, empty plates scattered across the table in front of them. Scully had lost track of how many glasses of wine she had downed and Mulder was becoming increasingly more amused at the way he could practically see her defenses lowering, inhibitions loosening. Time to have some fun, he thought deviously. "So tell me about your first love, Scully." She started out of a semi-drunken reverie about John F. Kennedy Jr., nearly spilling her wine. "Why?" "Why not? I'm interested. I want to know about the first man to capture the heart of Dana Katherine Scully." He smiled as her brows knit, considering the challenge. Teasing her was impossible to resist. "Come on, Scully, who was the first man to light your fire?" "Peter Carroll," she said finally, letting out a sigh. "College, freshman year. On paper, he was perfect. Dean's List, basketball team, pre-med, just like me." "You played basketball?" She shot him a withering look. "You know what I mean. Anyway, we started dating, and then it got really serious. He was...he was my first." "This is starting to get interesting." She didn't rise to the bait. "I loved him, Mulder. I loved him so hard it hurt. And then, one day, he decided he was done with me. Just like that." "Come on, Scully, there must have been more to it than that." She closed her eyes, lips parted slightly. "No. No, there really wasn't." Her mind wandered for a moment, remembering, Peter's chiseled face materializing before her. *The ride's over babe. It was fun while it lasted, but there's a whole world out there. Why don't you go see for yourself?* She tried to shake loose of the memory, but everything was so hazy, so thick. Her head felt like it weighed a ton. "Mulder?" "Yeah." "Mulder, I think I'm...I'm drunk." He smiled into his wine glass at the unsteadiness of her voice. "I'd have to agree with that diagnosis, doctor." He was feeling quite lightheaded himself. He had forgotten just how strong this particular brand of wine was, and the bottle he had opened a couple hours earlier was now almost empty. Dana was lounging on the couch, one hand holding the wine glass, the other absentmindedly playing with a strand of auburn hair. Her feet were propped in his lap, her sneakers on the floor beside her. "But you haven't finished your story." He looked down, fought a suddenly overwhelming urge to massage her feet. He blinked at them for a moment, then looked back up at her face. "Oh. Well...there's not much more to tell. He just stopped calling." She winced at the memory and drained her glass to deaden the unwelcome feelings it stirred up. *See ya, Dana. Have a nice life.* "That's sad." She shot him a dirty look. "Thanks." "You want me to beat him up?" She paused, shocked, then started giggling at the image. "Yeah, Mulder. He lives in L.A., I think. Go get him for me. Right now." She tried to stop giggling, but couldn't. The wine had officially taken control, and the room was swimming, but if felt so damn good. And God help her if Mulder wasn't looking downright adorable, his face alight with amusement. "I'll do it Scully." He pushed her feet off his lap and got up, headed for the door. "I will avenge you. I'll fuck that bastard up good!" He tried to keep a straight face, but her giggling got to him, and he burst into laughter. "How big is this guy?" he finally managed. "Bigger, bigger than you," she gasped between laughs, her face turning red. "Bigger than *me*? Seriously?" He paused for a moment, considering. "Aww, who cares? I'm the FBI! I'll kick his ass! I know how to kill a man using only two fingers!" He fell down next to her on the couch, his face close to hers, her wine glass between them like a barrier. He stopped laughing abruptly. He just watched as she continued to giggle, holding her hand over her mouth, her eyes sparkling like he had never seen before. Or just never noticed before. I hope this is just the wine, he thought. "Dana?" She tried to get herself under her control. "Yes?" And then she let out a hiccup. They both fell into hysterics, Scully continuing to hiccup loudly. "Mulder, help - hic - me!" "Hold your breath and say three Hail Marys." She took a deep breath and held it, her cheeks ballooning. "Or better yet, I'll scare you. I'll go into the other room and come back when you least expect it! They don't call me 'Spooky' for nothing, you know." He started to get up, but she pulled him back down. "Don't," she said, letting out her breath. "I hate being scared." She paused. "Wait, I think they're gone." Silence. She hiccuped again, and laughed. He laughed too as an idea formed. "Hey, Scully." She continued to laugh, caught up in the haze of alcohol and giddiness. "Scully!" He took her face in his hands. Her laughter subsided. "What is it?" she asked, letting out a soft, baby hiccup for punctuation. He was so close, and she could smell the wine on his breath, smell his sweat, see the sudden determination in his hazel eyes. She held her breath for a moment. "I think I know a way to stop your hiccups." He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, softly, questioning. At first she didn't respond, couldn't, as she forced her brain to wrap itself around what was happening. And then, her body did the thinking for her, as she slipped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss fully, slipping her tongue into his mouth and tasting the tang of the wine. The kiss grew more passionate, urgent, until they were both breathing hard, clutching each other fiercely. He broke off suddenly. "I'm sorry, that was way out of line, I shouldn't have done that," he said in a rush, not looking at her, not daring to touch her. "Mulder, I..." she didn't know what to think, what to say. "Mulder..." She did the only thing she could do. She reached out to him, pulled him back into her embrace, and kissed him, hard. He buried his fingers in her hair, then kissed her forehead, her eyes, the tip of her nose. "You know what?" she whispered. He didn't pause in his trail of kisses, moving down to her ear, her neck. "What?" "I think my hiccups are definitely gone." She sighed as he nuzzled the spot where her neck met her shoulder. "Most definitely." She methodically began unbuttoning his denim shirt. He pulled back a little, surprised, his eyes searching hers. "Are you sure this isn't just the wine?" he asked, breathless. "Mulder, at this point I don't give a damn." She finished with the buttons and pushed the shirt open, sliding it down his arms, then ran her fingers over his bare chest. "I want you Mulder. God, it's been so long for me..." He felt himself harden at her words, at the desire fairly shimmering off of her. Thrusting all rational thought aside, he kissed her roughly, pulling her sweatshirt up over her head and caressing her breasts, then carefully removing her bra. He rained kisses on her, taking each nipple in his mouth one at a time and sucking fiercely. She arched her back and pulled him closer to her, then reached to undo his belt, then his jeans. He knew he should stop, knew what they were doing was wrong, but didn't care anymore. All he knew was that he wanted this woman beneath him, wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone. Wanted her for more than just her body, wanted her for her mind, her soul. She let out a gasp as he slipped a hand inside her sweatpants, probing, searching. "Mulder, if you don't make love to me right now, I'm going to scream," she breathed, frantically pushing down his pants, at the same time trying to wriggle out of her own. He laughed. "Give me a second..." He impatiently got up and stepped out of his pants, then pulled hers the rest of the way off and threw them behind him. He eased himself down on top of her, his eyes boring into hers. "Mulder, *now*..." She gasped as he slipped inside her and began moving slowly. She clasped his head in her hands, bit his lower lip. "Oh God, Mulder." "Dana." He moved faster, twining his fingers in her hair and pulling her head back to expose the ivory curve of her neck. He ran his tongue up and down that sweet skin, biting, licking, as he drove deeper into her. "Jesus, Dana." "Don't stop, don't stop," she whispered so he could barely hear her. She tilted her hips so that he went in deeper, as deep as he could go, slamming her into the edge of the couch. "Faster, Mulder." Her voice was getting steadily louder, and his excitement grew every time she opened her mouth. "Oh God..." She tensed, then let out a series of cries as she slipped over the edge, shaking, contracting around him. He tried to hold out longer but couldn't, and his cries joined hers as he climaxed as well. When it was over, he collapsed on top of her, wrapping his arms around her slim waist and holding tight. He tenderly kissed one breast as she ran her fingers through his hair, holding him like a child. "Mulder..." "Mmm." He lifted his head so his eyes were level with hers. "I've never been that loud before," she groaned. "I feel like I should apologize." He laughed softly, intimately, and it nearly took her breath away. "Apologizing is the last thing you should be doing." "Really?" she asked, unsure. He shifted so that they were almost lying side by side on the narrow couch and cupped her face in his hands. "Are you kidding? That was a huge turn-on. You were driving me crazy." "Really." This time it was a statement, not a question, and there was seduction lurking in her voice. She twirled a lock of his hair with her fingers. "Mulder..." "Mmm." He was back to kissing her breast, finding it impossible to stop touching her, kissing her everywhere. "Don't you have a bed?" "Of course I have a bed, Scully. I just never sleep there." "Sleep is not what I had in mind." The End. Wine 2 will be posted soon. :) From: dianora2@aol.com (Dianora2) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Wine 2: The Hangover *NC-17* Date: 24 Apr 1996 20:03:58 -0400 "Wine Part Deux: The Hangover" by Dianora *NC-17* This is very short, very flip, and the end is a little explicit, so stay away if women receiving pleasure isn't your cup of tea. By the way, this is *not* what I think would really happen if Mulder and Scully were to do the horizontal tango. This is just a little what if.... Any comments, send to Dianora2@aol.com Usual stuff: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully and the mentioned but not seen Melissa Scully are properties of Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions, and FOX. No copyright infringement or offense is intended. Wine Part Deux The Hangover Dana Scully woke slowly, her eyes fluttering open, brain not quite functioning right away. Her first conscious thought was that she was naked, and she knew that was odd because she always wore at least a t-shirt and underwear to bed. Then she realized the room smelled funny, tangy, with an undercurrent of dirty socks. Then she turned her head an inch to the left and saw Fox Mulder lying there in bed beside her, sleeping like a baby for once. A disgusting trickle of drool traveled from his mouth to the pillow. Her eyes widened as the previous night came crashing down on her in a heart-stopping flash. Oh. My. God. Shit, shit, shit. She slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him, scrambled into a raggedy robe she found lying on the floor, and ran to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She studied her pale reflection in the mirror with disgust. Then the headache hit. She sank down onto the toilet lid and buried her face in her hands, willing the throbbing in her skull to cease. No such luck. Okay, calm down. Think this through. I had sex with Fox Mulder last night, she thought, willing her mind to examine the facts objectively, as if she were investigating a case. No, that is not entirely true. I had sex with Fox Mulder many times last night, on many different surfaces. She had trouble remembering exactly how many times they had created the two-backed monster. Three? Four? Dear God, it couldn't have been five, could it? Okay, let's get back on track, Dana. What else. I have touched and for the most part tasted every inch of my partner's body, and vice versa. We did things together last night that must be illegal in at least half of the states in the Union. We debased and degraded ourselves, reduced ourselves to mindless animals, and enjoyed every minute of it. She gradually realized the pain she was feeling was not confined to her head; her thighs, legs, arms, jaw, and between her legs were all sore as well. She took a few minutes to examine herself and discovered hickies in places she didn't think it was possible to get them. What the hell was she going to do now? "Scully? Are you okay in there?" Mulder's voice on the other side of the door startled her. Damn him for being a light sleeper. "Umm, I'm fine," she said, as perkily as she could manage considering the jackhammer cracking open her cerebellum. What was that hangover remedy Melissa had told her about once? Tomato juice and Pepto Bismol? Her stomach churned at the thought. Maybe just some aspirin, she reconsidered. "I'll be there in a minute." She went to the bathroom, splashed some water on her face, then rooted around in Mulder's medicine cabinet and took his last two Tylenol caplets. A few deep breaths, and she opened the door. I have faced psychopaths, serial killers, and prehistoric green bugs. I can do this. She found him navigating the kitchen, turning on the burner under the kettle and searching for clean dishes. He was *whistling*. Whistling a thin tune that cut through her brain like a red hot poker. He smiled warmly when he saw her. "Want some coffee?" She nodded. The movement hurt her head. Naturally. She sat down on the couch and closed her eyes, mind racing frantically for something to get her out of this mess. He brought her a steaming mug of instant coffee, which she accepted gratefully, careful not to touch his fingers. The couch creaked as he sat own next to her. "How are you feeling this morning?" She glared at him. "I hurt. Everywhere." He grinned. "But I bet your head hurts most of all, doesn't it?" She didn't respond, just took a tentative sip of the coffee. Suddenly she felt his lips press a gentle kiss on her neck. She jumped up without thinking, spilling coffee on her hand in the process. "DAMMIT!" She raced to the kitchen sink and ran her hand under the cold water, cursing fluently, using many of the wonderful adjectives she had picked up from her father's Navy buddies. "Uh, Scully? Is there a problem?" She turned around to see him standing in front of her, a bewildered look on his face, and she wished to God he didn't look so cute, standing there in nothing but his plaid boxers. "Yes, Mulder, there is a problem. Or have you forgotten that we slept together last night?" "Well, as I recall, there wasn't all that much sleeping involved." She threw a dishrag at him, but he ducked. Damn. "This is not funny! What are we supposed to do now?" He hitched up his boxers, smiling devilishly. "Well, we could do it again." She closed her eyes for a minute, counted to ten, and willed herself not to commit homicide. "That's. Not. What. I. Meant. I mean, what are we supposed to do about our partnership, our friendship, our jobs, everything?" Her voice got steadily higher until it cracked on the last word. He winced. "I seem to remember bringing up something like that last night, but you were too busy pulling down my pants," he retorted. "Don't even think about putting this all on me. You seduced me!" "You kissed me first!" "You wanted me to!" "You're a pig!" "You're a cheap date! Is that all it takes, Scully, one bottle of wine and a bad movie?" "AAARRRGGGHH!" She reached to grab a dirty dish from the sink so she could throw it at him, and really hit him this time, but he caught her wrist. "Why are we fighting about this?" he asked softly, his face inches from hers. "We both wanted last night to happen. You were there. I remember." She smiled a little at that, although a petty part of her resented him for being right. "I hope we didn't disturb your neighbors." "I hope we did." "Mulder...seriously, what are we going to do?" "I don't know," he said quietly. "Do the only thing we can do. Take it one day at a time, the way we always have. Let's just... not make a big deal out of it, at least for now. Let's just see what happens, take it from there." She scowled at him. "You make it sound so easy. As if we haven't just turned a major corner in our lives." "Dana..." He gripped her shoulders gently. "Of course we have. Last night...last night was like the inevitable finally happening. As if what we had been moving toward the past two years finally came together, no pun intended. And it was incredible." "Well...yeah, it wasn't bad." No need for him to get cocky. "Look, the way our lives are right now, we don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. Let's just enjoy what we have, right now, this minute." He slowly undid the tie on her robe, pushed it open, slid his hands inside. She gasped at the feel of his hands on her bare skin as they caressed her hips, her breasts. She could only watch, mesmerized, as he slowly knelt before her and trailed small kisses along her belly, her thighs. Guess I can't argue with that logic, she thought. At least, not at the moment. She struggled to remain still, to not twitch with anticipation. Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore. "Do it," she hissed. He laughed softly, a deep, husky laugh that gave her goosebumps. She felt his hot breath between her legs, then the sensation of his tongue as he began kissing her there. Dana closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the sink as her knees weakened. He licked and sucked at her until she let out a low moan, burying her fingers in his hair, grinding herself against his mouth, wanting more. For long moments the only sounds in the room were his tongue working and her heavy breathing. And as the tidal wave crested and she erupted in a mind-shattering orgasm, her single coherent thought was, Why not? It beats the hell out of the vibrator waiting for me at home. The End. You can imagine the rest. From: dianora2@aol.com (Dianora2) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Wine 3: Bordeaux *NC17* 1/1 Date: 1 May 1996 01:04:32 -0400 "Wine 3: Bordeaux" by Dianora *NC17* 1/1 Finished 12/27/95 Well, now I've gone and done it, another installment of "Wine." I had no intention of writing another after "The Hangover," but certain people were very persistent with me. They know who they are. :) So, I caved, and I hope everyone enjoys the result. Like "The Hangover," this is short, kind of tongue-in-cheek, and hopefully sexy too. The premise is fairly ridiculous, but who cares, really? Thanks to MD1016 who helped me flesh out the idea, whether she realized she was doing it at the time or not. :) Comments can be sent to Dianora2@aol.com Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are properties of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, and Fox Broadcasting. I'm borrowing them with no permission whatsoever, and intend no copyright infringement or offense. Is anyone even reading this paragraph? "Wine 3: Bordeaux" by Dianora "Hey, Scully, some of the VC boys upstairs chipped in and bought you a Christmas present." Dana Scully raised her eyes from the report she was reading to watch Fox Mulder place a bottle of Bordeaux on the desk before her. "Oh, they shouldn't have," she said caustically. She and most of the guys in VC had a hate/hate relationship, similar to their relationship with Mulder, but based on even less respect, since she was a woman and they were a bunch of pigs. She couldn't believe they had gotten her a gift, no matter how trite or impersonal. There must be some ulterior motive for her to uncover, and when she did...she shuddered. The bottle of red wine did bring back pleasant memories, though, and she looked Mulder up and down appreciatively, lost in erotic rememberance. Then a horrific thought occurred to her. "Mulder, you didn't tell them that I...that we..." "Calm down, Scully. Your Virgin Queen reputation is still intact." He was rewarded with a stony glare. Sometimes, he reflected, getting her all riled up was almost too easy. "Well, thanks. I think," she grumbled. She studied the label on the bottle. "Want to crack this open?" He eyed her warily, glancing at the clock first. "Scully, it's 1:00 in the afternoon." "I just want a taste, to see if it's any good. Besides, it's our last day in the office before Christmas. Let's try to have a *little* bit of Christmas spirit." Their single concession to the holiday was a lone candy cane hanging from the inside doorknob. And it was already broken into pieces inside the cellophane. Ho ho ho. "I'll get the coffee mugs," Mulder said casually, hoping he knew where this was headed. The afternoon certainly was looking up... A couple of mugs later, and they were both feeling very relaxed and a little woozy. "Well, I gotta give those assholes upstairs some credit," Scully said, only slurring her words a little. "They know their wine." "Their only redeeming feature," Mulder murmured. His hazel eyes gleamed at her hungrily as other body parts stirred to attention. "You know, Scully, this reminds me of that night..." "Gee, Mulder, *what* night?" she asked sarcastically. Well, she thought to herself bemusedly, doesn't alcohol turn *me* into a total bitch? Not to mention a horny one...she could barely sit still. Anyway, he deserved her venom for saying something so banal. He refused to rise to her bait, however. "Maybe I can refresh your memory," he said suggestively. His hand slipped under the desk and began to creep up her thigh, under her skirt. She was instantly aflame with desire, making the crotch of her panties wet. It was insanity, the physical effect he had on her. Sometimes she hated herself for it. "Mulder, we're at work," she said, proud of herself for keeping her voice steady. "So?" He leaned in close, and she could smell the wine on his breath. "I want you, Dana," he whispered. "Right here. Right now. And I'm going to have you." She fanned herself with her hand. When had maintenance turned up the heat in the building? Didn't these people realize they were in the South? She was sweltering. "Mulder, what about the security camera?" she whispered back, gesturing with her chin to the camera nestled in one corner of the ceiling. "What about the possibility that this office is bugged?" He pulled back a little, brows knit, considering. It was so annoying when he knew she was right. Suddenly a light bulb lit up over his head. "I have an idea," he mouthed. He walked to the corner of the office, gesturing for her to follow, and stopped right underneath the security camera, so that he was squeezed into a small niche between the wall and a file cabinet. Wobbling a little as she did so, she joined him there. "What are you doing?" "Camera doesn't reach this corner," he whispered, pushing her up against the wall and sliding his hands up her skirt again. Scully opened her mouth to protest, but all coherent thought left her as Mulder started biting at her neck like an aroused vampire. She let out a low moan and clawed at his belt, whipping it out of the loopholes and tossing it aside. He pulled down her pantyhose and knelt before her briefly, to impatiently slip the hose off her feet and throw them to the side, then do the same with her lacy panties. When he stood back up, Dana undid the button on his pants, slid down the zipper and pulled out his cock, his delicious, hard, cock, and stroked it eagerly. "Tell me you want it," he whispered in her ear. "I want you in me," she hissed. "God, Mulder, *now*...unh..." she trailed off as he slowly slipped inside of her, grabbing her hips and propping her up against the wall firmly, then beginning to thrust into her with a talent she regretted taking so long to discover. She tangled her fingers in his hair, and he gasped in pain as she pulled just a little too hard. They tried to stay quiet, to keep any noise at all to an absolute minimun, their paranoia in full force. It was not easy. It became almost a game to them, as they maintained eye contact, as he continued to thrust deeper into her, to each be quieter than the other, to not let their escalating passion get the better of them. Wanting, needing more of her, Mulder deftly unbuttoned Scully's blouse and unhooked her bra, then began sucking and teasing at her breasts, nibbling at the nipples, squeezing her soft flesh between his palms. Lost in the ecstasy of it all, she let out an almost inhuman yelp, and panic surfaced in her eyes. "Paper cut," she said loudly, for the benefit of God-knew-who, complimenting herself on a smooth recovery. Mulder's eyes twinkled as he thrust into her, hard, and she bit down on another cry. "I hate those," he said in normal speaking tones. "Be...oh God....careful." He leaned into her, pressed his lips against her ear. "You're driving me nuts, Dana. You feel so good..." He clutched her buttocks possessively and kissed her roughly on the lips. Oh, this is a dangerous game we're playing, Dana thought, kissing him back, sliding her tongue against his. But two can certainly play it. She tore her lips away from him, taunting him with her eyes. "I feel like I'm going to split in two," she whispered, "but if you stop I'll have to kill you." He smothered a laugh and began to pump into her faster. She scratched at his shoulders through the linen of his shirt, ran her hands over his face, his neck. "Almost there, Mulder," she whispered. She closed her eyes and concentrated on nothing but the feel of his hot breath on her neck, his hands on her breasts, his throbbing sex filling her completely. "Oh God...oh, God, I'm coming..." she moaned, in a barely audible voice that nonetheless nearly drove him over the edge. She buried her face in his shoulder and held onto him for dear life as she convulsed around him, muffling her cries with the soft fabric of his shirt. He managed to hold out a little bit longer, at least until she was done shaking, and then he thrusted frantically, beyond all reason, until he finally emptied himself into her, inadvertently letting out a deep growl. "Wow, I sure am hungry," he said loudly, covering. Scully laughed, but stopped abruptly as he involuntarily collapsed against her, spent, letting almost all of his weight fall on top of her. "Mulder, get the hell off of me!" she said without thinking, and her voice was quite a bit louder than a whisper. Her hand flew to her mouth in dismay. Mulder lifted himself up and withdrew from her gently, setting her back on her feet and straightening her blouse. "Sorry, Scully. I tripped." She glanced at him thankfully, then they turned their attention to setting themselves to rights. "I need to visit the ladies' room," Scully murmured. Mulder wasn't feeling all that comfortable himself at the moment. "Good idea." When they had both returned from their respective clean-up excursions, Mulder nonchalantly pulled a small gift-wrapped package from his top desk drawer and tossed it over to Scully, who examined it with surprise. "I thought we were going to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve," she reminded him, raising an eyebrow quizzically. "We are. This is just a little something I wanted to give you right now." Intrigued, she tore off the paper and opened the small box. Resting inside was a plastic, gold-painted, fake trophy, with the proclamation "World's Greatest Lover" printed on a sticker on the plastic pedestal. "No you did *not* buy this for me," Scully said in disbelief. She wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry, or chuck it into the trash. "Tell me I'm not looking at what I think I'm looking at." "Don't you like it? I thought it was cute," he pouted, pretending to be hurt. He had known she would hate the trinket, but had taken perverse delight in buying it for her anyway. She looked at him, and slowly but surely the sentiment behind the gift started to penetrate through her initial disgust. Besides, why should she let him think he'd gotten to her? "You know, Mulder," she said thoughtfully, studying the cheap thing, "this is without a doubt the cheesiest, tackiest, dumbest present anyone has ever given me. And yet, there's something about it I like." It was also dawning on her that their quickie against the wall had not been nearly enough to satisfy her. Not by a longshot. "In fact, I feel that I need to do something special to live up to this title." He grinned and headed for their coats hanging on the rack near the door. "Why don't we go to my place for lunch and discuss your qualifications?" he suggested. She smiled seductively, envisioning the depraved things they would be doing to each other in a short while with delicious anticipation. "Perfect. Come to think of it, let's just knock off early today. After all, it is Christmas, and we've barely begun to celebrate." They started for the door, when Mulder stopped in his tracks. "Uh, Scully?" "What is it, Mulder?" she said impatiently. When something got in the way of her getting some, she tended to get crabby. He smiled at her eagerness and gestured toward her desk. "Don't forget the wine." The End. "Wine 4: Chardonnay" by Dianora 1/1 NC17 Well, well, lookee here, it's another installment of "Wine," in which Mulder and Scully finally drink a type of wine I like myself. Once again, this is kind of tongue-in-cheek, but hopefully hot and sexy at the same time. Rated NC17 for a reason. Some of this gets pretty explicit and a little kinky. I can't believe I write this stuff. :) The Scrabble idea comes from a recent episode of "Melrose Place." Yes, I am a 'Phile and an MP fan, but I would shoot myself in the head before I would write MP fanfic. And no, I am NOT a Placemat. I just love cheesy trash, which should be obvious from stories like these. :) Everyone feel free to send me suggestions for further installments of "Wine," since I consider these my "fun" stories. The only requirement is that at some point Mulder and Scully have some kind of sex, preferably in a somewhat original locale or situation. E-mail me at Dianora2@aol.com with any comments or suggestions. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are properties of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, and FOX Broadcasting, and of course I did nt ask permission to use them. I have better things to do, okay? Sister Ernestine really was my ninth grade religion teacher, and she really did have Dating Rules. I swear. "Wine 4: Chardonnay" by Dianora It was raining. And cold. And grey. And thoroughly depressing. Scully folded up the Help Wanted section she had been reading out of curiosity and reflected that she should have been an accountant, judging from the starting salaries that were advertised. An accountant or a plumber. Or an exotic dancer. She snorted in amusement, shaking her head at such a ridiculous thought. Who was she kidding? She could never be a *plumber*. The sound of heavy raindrops pitter-pattering against the windowpanes was usually soothing, but today it was driving her nuts, a constant reminder that it was Sunday and she was stuck inside with nothing to do except read the paper and watch professional bowling on cable. She supposed she could clean the bathroom or do some laundry or even start that Tom Robbins novel she had been meaning to read, but she just couldn't get motivated. If God gets to rest on Sunday, so do I, dammit, she thought wryly, although she had a feeling that Sister Mary Ernestine from ninth grade religion class probably wouldn't appreciate that particular sentiment. She sighed restlessly, shifting on the couch. Recalling Sister Ernestine and therefore also r emembering the nun's infamous Dating Rules always made her crave some hot, dirty sex as an act of rebellion. Hmmm. Now there was a way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Maybe, she decided, I need to call Mulder and get his buns of steel over here. She reached over to the end table, picked up the phone and dialed. His recorded greeting announced that he wasn't able to get to the phone, but she knew better. "Mulder, it's me. Pick up the phone." A short pause, then the whine of feedback pierced her eardrum as he picked up the receiver and the machine clicked off. "Hey, Scully." "Mulder. It's raining." "Yeaaah....um, that's right, Scully. You should have been a meteorologist." "No, I should have been an accountant. Or an exotic dancer. But that's not why I'm calling." "It's not?" He sounded disappointed. "No. I'm bored," she sighed. "Do you want to come over and play?" "Well, that all depends on what kind of game you had in mind," he said suggestively. "Scrabble." "Huh?" She grinned into the receiver. "You heard me, Mulder. I feel like playing some Scrabble." "Sorry, Scully, you must have me confused with Alex Trebek." "Alex Trebek does not host *Scrabble,* Mulder," she said disgustedly. "You're thinking of 'Concentration,' which he does host, in addition to his regular hosting responsibilities on 'Jeopardy.' Try to get your pop culture references straight." "*Mea culpa*," he sneered. "Are you coming over?" "Well," he said, feigning having a life, "I was going to meet some guys for a game of basketball..." "It's raining," she interrupted. "And you have no friends." "See, that's why I like spending time with you, Scully. You're always willing to give my ego a boost." "Get over here and I'll give you a boost, all right," she said huskily. He gulped. "I'll be there in half an hour." Right on time, she thought approvingly as her doorbell rang thirty minutes later. She pulled her black satin robe more securely around her and took a deep breath. Even though they had been sleeping together for a few months now, she still found herself getting a little nervous occasionally, as if it could all fall apart at any moment. But she knew that as soon as she opened the door and looked into his eyes, all of her doubts and fears would be immediately erased, as always. She flung the door open. He was wearing dark sunglasses. He leaned in expectantly for a kiss, but she took a step away from him. "Is there any particular reason you're wearing sunglasses indoors?" "Not really. They're new, that's all, and I wanted to get your opinion. What do you think?" I think, he thought silently, that you're lucky I'm even letting you into my apartment, buster. "They're, uh, great, Mulder." She let him in then, and was relieved when he took the glasses off and those beautiful hazel eyes met hers, full of warmth and affection and the hard glint of something more primal. He pulled her into an embrace and kissed her thoroughly, and she sighed as his hands started roaming over her body, caressing her through the satin. "You're not wearing anything underneath this, are you Scully," he murmured against her ear. "I didn't really see the point," she answered, practically purring as he began to nuzzle her neck. This was *much* better than pro bowling. "Scully?" "Mmmm." She clutched his strong shoulders tighter. "You got anything to eat?" She pushed him away. "You suck, Mulder." He chuckled lightly and leered at her. "But I'm *so* good at it..." "You just keep telling yourself that." She sighed a sigh, not of defeat, she told herself, but of compromise. Right. "Well, what do you want to eat, since that's apparently all I'm good for at the moment?" She headed for the kitchen as he followed eagerly. "Anything. I'm starved. I didn't eat this morning because there was nothing in the apartment." "What a shock." She opened and closed cabinets while Mulder marveled at shelves that actually had boxes and cans of food sitting on them. "I have some leftovers from last night, I think. Some salad and a chicken cutlet." "Perfect." She grumbled something under her breath about never making too much food again, since she never managed to have the second serving herself anyway, not with six-foot tall bottomless pit eating machines hanging around, and pulled the food from the refrigerator. "Here," she said, pushing the plate with the cutlet on it toward him, "you can nuke it yourself, can't you?" "I think that's within my domestic capabilities, yes." He proceeded to radiate the hell out of the thing while Scully scooped most of the salad into a bowl fr him. "What do you have to drink?" "Mulder, what do I look like? The Flying Saucer Diner? You could have brought something." He pointedly ignored the comment. "Don't you still have that bottle of Chardonnay that we never got around to drinking last time I was here?" She paused before answering, remembering with a tingle the reason they had never gotten to the bottle that night. Her neck had been sore for days after that.... "It's still unopened." She retrieved it from the wine rack and set it down in front of him with a clunk. "You know where the corkscrew is, you do it. I'll be in the bedroom." "What are you gonna do in there?" he asked around a mouthful of salad. She raised an eyebrow. "Why, set up the game, of course." True to her word, when Mulder entered the bedroom a few minutes later with the wine and two glasses, Scully was sprawled out on the bed, the board game set up before her. "Where's the food?" she asked. "I finished it." "You're a pig. You realize that, don't you?" "One of my many charming qualities." He settled down on the bed, on the opposite side of the board from her. He tried to ignore the fact that her robe had loosened and he could see the graceful curve of one breast. "I see you already chose your letters." "Yes. Is that a problem?" "Nah, I trust you. I guess." She narrowed her eyes and shot him a glare that was positively striking on her, although he'd never tell her that. "Careful, Scully, or your face might freeze that way." "I'll take my chances. Pick your letters." He carefully selected his seven letters and placed them on his rack, pouring himself and Scully each a glass of wine as he appraised his selection. S, T, C, L, A, K, U. Nothing was leaping out at him yet, except ASK, which was entirely too dinky. "Who goes first?" "Well, we have to each pick a letter from the bag, and whoever gets the higher letter goes first." "Fine." He reached in and pulled out a tile. Z. Typical. Scully waved her C at him. "Guess I o first." "Fine." She placed her letters down on the board, spelling out the word TRUCK, then calculated her score and carefully made a notation on her memo pad. He was amused to realize that she had labeled the columns "Mulder" and "Scully" in her precise handwriting. Mulder took a swallow from his glass, savoring the tang of the dry wine. After careful consideration, he placed the word LUST on the board. "That's cute, Mulder. Real cute." "It comes from the heart, Scully." "That's not the only place it's coming from," she observed. "You're the one who wants to play this game, when there are plenty of more exciting activities we could be engaging in." "Good things come to those who wait," she said casually, and placed KISS on the board. "Now that's more like it," Mulder said, leaning across the board as she met him halfway, pressing her lips to his. He reached up with one hand to cup her face as he parted her lips with his tongue, slipping inside her mouth. Her breathing quickened, hot against his cheek, and his own heart began to beat a little faster. It was amazing to him, still, that she could have such an intense physical effect on him. She pulled away, and a small sound of protest escaped from his throat. "Your turn," she said breathlessly, eyes sparkling. "Um, yeah." He assessed his new letters, trying to concentrate, suddenly determined to make this game as interesting as possible. He placed his tiles down and looked up to see her reaction. "SUCK? You have a one-track mind," she said disapprovingly. "So?" Putting his glass of wine down on the nighttable, he reached over and pushed her robe gently aside, revealing one perfect ivory breast. She watched wordlessly as he leaned over and enclosed the hardened nipple with his mouth, sucking deeply. He flicked his tongue over the pink tip delicately, and when he began nibbling she clenched the comforter with the hand not holding the wine glass, determined not to cry out. Not yet. When he pulled away, the ai was cool on her wet skin. She licked her lips to moisten them, trying to find words, knowing that words were unavailable to her when he looked at her like that, like he wanted to swallow her whole. Slowly and deliberately she placed the next word on the board, taking her eyes from his only long enough to make sure the tiles were in the right place. EAT. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and a renewed look of predatory determination manifested on his face. Without taking his eyes from hers, he swept the game off the bed with a crash, the wooden tiles scattering all over the floor. Scully had just enough time to set her wine glass aside before he pounced on her, untying the sash of her robe and stripping her of the garment, throwing it on the floor. He roughly turned her over onto her stomach, and Dana practically moaned in delight as she waited for him to enter her from behind. It took her a moment to realize that he had grabbed both her hands and was now tying her wrists firmly with the belt from her robe. "Mulder? What the hell are you doing?" She twisted in his grasp, but although she was strong for her size, she wasn't that strong. "You're in the mood to play, aren't you, Scully?" he whispered, bending over so his mouth was next to her ear. "Trust me, Scully. You trust me, don't you?" "Yes," she said in a small voice, not sure which emotion was winning out inside of her at the moment, anger or excitement. He turned her over, gently this time, and she was startled by the intense look of desire on his face. It also felt a little weird for her to be completely naked while he was still fully clothed, but she was doing her best to get over it. He lowered himself so that he was hovering above her, resting on his forearms. "Trust me," he whispered again. "Just relax." She nodded, and forced herself to breathe, to sink back into the pillows and let him do what he wanted to her. He trailed soft, slow, wet kisses down her chest, pausing at each breast to tendrly kiss the nipples, then continued down to her abdomen, where he dipped his tongue into her navel before moving to her hipbones, tracing the line of them with his tongue. "Right here," he said softly, pressing baby kisses to the area directly above the soft auburn curls between her legs. "I love it right here. So smooth..." She watched as he caressed her stomach, her abdomen, and then slipped one hand between her legs to stroke her there. She squirmed beneath him, wanting more, knowing he was going to take his sweet time giving it to her, and there was nothing she could do about it. As if reading her mind, he lifted his head to look at her. "You want more, Dana? Do you want me to stop?" She shook her head and bent her knees so that she could squeeze him with her legs, urging him to continue. He flashed her a mischievous smile and lowered his head again, kissing her pelvic area, until he finally slid further down on the bed so that he could kiss her between her thighs. A low, harsh breath escaped from her as he began licking her there, probing with his tongue, sucking gently, reaching underneath her to clutch her buttocks and press her closer to him. She found herself straining at the silk bonds holding her wrists, but Mulder must have been a Boy Scout, because the knots were super tight. Besides, she wasn't really sure she wanted to get free. He closed his mouth on her hardened nub and sucked strongly, running his tongue over it, drinking her in. She was gasping now, gasping and moaning lowly, squeezing his head with her thighs, wishing she could grasp his hair in her hands to push him ever closer. She tried to put off her orgasm as long as possible, tried every mental trick she could think of to allow the unbelievable ecstasy of Mulder making love to her with his mouth to continue, but finally she couldn't hold out any longer, and she screamed to a God she barely believed in anymore as the convulsions took over. She kept twitching, even after Mulder stopped andpropped himself up so he could kiss her on the lips, slowly, sensually. She opened her mouth to him eagerly, tasting herself on his tongue, putting all of her desire into it. "Untie me," she whispered when their lips parted. He shook his head. "Not yet." He placed a finger to her lips as she opened her mouth to protest. "Admit it, Scully," he said softly. "Admit that you like this, that you don't want me to untie you." She averted her eyes, embarrassed. "Don't," she bit out. He placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose before lifting himself off the bed and beginning to undress, slowly, purposefully, watching her watch him. She looked him over boldly, drinking in the lean, muscled lines of his body, trying to maintain some sense of control, wanting him to know she still had some measure of power over him. When all of his clothes were lying in a heap on the floor, he mounted her again and entered her in one swift movement. Scully braced her feet behind his back, willing him to go deeper as he began to thrust inside of her. His fingers tangled themselves in her hair and he covered her mouth with his, swallowing her soft cries of pleasure. When the kiss ended he moaned her name and began to move faster within her. Scully couldn't take it anymore. "Mulder, untie me...I mean it ...ahh...this time...want to, to touch you...please," she gasped. He searched her eyes to be sure she meant it, then withdrew from her gently, smiling at her soft curse at the feeling of loss. Rolling her over just a little bit, so that she was lying on her side, he worked at the knots until her hands were free and he was able to throw the belt on the floor with the rest of their clothes. "That better?" he whispered, only to let out a yelp as Scully whirled over with astonishing speed and pinned him on his back. Before he could even react, she straddled him and guided him up into her, then began rocking wildly, almost punishingly. "Dana...Jesus," he breathed, trying to get back into the swingof things. It was not easy to keep up with her; he had never seen her so frenzied, so possessed. He gripped her hips and just went along for the ride. Dana, for her part, was punctuating each undulation of her body with a mental shout: Take that! And that! And that! Tying...me...up...some...nerve...pay...you...back...how... do...you...like...it...now...you...bastard! Unfortunately, she arrived at the last word at the same time a shattering orgasm engulfed her, and she screamed the word aloud, causing Mulder to wilt just a little inside of her. His response, as she covered her mouth, pretending she was sorry,was to flip her over that so that he was on top again, and he finished himself off in record time as she clutched his behind and moaned his name, chuckling lightly as she did so. "Wow," she said, when he had withdrawn and rolled over beside her. "That was uh, pretty good, Mulder." "I thought so," he said smugly. He gathered her into his arms and held her close, kissing her forehead tenderly. "You're not too mad at me, are you?" "Nah," she said after a moment's thought. "I'm more pissed that you interrupted our Scrabble game. I suppose you were afraid of losing." He laughed. "More like I was afraid of winning, and putting you out of the mood for the rest of the afternoon." She pulled away from him slightly. "Excuse me? Am I that sore of a loser?" "Scully, no offense, but I think you kind of just proved that theory." "Fine. Whatever." She pinched his nipple in retaliation and was rewarded with a hiss of pain. "I expect a rematch." "Scully, I'm only human. Give me a few minutes, will ya?" he complained. It was flattering that she thought he was Superman, but still.... "Not that, Mulder. I'm talking about Scrabble." "Oh. I knew that." He nuzzled the top of her head thoughtfully. "Scully, I want you to know that I'm glad you didn't freak out when I tied you up like that. Some people have a real problem with having to put so much trust in another person I'm flattered that you were willing to let me take you there." "You know I trust you, Mulder," she yawned into his chest. "I trust you more than anyone. But next time, could you at least please give me some warning?" He looked at her in surprise. "Does that mean there'll be a next time?" he said hopefully. "Hey, I'm an open-minded kind of woman. Just be aware that I *will* get you back for springing it on me, Mulder. When you least expect it, the shoe will suddenly be on the other foot." "I can't wait," he said truthfully, feeling himself start to stir again. He picked up the wineglass from the end table and took a swallow of wine. "Do you think we'll ever finish this bottle of Chardonnay?" he asked playfully. She took the glass from him, swigged the rest of the contents, and set it aside before pouncing on him. "Not if I have anything to say about it." The End. Summary: Mulder and Scully indulge in erotic fun in a medieval setting. "Wine 5: Mead" by Dianora *NC17* Yeah, yeah, I know mead isn't *wine,* it's an *ale,* but alcohol is alcohol. I don't feel like changing this to the Potent Potables Series, it would be way too Alex Trebek. Rated NC17 for sexual situations. I think you all know this by now. :-) There's a turning point of sorts in Mulder and Scully's relationship in this piece. That doesn't mean I plan on making this series a continuing story; I just thought I'd inject something a little weightier this time around. Hope it's still fun. Comments and suggestions for future wine selections and scenarios to Dianora2@aol.com. The Renaissance Festival depicted here is based on the New York Renaissance Festival held in Tuxedo, New York every summer. Whether they have this stuff at other Ren fairs I have no idea. I hope no one involved with the NYRF reads this and takes offense. I'm writing this out of love for the Festival. Usual rigmarole: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are not characters of my creation and they do not belong to me. They are the possessions of people who like to refer to characters as possessions, namely Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Broadcasting Company. This is for the purposes of EMXC, please don't distribute without asking me first, yatta yatta yatta. This installment of "Wine" is dedicated to my cyber twin, Leikin Sky, who once asked me, "Are you ever going to have something else happen in this series, or are they just going to have sex every time?" Or words to that effect, anyway. I'm not sure if this qualifies, twinnie, but hopefully you'll like it anyway. :-) "What can I get for ye, m'lady?" the buxom blonde inquired in a heavy, fake, British accent. Scully eyed the woman's breasts, which were pushed up to her neck thanks to the brocade corset she was wearing. "Two cups of mead, please," she answered, in a tone of voice that clearly said, I Am Not Impressed. The blonde poured the amber liquid into two plastic cups and handed them to Scully with an all too jaunty flair, then took Scully's money, frowning slightly when Scully didn't contribute to the small wicker basket marked YE OLDE TIPS. "Thankee, m'lady," she said grudgingly. Scully gave the woman a tight smile and walked away, looking for a sign of her errant partner, who was off buying her a surprise gift. At least, he seemed to think it was going to be a surprise. She hadn't had the heart to inform him that his announcing he "had to take care of something" as his eyes twinkled gave him away completely. She scanned the eating area for him, squinting her eyes against the glare of the hot midday sun, but gave up finally, sitting down at one of the numerous wooden tables and sipping cautiously at her mead. Hmm. Not bad, actually. Tangy. With a hell of a kick to it. A yellowjacket buzzed around the rim of the cup, and she swatted at it impatiently. Before she could take another sip she spied out of the corner of her eye a colorfully-clad, ridiculously good-looking, over-eager juggler inching his way in her direction with his bright rubber balls. She shot him a forbidding glare and was gratified to see him smile weakly before retreating in search of more gullible prey. That's right, take your balls somewhere else, buddy, she thought with a smirk. She still couldn't quite believe that she had agreed to accompany Mulder to a Renaissance Festival. Not in a million years would she have thought it was his type of thing, but the passion with which he spoke of the pageantry, the jousting -- and of all things the pickles -- had been enough to convince her to go along for the ride. It wasn't like she had anything better to do. To be honest, now that she was here she was enjoying herself more than she had expected. She had little patience for the fake accents, overflowing cleavage, and such anachronisms as falafel stands, but the mood of the fair was unarguably infectious. Plus, she now understood just why Mulder loved it so much. Like attracts like, freak attracts freak and all that. She let out an unsurprised sigh when Mulder finally returned bearing a garland of flowers for her hair. "You can't be serious," she said, looking up at him from her seat. He had already outfitted himself earlier in the day in a long, black, hooded cloak: quite an extravagant purchase, but she had to admit she experienced a pleasant tingling in her nether regions at the sight of him. She felt downright underdressed in her own casual garb of a v-neck white men's undershirt, blue jean shorts slung low on her hips, and black Doc Marten shoes. "Come on. This'll look great on you," he insisted. He *had* selected a lovely color combination. Dried cornflowers, babies' breath, and daisies, with midnight blue, powder blue, and white ribbons trailing off the back, which she had to admit would look great against her hair. Many of the women at the fair were wearing similar adornments in a riot of colors. She sighed again, a particular sigh of resignation reserved exclusively for Mulder. "Okay, give it to me." She stood up and took it from him, then tentatively set it atop her head and fought back a smile at the way his eyes took her in appreciatively. "I really think these are more for women with longer hair," she observed. He shook his head. "No they're not. You look...you look perfect," he said softly. He reached out to run his fingers through the satin ribbons, then planted a kiss on her forehead. "If anyone at the Bureau saw me right now, I'd never hear the end of it," she grumbled, trying to maintain her composure in the face of his affection. It was unfortunately a losing battle. "What they don't know won't hurt them. Is that mead?" he asked abruptly, picking up the untouched plastic cup. "Yeah. It's not bad. I assumed they'd have watered it down, but it tastes pretty strong," Scully said. He sipped the drink warily, then nodded in approval. "Good." He gulped down some more, nodded again. "Damn good!" "Do you want to check out this 'Living Chess Game' or not?" she asked, whipping Ye Olde Faire Mappe out of her black leather shoulder bag and attempting to decipher the cryptic symbols. She noticed that a crude drawing of an outhouse with a crescent moon on the door represented the restrooms. Charming. "Yeah, that's one of the best bits they do here," he said enthusiastically. He tossed back the rest of the mead. "But first I want to get one for the road." "Get me one too," she said. She drank greedily from the cup, draining it. This stuff really was great! It was a wonder they managed to get anything accomplished back in the Middle Ages, with this stuff around. He took just a little too long talking to that blonde barmaid when he placed his order, as far as Scully was concerned, but he made it up to her with a mock bow and a wink when he returned with two fresh cups. "More mead for m'lady," he said in an atrocious imitation of the wench's accent. She rolled her eyes at him. "Come on, let's go watch that Checker Game." "Chess Game." "Whatever." On their way across the grounds to the Chess Board they had to cross a bridge, a quaint wooden span over a small pond, covered in multi- colored streamers, with a large placard above it proclaiming "Kissing Bridge" in exquisite calligraphy. How wonderfully schmaltzy, Scully thought cynically. She eyeballed Mulder, but he pretended not to notice -- although his hand tightened its grip on hers. They started over, and when they were halfway to the other side Scully thought she just might escape with her dignity intact. Fat chance. He stopped in his tracks and pulled her to him, forcing his tongue into her mouth and going at it vigorously. She tried to maintain some remnant of composure, but he was just too damn sexy for her to resist, so she wound up giving as good as she got, certain they were making a spectacle of themselves. When he finally pulled away they were both breathless. "You're a real cheeseball, you know that, Mulder?" she murmured, eyes sparkling. "Are you complaining?" She smiled up at him. "Who? Me?" He grinned back and slung his arm over her shoulder. It was so nice, he reflected, as he sipped contentedly at his drink, to be able to show affection in public, to casually drop a quick kiss on the top of Scully's head before the two of them continued on their way across the fairgrounds. Sure, they had taken separate cars and chosen a Festival two states away, but still... "Look, Scully, there's another mead stand." "Mulder, you're not even finished with what you have," she said, sounding a little too much like his mother for comfort. Against his will he flashbacked to bargaining sessions for dessert with his parents. "But I will finish it by the time we get to the Chess Board." Can't argue with that logic, Scully decided. "All right. Get me another one, too." "You lush." "Be quiet." She watched him unabashedly as he loped over to yet another blonde barmaid (do they breed them special? she wondered) and asked for a refill. The pleasant sensation in her nether regions was quickly turning into an insistent throbbing. Now is not the time, she reprimanded herself. The aroused organs in question didn't listen. She gnawed on her lower lip and tried to think about something safe, like nucleotides. Nope. No luck. Mulder looked at her questioningly when he came back with the mead refills. "Something the matter?" "No," she said quickly, too quickly. "Give me that." She grabbed the cup from him and took big gulps, concentrating on the burn that spread through her body as she drank. Time to practice a little self- control, as Sister Ernestine used to say, she told herself firmly. Still, she couldn't suppress a slight shudder as he absently ran his fingers up and down her back. Did he have any idea what he did to her? Probably not, the dense bastard. When they arrived at their destination, Scully discovered that the Living Chess Game took place on a large "board," consisting of squares spray-painted onto the grass. The teams were made up of live combatants assigned to each position, one team representing Robin Hood and his Merry Band, the other, the Sheriff of Nottingham and his lackeys. The captain, or king, of each team called out the moves and their teammates complied. To determine which piece was to be "captured," the two opposing team members engaged in armed or hand-to-hand combat. The entire event was naturally accompanied by a steady stream of bawdy humor from the participants. Mulder and Scully managed to claim a small section of grass for themselves, and as soon as they sat down Mulder pulled Scully to him so that she was sitting in front of him, his legs framing hers, his arms wrapped around her. Their half-empty cups teetered precariously on the ground beside them. Mulder could hardly believe that the simple act of embracing Scully could stir up such complex and seductive sensations. He pressed his face against her hair, the smell of her shampoo mixing pleasantly with the fragrance from the dried flowers in her garland, and tried to enjoy the spectacle of the Chess Game, but instead found himself distracted by the feel of his partner's body against his, the way her back fit neatly against his chest, the way her hand rested lightly on his knee. He drank the rest of his mead, which predictably only heightened his erotic feelings. Idiot, he berated himself. If Scully only knew what he was thinking about her right now...actually, she'd probably make him act on it. The thought made him grin wolfishly. It's amazing that we can be together like this, Scully thought, after all we've been through, after all the detours along the way. She had little interest in the Chess Game, so she was all too attuned to the feel of Mulder's arms encircling her, to the warm breeze that was his breath in her hair. The mead was doing its job a little too well, and she was feeling increasingly...aroused. There was no more delicate way to put it. She wanted Mulder at that instant, wanted him inside of her, wanted to feel his hands claiming her breasts...she shivered, and Mulder tightened his embrace in response. "Are you cold?" he whispered into her ear. "No," she managed to answer through dry lips. Experiencing a tiny thrill at her own audacity, she began to methodically massage his thigh, tracing heavy circles on his black jeans. His breath caught in his throat. What the hell was she doing? Didn't she realize he was more than willing to fight fire with fire? Or was she counting on it? He brushed her hair away from the nape of her neck, exposing the ivory skin, and began placing soft kisses there, right where he knew it drove her absolutely nuts. She immediately stiffened in his embrace. It was so unfair that he knew exactly what to do to make her crazy. She reached back with one hand to caress the back of his head as the other continued to knead his thigh. When one of Mulder's hands brushed her breast ever so slightly, she bit her lip and wondered what would happen if she were to climax in front of all these people. It'd probably be a better show than the Living Chess Game, she thought acidly, then looked up to see a tow-headed boy, about ten years old, sitting on the grass a few feet away and watching her and Mulder with wide brown eyes. His green felt dragon hand puppet lay on the ground beside him, forgotten. My sin for the day, she thought ruefully. Corrupting a little boy, how lovely. Mulder, oblivious to their pre-adolescent audience, continued to tongue the back of her neck and began to slide his hand down toward her crotch. Deciding to take some action toward a mutually satisfying conclusion that wouldn't get them arrested for contributing to the delinquency of a minor, Scully clamped her hand down on Mulder's to halt his exploratory expedition, then twisted around so that her lips were just not quite touching his. He was already breathing raggedly, and his hazel eyes glistened with raw need. "I want you," he whispered hoarsely. "Prove it," she said, and the next thing he knew she was taking off for the forest at a run, trusting him to follow. Which of course he did, knowing he could overtake her whenever he wanted, knowing that she knew he could overtake her whenever he wanted. But he didn't want to catch up to her too soon. He wanted to make sure they were deep enough into the woods first. Deep enough that no one would be able to hear them scream. When he allowed himself to catch her he grabbed her arm and spun her around, pushing her up against the nearest gnarled tree and pressing the length of his body against hers. A deep moan escaped from his throat as they kissed, hard, bruising their mouths, clutching urgently at each other, pulling at clothes, clawing at belts. There was no romance here, no soft light and candles, just pure, unadulterated desire. Within moments Mulder's cloak fell to the ground with a flutter, creating a dark pool on the forest floor. Scully's shorts and underwear and Mulder's jeans and boxers soon followed. He reached up under her shirt to cup her breasts, rubbing his fingers over the nipples through the lace bra, fighting the urge to rip the garment off of her completely. Scully gasped and with frantic hands took hold of his cock, stroking it purposefully, guiding it toward her, nearly overpowering him with the force of her wanting. And then suddenly his world shifted and he was inside of her, thrusting madly, pushing her up against the tree trunk as she dug her nails into his back and held on for dear life, their moans and panting unnaturally loud in the quiet of the woods, far away from the activity of the Festival fairgrounds. He had no rational thought beyond the need to pump into her, no sensations outside of the pleasure of being sheathed in her hot, soft flesh. "So good," he whispered. "Jesus, Scully..." "No, Mulder," she hissed. "Don't talk. Just ...just fuck me." Mulder took hold of Scully's arms and held them above her head, kissing her thoroughly as he thrusted into her more violently, sharing her need to have it rough, to have it rough enough to block out the rest of the world, to give expression to the raw animal need flowing through both of them. Her thighs gripped his and she tried to match his movements despite her awkward position, trying to pull him deeper into her, wanting him to fill her completely. When he tore his mouth away from hers she opened her eyes and looked at him, loving the pleasure she was inflicting upon him. This was true power, but power with no motive other than pleasure and the need for release. She leaned her head forward to bite at his shoulder, and he groaned, nipping at her neck in response. When he lifted her shirt and pushed aside one cup of the bra to tease and suck at her nipple, she lost it. She clung to him as she convulsed against him, around him, coming quietly, emitting soft sighs and short, sharp exclamations of pleasure. He exploded soon after, emptying himself into her and gasping her name. He leaned against her and wrapped his fingers in her hair as Scully waited for her body to stop shuddering. "Love you," he whispered. Scully froze. "Excuse me?" she croaked. He lifted his head up and their eyes met. "I --" "Oh God Mulder," she said wearily. "I didn't just say that," he babbled. "I didn't." He let go of her and began to pick his clothes up from the ground, stepping hastily into his boxers. "Forget it." "How can I? Mulder, I thought...I thought we both understood that we can't let things get too complicated..." She tried to catch his eye as she reached down for her own clothes, but he refused to look at her. "It's a little late for that, don't you think?" he bit out, pulling on his jeans. "I didn't think it was," she said carefully, taking some tissues out of her bag and wiping off her thighs. They had so studiously avoided the word "love," the same way they had avoided "commitment," and "relationship." Their world was too tenuous for that, too unstable to allow something as abstract as love to cloud matters, to twist them so that they were even more complicated than they already were. When she finished dressing she studied him intently, trying to decipher what was going through that brilliant and complicated mind. He was busy futzing with his cloak. "Mulder, look at me. Please." His head snapped up and he stepped closer to her, until she actually took a stumbling step backwards. "No Scully. You look at me. You look straight at me and tell me that what you feel for me, what we have, isn't love. Go ahead." She met those hazel eyes bravely, determined that at least one of them should try to be sensible about this whole thing, should insist on keeping things simple... "I can't, Mulder. I can't say that," she admitted softly. "I know." He reached out as if to touch her, but then pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair instead. "Scully, we can't shut off our feelings, can't deny them. It's not right." "It's not the truth, is that it?" she asked bitterly. "Your obsession with the truth has to extend to every single part of your life?" "In this part, always," he said. He reached out for her again, and this time he did touch her, enveloping her in a tender hug and smoothing her hair gently with his hand. She tried to stay angry. But what could she be angry about, really? Angry that he loved her? "You're a pain in the ass, you know that, Mulder?" she said resentfully, his shirt muffling her voice. "Would you have me any other way?" he asked the top of her head. She pulled back slightly so that she could look up at him, and unexpectedly broke into a disarming, toothy smile. His body sagged in relief. The tension had passed. "I'll have you any way you'd like, Agent Mulder." "Can I make a list?" "Sure. Leave it in my in box at the office. I'm sure I'll get to it eventually, along with all the other grunt work." She turned her back on him and started to walk back toward the fairgrounds. He hurried after her, still shaking his head at her horrendous pun, still amazed that their confrontation had resolved itself so quickly. "Where are you going?" "I think I'm going to buy that black leather corset I was looking at earlier. Just to keep you on your toes." His mouth went bone dry and other parts of his anatomy responded in kind. "That's...great, Scully. But now you've fixed it so that I'll have to carry this cloak around in front of my crotch for the rest of the day." She raised an eyebrow mockingly. "You think *that* will be noticeable? Don't flatter yourself," she said, grinning. "You think you're funny, dontcha? You're real funny, Scully, real --" He grabbed her arm and tried to pull her to him once more, but in a patented FBI training maneuver she swept her leg under his, knocking him off balance. He fell to the ground, but not without managing to pull her down with him, whereupon he proceeded to demonstrate exactly how *noticeable* his arousal was. Maybe this will be okay, she thought, as she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. Maybe we'll make it through. After all, there are worse things than being in love. Maybe. end.